Fry knew that various members of staff would be able to hear their conversation. They were standing in the middle of the general admin office, and doors were open nearby. She could see what looked like a staff room to one side, with a table, kitchen chairs and a sink unit. Behind the office, she glimpsed a filing room with a row of metal and wooden cabinets.

‘With respect, sir,’ she said, ‘the only person causing a scene at the moment is you. I suggest that might not be what a bereaved family expect to see from their funeral director.’

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘But I insist on being here while you’re doing whatever you need to do.’

‘That’s your privilege, sir. But what about your funeral?’

‘My wife’s in the chapel. I’ll ask her to conduct it.’

‘Fine.’

Fry looked round and saw a woman watching from a doorway. She was dressed in a smart black suit, a sort of female equivalent to Hudson, though her hair was dark and tied neatly back. Barbara Hudson, presumably. Her expression wasn’t too friendly.

Instead of facing her, Fry turned towards the workshop. There were all kinds of smells coming from these back rooms that hadn’t penetrated the public areas. She wondered how they achieved that. She might like to use the technique in her flat, to keep out the whiff of the students.

‘Does your warrant extend to the workshop, Sergeant?’ said Hudson behind her shoulder.

‘Do you mind me looking around, sir?’

‘As a matter of fact, I do.’

‘Surely you’ve nothing to hide?’

‘Of course not.’

‘What’s at the end of the corridor?’

‘The preparation room.’

‘And what do you do in there?’

‘We perform miracles, that’s what we do,’ said Hudson. ‘People have no idea what goes on in the preparation room. And they don’t want to know.’

‘But I’m asking, Mr Hudson,’ said Fry politely. And she was being polite, too, as far as she could manage. ‘Could we take a look?’

‘I’m sorry, but there’s a case on the premises at the moment.’

‘There’s a what?’

Hudson inclined his head slightly towards her, as if acknowledging a rebuke. ‘A deceased person under preparation. Without the express permission of the family, I’m afraid …’

‘I understand.’

He turned suddenly and shouted over Fry’s shoulder. ‘Vernon, you can leave that car alone now. Go inside and give Billy a hand with the flowers. Then get yourself changed. You’re driving.’

Vernon must not have responded quickly enough, because Hudson started to go red again.

‘And get a move on, you lazy bugger!’

Fry turned in time to see Vernon slam the bonnet of one of the limousines and wipe his hands on a cloth. He had a sullen look on his face, like a teenager who’d been told to clean his room.