‘Purge, sir?’

‘A release of body fluids.’

‘Ah. Not very nice, I presume?’ said Fry.

‘No. It’s rather unpleasant for the grievers. When their loved one has been interred or cremated, we like our clients to go away with a sense of satisfaction that the whole thing has been done properly.’

‘Would it have been possible for Audrey Steele’s coffin to have gone to her funeral empty?’ asked Fry.

‘No, no, quite impossible.’

‘What if the body had been removed, and the coffin weighted with something to disguise the fact that it was empty?’

‘You don’t understand,’ said Hudson. ‘That trick might work for a burial. But Audrey Steele was cremated. If there was no body in the coffin, it would be immediately obvious to the operators at the crematorium.’

‘I see.’ Fry looked around the office. ‘What’s security like here?’

‘We had our security system upgraded earlier this year,’ said Hudson.

‘After the break-in?’

‘Yes. Look, Sergeant, are you going to tell me what this is about?’

‘While we’re collecting the files, you might want to dig out the rest of the information we need,’ said Fry. ‘We want a list of all your staff, including anyone who was working here eighteen months ago but has since left.’

‘That will take some time,’ said Hudson.

‘Your personnel records not up to date, sir?’

‘Of course they are.’

‘Then it shouldn’t be any trouble.’

Hudson sighed heavily, but went to speak to the secretary.

Fry moved back towards the door, and found Cooper at her shoulder. ‘Why can’t we seize the personnel records as well, Diane?’ he said.

‘They aren’t specified on the search warrant.’

‘Why not?’

Fry looked at him ‘Softly softly, remember? Someone decided on a compromise.’

Before they left, Cooper took a peek into the workshop. Three men were working inside. One of them was Vernon Slack, another the thick-necked Billy McGowan he’d seen helping to carry the coffin at the crematorium. This morning, McGowan had his jacket off and his shirt sleeves rolled up as he lined a coffin with satin-like material and tacked a name-plate on the lid. He had so many tattoos on his arms that his skin looked like blue cheese. He might as well have had two rolls of ripe Gorgonzola hanging out of his sleeves.

A line of coffin trolleys stood to one side of the workshop. Along the walls, cupboards and shelves held rubber tubing and jars of red fluid, a stock of handles, linings and name-plates. Past the trolleys, Cooper could see a series of lockers. He supposed the staff must need several sets of clothing – formal funeral wear, something smart for collecting bodies, casual clothes for jobs in the workshop or mortuary. One of the lockers stood open; a black leather jacket hung on the door.