After the funeral party had gone into the chapel, Cooper looked around for the Hudson and Slack bearers. Having taken in the coffin, the bearers had left the chapel and were taking the chance to have a break until the service was over. They were standing in their black suits in the shelter of a wall near the cars, smoking cigarettes and chatting.

‘Mr McGowan? Could I have a word?’

‘Melvyn won’t like you turning up at funerals like this,’ said McGowan, watching Cooper with a thin smile. ‘It might be bad for business.’

He had a cocky waggle of the head when he spoke. Cooper had seen it before, usually in people who had experience with the police and thought they knew their rights.

‘Where’s Vernon today?’ he asked.

‘He called in sick.’

‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘No idea.’

‘Had he mentioned that he wasn’t feeling well?’

‘Not to me. Come to think of it, he’s not usually the type to be sick, or skiving either. Vernon’s the most reliable bloke we’ve got, in his way.’

‘Perhaps he had a hard night,’ said Cooper. ‘I don’t suppose it’s the best thing in the world to turn up at a funeral with a hangover.’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ said McGowan. ‘A few pale faces and sunken eyes would probably suit the occasion. A touch of the undead, if you get what I mean? As long as you don’t actually throw up in the hearse.’

Cooper smiled politely. He’d heard worse comments at scenes of violent crime – the ghoulish humour of people who had to laugh in the face of death, because they met it every day.

‘Anyway,’ said McGowan, ‘Vernon doesn’t drink.’

Ironically, it was something Vernon Slack had said that was bothering Cooper. And that puzzled him. After all, it wasn’t as if Vernon had actually told him anything – certainly nothing he didn’t already know. But he did see Melvyn Hudson and Christopher Lloyd and the others on a day-to-day basis, when they were off guard. Perhaps they weren’t too careful about what they said when Vernon was nearby with his head under a bonnet. In a way, Vernon might be the very person to see through the façades and know the truth.

Cooper went back over his conversations with Vernon. They’d been limited and brief. Awkward and unhelpful, in fact. He shook his head. There was nothing jumping out at him. So maybe it wasn’t anything Vernon had said, but the way that he’d said it. If he hadn’t registered it at the time, he’d probably never recall it now.

‘There isn’t any need for it, you see,’ Vernon had said. ‘We do the job and look after the grievers, and then we go home. Sometimes, you don’t even know the details of a call until you turn up at the house to do a removal. The boss sees to everything else.’

Cooper’s pace slowed a little as the memory came to him. He could hear Vernon saying it now, word for word, yet he hadn’t taken any notice of it at the time. It was probably nothing, of course. But it was something to mention, when the moment was right.