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.
‘That lad,’ said Hudson when Vernon had wandered off. ‘He drives me up the wall. But I can’t get rid of him.’
‘Because of his grandfather?’
‘Old Abraham, yes. He says we should give the lad a chance. But Vernon’s away with the fairies half the time. Look at him. The wheel’s still turning, but the hamster’s dead.’
‘How long has he been with you?’
‘A couple of years now. It seems like a lifetime.’
‘Old Mr Slack doesn’t play a part in the company any more?’
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‘He’s in his seventies now. Abraham and I still own equal shares of the business, but I draw a salary as general manager on top of that.’
‘I see. So you pretty much have sole control of the company.’
‘On a day-to-day basis, I suppose I do.’
‘And your partner died, didn’t he? Vernon’s father?’
‘Richard was killed in a road accident last year. I expect you know that, Sergeant.’
‘And this other gentleman is Mr McGowan, if I remember rightly?’
Hearing his name, McGowan looked up at Fry. Then he edged past to get through the door. Back in the office, Fry looked at the row of filing cabinets.
‘You seem to be busy, Mr Hudson,’ she said.
‘We get about a hundred and fifty calls a year.’
‘A hundred and fifty funerals?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your job is to make all the arrangements?’
‘We serve the family’s needs,’ said Hudson. ‘That’s how we like to put it.’
‘Mr Hudson, we’re concerned with one particular family at the moment. The family of Audrey Steele, whose funeral arrangements were handled by Hudson and Slack eighteen months ago. On the eighth of March last year, to be exact.’
‘I can’t possibly remember one funeral out of so many,’ said Hudson.
‘Unless there was something unusual about it, I suppose.’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Do you remember Audrey Steele’s funeral?’
‘No. Look, let me check the diary. It might ring a bell. We record the main details in there.’
‘All right.’
‘Last year? March, you said.’
‘Yes, the eighth.’
Hudson leafed through the pages of a large desk diary, the
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day to a page type. ‘Ah, yes. Steele. Yes, we did that job. I can’t remember it, but the details are here.’
‘Would you have seen Audrey Steele’s body before her funeral, sir?’
‘Not personally. It was a morning funeral. The deceased would already have been prepared and casketed when I came in.’
‘You mean the body was in the coffin?’
‘Yes. Somebody else would have done the set-up. I mean, they’d have dressed the body and prepared it. Sometimes we do cosmetics and arrange the body with flowers for viewing by the grievers.’
‘Did the family want to view the body on this occasion?’
‘No. It was a closed-casket funeral. It’s a lot better that way. No matter how good the preparation, there can still be a little purge.’
‘Purge, sir?’
‘A release of body fluids.’
