Silent Voices

thought. More a marketing opportunity. She expected him to leave them, but he just moved a couple of yards away and talked into the walkie-talkie he had clipped to his belt.
    Lisa still stood just outside the steam-room door. She was pale. Vera wondered if she’d opened the door and looked inside. A young lass like her, Vera would have expected a reaction more similar to that of the manager. Death wouldn’t be real for her. It would be the first scene of a TV drama.
    ‘Have you touched anything?’ Vera asked. ‘No problem, like, if you have. But you need to tell me. Fingerprints. You know.’ But the outside of the door would be the only place they’d get fingerprints, she thought. No chance inside with all that steam. The fingerprint powder would turn to sludge.
    At last Lisa did speak. A small, timid voice. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t touch anything.’
    ‘Are you all right, pet?’
    The young woman seemed to pull herself together, smiled. ‘Yeah, sure.’
    ‘Been on duty all day?’
    ‘Since eight this morning.’
    Vera pulled a pair of latex gloves over her hands. Joe had given them to her earlier. He was a real Boy Scout, Joe, and always prepared. Looking down at her fingers, she was reminded of the old man in the swimming cap. Would she recognize him with his kecks on? Maybe not. She opened the steam-room door. ‘Take a peep,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. It’s not that gruesome. But I’d like to know if you recognize her. Could save us a fair bit of time.’ Behind Lisa’s head Joe Ashworth was frowning and shaking his head, all disapproval and indignation. He seemed to think women were delicate flowers who couldn’t survive without his protection.
    ‘I don’t really know any of the names,’ Lisa said. ‘You don’t in the pool. If you’re running a class, that’s a bit different.’
    ‘Still, you should be able to tell us if she’s a regular. She might do one of your classes too.’
    Lisa hesitated, then looked inside.
    ‘Have you seen her before?’ Vera demanded. What was it with the lass? Vera couldn’t be doing with these weak and wilting young women.
    ‘I’m not sure. They all look much the same, don’t they?’ And Vera supposed they did. Just as all the skinny young women looked the same to her.
    ‘Can we get this steam switched off?’ Vera didn’t know what damp and warmth did to a corpse, but she didn’t suppose it would help preserve it. ‘Without going in there, I mean.’
    Taylor bounced over to her. ‘Sure, I’ll organize it now.’ He hesitated. ‘Is there anything else I can do to help?’
    ‘I’m assuming she died here this morning,’ Vera said. ‘I mean, the place would have been cleaned overnight. Someone would have noticed if she was in the steam room then.’
    ‘Sure. Of course.’
    But the words seemed forced to her. ‘Really? This is a murder inquiry. I’m not fussed about your hygiene regime.’
    ‘We’ve been having problems with our cleaning staff. A couple of the regular girls are off sick. I brought in a temp, but he’s not brilliant. I’m not saying he didn’t clean in here, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d sloped off early.’
    ‘Where did you get him from?’ Vera tried not to sound too keen, but felt a spark of interest. New member of staff. Dead punter. Didn’t necessarily mean there was a connection, but it would make life a whole lot easier if the temporary cleaner had a conviction for killing middle-aged women. Or if the victim turned out to be his estranged wife.
    ‘He’s the son of our receptionist. University student home for the holidays.’
    ‘Right.’ She should have known life couldn’t be that simple. ‘I’ll need to talk to him. And to all the staff who were on duty.’ She thought she’d rather do the staff interviews. Leave the jolly old buggers to Ashworth, who had the patience of a saint. ‘You’ll have a record of all the health-club members who checked in today?’
    There was an entry system with swipe cards. She assumed each card had an individual chip and didn’t just activate the turnstile.
    ‘Aye,’ he said, but again he didn’t sound too convinced. ‘All the IT is done from headquarters in Tunbridge Wells. I assume they’ll have the records.’ Vera thought she’d get Holly onto that. It’d be a boring kind of job, hanging on the end of the phone while some geek worked his magic with the computer. Holly, her most recently appointed DC, was young and bonny and bright and,