Already Dead(38)

‘I wasn’t suggesting they were going at it in the stationery cupboard all day long,’ said Fry.

Baird looked shocked. ‘I should hope not. What sort of company—?’

‘But relationships are often formed in the workplace, aren’t they? Everyone knows that. It’s the most common way of meeting a future partner. So it’s a perfectly reasonable question. One of these women working out there in the cubicles, perhaps? They must stop for a break occasionally, since they’re not robots. What about the blonde one at this end, in the blue sweater? The woman who keeps looking this way, wondering what we’re talking about?’

Baird’s eyes flickered rapidly backwards and forwards in a desperate effort not to look at the woman Fry was referring to. Of course, he was afraid she would meet his eye, and that would be a complete giveaway. He began to go faintly pink with the strain.

‘I—’ he said. ‘Well…’

Fry could have put him out of his misery and told him she’d guessed several minutes ago. His reaction to the hook she’d offered confirmed her supposition. But she let him stew for a while, and watched him shuffle uncomfortably on his chair. They were both aware that the blonde woman was staring unashamedly now, no doubt seeing Baird’s discomfort and recognising that something was wrong. Fry turned slightly and gave her a smile. It wasn’t her friendliest smile. The woman flushed, straightened her headset, and went back to her screen.

She looked back at Baird again.

‘What’s her name?’

He cleared his throat nervously. ‘Dawn.’

‘Married?’

‘I … Well, it’s not…’

Fry shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter, sir. We’re not investigating your affairs, are we?’

‘Er, no.’

‘But your friend Dawn might have mentioned something.’

‘I never knew Glen Turner to show any interest in the female employees. And I’ve never heard it spoken about by … well, by any of the staff … that he made approaches of that kind. It’s the sort of thing you do hear about in an office environment, if it happens.’

‘Or you notice it,’ said Fry. ‘Those little glances.’

‘Exactly.’ He coughed. ‘There was none of that with Glen. I’m quite sure he just wasn’t interested.’

‘Pity.’

‘Pity?’

‘It’s often the first place we look, a relationship gone wrong. You know, the two main motives for murder – money and sex.’

‘I understand.’

Baird was relaxing now. He thought he’d got through the interview pretty well, all told. He gave her that expectant little smile again, though now there was a tiny tremor around his mouth that he couldn’t control.

‘So what’s your next move, Sergeant?’ he asked eventually.

‘Well, we’ll be following up any leads we can.’ She tapped the file. ‘Perhaps there’ll be some information in here that will be helpful to us.’

‘I hope so.’

‘But I still need to ask you whether Mr Turner knew anybody well in the office. Perhaps not a sexual relationship, but was there someone he had lunch with, or talked to during a coffee break? Did he go to the pub after work?’

‘To the pub? No, not Glen.’ Baird looked thoughtful. ‘Well, I suppose the person he knew best in the office would be Ralph Edge. He’s a claims fraud analyst, works on the next floor up. I’d say they had a few things in common, Ralph and Glen. Being a bit geeky was one of them.’

‘We need to see his work area,’ said Fry.

‘It’s just down the corridor here. I’ll show you.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Fry and Irvine followed him along a few yards of carpeted passage and into another room, where Baird gestured at a desk.

It might as well have been an unused space, for all the personal signs that Glen Turner had left. Most people who spent a lot of their time in office environments tacked up family photos on their partitions or stuck humorous slogans on the computer casing. You don’t have to be mad to work here, but it helps. Fry had never gone in for the practice herself, but she understood that other people did. It was a kind of ownership ritual, she supposed – marking out your territory. Individuals wanted to feel that their colleagues and employers would remember something about them, even if they weren’t actually present.

But Turner didn’t seem to have had any worries about that. When Fry looked at his desk, she felt that he’d never been here. Even if he’d been present, the desk wouldn’t have told her anything about him.