Catherine looked at her, puzzled.
“The sauna. Do you use it?”
“Now and again,” said Catherine.
“I’ve not been there yet. Never been in a sauna. Can’t really see the point, if I’m honest. I mean, I’ve been in a hot room. I’ve been on the tube in summer. Is it the same as that?”
Catherine pondered the question. “Well, you wear a swimming costume so notexactlythe same. And the air is a lot purer.”
“You should try everything once, right?” said Carol.
“Except murder.”
“Yeah, except that.”
Thirty-Eight
Carol arrived inthe basement corridor first. Catherine had suggested that she wear a swimming costume and dressing gown but Carol had neither (there wasn’t much use for swimming costumes in prison), so she was in her bra and knickers with an anorak over the top. Thank God she hadn’t bumped into anyone.
In front of the lift doors, there was a small gym. Carol peered inside. Empty. She’d never seen a proper gym before. In the prison yard there’d been an area with some weights where the Aryan Sisterhood hung out, but she’d avoided it. Early on, she’d had to make a choice. Which group would she associate herself with for protection? Everyone needed a tribe. In the end she’d opted for the crossword club over white supremacy. Better biscuits.
“I feel like a flasher,” she said to Catherine, who’d arrived in a white toweling dressing gown, her hair neatly tied back.
“Don’t worry. You look fine. It’s this way.”
Catherine led her down the corridor and turned right. The sauna door was wooden with a small porthole window.
“That’s strange. It’s locked.” Catherine pushed the door again, then looked through the window. “Oh, Jesus.” She stood back and covered her mouth.
Carol went to the window. Inside a naked man was sprawled on the floor, face down.
“I’ve seen enough dead bodies,” said Catherine. “That is a corpse.”
Carol knew Catherine was right. They were two very different people, but that was one thing they shared: a familiarity with the dead. “We need to get in there,” she said.
“Carol, I’m not really in the mood for a sauna anymore, if I’m honest. We should just tell somebody at Reception.”
“The door’s locked,” said Carol.
“I’m sure they’ll have a key.”
“Think about it,” said Carol. “Why would that man lock himself in there? It’s been locked from the outside. This is murder.”
Catherine’s face slackened, the truth dawning on her. “Then we should call the police,” she said.
“But this means that maybe Polly didn’t kill Desmond. Surely it’s the same murderer. Don’t you think? I mean, this place isn’t crawling with murderers, is it?”
“Apart from you.”
“Apart from me, yes.” Carol laughed. “You see what I’m saying, though, yes? Don’t you want to solve the case?”
Catherine hardened. “More than anything.”
“We get the police involved, we go and tell Reception, it’ll get messy. We’ll be in the dark. You know who they’ll turn their sights on again, don’t you? Me. Ihaveto solve this case to clear my name. Do you trust me?”
Catherine paused, then nodded.
“Thank you. You were a forensic scientist, yes?”
