Margaret took a hankie from her bag and delicately placed it over the offending genitalia, holding back her head as if she was dealing with a dog turd. “When did you cut off his pubic hair?” she asked. “Just before we got here? I presume it’s part of the process?”
“Oh, no,” said Carol. “He, uh, came like that.”
“Ah,” said Margaret, nodding. “So the murderer is some kind of sex maniac.”
“No, no,” said Catherine. “It’s a modern trend. He likely did it to himself. Called manscaping, I believe.”
“You a manscaper, Geoffrey?” asked Carol, and the three ladies giggled, Catherine hiding her face from the blushing Geoffrey.
“If it is, as you say, Catherine, a modern trend, then for now I’m going to class the pubic hair length as not, in and of itself, suspicious.”
“Thank you, Geoffrey,” said Catherine, moving things along. She inspected Giles Temple’s face. “Sunken eyes, dark circling around here,” she said, as if dictating notes to an assistant. “The skin is very dry. This is all consistent with terminal dehydration.”
“Poor man,” said Margaret.
Carol looked at the corpse properly for the first time and couldn’t help but empathize. What a horrible way to die. Locked in an oven of your own making, gasping for air. To die in a sauna was a shame; to die in a sauna that you had personally designed and paid for was a bitch. Did he see his executioner or did he suffer in ignorance? She had to admire the killer and their imagination. Locking someone in their own sauna was a method that had never occurred to her. This was a murderer with a sadistic streak that matched her own. Maybe there was no rhyme or reason and looking for motives was a nonsense. This could be a new serial killer, taking up Carol’s old hobby. If so, they were all at risk.
“The body loses water, the blood becomes thicker, circulation decreases. I think he most likely suffered multiple organ failure,” said Catherine. “If we were somewhere else and I had all my tools, I might cut him open.”
“We wouldn’t want to make a mess on the floor,” said Carol. “It’s very hard to get blood out of wood tiling. It gets stuck in the grooves.” She felt the other three looking at her. “I’m sorry. It just is.”
“Catherine, I don’t think I can bend down to get a proper look,” said Geoffrey. “Is that a tattoo on his arm?”
“Oh, yes.”
Carol moved around the body for a better look. On Giles’s bicep she saw a coat of arms with some Latin. Below the Latin was another word in a different font. “What does that say?” she asked.
“Waynflete,” said Catherine.
“What’s that?” asked Carol.
“Is it a service station?” said Geoffrey. “No, I’m thinking of Fleet. Great services, it has to be said, but I don’t think I’d be getting a tattoo. Could be a rock band or something. Maybe a cult he was in. Any mileage in that?”
“You’re not far off,” said Margaret. “It’s a house.”
“A house?” said Catherine.
“At Eton. The boarders are divided into houses. Waynflete is one of them.”
Carol clenched at the mention of the place. She’d never considered herself a class warrior, live and let live, but something about that particular school rubbed her up the wrong way. She’d seen a TV documentary once, and the juxtaposition of some of the mostbully-able children she’d ever seen and their impenetrable confidence had made her a little sick in her mouth.
“How do you know that?” asked Catherine. “I thought they only accepted boys at Eton.”
“I was in cabinet. You’d think they were all still at Eton from the way half of them banged on about it,” said Margaret.
“Desmond’s son-in-law went to Eton. Calls himself Shep. They look about the same age. Could have been schoolmates,” said Carol.
“Or enemies,” said Catherine.
“Let’s assume Giles went there,” said Geoffrey. “Very well connected, you’d expect. Would be interesting to know who he’s been in touch with. Could give us some clues. How this connects to Desmond, I don’t know.”
“I have Giles’s phone,” said Carol, holding it up. “It was in his dressing gown pocket.” She clicked a button on the side and looked at it. “It seems to be working again. It had overheated when we found him.”
“You won’t get in there without a pin,” said Geoffrey.
“Isn’t it one two three four?” said Margaret. “I thought everyone’s was.” Carol could see Margaret feel the others looking at her. “Not thatmineis. Mine’s much more complicated than that.”
Carol leaned over Giles’s body and held the phone toward his face.
