Corporate Bodies by Simon Brett

wall, but he was now fully psyched up and had to prove it by the evidence of his own eyes.
    The hum of the forklifts and the occasional raucous shout from their operators sounded very distant.
    He came to the end of the aisle and, with a quick look to either side, moved forward to the pallets.
    â€˜What the hell are you doing?’
    Charles whirled round and found himself face to face with Trevor, who had just emerged from the end of the adjacent aisle. Whether he had been monitoring Charles’s progress since the actor came into the warehouse or had just appeared at that moment by coincidence was impossible to know.
    But the operator looked very mean. From his hand dangled one of the crowbars that was used for raising the lids of crates.
    Charles said nothing as Trevor advanced towards him.
    â€˜Why’re you snooping around?’
    â€˜We’re here doing some more work on the video,’ Charles’s dry mouth managed to reply.
    â€˜That’s in the canteen. No reason why you should be in here.’
    â€˜No. I just wanted to have a look around.’
    Trevor tapped the crowbar on his open palm. ‘Well, nobody wants people like you looking around.’
    Charles tried to brazen it out. ‘Perhaps not, but I want to do it. I still want to know what happened to Dayna Richman.’
    â€˜She died. There was an accident with a forklift truck and she died. If you hadn’t left the truck switched on, she’d still be alive.’
    â€˜I didn’t leave the truck switched on.’
    â€˜Don’t try and be clever with me.’ Trevor moved closer, close enough for Charles to smell the stale cigarette smoke on his breath. ‘Just mind your own bloody business and get out of here – otherwise you’re going to get hurt.’ The crowbar was menacingly half-raised.
    â€˜You wouldn’t dare hurt me in here. I’d shout. Someone’d hear me.’
    Trevor let out a short bark of laughter. He jerked his head back towards the other forklifts. ‘Everyone here’s a mate of mine. None of them have got much time for bleeding wankers like actors. If I want to hurt you, nobody’s going to stop me.’
    â€˜Listen,’ said Charles, sounding calmer than he felt, ‘I want some information from you.’
    â€˜Oh yes? And what makes you think I’m going to give you any information?’
    â€˜To clear your name.’
    â€˜My name doesn’t need clearing. Dayna’s death was an accident, unfortunate combination of circumstances, the enquiry said. No individual to blame.’
    â€˜But the enquiry was just a cover-up.’
    Trevor shrugged. ‘Prove it.’
    â€˜Listen,’ Charles said again, trying to assert himself, ‘I don’t think Dayna’s death was an accident.’
    â€˜Oh no? What was it then?’
    â€˜Murder.’
    â€˜Really? Well, as I just said – you just try and prove it.’
    â€˜What’s more,’ Charles went on recklessly, ‘I think you are the one who killed her.’
    The attack came so quickly he had no time to defend himself. He felt the neck of his T-shirt grabbed so that the collar closed round his neck like a noose. At the same moment Trevor’s knee smashed up into Charles’s balls.
    He supposed he should have been grateful that the crowbar hadn’t been used, but, in the eye-watering agony of that moment, he thought he would have preferred it.
    Trevor’s smoky breath was right up against Charles’s face as the voice hissed, ‘Don’t you dare ever say that again! You repeat that and there will be a murder done! And you’ll be the one whose body never gets found! You breathe another word about –’
    â€˜Trevor,’ said an authoritative voice from behind Charles, ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing?’
    Charles had forgotten just how much a knee in the balls could hurt. His life, though shadowed by alcohol,