`Which is precisely why I dragged you all in here at this godawful hour of the morning.'
`But wouldn't the post-mortem have picked that up?' says Asante. `I mean, if the body was someone as young as that surely the pathologist would have seen it? Can't they prove it from the bones?'
But I'm shaking my head. `I've come across this before. If a body is very old or very young you can age it from the skeleton, but between about twenty-one and forty-five the bones don't change much. And that's exactly the age range we're looking at here. It was a good question though, Asante, well done.'
I look around at the rest of the team. `So, we need to think this through very carefully. If Philip Esmond deliberately misled us about that ring we have to assume it was because he wanted us to think Michael is dead. Because he wanted us to stop looking for him. And if Michael really is still alive `“ and right now that's a very big if `“ then it's Philip who must be helping him to hide. After all, he has his own boat `“ what better place for someone to lie low for a few days.'
`Or leave the bloody country,' says Quinn darkly.
`I don't think they've done that `“ not yet. Philip can't afford to leave before he's buried the body. Not if he wants us to believe it's Michael's. They won't want to arouse unnecessary suspicion.'
`We can contact Poole harbour,' says Gis. `Make sure the boat is still there.'
`Good, and while you're at it, tell them to expect us. And to stop that bloody boat leaving.'
`What do you want the rest of us to do, boss?' Baxter now.
`That ring is pretty distinctive. Let's get Davy Jones in ASAP to see if he can identify it.' I look round. `DC Asante `“ think you can handle that?'
He smiles. `Absolutely, sir.'
`Right `“ Baxter, can you contact car-rental firms in the Poole area. Philip was driving a hired red Nissan Juke when I last saw him `“ that shouldn't be too hard to find. And when you do, have a look at ANPR `“ see if we can track his movements since he got back to the UK.'
`On it, boss.'
`And Somer, can you speak to the Tech unit again about that phone call on the afternoon of January 4th, when Philip rang in and spoke to you.'
She's frowning. `But we already proved he was in the middle of the Atlantic then `“'
`I'm aware of that. What I want to know now is where he was the day before that call was made.'
3 January 2018, 9.04 p.m.
Three hours before the fire
Southern Rail train service, near Haywards Heath
The passengers in the carriage have reached the grin-and-bear-it (and in some cases the gin-and-bear-it) phase of the delay. Anger is pointless, they just have to stick it out. Conversations have started up, and one little girl is going round offering people her Liquorice Allsorts. Several people look up as the man in the tweed jacket walks through the carriage for the second time. His clothes are respectable enough but everything else looks like it's coming apart. His shirt is untucked and there are sweat stains visible under the arms. As he passes the elderly black woman at the far end, adjacent to the guard's area and bike racks, she hears him muttering to himself, `Is there nowhere on this entire fucking train you can make a private phone call?'
She shakes her head, tutting, and makes a comment to her husband in an undertone. She doesn't like swearing. And men like him, they should know better.
Five minutes later, she hears his voice again. She twists round and realizes he must be on the phone. He's keeping his voice low but the intensity `“ the vehemence `“ is unmistakable.
`I know who you are,' he's saying. `Do you hear me? I know who you are.' He shakes his head. `Not now `“ not on the phone. Meet me at the house. I should be back by midnight. We can talk about it then.'
`You were right, sir. To question where Philip Esmond was when he called me.'
It's Somer, on the speaker-phone. We're in Gislingham's car. Quinn is in the back, making a superhuman effort not to criticize his driving.
`He wasn't sailing south like we assumed,' Somer continues. `He'd already turned round. He was heading back to the UK.'
`When did the boat change course?'
`As far as we can work out, it must have been in the early hours of the 4th of January.'
`So he knew,' I say quietly. `He knew about that fire long before you told him.'
Long before it hit the news. And the only person who could possibly have told him is his brother. Michael Esmond. He didn't die in that fire. He's still alive.
`Philip got a call from a mobile phone at just after two that morning,' she says, `which must have been right around the time he turned back. The caller was in the Southampton area. No prizes for guessing where.'
`Calshot Spit.'
`Right. Those witnesses who ID'd Michael were right after all. He was at the hut. We just didn't get there in time.'
I sense Gislingham shift in his seat next to me and when I glance up, he's frowning.
`Though the mobile number he used to call Philip was different,' continues Somer. `It wasn't the same one as when he rang Harry from the train. He must have thrown it away because he thought we might be able to trace where he was.' Or `“ which if you ask me is much more likely `“ it was Philip who realized, and Philip who told him to dump it.
`So whose phone was it?'
`That's where it gets interesting. It belongs to a man called Ian Blake. He reported it stolen that very morning `“ January 4th. He lives in one of the blocks of flats on the Banbury Road, about half a mile from Southey Road.'
I must be missing something here. `So how the hell did Esmond get his hands on it?'
I can almost hear the smile in her voice. `Because it was on the front seat of his car at the time. You probably don't remember `“ uniform were handling it `“ but this chap Blake had his car stolen from outside his flat in the early hours that morning. He does shift work at the John Rad and he left the engine running to de-ice the car. Only when he came back out again it was gone. There was quite a bit of cash too `“ the wallet was in the car as well.'
So that's how Esmond got to Calshot. He stole a car. The one thing we hadn't thought of. The one thing a man like him would never dream of doing. Not if he was in his right mind.
`Has Esmond made any more calls on that number since?'
`No, but he did get a text later that same day. From Philip's satellite phone. I checked the timing `“ Philip sent that text five minutes after he spoke to me. Five minutes after I'd asked him whether he knew anything about a hut and he denied all knowledge. That's why Michael wasn't at Calshot when we got there, sir `“ his brother had already warned him we were coming.'
And just to be on the safe side, he left it the best part of three days before calling us to claim he'd `remembered'.
`Good work, Somer. Anything else?'
`Oh yes, DC Asante said to tell you Davy Jones has ID'd the ring. Says he definitely saw Harry wearing it.'
`Tell him good work.'
`I will, sir. And Everett wants a word. Hold on.'
There are muffled noises on the line and then Ev's voice.
`I spoke to the Poole harbourmaster, boss. Turns out Esmond isn't in the main marina but one on the other side of the harbour. Took us half an hour to track down which one but we got there in the end. It's a place called Cobb's Quay. The manager there says Philip Esmond docked sometime in the afternoon on January 7th. He'd phoned ahead to say there'd been a change of plans and he needed a berth.'
I'm trying to remember the timeline but Ev does it for me.