He frowns. `So? What's that got to do `“'
`In fact, you'd docked here three full days before that. On January 7th.'
His face hardens a little. `I don't see what difference it makes. I had stuff to do, that's all.'
`Really?' I say. `The sort of `њstuff`ќ that includes driving to Calshot Spit to collect your brother and bringing him back here?'
`That's ridiculous `“ like I said, I'd forgotten all about that poxy place.'
`I doubt it, Mr Esmond. Judging from the photo albums we found at Southey Road, you went there at least a dozen times when you were a child. You wouldn't be likely to forget that. Not, of course, unless you had a very good reason.'
`You can't prove any of this `“ it's just speculation.'
`On the contrary, Hants Police have already found the car your brother stole, abandoned less than a mile from the beach hut. As for you, I have officers trawling ANPR data as we speak. It's only a matter of time before we find out exactly where you've been. So what was the plan? Lie low till the funeral was over then head off back to Croatia where you'd claim the money from the will and set your brother up in a new life?'
Gis appears at the hatch and shakes his head. `He's not here, sir.'
I take a step closer to Esmond. `Don't make this harder than it needs to be. I can arrest you here and now, if I need to. We know Michael is alive and we know you've been trying to protect him. I have a brother `“ I get it. But it's over now. And it will be better for everyone if you just tell us the truth. There have already been far too many lies. Far too many and for far too long.'
Esmond turns away, takes a deep breath and then lets it out in a heavy, jagged sigh.
4 January 2018, 12.09 a.m.
23 Southey Road, Oxford
`And what about Sam?' says Harry. `Stuck in this bloody great mausoleum day in, day out. No job, no friends, just wiping Zachary's arse and waiting on you hand and foot. No wonder she's fucking depressed `“ no wonder she turns to someone else for a little bloody affection `“'
He knows even as he says it that he's gone too far. `Sorry,' he stumbles, `I shouldn't have said that `“'
But it's too late. He can't take it back `“ can't unsay it `“
Michael's eyes narrow `It's yours `“ is that what you're telling me?'
`What `“ what are you talking about?'
`The fucking baby `“ that's what I'm talking about.'
Harry swallows. `Shit `“ I didn't know `“'
`She's your stepmother, you disgusting little pervert.'
Harry's eyes widen. `No `“ you've got it all wrong `“ shit `“ is that what you think?'
The bottle of whisky may be half empty but it's heavy, easy to wield.
Harry stumbles as the first blow lands and he staggers backwards, a rush of blood breaking down his neck.
`You bastard,' he hisses, sprawled against the wall. `You total fucking bastard `“'
`It wasn't Michael we found at the house, was it, Mr Esmond? It was Harry. Or should I say Enrico?'
Philip still has his back to me. `So you know about that.'
`We know your brother had a relationship with Ginevra Marrone and that she had a baby. We also know Harry came here last year looking for his father. And it was his body we found in the ruins of Southey Road.'
Philip turns slowly to look at me. Quinn has his phone in his hand and the voice recorder on.
`What I don't know, Mr Esmond,' I continue, forcing him to meet my eye, `is how much you know about DNA.'
He looks baffled. `I don't know what you mean.'
`Our lab concluded that the body at the house was Michael because it shared enough of your DNA to be your brother. And you knew that, didn't you? That's why you were so keen to give us that bloody sample `“ you'd looked it all up and you knew the conclusion we were bound to come to. But that's not the only possibility, is it? There's at least one other relationship that could produce exactly the same result.'
He's not saying anything now. Just staring at me.
`How long have you known Harry was your son?'
15 July 2017, 2.09 p.m.
173 days before the fire
23 Southey Road, Oxford
`You want me to prove it? You want to do a test?'
They're standing at the far end of the garden. By the summerhouse and the compost heap, where a cloud of midges flitter in the July heat. Further up the lawn, Sam is dozing in a deckchair, and the two boys are kicking a ball about.
Harry is staring at him, waiting for an answer. `I asked you `“ do you want to do a test, because that's fine by me. I don't have anything to hide.'
`It's not that I don't believe you `“'
Harry's face hardens. `You're just not sure who's the daddy, right? Whether it's you or your little bro.'
`You don't understand `“'
`I understand all right. I understand that he dumped my mother and you moved in on her. That's what I understand.'
Philip sighs. `It wasn't like that.'
Harry raises an eyebrow. `So what was it `њlike`ќ, exactly? A quick fumble in the back of your car? Got her on the rebound, did you?'
`She knew what she was doing `“ she was hardly a `“'
He stops, embarrassed.
`Hardly a virgin, is that what you meant? No, your brother saw to that, didn't he?'
`I didn't mean that `“ I meant she was mature for her age `“ she made her own decisions `“'
`She was fifteen, for fuck's sake. Fifteen.'
Philip flushes now. `I know. Look, you have to believe me `“ if I'd known she was pregnant `“'
`What? You'd have married her? Fat chance. Daddy would have put paid to that.'
`I meant money. I could have given her money.'
The blue eyes are icy cold now. `You'd have paid her to abort me.'
`Don't be ridiculous. You know that's not what I meant. If I'd known I'd have done the right thing.'
`Oh, don't worry,' says Harry with a bitter laugh. `You're going to. I'm your son. The eldest son of the eldest son. And that means all of this is mine.'
He gestures up at the house. Philip watches as Michael comes out of the office and goes over to his wife. She looks up at him, shading her eyes against the sun. They exchange a few words then he unfolds another deckchair and sits down next to her.
`I got a lawyer to look at that will I found,' says Harry. `I bet the trustees don't know your brother is living here, do they? In fact, I bet you didn't even bother asking them.'
Philip flushes. `It's an informal arrangement.'
`I'll take that as a no, then. My lawyer says he's got no right to live here. That if you don't want to that's your decision, but after that it comes to me, not him. And as far as I'm concerned I've been waiting long enough. It's my turn. That's why I came here. Looking for you.'
`You can't expect me to turn them out `“ that's completely unreasonable.'
Harry moves closer. `What's unreasonable is leaving a fifteen-year-old girl to bring up a baby alone. What's unreasonable is growing up on the breadline because your mother's family have disowned her. What's unreasonable is finding out your father's rolling in it and not a single fucking penny of it has ever come your way `“'
`We're not rolling in it. We never were and we certainly aren't now.'
`Fine. Like I said. I just want what's due to me. My fair share.'
Philip takes a deep breath. `You're going to have to give me some time. Something like this `“ out of the blue `“ it's going to be one hell of a shock. And you know as well as I do that he has a lot on his plate right now.'