Кара Хантер - No Way Out

`Why don't I ask him about it,' says Somer eventually. `Philip, I mean. I can give him a call.'

`No,' I say. `Go and speak to him in person. I want to know how he reacts. And before you go, put in a call to Rotherham Fleming Co. I want to know everything they're prepared to tell us about the Esmonds.'

She looks doubtful. `They'll probably say it's confidential `“'

`I know. But there's nothing to stop us asking.' I look around the room. `Anyone else have anything new and/or useful?'

`Challow called,' says Gislingham. `About the fingerprints they took off the garage door. Most were Michael's and match a lot in the study, but the rest were just partials. And for the record, none were remotely like Jurjen Kuiper's.'

`I've had a call from that Oxford friend of Michael's we were trying to talk to,' says Everett. `He could have seen me later today, but luckily he's also around tomorrow morning.'

She doesn't bother saying why this afternoon is out because we all know. I'm going to have to dig around in my desk drawer and find my black tie.

`Can I help you `“ have you come to see a resident?'

The attendant at the care home reception smiles a neat professional smile that doesn't quite reach the rest of her face.

Somer takes out her warrant card. `DC Erica Somer, Thames Valley Police. I believe Mr Esmond is here at the moment, with his mother?'

The woman nods. `They're in the side lounge.'

She heads down the corridor, her plastic shoes squeaking on the wooden floor. The whole place has the feel of a faintly rundown country hotel. The sweep of gravel drive, the slightly over-large wooden staircase, the brocade curtains with their tasselled tie-backs and the heavy furniture that wouldn't have been out of place in the Southey Road house. Somer wonders for a moment whether that was the point `“ whether Michael Esmond wanted his mother to spend her last days in a place as much like her old home as possible. The only difference is that all the chairs here have plastic seat protectors and the heavy scent of artificial air freshener is masking something worse.

The Esmonds are sitting in a bow window overlooking the garden. On the terrace outside, there are pots of crocuses placed close to the window so the residents can see them, and in front of them there's a pot of tea and two cups. With saucers. Somer can tell, even though he has his back to her, that Philip is already wearing his funeral suit.

He's clearly pleased to see her. Despite the circumstances. He gets to his feet. `DC Somer `“ Erica `“ thank you for coming.'

She smiles. `It's no problem. I know you have a lot to deal with at the moment.'

`This is my mother, Alice.'

Mrs Esmond looks up at her. She must be one of the youngest residents here. No more than seventy, perhaps as little as sixty-five. But her eyes are those of an old woman.

`Hello, Mrs Esmond,' says Somer, holding out her hand.

`Is this your girlfriend?' Mrs Esmond asks, ignoring the hand and turning stiffly to her son.

`Bit of a looker, isn't she?'

`No, Mum,' he replies quickly, flushing and shooting Somer a glance. `This is a lady from the police.'

Mrs Esmond's mouth falls open and she appears about to say something but they're interrupted by the attendant, asking Somer if she'd like tea. `There should still be some in the pot.'

`OK, thank you. Why not.'

The attendant goes in search of extra crockery and Philip turns to face her. `What was it you wanted to talk to me about, DC Somer? Must have been something important.'

`We found a copy of your grandfather's will at the house.'

Philip's shoulders sag a little. `Oh, that.'

`You didn't tell us about it.' She keeps her tone light and her smile in place. `Was there any reason for that?'

He looks bewildered. `It didn't have any relevance. How could it?'

`Just so I'm clear, the terms of the will stipulate that the house has to pass to the eldest son. That means you, doesn't it? But you weren't living there.'

Philip sighs. `Well, like I said, I move around a lot. It would have been standing empty half the time. And Michael had more need of that place than I did. He's the one with the kids.'

He seems to realize suddenly what he's just said. `Jesus,' he says, dropping his head into his hands. `What a fucking nightmare. Sorry. I don't normally swear that much. I'm just struggling to process all this.'

`Don't mind me. I've heard a lot worse. I used to teach in a secondary school.'

He glances up with a sad, rueful smile. She hadn't realized before how blue his eyes are.

`So you agreed that your brother and his family could live in the house?'

`It wasn't official or anything. But yes. It made sense all round, what with him working in Oxford as well.'

`And the clause about the house being demolished?'

`I know it looks a bit odd, but that will was done in the sixties. Right around the time the government were planning the ring road. One of the routes they were considering would have gone straight through Southey Road `“ the house would have been compulsorily purchased. The lawyers told my grandfather he ought to have a provision for an eventuality like that `“ something outside anyone's control. Look, is that it, Constable, only I have a funeral to go to `“'

`Just one more question, sir. Presumably the fire means clause five does actually now apply. The house will have to be pulled down, won't it?'

`I suppose so. I really hadn't thought about it.'

But she's not letting up. `So that means it'll be sold. The land, I mean. That'll be worth a huge amount of money, in that part of Oxford `“ a building plot of that size.'

Philip shrugs. `Probably. But like I said, that's really not my top priority at the moment `“'

`You haven't spoken to your insurance company? It's going to be a huge claim. Surely they'll want to send an adjuster `“'

`Look, I just want to find my brother. Which, if you don't mind me saying, is what the police should be doing as well.'

`The police?' says Mrs Esmond suddenly. `Are you from the police?'

`I told you, Mum,' he says patiently.

`Is it Michael?'

Somer and Philip exchange a glance. `Yes, Mum,' he says quietly. `It's about Michael.'

`I thought your father had sorted it all out,' she says, gripping her son's arm.

`Sorry,' says Philip in an undertone. `This is what happens. She seems OK and then she starts getting the past confused with the present. Or she just starts getting confused, full stop.'

`He told me he'd spoken to the doctor,' Mrs Esmond continues, louder now. `That Mr Taverner. And then he spoke to the police and it was all sorted out.'

`Here you are then,' says the attendant cheerily, bending over to make space on the tray. `And I've brought some biscuits too. Only garibaldis but beggars can't be choosers, eh, Mrs E?'

`I told him, the doctor, Michael's never done anything like that before,' Mrs Esmond is saying. `He's always been such an honest little boy. Always owns up when he's been naughty. The very idea that he could do something like that and then just run away `“'

Somer frowns. This isn't confusion `“ this is something specific. She turns to Philip. `Do you know what she's referring to?'

`Seriously `“ I've no idea.'

`It could be important.'

The attendant looks at Philip and then at Somer. `Well, if it helps, I think I know what she means. Alice told me that story a while ago.' She straightens up. `It was when your brother was still at school, wasn't it?'

There's an awkward silence. Philip Esmond looks away.

The attendant glances at him and then at Somer. `Just shows you what going private can do,' she says heavily, before turning and moving briskly away.

Philip isn't meeting Somer's eye.