It is at moments like this that I wish I’d had the kind of formal journalism training that might give me the next steer forward. The office already knows I won’t be back for a few days. I imagine them nodding approvingly at the benefits that will surely come from some time off, relaxing and gathering my thoughts. Space to process things, as everyone has been so keen to advise.

Picking up my phone, I dial Si’s number, half-expecting him not to answer, given he is supposed to be in court.

When he picks up, he sounds even more eager to speak to me than I am to him.

‘Si, listen … Just a quick one. I’m going through some papers – I’m helping Jess’s mum with something.’ I know any mention of Jess will curtail any potential further questioning. ‘You know when you’re going through the details of records from Companies House. Doesn’t there always have to be a name attached to it?’

‘Not necessarily. But there’ll have to be a signatory. Not necessarily the person who owns the company, mind …’

‘Thanks, Si,’ I say, hanging up before he can ask anything further.

Scrolling down, I find it: signatory: James McCann, associate at McCann Legal and Partners, Queen Square, London.

Chapter 72

Isobel

Ordinarily, I would have used LexisNexis to do a background check on a company, after my usual trawl of Companies House. Usually, the website would help throw up information on a company’s directors, their dates of birth and sometimes even their home addresses. Except in this instance, as is often the case with companies who have something to hide, I can’t, as they are registered in the British Virgin Islands.

Again, I might otherwise have made use of the electoral roll search, which had been known to provide invaluable data when people had forgotten to tick the ‘no third-party disclosure’ box when buying a new fridge or something equally seemingly innocuous. But in this instance, without a director’s name to go on …

I am beginning to wonder if this is the universe’s way of telling me to give up when I remember a trick Si showed me in my early days with the newspaper, as we researched a shady local business together. If you had a mobile phone number, you could do a reverse search on the electoral roll and see if the number matched a person who was registered.

Jumping up, I pull the wad of the phone bill from the drawer where I have left it, and start to scan through the numbers.

I had pored over the list when I first opened the letter without noticing anything useful, but this time, something jumps out at me: there are two numbers that come up again and again. My whole body humming with anticipation, I type the first one into the search. But the result is unequivocal: Unknown number.