Now, seeing Ben’s remains arrayed more clinically, it was hard to associate them with the same mental image – although, even to Fleet’s untrained eye, the signs of the violence the boy had suffered were obvious.

‘Multiple skull fractures,’ said Randy, pointing with his pen, and speaking in a tone now that was completely at odds with his usual showman’s charm. As he ran Fleet and Nicky through his findings, he sounded more like a particularly uncharismatic weatherman. ‘The radius is cracked on his left arm, and was never given a chance to heal, suggesting the break occurred at or around the time of death. Likewise, there are chips on several bones in his hands.’

‘Defensive wounds,’ Nicky muttered. She looked at Randy. ‘Against a knife?’

‘Against something sharp, certainly,’ said Randy. ‘Although it is impossible to determine what caused the break in his arm. A fall, possibly. Alternatively, the boy raised his arm to try to deflect something heavy.’

‘So there’s no ambiguity?’ said Fleet, still looking at the cracks in the boy’s skull. ‘He was murdered.’

‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any question about that,’ said Randy, something like a smile creeping back into his voice. ‘The question is, how?’

Fleet raised his head.

‘The hyoid bone was fractured, too, you see,’ Randy explained, once again gesturing with his pen. Every time he pointed it, he also clicked it, twice in quick succession. ‘See here, at the top of the neck? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but such breaks are exceedingly rare – except in cases of strangulation, where they occur at least fifty per cent of the time.’

Fleet looked from the neck, back to the skull.

Randy was watching him closely, seemingly reading his thoughts. ‘Either one of those injuries might have killed him, Detective Inspector. But the most logical chain of events is that, first’ – he pointed to the arm and hands, click click – ‘there was a struggle. The victim was overpowered, and was struck at least twice on the head’ – click click – ‘with blows powerful enough to crack his skull. Finally’ – click – ‘the victim was throttled. Whoever killed your boy certainly wanted to make sure he was dead,’ Randy concluded. He clicked his pen one final time, then tucked it into his breast pocket.

‘Jesus,’ said Nicky, after a silence. She’d been standing beside Fleet as Randy had spoken, and now she circled to the other side of the table, her eyes fixed on the body – on Ben – as she moved.