Careful not to touch anything, as I don’t want to risk suffering the wrath of Martin and the forensics team, we make our way upstairs to confirm there is no body present. We open the doors and peek into a few rooms, though only the bathroom and Ed’s bedroom have suffered the same fate as the living room, the rest remain untouched.

Happy that there is no body, we make our way back down the stairs and wait outside for the forensic team.

Martin is doing well not to show his annoyance. He smiled cheerily as he stepped out of his van and remained almost impassive as we told him we had been in the house to confirm the lack of a corpse.

Even though he knows, as detectives, we are fully entitled to do so, Martin is of the impression that forensics should always be the first to have access to a crime scene, for fear of losing a modicum of evidence.

His team work quickly to secure the area and before long, a perimeter has been established. The flashing blue lights of the patrol cars have piqued the neighbours’ interest. Silhouetted bodies are evident in a number of neighbouring windows, peering out into the cold night, whilst some have pulled coats on and are braving the rain, huddling close to the tape separating the street from the crime scene, trying to ascertain some information from the stationed officers, who remain impassive.

An hour or so later, Martin grants us access to the house. His team are still working, but as there is no body, he sees no harm with us being in there at the same time, providing we stick to his strict protocol - no touching shit without his consent; his words.

Careful not to move any of the little yellow numbered markers indicating something of interest, we make our way through the downstairs area of the house. Having already looked in the living room, and trusting Martin’s judgement that there isn’t much more to be gleaned from the room, we make our way into the kitchen.

It puts my little kitchen to shame. A double range-style cooker is fitted between bespoke, heavy wooden cabinets with stainless steel handles. A large marble island sits pride of place in the middle of the floor, housing a block of knives and a set of wooden cutting boards. An oversized American style fridge freezer fills the back wall and a door to the right of it leads to a vast expanse of a dining room.

It seems no expense has been spared in decorating and furnishing. It also seems a little grandiose for a single man, but I suppose if you have the money, you may as well spend it. You can’t take it with you.

Martin appears at the door and informs Liam and me that nothing of evidential interest has been found in this area of the house. Liam turns to leave and I follow suit, before stopping when I notice a card on the kitchen island, partially wrapped in its envelope.