‘Is there anyone you’d like me to call? Your husband?’

I linger at the top of the stairs, leaning over the bannisters. ‘No, we’re separated,’ she says. ‘He doesn’t need to know about this. Nobody was hurt. Can I get you a coffee or something?’

‘No, ma’am, thanks all the same. If you’re sure you’re OK?’

It takes a few more questions and a guided tour of the downstairs before the officer is happy enough to leave her, at which point, I venture back down myself. I find her in the living room, locking her knives in the safe behind the overlarge family portrait. Even walking slowly into the room, I make her jump.

‘Is that necessary?’ I ask her.

‘I think it is,’ she says, turning the combination on the safe and settling the portrait back in place. The room is heavily decked out in Christmas fluff, fake snow and feathery boas and a large tree stands proudly in the corner, already trimmed with popcorn, gingerbread figures and an angel that a child has made. Either that or they bought it from a blind cobbler.

‘You and Cody are separated?’

‘Yeah,’ she says, removing her gun from the back of her jeans but not pointing it at me, just sort of holding it. ‘We’re in touch.’ It’s as though she resents every word she utters; like each one costs her money.

‘I’m pretty hungry. Any chance of that toastie?’

She doesn’t answer for a while but when she does she says Kitchen and points the way with her gun.

The ceilings in all the downstairs rooms are white with fake wooden eaves to make it look olde-worlde even though the place was probably only built in the last ten years. The kitchen countertops are spotless white, flecked with shards of glitter, and there are two sets of bi-fold doors looking out over a huge flagstone sun terrace. Beyond it is a vast, sloping green valley. Seren sets about making the toastie while I pull out a stool at the opposite end of the breakfast bar.

‘It’s a nice place, Seren. Great for the kids. Whereabouts did you kill me?’

She stops unwrapping slices of fake cheese, momentarily, before starting up again like she’s been rebooted. ‘Out there.’

I hop off the stool and look out onto the terrace. The table and chairs are gnarled metal, the same green as the door. It’s the only thing about the place, apart from Seren, which looks stark and uninviting. I stare out at the flagstones. She knows what I’m doing before I do.

‘We had it jet-washed when the police were done.’

I nod, looking past the terrace down to a sloping lawn and an area where there’s a veg patch and some chickens peck about inside a large wire pen. ‘The papers said it was on the doorstep.’