‘But a woman in Bristol killed her husband after playing this game for three months,’ said Logan. ‘So please, is my sister in danger of being coerced into criminal behaviour?’

Logan’s words gave too much away. Not only were they too ‘police speak’, but the fact that Faye had murdered Harry was not yet public knowledge. Llewellyn stayed perfectly motionless, a smile still glued to his face, but something changed in his eyes. He stared at Logan with an intense, cold glare. DC Logan pushed himself back into his chair. His eyes flickered from Llewellyn to the floor and then back again.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Llewellyn demanded, his charm abating quickly.

‘Detective Constable Logan, Avon and Somerset Police. We’re investigating the death of Harry Graham.’

Llewellyn’s stare slowly moved from Logan to Bloom. ‘And you?’

Bloom set her expression to neutral and held his gaze.

‘You’re really the aunt of this Sally? No. Of course not. There is no girl, is there?’ He looked back at Logan. ‘Let me see your warrant card.’

That was a bad idea. Llewellyn might have already registered and remembered Logan’s name and the police force, but Bloom hoped not. She interjected, ‘How did you get selected? People are invited by name, so how did they know you were a suitable and willing candidate?’

‘My dear lady,’ said Llewellyn, ‘we live in a world of constant and complete surveillance.’

‘But how were you specifically selected?’ Bloom couldn’t imagine Llewellyn completing questionnaires on Facebook.

‘Imagine that in a beach of pebbles and stones there’s a handful of precious jewels. How would you find them?’

‘You don’t know,’ said Bloom. ‘I see.’ She looked at Logan. ‘I think Mr Llewellyn has outlived his usefulness to us.’ She stood up and Logan followed.

‘A good attempt to rile me, Alice, or whatever your name is, but it won’t work, I’m afraid.’

‘I’m not trying to rile you. I’m just disappointed. Based on your job, your house, your obvious intellect, we’d hoped to meet one of the masterminds, maybe even the mastermind, behind the game, but it’s clear that you know nothing.’

There was the smallest of twitches on Llewellyn’s forehead. Psychopaths might be immune to fear and empathy, but anger and ego were a whole different story.

Suddenly the door burst open and in strode Chief Superintendent Barker with DS Green behind him. They’d been parked down the road, listening, and had promised to stay put unless Bloom and Logan were in immediate danger – which they categorically were not. Bloom saw Llewellyn smile. He’d seen her disappointment before she could mask it.

‘You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?’ he whispered.