‘All right,’ Little said. ‘I’m afraid this is a bit of a difficult question: is there any possibility Eden could have a lover – someone she might have run off with, perhaps even abroad?’

There was a long silence before he answered. Both officers watched him intently. ‘I don’t think so, no. To be honest, she’s never been like that. Mind games are more her thing.’

‘What do you mean by mind games?’ Alldridge asked.

Niall pointed at the chessboard, then, after a moment’s thought, raised an arm towards the bookshelves. ‘She loves puzzling things out. That’s why she likes detective novels and crime dramas. She’s always trying to get ahead of the detectives in them – and mostly does.’

‘OK,’ Holly Little said, and gave her partner a subtle nod for confirmation. ‘I think we’ve covered everything for now, sir.’ She gave Niall Paternoster her card, on which she had written her mobile number. ‘I’d appreciate your calling me, any time, if you hear from Eden or if there are any other developments. What we would like to take with us is a recent photograph of her that we can circulate.’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’ll find something.’ He jumped up again and went out of the room. The two officers exchanged a glance. But Little signalled her colleague not to say anything and walked through into the kitchen, followed by Alldridge. She pointed down at the skirting board and he nodded, picking up on it, also. It looked a good deal cleaner than the ones elsewhere in the house, and there was a faint whiff of bleach. The floor around it looked very freshly cleaned, too.

Paternoster returned with a photograph of Eden standing in front of a Christmas tree, champagne glass in her hand. ‘This is a really good one,’ he said, handing it to Little. Then, his voice slightly choked, he pleaded, ‘Please find her.’

‘Nice-looking lady,’ she said.

Eden was wearing a short emerald dress, her centre-parted brown hair, elegantly cut, fell just short of her shoulders, and, like Niall, she had perfect teeth.

‘She is,’ Niall said. ‘She’s beautiful, she’s the love of my life.’

‘But this was taken at Christmas?’ Alldridge questioned. ‘Don’t you have anything more recent?’

‘Well, yes, but I particularly like this one.’

‘It would be helpful to have something more up to date, sir,’ Alldridge pressed.

‘OK, right.’ Niall tapped his phone and studied it for some moments, flicking his finger. Then he looked up with a broad smile. ‘Stupid me! I took a great one of her yesterday at Parham House.’ He handed the phone to the PC.

Both officers studied the photograph of the attractive woman, brown hair pinned up, in a pink top and white shorts, with a lake in soft focus behind her.

‘If we could take the one of your wife in front of the Christmas tree and if you could email us this one – to the address on the card I gave you – right away—’