‘My top ten.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Let me see now, would that be rated for personality or best in a swim-suit?’

‘I’ll settle for overall winners.’

He slapped a fly on the horse’s neck. ‘Well in no particular order, the saguaro, because they’re so human. Drive through northern Arizona and the hills up there are choked with them. You can find ones that look like grizzled old men, or cowboys ready to draw a gun. Some look like Chinese priests or lepers. On a good day you can find one that’s a dead ringer for your father.’

I laughed up at him.

‘They have endearingly human qualities too.’

‘Really? Like what?’

‘They get thin in a drought and fatten up when it rains. They can live on a centimetre of water a year but if they don’t get that much the older ones fold up and die and leave the water for the younger members of their family . . . Then there’s cholla, which have wonderful names – Beehive Nipple, Strawberry Hedgehog, Teddy Bear.’ He pointed at a bushy-looking cactus. ‘Those are cholla there, but watch out for them. Their spikes detach very easily; if you brush against them they hook into your flesh leaving only the thinnest hair above the surface of your skin. Very hard to get out. In Spanish, the word means annoying small-town gangsters. Ask Benjamín about his various spats with the cholla. He believes they jump out at you out of sheer malice.’ He pointed at another plant which looked like the padded end of an ogre’s club. ‘That’s barrel cactus. Any minute now it’ll sprout a pink or yellow flower on top of its head which makes it look exactly like a southern black woman going off to church in her best bonnet . . .’

Selby fixes me with his probing stare. ‘Ma’am, you’ve been living in Temerosa for over four months now. Have you seen any of those 9/11 type people around the place?’

‘None at all.’

‘You spotted any aliens coming through town?’

‘Apart from the little green ones?’

‘Mrs Coleman, we appreciate your European sense of humour,’ Hogan says heavily. ‘Really we do but—’

‘Jeff tells us you have a local builder handling the works,’ Lane interrupts.

‘Duval!’ Hogan says with distaste. ‘The man’s a drifter, a liberal. He only hires Mexicans!’

‘Mexicans, huh?’ Selby’s eyes narrow with suspicion. ‘All legal, I assume?’

‘I certainly hope so. At least Mr Hogan was kind enough to check their work permits for me.’

In the quiet of the schoolroom, I see Duval’s head bent over the fake ID cards, a frown of concentration on his face.

‘Just the same,’ Selby is saying, ‘you can’t be too careful. Mexicans are Mexicans.’

‘I don’t know how you sleep at night.’ His wife shudders. ‘They say Temerosa is haunted.’

‘Well I guess you can’t have a ghost town without ghosts!’ I say cheerfully.