As they rounded the house they passed a side door which stood open, leading to a large kitchen. A stone alcove half filled with logs was next to the door, presumably the location of Mark Mooney’s ‘quickie’ with the minibus woman. Two black wheelie bins stood to the side of the log store, the lids resting on an overspill of empty bottles.

‘Looks like quite a party,’ Chris said, nodding at the bins, and Clare agreed.

Beyond the house the gardens seemed to be extensive, screened here and there by clumps of trees.

‘Want a look?’ Chris said, but Clare shook her head.

‘Not till the search team’s finished.’ She turned back towards the front of the house. ‘Come on, let’s see what it’s like inside.’

Gary, a uniformed PC, was stationed at the front entrance and he moved aside to let them pass. They stood in a central hallway just inside the door, marvelling at their surroundings. The walls were ochre with deep skirting boards in light oak. A picture rail ran round the walls with plaster cornicing picked out in light cream. On one side of the hall, a fireplace was set into a corner with easy chairs arranged in front of it. Solid oak doors led off in every direction and Clare opened one, peering into a large sunny room. The walls were decorated with brightly coloured wallpaper, a Liberty pattern, she thought, the bay windows in the same light oak with what looked to be the original shutters pulled back to admit the daylight. A rosewood grand piano sat to the side of the room, the rest given over to comfortable-looking sofas in front of thick-pile rugs.

Another door led to a dining room which seemed to have been unused by the party, the table neatly laid with china plates and polished cutlery. They continued exploring the downstairs rooms, Chris marvelling at the kitchen with its pale blue units and enormous refectory table.

‘Sara would love this,’ he said.

‘Wouldn’t we all.’ Clare turned on her heel. ‘Come on. Let’s find the room the gunman used.’

A richly carpeted central staircase led from the front hall up to a gallery on the middle storey and they climbed quickly to a broad landing with doors off left and right. Bedrooms, Clare guessed. Straight ahead, down a short passage was a smaller return staircase. The wooden treads were bare and the second flight narrower. As they ascended, Clare wondered if this had been servants’ quarters at one time. Or perhaps a nursery.