‘Detectives,’ he said, giving them a smile that was as big as it was fake. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

‘Can we come in for a few minutes?’ Rachel said. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions about Tara Coleman.’

Now that she was officially in charge of the case, she’d made it her priority to speak with everyone who’d been at the villa the previous weekend. One of those people had killed Nick Gilbert. Rachel knew it was possible Tara had been murdered by someone else but, for now, she was working on the assumption that – at the very least – the two murders were connected.

Adam hesitated, just for a moment, before inviting them in.

‘Would you like something to drink?’ he asked, closing the front door. ‘I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee. Ethiopian Yirgacheffe Chelelektu. Are you a coffee connoisseur, by any chance?’

‘Not really,’ Rachel said.

‘Me, I’m more of a Diet Coke girl,’ Ade said. ‘You don’t have any of that, I’m guessing?’

‘I’m afraid not. Although, I’d urge you to try some coffee. It really is excellent.’

Rachel suspected he was trying to intimidate them, but she let it pass for two reasons. One, she’d been around too long to let a pretentious twat like Adam Murray make her feel inferior. And two, the smell of coffee as they followed him through the big hallway into a light, airy kitchen, made her inclined to overlook his twattiness. For now, at least.

‘You have a beautiful house,’ Ade said.

‘Thank you.’ Adam smiled. ‘Vivienne and I moved in here shortly after we married. She wanted a place in the country, an escape from London. We found Glebe House after a few weeks and knew right away it was perfect. Here.’ He poured coffee from a metal cafetiere that looked suspiciously like one Rachel had seen for fifty quid in Waitrose a while back. ‘I think you might like this.’

Rachel took the mug he held out for her, breathing in the rich and slightly citrusy aroma of the coffee.

‘Wild Ethiopian beans.’ He smiled at Ade. ‘You sure I can’t tempt you?’

‘I’m good, thanks,’ Ade said.

‘Your loss. The beans are hand-picked and washed at the Chelelektu washing station for processing. They’re… oh, Christ, I’m sorry. I sound like an absolute dick, don’t I?’

‘A little bit,’ Rachel said, smiling to take the sting out of her words.

Adam nodded at her mug. ‘Maybe you’ll forgive me when you try that.’

The coffee, when she sipped it, was like no coffee she’d ever tasted before. Fruity, with an undercurrent of caramel and a rich, smooth coffee flavour that made her want to keep drinking it all afternoon.

‘It’s good,’ she conceded. Then, thinking of Grace who was far more sophisticated in all things than Rachel, ‘Where do you get this?’