As he rummaged through his keys, Julie Diamond said, ‘Yes, it is very lovely.’

‘Wait until you view the inside! And let me show you the technology – wow!’

‘We’ve actually just seen it,’ Mike Diamond said.

Jordan looked at both of them, puzzled. ‘Seen it?’

‘Your colleague just showed us around.’

‘Colleague?’

‘Yes.’

The agent frowned. ‘I’m sorry – we are the sole agents for this development, and none of my associates are here today.’ He looked hesitant. ‘Someone showed you around?’

‘Yes,’ Julie replied. ‘A lady, she said she had viewings back to back all day and could only allocate twenty minutes to us.’

‘It isn’t possible,’ Jordan said. ‘I – I don’t understand. What was her name?’

The couple looked at each other, then Mike shrugged. ‘Well, she didn’t give us her name. To be honest, she was a bit odd.’

‘Can you excuse me?’ Jordan asked. ‘Please, just a couple of minutes?’

Reluctantly, the couple nodded.

He let himself into the house, walked through the hallway and called out, ‘Hello! Hello! It’s Paul Jordan – hello!’

He went into each of the downstairs rooms, then up to the first floor, checking each of the rooms there. Then up to the loft, being sure to check the bathroom.

There was no one.

Frowning, he hurried back downstairs and out the front door. And caught a glimpse of the Diamonds’ Mercedes, already several hundred yards away.

2

Saturday 27 October

‘I love it!’

‘You do?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘No!’ he said, beaming. ‘I don’t love it – I FUCKING love it!’

Standing in the huge loft, with autumn sunlight streaming in through the south-facing window, Jason put his arm around his wife and hugged her. ‘I abso-fucking-lutely love it!’

‘You’ll have to excuse my husband’s language!’ Emily said to the estate agent.

‘Oh, please, Mrs Danes,’ Paul Jordan beamed. ‘Artistic licence with language is permitted, for such a famous artist as your husband!’

‘I’m hardly famous, but thank you,’ Jason Danes replied.

‘Oh, I would question your modesty, Mr Danes. I took the liberty of looking you up on Wikipedia, and imagine my excitement when I realized I have one of your oil paintings hanging in our living room – a wonderful picture of an old man in an armchair with a spaniel at his feet. So full of charm. My wife bought it for me for Christmas a couple of years ago, from a gallery in Lewes. In the Jordan household, you are indeed famous! And I’m quite certain that should you decide to buy this beautiful, unique home, one day there will be a blue plaque with your name on the wall outside.’

‘Not too soon, I hope,’ Jason Danes replied. ‘You have to be dead for that to happen.’

Jordan smiled. ‘Well, don’t they say that death is always a good career move for an artist?’

As if given a cue, the sunlight faded behind a cloud. The room darkened, and the expressions on the faces of Jordan’s two clients darkened with it. Their enthusiasm for the property suddenly seemed to be draining away.