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‘And like I told you on the phone, Mark, phase two of Pine Grove will be finished by the end of the summer,’ Charlie Lennon said, directing all her attention towards Boyd.

The estate agent was probably in her mid forties, but looked not a day over thirty. Tall, with shimmering dyed blonde hair tied into a carefree ponytail that Lottie suspected was anything but carefree, she wore a tailored green trouser suit and was very beautiful. Lottie didn’t like her.

‘Is the show home for sale?’ Boyd asked, overenthusiastically.

Lottie wanted to thump him to shut him up. Instead, she buried her chin in her jacket collar, wishing she hadn’t come along. It was madness leaving a hectic investigation for this. Boyd’s eyes were glowing, and she fought the urge to drag him away. Don’t get so bloody excited, she thought, we can’t afford this house.

‘Sorry.’ Charlie’s mouth drooped slightly. ‘Already sold. The new owners are still in London, but they’ll be moving here in the next six months. It’s great to have access to it, as it helps us sell houses off plan for the next phase.’

Lottie hadn’t wanted to see the show home at all. And leaving while Superintendent Farrell was doing the press briefing mightn’t be the best idea Boyd ever had. She was well aware that seeing the house would plant a seed of discontent in her.

‘Three bedrooms upstairs and another downstairs that can double as an office. You both could work from home. The broadband is excellent in this area. Let me show you this…’ Charlie marched ahead, hips swaying, her voice drifting along behind her.

Lottie shrugged a shoulder at Boyd, whose face was a picture of excitement.

‘It’s perfect,’ he said.

‘For you and Sergio perhaps, but what about my brood? We’d need to build an extension. And work from home? Where did she get that idea from?’

‘I may have told a white lie when I booked the viewing. No point in scaring her off saying two detectives are interested in buying a house on this estate.’

‘What estate, though? The second phase has barely started.’ Lottie felt like digging her heels in on this argument. The house was too small, full stop.

Reluctantly she followed him into the kitchen, where Charlie had spread drawings over the quartz countertop. Everything was sparkling whites and greys. The units were a light grey, the walls white. Good luck with that, she thought, visualising Louis running around with chocolate-smeared hands or, God forbid, a Sharpie marker. Sliding glass double doors led out to a miniature patio area surrounded by a matchbox-sized garden with a neat lawn. It could be AstroTurf, it was so perfect. This was not the house for them.

Her heart sank when she saw Boyd leaning over the drawings, pointing and asking questions, getting even more excited with whatever Charlie was telling him. Was this a losing battle?

Her inner dialogue highlighted the negatives. It was too expensive, too small, too new and way too white. She’d become used to living in dilapidated Farranstown House.

‘There’s a lot of white and grey,’ she murmured.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ Charlie enthused. ‘You can choose your own colours. And it’s not grey, it’s cashmere.’

‘Thought cashmere was a wool sweater.’

Charlie smiled, her perfect teeth glinting under the recessed lighting. Lottie wondered if she’d flown to Turkey for them. The teeth, not the lights. With the commission she earned on this estate alone, she could probably afford to have her dental work done at home.

‘I can show you upstairs, or would you like to have a look around on your own?’ Charlie winked. Lottie stifled a groan.

‘We can manage,’ she said sourly, and turned on her heel towards the stairs.

‘Why are you so crotchety?’ Boyd joined her. ‘What’s not to like about the house?’

Without answering, she entered what she assumed was the main bedroom. The furnishings seemed top-of-the-range, designer stuff maybe. It all made her feel like mussing up the immaculately hotel-styled bed. Or lying on it, for a few minutes’ sleep.

‘Can you imagine having to take all those cushions off the bed every night? You’d have to stack them on the floor and then restyle them in the morning. Who has time for that? I hardly have time to hop in the shower, never mind make the fecking bed.’

‘It’s a show home, Lottie. They do these things to make it look chic.’

‘Chic? That a new word for you?’

‘Come on. Have an open mind.’

‘Oh, it’s very open. I can see only enough room for your side of the family. Where do you think Sean and Chloe would fit? Not to talk of Katie and Louis. And I’d need space for my mother to stay over occasionally.’

‘Sounds like you want a house for the Brady Bunch.’ Boyd opened a door she’d thought was a cupboard, to reveal an enormous, blindingly white and chrome en suite.

‘Wow,’ she said, genuinely stunned. ‘It’s amazing.’ And it was. The floor-to-ceiling tiles were white with grey grout. ‘The shower looks like something out of the Kennedy Space Center.’

‘You been there?’ he asked, a smile in his words.

‘You know what I mean, smart-arse.’

She edged out by him and found another bedroom. It was bright and airy and decorated for a child. She could imagine Louis in here, playing on the soft carpet without fear of getting splinters in his knees from ancient floorboards. But three bedrooms, four if you counted the office, was not enough space. Sergio needed his own room, plus her three and her grandson. And one for herself and Boyd.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, when he’d finished opening doors, salivating at the beautiful rooms.

‘I want to hear what else Charlie has to tell us.’

He bounded down the stairs.

She stood on the top step clenching her teeth.