‘No,’ gasped Tabitha. ‘Is this the same Forellis who own the art galleries?’
‘Yes, it’s one of their sidelines, the majority of their galleries are in Italy, they have one in London and a huge storage facility in east London which is the base of their import-export business. They’re renowned for shifting high-end objects and…’ he hesitated, then lowering his voice, added, ‘they’re untouchable. There’s someone very high up protecting them. So as long as they remain under the radar, they’re left alone, claiming to be a legitimate business.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I investigated them last year when a member of staff died in an accident in one of their ice-cream factories,’ he said. ‘The whole thing was suspicious, but my editor told me to back off and report it as a workplace tragedy.’
Tabitha bit her lip. So far, the evidence was circumstantial. Was Lucia even connected to this Forelli family? She took a deep breath and, feeling huge disloyalty to Gulliver, asked, ‘Have you ever heard of a Lucia Forelli?’
‘Yes, she runs the family galleries. She rarely uses her real name, Lucia, she has a number of aliases and a different husband for each name.’
‘What?’ said Tabitha, feeling sick. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yep, the Forellis have two main galleries, one in Rome, one in Florence where they sell very high quality fakes as the real thing. Lucia is the only child of Lester and Patricia Forelli who run the London branch of the business. There are more cousins, but she’s a direct descendant of Joseph Forelli who opened the first art gallery in Soho in 1926,’ he said. ‘Let me check my notes.’ There was a pause and Tabitha could hear him tapping his keyboard. ‘Yes, here it is. Joseph was married to an Eglantine Last, who was a singer; the family is descended from them.’
Tabitha swallowed her gasp of shock at hearing the name she had first read in Wilbur Swanne’s diary.
‘Do you know much about Lucia?’ Tabitha asked.
‘She’s another one who seems untouchable,’ said Mikey. ‘About a year ago, she vanished off the radar, but she’s recently re-emerged using the name Lucy Swanne. Oddly enough, she popped up in conversation last week. One of the guys here had a fling with her about a year ago, shortly before she disappeared. He was the one who mentioned her, she has a new husband, a wealthy banker and heir to an estate in Hampshire. She contacted my colleague to ask whether he knew any rare book dealers; apparently, she’s about to come into an inheritance which could be worth millions. He gave her short shrift, but he passed the details to me as he knew I was interested in the Forelli family. I made a few calls and a file made its way to my desk – best you don’t ask how – showing the dossier Lucia had put together on the new man, it was an unusual name, so I remembered it: Gulliver Swanne.’
Tabitha was silent, she did not know how to respond.
‘Tabs, are you still there?’ asked Mikey, sounding concerned.
‘Yes,’ she said, but her voice was hoarse. ‘Do you have any paperwork to back this up? Lucia’s marriage and divorce certificates, anything to prove these allegations?’
‘My Forelli file is bulging but there are no divorce certificates, Lucia’s a serial bigamist,’ replied Mikey. ‘My editor might have officially warned me off, but, unofficially, I was told to keep digging. Why do you ask?’
‘Because Gulliver Swanne is my boss’s nephew and the book Lucia claims she’s about to inherit is a rare edition ofThe Canterbury Tales, which belongs to Cerensthorpe Abbey. We found it a few weeks ago in a secret room.’
‘What the?—?’
‘Mikey, can you send me whatever you think is relevant, please? I need to show it to Gulliver.’
‘Of course,’ he said, then added, ‘You’ll let me have the story, though?’
Tabitha gave a reluctant grin. ‘Ever the journo,’ she said. ‘Of course we will. Cheers, Mikey, I owe you.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he said, his voice softening. ‘You’ve helped me out often enough and you’re owed a few breaks. I hope this guy, Gulliver, realises how lucky he is to have you.’
‘No, it’s nothing like that—’ she began, but Mikey cut her off.
‘Maybe not yet, but I can hear it in your voice,’ he said. ‘He’d better be one of the good guys or I’ll come down and sort him out on your behalf.’
‘Thank you, Mikey, it means a lot.’
‘Me threatening violence?’
‘No, you caring and forgiving Blake.’
Mikey coughed and when he spoke again, his voice was gruff with emotion. ‘I’ll put together all I have on Lucia Forelli and send it over on one condition,’ he said.
‘What’s that?’
‘Take her seriously and be very careful. The Forelli family is not one you’d want to cross.’
39
