Page 79

Every hour, was it?

That sounded very good to her.

chapter

thirty

“This is a real mansion,” Hartridge said, voice a little awed as he pulled to the side and parked in the circular driveway. It swept up a tree-lined entrance and around a fountain that sat in front of the massive double doors of the house.

James silently agreed. Garelli’s in-laws obviously had a lot of money, given their house was in one of the most expensive areas of west London. “Remind me of the name of his wife’s parents,” he said.

“I don’t know it.” Hartridge suddenly looked at him in horror. “I spoke to Mr. Garelli personally, after I left a message for him at the hospital and he phoned me back. He gave me the address, but I didn’t think to ask for their name.”

“It’s fine, Ian.” James kept his voice firm. “Just because they’re wealthy shouldn’t mean they get different treatment in the eyes of the law. We most likely will be introduced to them, but we aren’t magically expected to know who they are.”

Hartridge relaxed a little and gave a nod, and they both got out of the Wolseley.

A butler appeared at the front door before they even climbed the two steps up to the immaculately kept front porch with its two miniature lemon trees shaped into perfectly round balls.

“Detective Sergeant Archer.” James held out his warrant card. “And my colleague Detective Constable Hartridge, to see Mr. Garelli.”

“Certainly, sir.” The butler’s voice was deep and a little gravelly. “Please come this way.”

They were led into a sun-filled lounge that faced the manicured back garden. Everything in it looked beautiful, expensive, and old.

Alessandro Garelli sat in an armchair beside a fire, his feet up on an ottoman, and although he set his feet down when they walked in he didn’t stand up.

“Good morning, Mr. Garelli,” James said as the butler left them to it. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Garelli’s English had definitely improved. “I was let out of hospital on the weekend, and it’s nice to be out of that place.”

“Glad to hear it,” James said. “Miss Farnsworth sends you her best.”

“Farnsworth?” Garelli frowned. “Oh, Gabriella. Thank you.” He eyed James. “You’ve seen her since the attack?”

“I have.” James kept his voice completely neutral.

“Well, what would you like to ask me?” Garelli said. “I can’t think of anything I left out when we spoke at the hospital.”

“Just if you can remember anything more about the man who attacked you?” James asked. “Any detail would be useful.”

Garelli leaned back in his chair. “He was medium height. I don’t know if I mentioned that before, but he was about the same height as me. He was also very muscular, wide and broad.”

That description matched the man who’d shot at him at the manufacturing jeweler’s on Monday, James thought, perking up.

He hadn’t been able to clearly see the body shape of the man who’d shot at him and Gabriella at Garelli’s shop, because he’d been wearing black in a darkened room, only his bright blue eyes had been clear.

“That’s helpful,” James said. “Anything else?”

“I think he is fair-haired, or his hair is very light brown,” Garelli said slowly. “We were wrestling on the ground, and some of his balaclava came up. I could see a little bit of his face scruff, and it was light.” He shrugged. “That’s everything I can think of.”

“You haven’t heard from Sarah Bicton since you’ve been released from hospital, have you?” James asked.

Garelli frowned and shook his head. “No. She’s only starting with me in the new year, so I don’t expect to.”

James tried not to let his disappointment show. He stood and leaned forward to shake Garelli’s hand. “Thank you for your time.”

Garelli gave a nod, and then his gaze shifted to the doorway.