Page 17
“And don’t forget a missing person,” James reminded them.
Everyone, including Layman, looked confused.
“Sarah Bicton. She clearly lives in that house, so where is she?”
“I hadn’t even thought of that.” Layman rubbed his face. “Too little sleep since this thing happened.”
“I’m going to chase up a lead where that’s concerned,” James said. “I’ll let you know what I find.”
As he and Hartridge walked back down to their offices, James checked the time.
If he hurried, he’d just make the Chelsea shop before it closed. And then, if he really hurried, he might catch Gabriella as she left Kensington and Chelsea Traffic Warden headquarters.
“I’ll go home after I chat to whoever I find at that address in Chelsea,” James told Hartridge. “Finish up the paperwork and then pack it in for the day.”
He headed out to grab his private car, rather than a Wolseley, and then braved the afternoon traffic.
By the time he’d made it from Victorian Embankment along the river to Chelsea Embankment, he doubted he would reach the address before close of business.
He sat, gridlocked in the traffic, and decided he was not going to miss Gabriella as well. Instead of the turn he needed to take for the Chelsea address, he kept going, and made his way to her headquarters first.
As he drove along the high street, he saw a woman in a traffic warden uniform walking along and immediately knew it was her.
He mounted the pavement in front of her, and saw with a grin how her eyes narrowed for a moment in annoyance before she realized it was him.
He leaned over to wind down the window as she approached.
“I’m sorry, sir, you can’t stop here.” She leaned in, all prim and proper.
“Police business, love.” He patted the warrant card in his pocket and winked.
She grinned. “What’re you up to?”
“I’ve got to go see if I can talk to someone at a business on Park Walk in Chelsea. I just wanted to catch you beforehand and ask you to wait for me to come by and pick you up afterward.”
Someone called out to him as they passed him on the road, and he realized it was an expression of sympathy for the fine everyone thought he was getting.
Gabriella’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “What’s the exact address? I’ll get changed and walk over to meet you there.”
“I’ll wait for you there, then.” He gave her the address and then took the next gap in the traffic.
She watched him go, then disappeared into the afternoon crowds in his rearview mirror.
The sight of her, the fact that he’d managed to connect with her to make plans for the evening, lifted his spirits, even after he came across a two-car prang, which delayed his journey even more.
First, he’d been stuck in the traffic that backed up behind the accident, and then he’d had to get out of his car and intervene in what had almost been a punch-up.
Finally two bobbies appeared and he handed it over to them and carried on his way while they tried to clear the road.
When he finally pulled up at the Park Walk address, he had no hope whatsoever that the business would still be open, and he was right.
It turned out to be a jewelers, with the name Garelli’s in gold font across the front window, and given Harry Fingers’ profession as a safe cracker, that sparked his interest.
What was a jeweler doing writing to Sarah Bicton? He had tasked Hartridge with applying for warrants so he could take the letters in Sarah Bicton’s room and read them, but he wasn’t sure he had enough cause for it to be approved.
Still, he could ask the source of the letters why they were corresponding with her, and maybe he’d even get a truthful answer.
He’d found parking right outside the shop and got out of the car to look through the darkened window.
