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She gave a slow nod. “He could be, but I couldn’t say for sure.”
“Did he say anything? Have any accent?”
She shook her head. “All he said was . . .” She glanced at him and blushed. “He swore and ran off when he saw George and Solomon.” She sniffed. “I called him a coward. That threw him.”
James was pleased to hear the righteous indignation in her voice. It was better than the tears.
“I pushed him, too, to get him away from Mr. Rodney. He really didn’t expect that. He sort of stopped, and though I couldn’t see his face, I think he was shocked.”
James could well believe that.
“Then Solomon and George were running toward us, and he did a bunk.”
“Can you tell me what you did after you left the Yard?” James asked. “Do you think he might have followed you, or already knew where to find you?”
“Oh.” She stared at him. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I took the bus from the Yard straight to the club. I nearly got off at home, but they serve dinner at the club and I didn’t feel like cooking. Mr. Rodney is a member, and I have a standing invitation to attend.”
“Mr. Rodney is your neighbor,” he guessed.
“He used to live opposite me,” she said. “But he just moved downstairs to the ground floor. Sometimes Solomon comes over to take him to the club, but sometimes I take him, and we were just walking back home when we were attacked.”
So he had either followed the bus from the Yard, or he was on the bus.
James guessed he was on the bus. Maybe he had followed her from work to the Yard, and waited for her to come out.
“He had to have been following the bus.” Gabriella spoke slowly, her eyes wide as she looked over at him. “I did check, but I didn’t see anything.”
“He knows you’re aware of the white van,” James said. “He might have been in another car.” He decided not to suggest the possibility that he had been in the bus with her.
She leaned back, face a little pale.
She looked ready to drop.
“We’ll leave you to get some sleep,” he said, scraping back his chair. “I’ll get the local bobbies to swing past every hour to check on the house.”
She nodded, but he didn’t think she really heard him.
She followed him and Hartridge to the door.
“Why does he want to kill me?” she asked. “I haven’t seen his face. I can’t identify him. And even if I could, it would be to say he was driving a white van. That’s all.”
“He obviously thinks you know more than you do,” James agreed.
They left her leaning against her doorjamb, and her question niggled at James. Because she was right. Why did their suspect see her as such a threat? Unless Gabriella knew something that she didn’t realize was significant.
He looked forward to asking the bastard about it in an interview room down at the Yard.
chaptertwenty-two
She had a new round.
Mr. Greenberg had switched her route with Patrick Nelson’s, no reason given, but everyone could guess. And she couldn’t have been happier.
She was in south Kensington, in the side streets—a nice, quiet patch. And not a green jaguar in sight.
It wasn’t that much different to her old route, if she was being honest, but a whole borough over, and with a slightly less well-heeled air, although not by much.
Usually, routes were changed every two months, and a change wasn’t due for another three weeks, but Patrick Nelson hadn’t seemed put out by it, and given he had full seniority, being a retired copper, and would have been able to refuse without any consequences, she guessed everyone was happy.