Sophia Holmes and the Scandal in Belgravia *Completed*

Chapter Twenty - The Six Thatchers Part IV

"Right," John says once we get outside, "what do we do now?"

"If Professor Harker bought one of the statues and was later burgled, it's likely the other buyers were also burgled," I explain as I scribble an address into the notebook and hand it to John. "Talk to the student who lives here. Ask if he bought one of the statues and if he did whether he still has it." He nods.

"Alright. I'll phone you if I find anything." I return the nod.

Because two of the targets had been students, the accommodation of the one I'm looking for isn't far from the campus - it's just a short walk to their flat.

"Er hi," the young woman who answers the door says, eyeing me suspiciously, "can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Amelia Matthews," I say. "On a matter concerning Pietro Venucitti."

"Right," she replies, frowning. "Come on in." I follow her down a short, narrow corridor into a small living room containing at least two sofa beds. "I don't mean to offend you or anything," she says, while gesturing to a plastic kettle against the wall which I decline, "but aren't you a bit young to be on the police?"

"For the police, yes," I respond. "But I'm not working for the police. I'm a private detective ... of sorts."

"Yeah, okay," she sighs, "teenage detective, got it. Not sure what'll come of it, but what do you want to know?"

"How long was your relationship with Pietro?" I ask firstly.

"Who said I was?" she questions, sounding defensive. "He was gay."

"Nobody said anything," I respond. "I simply observed the pictures of the two of you together that were hung on the wall. Holding hands, cosy little hugs - aren't they the usual signs of a close relationship?"

"Yeah ..."

"So when did you find out about his sexuality?"

"When I found him in bed with Beppo Rovito," she replies bitterly. "Hell of a way to find out."

"But you remained close?"

"Yeah," she says, shrugging. "I mean, he tried to make it up to me for a few weeks - soon gave up though. "

"Did you ever buy any of his artwork?" I question, looking around.

"Just the one," she responds. "A clay statue of Margaret Thatcher."

"Do you still have it?" I prompt and she nods.

"Yeah," she points to the window. "It's right there ..." Amelia stops and lowers her hand.

"We have reason to believe that the person who broke in a couple nights ago was the same person who killed Beppo," I say, trying to catch her attention again. "Where did the burglar break in?"

"Kitchen window." I jump up and walk briskly into the kitchen, her following behind me. A board has been put up in place of the glass, but the window itself is quite small.

"Get out," I demand, pointing towards the door. "I need to go to my mind palace." She protests, but I block her out.

I've missed something, something obvious. The glass which is still clumped in places behind the draining board confirms that someone definitely broke into the kitchen - even John could have figured that out. What else?

I reach out and pull the board from the window frame before throwing it aside.

I know who it is.