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So had his wallet, his passport, andhis mobile telephone. They had even taken his wristwatch. He supposed they were hoping he would become disoriented and confused. He was confident that he knew more about the techniques of interrogation than the Zurich police did.
He had been questioned three times by three different officers: once briefly at the train station, before being taken into custody, and twice more in this room. Judging by clothing and age, the importance of his interrogators was getting progressively greater.
The door opened and a single officer entered the room. He wore a tweed coat and no tie. He called himself Sergeant-Major Baer. He sat down opposite Gabriel, placed a file on the table, and stared at it as if it was a chessboard and he was contemplating his next move.
“Tell me your name,” he blurted in English.
“It hasn’t changed since the last time I was asked.”
“Tell me your name.”
“My name is Mario Delvecchio.”
“Where do you reside?”
“Port Navas, Cornwall.”
“ England?”
“Yes.”
“You are an Italian, but you live in England?”
“That’s not a crime the last time I checked.”
“I didn’t say it was, but it is interesting, though. What do you do in Port Navas, England?”
“I told the first three officers who questioned me.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I’m an art restorer.”
“Why are you in Zurich?”
“I was hired to clean a painting.”
“At the villa on the Zürichberg?”
“Yes.”
“Who hired you to clean this painting? Clean? Is that the word you used? Peculiar word: clean. One thinks of cleaning floors, cleaning cars or clothing. But not paintings. Is that a common expression in your line of work?”
“Yes,” said Gabriel and the inspector seemed disappointed he did not elaborate.
“Who hired you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it was never made clear to me. The arrangements were made by a lawyer in Zurich and an art dealer in London.”
“Ah, yes-Julius Isherwood.”
“Julian.”
With a Germanic reverence for paperwork, the detective made a vast show of expunging the offending word and carefully penciling in the correction. When he had finished, he looked up triumphantly, as if awaiting applause. “Go on.”
“I was simply told to go to the villa. I would be met there and shown inside.
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