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James smirked slightly. “Things are getting interesting. Can you check for me whether what he said is true? Especially if he stayed in the pub the whole time — and also verify his wife, Elise's schedule.”

Marco raised an eyebrow. “Is that really necessary? I think Jonathan’s the most innocent one here. He has no obvious motive.”

Alice shook her head firmly. “No, he does have a motive. If I helped someone with research and wasn’t credited as a co-author — especially on all their papers — I’d be furious. That kind of resentment can run deep.”

James then added, “And Marco, could you also try to get in contact with his old colleagues or friends back in England?”

Marco nodded thoughtfully. “Sure, I’ll start digging into his background.”

James glanced out the window as the sedan pulled away. “Good. I think there’s more to Jonathan’s story.”

They then headed to a small restaurant for lunch — a cozy trattoria tucked between a flower shop and a newsstand, with ivy crawling up the pale stone walls and a hand-painted sign that read Trattoria Luisa. The midday sun filtered through the wooden shutters, casting warm light over the checkered tablecloths and clinking wine glasses.

James sank into his chair with a sigh. “Finally, a moment to breathe.”

Alice glanced around the room. “Must be nice to live here. Simple,” she said, her voice soft, almost wistful. “People chatting over lunch, no one rushing anywhere. Just… life happening at its own pace.”