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The new officer — a tall, quiet man named Antonio Farina— arrived within fifteen minutes and quickly introduced himself. He then drove James and Alice through the winding streets of the town toward the villa. The afternoon sun had climbed higher now, casting long shadows across the countryside as the car rolled up the gravel path.

When they arrived, the housekeepers, Francesca, and Paolo, greeted them at the door and led them into the living room.

James offered a polite smile as they stepped into the tastefully decorated living room. The air was cool, the curtains half-drawn, and the faint scent of coffee lingered in the space. Mr. Bianchi gestured toward the couch, and the detectives took their seats opposite the couple.

“Nice to see you both again,” James began, his voice calm but purposeful. “How are things going?”

Francesca clasped her hands in her lap, her fingers twitching slightly. “As well as they can be, given... everything,” she said, her voice quiet. “It hasn’t been easy.”

Paolo nodded in agreement, his jaw tight. “We’ve been trying to carry on with the usual duties, but it’s difficult. The villa doesn’t feel the same.”

Alice jotted a note in her pad as James leaned in slightly. “We understand, and we appreciate you taking the time to speak with us again. We just have a few questions for you guys.”

Paolo shifted in his seat, caught slightly off guard. “Oh — for us?” he asked. “Of course. Ask whatever you need.”

James opened his notebook. “Thank you. Let’s start with the basics, then. When did you arrive here? And how did you get here?”

“We live in Arezzo,” He said. “It’s about six hours away by train from here — Bellavita.”

“We arrived around 6 a.m. that morning,” Francesca added, nodding slightly. “Just like we told Officer Rossi.”

James looked up from his notes. “And is this the first time you came here to help?”