“You don’t know the American, that means he’s new.”
“Nick Graves? I haven’t met him, and haven’t any plans to.” Agnes frowned and Vallotton shrugged. “The people I know are troublesome enough. The last thing I need to do is add others, full of unknown quantities and expectations, to the list.”
“Not very trusting, are you?”
“Based on your time here, should I be?”
She leaned nearer the edge of the parapet to check Carnet’s progress. For a moment she had a sense of vertigo. She felt the pull of the ground. The sense of inevitability. This was how it felt in that final second before George fell. Vallotton gripped her arm and pulled her back.
“You’re ill.”
“No.” Embarrassed, she couldn’t explain. She leaned near the edge again, this time prepared for the heady sense of tipping. She pointed down the ice-coated wall. “Are we above the door from the back hall, the one near the kitchen?”
Vallotton motioned for her to follow him. He stopped three-quarters of the way around the east turret and pointed down. Agnes gripped the wall and leaned over. Sighting the door, she studied the path Felicity might have walked from door to bench.
“Why was she sitting there?” She bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t spoken out loud.
“Normally the lawn is appealing, and there’s a promenade along the lake.” When she didn’t comment, Vallotton laughed, blue eyes flashing. “You’re going to need me if you want the rest of my family, and the servants for that matter, to cooperate. They’ll answer your questions, but you need more. I’m not very trusting and it’s a family characteristic. But I trust you. I trust Bardy and he sent you.”
Agnes admitted that what Vallotton said was at least partially true. This was an unusual situation and she might need someone from the family to smooth things over. Bardy’s claim that there was no possibility Julien Vallotton was involved in the crime had better be right. She was about to stake her reputation on it.
“The appealing view is what I mean,” she said. “Who would sit on a hard bench fifty meters from the shore, surrounded by a clump of trees, when they could sit in a pavilion near the shore under a beautiful roof?” Although the pavilion was encased with ice, the outline of the octagonal structure was clear.
“You aren’t seeing the grove at its best,” Vallotton said. “Although I think its best is now a thing of the past. Before the storm it was a pleasant place. Arsov is wheeled out there most days. Marie-Chantal likes to set up an easel in the shade. When you live on a lake it can lose its appeal.”
Agnes glanced toward Carnet again. Beyond him was Petit. She angled her head and farther away saw a much smaller figure staring up the frozen hill. Mulholland again. Although it was impossible to be certain at a distance. The form appeared to be a man’s, but it could be a tall woman well bundled against the cold with a heavy coat, hat, and scarf. She pictured Felicity Cowell’s clothing. The thin evening dress and a man’s coat. An unlikely combination in an unlikely place.
There had been unlikely combinations in financial crimes. They were the prompt, the literal thing that drew attention and started an investigation. Investigations that often led to ugliness far beyond stolen wealth to human trafficking, drugs, lives destroyed. Violent crimes appeared to be the opposite. The thing that drew attention was seemingly the worst on offer—the taking of a human life. Instinctively Agnes knew it wasn’t the worst on offer and that ultimately they would find the dark and spoiled thing that led to Felicity Cowell’s death. That was what she was looking for. The root of evil. Vladimir Arsov understood. He also knew that evil knew how to hide.
“Last night your aunt said that Monsieur Mulholland lives here, but you don’t know him well?”
“He’s visited over the years but I was always away myself. And I’ve lived mostly in London for some time. I think Mulholland’s on an extended visit now. It’s kind of him, really. Antoinette is very much alone since my father died. Only our housekeeper, cook, chauffeur, and a few maids live here. Antoinette doesn’t count the students who rotate through from university, although I suppose they are introduced to her upon arrival. And of course Mimi lives here with her nanny.” He lifted a hand to shield his eyes against the glare. “I hope the poor woman wasn’t trapped on a road when the storm hit. I’m certain my chauffeur is enjoying himself at the hotel in the village, drinking on my tab.”
“Your brother and his wife also live here.”