“Did you run in the same circles in London? Was that why you said she looked like someone you knew? Did she follow you here?”
He laughed. Really laughed. “Yeah, I knew her. Knew all about her. Uppity bitch, coming here like she owned the place. Pretended she didn’t recognize me. It’s been what? Three years? But she knew who I was and I knew for damn sure she was the same person. Felicity Cowell she might call herself but when I met her she was Courtney Cowell. Stripping in a nightclub.”
Agnes sucked an invisible stream of air through her lips. It whistled. “You’re certain?”
“I’m not likely to forget. I was in London for junior year and we met just after Christmas at an art opening. Nothing fancy, a student show. We became friends, or at least I thought we were.”
“Something happened?”
“We had a lot of laughs. She was great-looking, funny, smart, and I liked her. I was working hard during the day and partying at night but we could talk. We talked for hours. She told me she was in London on her own, wanting to break into the art world. I was there doing sort of the same thing. Except I’m more art history and she was auctions. Still, we had a lot in common.” He shrugged. “I was wrong.”
“Who broke it off?”
“Wasn’t much to break off, just laughs and some drinks.”
He started to walk away but Agnes blocked his path. “What happened?”
“Okay, so my dad’s a frigging senator, it’s not like I throw that around when I’m trying to make a life on my own in the one city where no one recognizes me. Some friends from home came to town and Dad sent me extra cash to take them out. Out to a proper place, a place he’d like to hear about, not a cheap student dive. He pulled some strings and we went to a club, a famous one. It’s private. And there she was. Taking her clothes off. She was angry when she saw me.”
“She was embarrassed.”
“She could have pulled it off. When I first saw her there I figured she was doing it for a lark. Like she was some rich guy’s kid who wanted to see what it was like to live underground. I knew she’d lied to me, but she was so cool and posh I would have believed she was a duke’s daughter walking on the wild side. I know what’s it like to want to be invisible, to not be my father’s son all the time.”
This was the first true expression of who Felicity Cowell was that Agnes had heard. She’d seen for herself that the young woman was beautiful, but she’d only a vague sense of her personality; just sporadic words and impressions. This was three-dimensional. Real.
“You learned that she wasn’t rich, that she needed the job?”
“She left that night after she saw me. When I was sober I realized that if she wanted to step outside a rich family’s world she’d strip in a dive where no one would recognize her.”
“Maybe she wanted to be seen? If she wanted to hurt someone close to her she might have wanted them to see what lengths she’d go to. Work in a club where their friends would see. Embarrass the family.”
“Occurred to me. Sounds like my sister. But I saw Courtney, I mean Felicity, one more time before I left the city. I knew where to find her and I had to know. She told me the whole story to get rid of me. She’d left home when she was a kid, moved around, finally made it south to London. Made money doing whatever she had to.”
Agnes didn’t want to think what “doing whatever she had to” meant.
“Funny thing is,” said Graves, “she’d never gone to a friggin’ university, but she was the smartest person I’ve met. She had an amazing memory for art, for artists, for everything really, and she’d learned it all on her own. There was something special about her, but she hated me. Hated that I’d seen both sides of her. Then she walks in here. I knew it was her and just wanted to say hello.”
“And she ignored you?”
“She wouldn’t admit we’d met. I mean, it was between the two of us, but she wouldn’t admit to anything. Acted like I was a stranger.”
“She was afraid. If you’d told anyone here that she wasn’t university trained she would have been fired.”
“Well, I didn’t kill her.”