There was the sound of a door opening and Agnes knew this conversation was over. “You should have told me you knew her when I first asked. We would take your passport, but the roads are closed, so that’s not really a worry. And we’ll let you have a chance to talk to your embassy. I should warn you that if they had to pick between you being guilty and a member of this family being implicated, they would probably throw you in the frozen lake wearing your boots. You may think you know what power and influence mean, but here the ties are deep and strong.”
When she reached the end of the room she was surprised that no one had entered and decided she had imagined the door opening. She left Graves looking worried and wondered what had made her say such nonsense. He was probably telling the truth. The more likely scenario was for Felicity Cowell to kill him. She toyed with the idea. Felicity could have threatened him. Wasn’t a knife, like poison, a woman’s weapon? If they fought, he might have struck her when she turned. Maybe he killed her out of fear, or perhaps he slipped after he got the knife from her. Agnes rubbed her forehead and knew that, as unlikely as it was, the idea had to be considered.
“I liked the part about saving us versus him.” Daniel Vallotton was waiting for her outside the door, hunched over on a crutch.
“Quick recovery,” she said, eyeing his leg. It still looked terrible, with thin steel rods emerging from all sides.
“Julien says I’ve had my fun with you. I didn’t mean to disrupt your investigation, and I do use the wheelchair. I can only use one crutch because of my arm, so I can’t go too far easily. I hobble up and down stairs then sit in the chair to rest my arm. Can’t talk big brother into putting in an elevator.” They turned down the long corridor. Daniel hopped on one leg, balanced on a single crutch under his one good arm. Agnes doubted he could have managed a knife out in a storm. She glanced at the leg and shuddered.
“To make a clean slate I also wanted to talk to you about the painkillers. I haven’t taken one in a few weeks.” He stopped. Agnes was uncomfortable. Why had he stopped here, in the deepest shadows?
“I was hiding, and didn’t want to admit it in front of my entire family. I knew Julien had arrived so I faked being asleep when MC came into our room.”
Agnes moved closer to a window, away from the shadows. “I’m glad you sought me out. I’ve wanted to ask if you chanced to meet Felicity Cowell in London. Your wife says that you spend more time there than she does.”
“What else did she say? Did she tell you how we married?”
“I’m more interested in your relationship with Felicity Cowell.”
“Is that what Julien suggested? Well, there wasn’t a relationship. No matter what they tell you, there wasn’t one.” Daniel leaned heavily on one crutch. “Marie-Chantal almost married him, you know, Julien I mean. The morning of the murder I didn’t want to see her reaction when he arrived and wonder if she regretted her decision to marry the second son.”
Agnes didn’t reply.
“She doesn’t paint anymore.” He shrugged. “I think we’ve made a big mistake.”
He limped away and Agnes felt oddly sorry for him. She would need to talk to him again, and press him on any previous relationship with Felicity or Courtney Cowell. He struck her as a man of the world and it was possible he met Courtney in a circumstance where he either wouldn’t want to remember her or actually didn’t. Thinking about Felicity/Courtney, Agnes felt slightly ill. She collapsed onto a cushioned bench. Staring at an unfamiliar stone wall, thinking about a young woman selling her body when she had a first-class mind, she felt a cold hollow inside. One that no fire would warm.
Thirteen
It was late afternoon and the sun was setting when Agnes joined Carnet on the ground floor of the chateau in a small room that had been set aside for their use. Not luxurious, it was comfortably furnished with two deep sofas and a large table where they could lay out their notes. The slit windows let in strips of cold north light, however several old-fashioned oil lamps were lit and the room was reasonably bright despite the lack of electricity. Agnes started to remove her outdoor coat, but changed her mind. Despite the blazing fire in every fireplace it seemed that each room was colder than the last.
“One last thing from me,” Carnet said after hearing her account of the day. “You were right about the coat. She was wearing one of Mulholland’s when she died. He confirmed it.”
“And others have confirmed that it always hung there. Looks like she pulled it on in haste. Grabbed the first one, not caring if it fit.”
“Points to panic.”
“Panic or fear. Either way she didn’t plan to go outside until she was by the door.”
They sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes.
“Not much different from financial crimes,” Carnet said.