“I don’t want to make an assumption and forget the alternatives. How easy would it be for someone to come in and leave with these things?”
“If you had asked me two days ago I would have reminded you we live in a fortress. My entire childhood was spent preoccupied by the safety and boredom of this place. We used to walk on the outer edge of the battlements for a thrill; of course they are nearly a meter wide so it’s not exactly tightrope walking. Clearly my perception has changed. As you know, we don’t have a security system, but there are limited points of entry and you can’t come in through a window or the roof without some trouble. Besides that, you would be visible for miles. You can’t tell with the power out, but we illuminate the lakeside fa?ade at night, special request of the bureau of tourism. Made my father sick, but he did it anyway. Come over the roof or down the walls to the windows at night and half of France would notice you in silhouette.”
“I’ll assume you haven’t stolen from yourself to collect the insurance, but what about the people who live here and work here?”
“You might say we are self-insured, but to your other point, someone we know stealing from us, I really don’t think—”
“You didn’t think anyone would be murdered here either. Strip away what you want to believe and tell me who might steal. Now is the time to admit that a dear relative is a kleptomaniac.”
“That would be a relief,” Vallotton said. “Discovering Aunt Antoinette has an Achilles’ heel.” He stood and walked around the room, occasionally touching something. Agnes was reminded that every table was filled with precious objects: a small Corot on a stand with postcards tilted in front, a sketch by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec in a sterling silver frame. Things so valuable even she recognized their worth. She smiled at what she would have to describe to her boys when she saw them. Then George sprang to mind and tears welled.
Vallotton looked at her sharply. “Surely I should be more upset than you?”
She swallowed. “I know you don’t want to think someone in the household stole from you, but we need to consider everyone. Starting with the staff.”
“I would start with family and friends, easier for us to sell the pieces.”
“Then family first.”
“You think of everything here as mine, and I suppose technically you are correct, but we don’t see it that way. I may be the steward, but the chateau and its furnishings are ours collectively. Since the death of my father, that means me, my brother, my aunt, and MC. If any one of us wanted something—particularly these small things—all they need to do is take it. We keep good records, so it would be nice to know that it was moved or sold, but no one would care.”
“How is that possible? These objects are valuable. You have to care if someone took them.”
Vallotton stopped and opened a drawer. Agnes stood to see what he indicated. “You have to be joking,” she said. The drawer was fitted with felt to hold coins. Heavy antique coins. Vallotton lifted the covering and held one out to her. It was a dull rich gold.
“My father loved his coins and stamps. We played with them as boys, not carelessly, but with an interest. Handle the pieces, learn about them, enjoy them. That’s why we collect, to give the things life. I would rather a piece be broken—or stolen—if that’s the exchange for living amongst them.”
She took a different coin and held it up to the candlelight. “A crass question, but how much is this worth?”
Vallotton leaned near to examine it. “Good selection. Priceless.”
Agnes dropped the coin back into its tray. “A meaningless sentiment.”
“No, a literal word. If there is one known example of something that cannot be re-created then how can you assess a value? If it is lost, then no price can bring it back. Like the loss of a person, each one unique. Priceless.”
Agnes rubbed her forehead. “Ralph Mulholland, Madame Puguet, and the rest of the staff. They aren’t your family. They might take something.”
He laughed. “Have you spent any time with Josette Puguet? She is devoted to us. My father left her a legacy. Enough for her to retire to the South of France and hire her own housekeeper. But she wouldn’t dream of leaving.”
“And Mulholland?”