She stood, knowing that they had to go inside, but before she could make a suggestion there was a shout from the darkness. Bobbing lights cut through the storm and the outlines of three men came into view. She didn’t recognize the first two, however, through the icy haze the third looked familiar despite being encased in a heavy snow jacket. She frowned. “Not Robert, today anyone but Robert Carnet,” she murmured through chapped lips. It had never occurred to her that he would be here. Why would financial crimes send someone? Like a child she turned away as if refusing to look at her former boss, not seeing him, would make him go away; the man whom she most associated with those horrible minutes after her husband died.
When the men reached the protective wedge of canvas she forced herself to look. Definitely Carnet, his irregular chiseled features at odds with the ridiculous puff of an old-fashioned down coat. A cold pit formed in her stomach. Maybe her parents were right: she should quit, leave Switzerland, and move to Florida. She could hear her mother: “Come live with us, it’s warm! It’s friendly! We’ll take care of the boys!” Her mother always speaking in declarative sentences with no thought of the implications.
Her parents had given up everything to move to Switzerland as a young couple, leaving their families and friends to create a new life among strangers, eventually building up a business and prospering. All for the children! Yet the moment the children were grown the parents had returned to America.
Cold and miserable, Agnes knew that if her mother called at this moment—this exact moment—she would leave. All the hard work of getting a place on the police force, of establishing herself, of thinking maybe, just maybe, she had a role and that her thoughts added value; today, in this miserable weather, having to face this man’s pity, she would toss it all in a second.
A blast of wind swept off the lake and she struggled to keep her footing. Ice cracked and shattered in the unsettling darkness and a long dagger landed on the ground nearby.
The larger of the two men accompanying Carnet dropped to his knees and pulled the canvas away from the dead woman. It was absurd that they were out here, any of them. Despite living in Switzerland her entire life Agnes hadn’t been inside any of the grand estates that dotted the shore from Vevey down to Geneva, but she knew they were filled with diplomats, industrialists, movie stars, and rock icons. If a society woman had wandered out in the storm and keeled over they should have called an ambulance and removed her to the morgue. Probably too much to drink, or drugs. Tumbled and fell, hit her head, and died in the cold. Agnes slapped her hands together to warm them, and wished that she hadn’t left her fur hat at home. Then she wished she was at home with the hat. Thinking about her boys and what fun they must be having, knowing tomorrow there would be an unexpected school holiday. She was thankful she had spoken with Sybille. At least the boys knew she was safe and not trapped on the highway somewhere.
Carnet put his head close to Petit’s and spoke briefly before moving to stand next to Agnes. Squinting into the wind she watched Petit thump his waist then turn around with his eyes on the ground, like a dog circling to find a place to bed down.
“Came from the local gendarmerie.” Carnet’s voice was deep and cut through the wind. “They’ve been trying to raise Petit on his radio. Looks like he lost it somewhere.” Petit wandered into the darkness, his flashlight beam sweeping back and forth, illuminating shards of ice. Carnet shrugged and blew into his cupped gloves, reflecting heat back onto his face. He shifted slightly to block the wind from striking Agnes full-on and she was grateful. Her teeth were no longer chattering, although that was possibly because she was too numb to feel the cold anymore.
“Bardy called me when he realized he couldn’t make it—he knows I drive this way to go home—but I ran my car into a ditch a kilometer above the village. Had to walk the rest of the way or I would have been here sooner.” He tugged at his sleeve. “Good thing this old coat was in the trunk or I would have frozen.”
Despite the circumstances Agnes stifled a smile. Carnet had always been particular about his clothing and she imagined he had spent a long second weighing usefulness versus appearance. Shielded by his bulk she felt some feeling return to her face. Her skin stung.
“I went for a hot drink before coming down,” Carnet continued, “and found Doctor Blanchard in the hotel bar. Thought you would need a medical man unless the coroner already made it. Didn’t quite know what to expect here. ‘Body outside’ was all Bardy told me before the phones failed. They didn’t know more at the gendarmerie. Well, they did tell me that Petit was all they could spare and that they didn’t know how I’d make it down without breaking a leg. I’m surprised Doctor Blanchard was willing to try.”