Agnes shone her flashlight beam directly into the other woman’s face. Marie-Chantal blocked the light with her hand and her diamond engagement ring reflected thousands of points of light across the walls. Agnes moved the beam.
“For staff to bring ice inside,” Marie-Chantal continued. “The small door to the lawn that you’ve been using is new. They have been carving ice sculpture here for over a hundred years.” She stopped. “You’re not interested in that.”
Agnes shook her head pointedly and motioned Marie-Chantal out. “Why didn’t someone tell us about this way in?”
“I didn’t know about it. But now that I see it, I know what it is. There’s a similar pathway at my parents’ place in France.”
Agnes resisted a tart comment. In the outer room she hazarded a glance at Felicity Cowell, thankful only a leg was visible. She would leave recovering the body to the doctor. He could determine if anything important had been disturbed. At a glance it looked like Mulholland had stumbled past the table, searching for a way out. He had grappled for something to warm himself, then likely stayed as far from the corpse as possible once he realized where he was. If he was telling the truth and was in the room by accident, then he’d spent a bad night. Cold, dark, and in the company of a dead body. If he’d come in on purpose to tamper with evidence and had gotten locked inside, then too bad.
Agnes closed the door behind them, making sure the lock caught.
“Mimi?” she asked, temporarily leaving the question of Mulholland aside.
“Hiding,” Marie-Chantal said. “She’s sweet, but likes to hide. Not always hiding exactly, but she likes the empty rooms, the attics, the cupboards. We have to search her out. One time I counted nineteen staircases while I was looking. Who knew? I was exhausted.”
“You’re sure she’s only hiding? She hasn’t—” Agnes didn’t want to voice her fears.
“It’s a constant battle. Not really a battle, we humor her. Every once in a while she stays hidden for a long time—overnight even—and it is annoying.”
“Why are you out here looking for her?”
“She’s at Monsieur Arsov’s half the time. More than half actually, and with the cold she shouldn’t have walked over alone. Leaving the chateau on her own has to be stopped. Nanny Egger usually keeps her in line, but since she’s frozen in somewhere else, it falls to me. Inconvenient that most of the staff had the day off when the ice arrived.”
Agnes turned toward the mansion and Marie-Chantal followed her. “It is okay if I accompany you, isn’t it? You seemed so serious, Inspector. I thought perhaps I was interfering in police business. Of course with Ralph trapped in that place…”
“I had a note from Monsieur Arsov this morning, asking me to pay him a visit. One of his servants brought it over. I suspect he wants to be updated.”
“Not used to waiting,” Marie-Chantal agreed, picking her way elegantly across the ice.
Agnes studied the other woman’s technique but it looked impossible, although perhaps the high heels helped, spiking into the ice with each step.
“I shouldn’t say that,” Marie-Chantal continued. “Monsieur Arsov is lovely. Now my father, there’s a man unused to waiting. With Monsieur Arsov there is something charming.”
“Do you know him well?”
“No, I’m embarrassed to admit. I should visit more than I do. He comes to tea or dinner about once a month—Antoinette makes a big production occasionally—but there are other guests and we don’t talk about personal matters. He’s very private.”
Agnes shot Marie-Chantal a glance. She would have described Arsov as gregarious, in the manner of an old man used to getting his way and controlling the conversation. He’d talked easily enough the day before.
“He told me a little about his time in the Second World War,” she said.
“Really?” said Marie-Chantal. “He’s never said a word about his past to me, or to anyone as far as I know. It’s all business, business. Not as emphatically as others; that’s what makes him charming. But still, business. The dollar versus the franc, the pound versus the yen. Boring, but there’s something in how he talks. As if he really doesn’t care about the money.” She turned to Agnes. “That’s it. He can out-think the others but I wonder if he isn’t laughing at them.” She smiled. “No matter, let’s hope Mimi is driving him mad this morning. He gives her hot chocolate until she’s sick. We pretend we don’t know. You have to feel sorry for her, an orphan living with us in this big lonely place. I knew her parents and I suppose they knew what was best when they named Daniel’s father her guardian in their will. Of course, they didn’t think they’d die before him. Mimi needs some fun. She needs to be spoiled.”