Agnes glanced at the man kneeling by the corpse. He wore oiled coveralls partially covered by a heavy Loden coat. With his wind-burned ruddy complexion he looked more like a farmer than her idea of a doctor. He was kneeling on a fur pelt.
“Blanchard raises rabbits,” said Carnet, “and was at the butcher when the storm hit. The roads are closed and he was planning to stay the night. The other man is Estanguet. Frédéric Estanguet.” Estanguet hung back from their circle, and Agnes gave him a nod, setting his age at sixty-five or so. She noted that the men were all dressed warmly and had the sense not to drive down from the village. Wind burned her legs and she wondered why she hadn’t dressed warmly like any sensible Swiss person. Perhaps her mother-in-law was right. Maybe she didn’t belong here. She quickly blew on her fingers then shoved them back under her armpits.
“Estanguet was having un verre at the bar,” Carnet continued, “and overheard us wondering how to get down the hill. He knows the place. He found crampons and hooked us up to a rope. Still hard going, but at least we didn’t hit a tree.” Agnes grimaced and Carnet smiled at her. “Now, I suppose I can say I’ve been mountaineering.”
He continued talking and she focused on his every word and expression, wishing she could read his mind. He had agreed willingly, eagerly even, when she requested a transfer from financial crimes. Now she wasn’t sure: maybe he hadn’t agreed out of kindness or relief. What if she was a failure in her new job, would Bardy insist she return to her old one? She had done good work for Carnet and maybe this was his way of maneuvering her return. Three months ago she would have laughed at the idea, but after her husband’s death nothing seemed certain. How could she trust her instincts about others when she was so wrong about the man closest to her?
She turned her attention back to the men. The doctor had removed several items from the heavy bag Estanguet carried, including a spare pair of work gloves, which he handed to her. They were fur-lined and she felt the relief immediately. She pressed the soft leather against her face, blocking the wind.
“She’s not really frozen, the body I mean,” Blanchard shouted to them. “It’s the ice around her. The wind was strong here, hundred kilometers an hour they said on the radio, and that froze her clothes despite her body heat. I’d say she’s been out here at least three hours, more likely five or six and probably no more than eight, although it’s hard to say right now. Body temperature’s unreliable because of the wind and cold. Both are unstable.”
Estanguet edged closer. “This is a woman? How could this be a woman?”
Agnes glanced at the mound of ice, biting her tongue. It was unwise to share her opinion that it was probably a doped-up society girl. “Definitely a woman. I saw her face.”
Blanchard used a small tool, first measuring the thickness of the ice, then cracking the hood back from the woman’s head. Ice scattered in the wind. He ran his hand across her skull and neck.
Estanguet looked so ill he distracted Agnes from her preoccupation with Carnet and the cold. They should have taken the doctor’s bag from the man and sent him indoors to get warm. He didn’t need to see this. She took his elbow and pressed her flashlight into his hand, indicating the direction of the chateau. He shook his head, seemingly unwilling to leave until there were answers, and she sympathized. For a novice there was something both horrible and fascinating in the scene: the dead body both an object and a human. Very different from her years with financial crimes.
Petit emerged from the whiteout and Agnes noticed that he was still absently patting at his coat and waist. That boded ill for the missing radio, and with the phones dead any communication with the outside world. She glanced around. They were isolated on this node of land below the cliff. She should have opted to go home when she had the chance. The weather put even Sybille’s company in a pleasant light.
Blanchard spoke over his shoulder, squinting into the wind. “No evidence of a head injury. You can see how she fell away from the bench, not against it.” He brushed falling sleet from the body. “Face forward. Damage to her cheekbone probably from the fall and not before, broken bone but no bruising. The blood wasn’t flowing anymore. Maybe she had a seizure or some other medical condition? I can’t see anything else until we get more of this ice off her.” He rubbed his hands together and put his gloves back on. “Merde, it’s cold out here. Too early to tell if she died of natural causes. Who did you say found her? She’s not familiar to me. Does anyone know her?”
Petit spoke up. “Julien Vallotton stumbled on her and called us. He gave us her name, she’s not local.”