“I needed a minute to think. To get my head straight. I haven’t slept and my eyes hurt and we were looking everywhere. The maid, what’s her name? Marie-José, she thinks Mimi was kidnapped and there will be a ransom note.”
“I think we would have already had a ransom note if that was the case.” Agnes didn’t mention the real reason she had agreed Mimi must be hiding: it was impossible to leave the Vallottons’ grounds. The little girl had to be here. Hiding. Because of her sons she knew firsthand how easily children could hide if they wanted to, and how much they enjoyed knowing the adults were searching. It was possible the little girl hid because of the furor she created. Children her age didn’t understand the repercussions and the real fears of adults.
Mulholland shuddered and Agnes didn’t think it was because of the cold.
“Something may have gone wrong,” he said. “Maybe they didn’t mean to kill her and now that she’s dead they won’t send a note. Like in America with the Lindbergh baby. We’ll never know what happened.”
“You’re letting your imagination run away. It’s the atmosphere here and you’re tired. Doctor Blanchard may have something to help you sleep.”
“There are bad people in the world. They wouldn’t hesitate to hurt a girl.”
He pulled out a gold lighter and lit his cigarette. Agnes wanted to pluck it from his lips and inhale; she breathed in deeply, catching a little of the scent. His panic was palpable and she touched the note in her pocket. Remembering what had occurred to her earlier about his coat.
“You know Monsieur Arsov,” she said.
He hesitated. “Of course, we all know him.”
“But you were cultivating a special relationship. You were planning to visit him the day Felicity Cowell died. He’s not very understanding, is he? He sent me a note this morning. It said he’d been too strict, not helpful enough.”
Mulholland narrowed his eyes at her.
“I thought he meant too strict with Mimi,” Agnes continued. “I wondered if he’d been uncharacteristically strict and that was what caused this hiding episode. But I don’t think that was it at all.” She looked carefully at the young man in front of her. His eyes were deeply shadowed and he didn’t look well. “Why are you stealing from the Vallottons?”
Mulholland placed his hand to his chest. He stepped back, into the darkness away from her light, and she followed him. His shoulders collapsed forward and he appeared to shrink into himself, trembling. She waited and watched.
“They wouldn’t wait.” He stumbled over his words. “I think they meant to kill me and got Felicity Cowell instead; she was wearing my coat and the storm was so dense it could have been me.” That was what Agnes remembered. His panic the night she arrived.
“And now Mimi is missing,” he continued. “I never thought they would hurt someone else, I thought it was only me they would come after. I thought I was safe here.”
She felt his fear, a wave of palpable emotion that spread like an airborne disease, and almost stepped away from him. “Who are they?”
“Russians, a Russian.”
“Arsov? He threatened you?” She raised her light to see his face. This made no sense. Arsov was too old and feeble to threaten a strong young man. And there were no Russians on his staff.
Mulholland shook his head, all bravado finished. Even his voice changed. “No, not him. The ones I borrowed money from. They want it now. All of it.”
Clarity came in a flood, as did memories of stories she had heard while working in financial crimes. Arsov’s note also now made sense. He was wealthy enough to help and perhaps less judgmental than the Vallottons.
“Monsieur Arsov knew of your trouble?”
“I’d hinted. I’d hoped he would volunteer to help. Maybe ask if he could help. He knew what I needed.” Mulholland wiped his brow. “The day she was killed I knew time was running out.” The words tumbled from Mulholland’s lips. “That’s why I was outside. Trying to work up my nerve to see that—well, to see him. Then his butler turned me away. Said the old man didn’t have time for me. For me! The godson of—” He stopped abruptly. “I was waiting, sitting in the summer pavilion, about to freeze to death, when I saw the policeman.”
“I think Monsieur Arsov changed his mind. That’s what he meant in his note. He had been too strict. When I told him about the thefts, he may have wondered if it was you. That’s why he wanted to talk to me. He wanted to help you.”
“That’s brilliant. Too bloody late now.”