Agnes approached. Was alcohol always the answer here? Both men took a swig while Agnes waved off the offer, although she wouldn’t have turned down a cigarette. She caught Vallotton’s eye and wondered if he read her mind. She decided to not frown so about the alcohol. Everyone could have their own vice.
She turned her mind to Thomason. Upon closer inspection he had dark circles under his eyes. She knew all too well what he was experiencing, and wondered if Vallotton was worried about the other man’s state of mind, just as she was worried about Felicity Cowell’s. People did strange things in the midst of grief. The young man was surely struggling between maintaining a fa?ade of imperturbability and the need to grieve. She let the shade of suspicion cross her mind, torn between regretting even the thought and reminding herself that he would need to be watched. Watched and questioned again. It was possible he had met Felicity outside in the storm. And killed her.
“The things he said about her—”
Julien Vallotton stopped Thomason with a raised palm. “Enough of what was said. Inspector Lüthi has questions. There are still serious matters to discuss.”
Agnes watched the transformation. Thomason slipped his gentlemanly fa?ade back on like it was a shirt. There would be no more outbursts tonight.
“I thought the Swiss police would have solved this overnight,” he said politely. “Have you learned more about Felicity?” He stumbled over her name.
“It’s okay,” said Agnes. “We all knew her as Felicity and should respect her choice.”
She wished Thomason had taken the sleeping pills Doctor Blanchard suggested. He would have avoided the fight with Graves and, more important, she could ignore him for a few more hours. She needed to sleep and then think. She indicated a grouping of chairs in an alcove.
“Let’s go back to when you arrived in Switzerland. This might give me some insight into Felicity’s mind-set. How did she sound before she left London? And while she was here, could you sense she was concerned? Or troubled?”
Thomason paced, and for a moment Agnes thought he was going to run to a door and leave. Instead, he walked the ten meters to the end of the corridor and drew back a heavy curtain. The gray-on-black silhouette of the French Alps dominated the landscape under the sliver of moon.
“She left London earlier than planned and I tried to call her and got voicemail. Not unusual. If she was working she wouldn’t have answered her phone.”
“Probably endeared her to your employers,” Agnes said. “A serious young woman. Hardworking. She didn’t know you were in Switzerland?”
Thomason twisted the drapery in his hand and let it sling loose. “Yes, she knew I was here.”
“At the Beau-Rivage. Nice hotel.”
“Like I said, it’s where my family … and the firm always stay.”
“Would you have expected Felicity to stay there? It’s what, an easy half hour by automobile? A beautiful drive.” Met with silence, Agnes persisted. “This is one of the most important unanswered questions and I know you were asked before. Wouldn’t you have expected her to stay there?”
“Yes, until I thought that she was staying at the chateau. Who wouldn’t choose to stay here? But I couldn’t come and knock on the door after—” he paused. “She was working and we hadn’t spoken since she arrived. We were both busy.”
Thomason returned to the table and Vallotton refilled the other man’s glass.
“You were in a state of great distress when you arrived yesterday,” Agnes said gently.
“I was worried, I hadn’t spoken with her in days.”
“But you said it wasn’t unusual for her to ignore phone calls when she was working. Did you have a reason to be worried for her? Here, in Switzerland?”
Thomason looked astounded, a flash of total honesty. He laughed. “No, I wasn’t worried about her, although I should have been. I was worried that she might forget me, not need me. And I was right. She did need me, here with her, protecting her.”
“You called her Wednesday? The day she died?”
“Of course I did. No, I called Tuesday night, by Wednesday my phone battery had died. That’s when I realized I hadn’t packed my charger. I meant to get one, but I was so upset and she hadn’t answered any of my other calls, so it didn’t matter. Then the power went out.”
“Why were you upset? Had you fought?”
“No,” Thomason sounded weary. “No fight. It was just her way. She had a way of keeping me unsettled. She could have married anyone; I know that she had boyfriends before we met. People more successful than me. What if she decided she had made the wrong decision? What if she changed her mind?” He turned to them suddenly. “She said she didn’t have a family. Why did she lie to me?”
He closed his eyes and for a moment Agnes thought he was praying. Then Thomason gripped his hands into fists. “I wanted to marry her. She was perfect. The most beautiful, smartest, funniest person I knew and we were going to have a great life together.”