Swiss Vendetta (Agnes Luthi Mysteries #1)(39)

Agnes sucked an invisible stream of air through her lips. It whistled. “You’re certain?”

“I’m not likely to forget. I was in London for junior year and we met just after Christmas at an art opening. Nothing fancy, a student show. We became friends, or at least I thought we were.”

“Something happened?”

“We had a lot of laughs. She was great-looking, funny, smart, and I liked her. I was working hard during the day and partying at night but we could talk. We talked for hours. She told me she was in London on her own, wanting to break into the art world. I was there doing sort of the same thing. Except I’m more art history and she was auctions. Still, we had a lot in common.” He shrugged. “I was wrong.”

“Who broke it off?”

“Wasn’t much to break off, just laughs and some drinks.”

He started to walk away but Agnes blocked his path. “What happened?”

“Okay, so my dad’s a frigging senator, it’s not like I throw that around when I’m trying to make a life on my own in the one city where no one recognizes me. Some friends from home came to town and Dad sent me extra cash to take them out. Out to a proper place, a place he’d like to hear about, not a cheap student dive. He pulled some strings and we went to a club, a famous one. It’s private. And there she was. Taking her clothes off. She was angry when she saw me.”

“She was embarrassed.”

“She could have pulled it off. When I first saw her there I figured she was doing it for a lark. Like she was some rich guy’s kid who wanted to see what it was like to live underground. I knew she’d lied to me, but she was so cool and posh I would have believed she was a duke’s daughter walking on the wild side. I know what’s it like to want to be invisible, to not be my father’s son all the time.”

This was the first true expression of who Felicity Cowell was that Agnes had heard. She’d seen for herself that the young woman was beautiful, but she’d only a vague sense of her personality; just sporadic words and impressions. This was three-dimensional. Real.

“You learned that she wasn’t rich, that she needed the job?”

“She left that night after she saw me. When I was sober I realized that if she wanted to step outside a rich family’s world she’d strip in a dive where no one would recognize her.”

“Maybe she wanted to be seen? If she wanted to hurt someone close to her she might have wanted them to see what lengths she’d go to. Work in a club where their friends would see. Embarrass the family.”

“Occurred to me. Sounds like my sister. But I saw Courtney, I mean Felicity, one more time before I left the city. I knew where to find her and I had to know. She told me the whole story to get rid of me. She’d left home when she was a kid, moved around, finally made it south to London. Made money doing whatever she had to.”

Agnes didn’t want to think what “doing whatever she had to” meant.

“Funny thing is,” said Graves, “she’d never gone to a friggin’ university, but she was the smartest person I’ve met. She had an amazing memory for art, for artists, for everything really, and she’d learned it all on her own. There was something special about her, but she hated me. Hated that I’d seen both sides of her. Then she walks in here. I knew it was her and just wanted to say hello.”

“And she ignored you?”

“She wouldn’t admit we’d met. I mean, it was between the two of us, but she wouldn’t admit to anything. Acted like I was a stranger.”

“She was afraid. If you’d told anyone here that she wasn’t university trained she would have been fired.”

“Well, I didn’t kill her.”

There was the sound of a door opening and Agnes knew this conversation was over. “You should have told me you knew her when I first asked. We would take your passport, but the roads are closed, so that’s not really a worry. And we’ll let you have a chance to talk to your embassy. I should warn you that if they had to pick between you being guilty and a member of this family being implicated, they would probably throw you in the frozen lake wearing your boots. You may think you know what power and influence mean, but here the ties are deep and strong.”

When she reached the end of the room she was surprised that no one had entered and decided she had imagined the door opening. She left Graves looking worried and wondered what had made her say such nonsense. He was probably telling the truth. The more likely scenario was for Felicity Cowell to kill him. She toyed with the idea. Felicity could have threatened him. Wasn’t a knife, like poison, a woman’s weapon? If they fought, he might have struck her when she turned. Maybe he killed her out of fear, or perhaps he slipped after he got the knife from her. Agnes rubbed her forehead and knew that, as unlikely as it was, the idea had to be considered.

“I liked the part about saving us versus him.” Daniel Vallotton was waiting for her outside the door, hunched over on a crutch.

“Quick recovery,” she said, eyeing his leg. It still looked terrible, with thin steel rods emerging from all sides.

“Julien says I’ve had my fun with you. I didn’t mean to disrupt your investigation, and I do use the wheelchair. I can only use one crutch because of my arm, so I can’t go too far easily. I hobble up and down stairs then sit in the chair to rest my arm. Can’t talk big brother into putting in an elevator.” They turned down the long corridor. Daniel hopped on one leg, balanced on a single crutch under his one good arm. Agnes doubted he could have managed a knife out in a storm. She glanced at the leg and shuddered.