Swiss Vendetta (Agnes Luthi Mysteries #1)(77)
“You had a long way to go raising the money at that rate.”
“I only took a few things, enough to show them I intended to pay.”
“Enough to pay the interest, maybe,” Vallotton said. “How were you selling them?”
“I didn’t have to, I would hand over whatever I had and they would credit me for it.”
“Why didn’t you say something to Daniel?”
“Not bloody likely he’d be able to help.”
“But a good problem for him to tackle. Might have thought of something. At least he’d understand. My father bailed him out enough times. He’d be sympathetic.”
“I was going to ask Arsov. That’s where I was the day she was killed. I asked to see him, but he didn’t have time for me and I waited around, thinking I’d catch him outside. I had to do it then, I had my nerve up and couldn’t wait; they’d been threatening for weeks, well months, but lately they seemed serious.” Mulholland sat and placed his head in his hands. “I thought it was me they were after, then I saw the police and found out she died, and saw the coat she was wearing. It was mine. With the storm I thought they were aiming for me and got her instead.”
“Good lord, at least Daniel borrowed from a bank or friends.” Vallotton stood silently for a moment. “I’ll take care of it.”
Mulholland looked like he would faint with relief. “They’re desperate men. Russian mafia, and they’ve threatened to kill me.”
“I’m sure that somewhere in our past we’ve dealt with worse.” Vallotton nodded to Agnes. “We need to get back to the search.”
For a split second Agnes saw fear in Mulholland’s eyes. She thought of Mimi and her stomach clenched. They needed to find the girl. Thomason had arrived across the frozen ice, perhaps someone else had as well. For the first time she realized that kidnapping was a possibility.
Twenty-nine
They had finished their assigned area of the chateau and Julien Vallotton left to report to Madame Puguet. No Mimi. Agnes reconsidered the idea of someone crossing the ice and kidnapping her. Thomason making it across was unlikely enough. Two people doing it defied the odds. Besides, the Russian mafia didn’t operate that way in Switzerland. Frustrated with waiting, she pulled the diary from her pocket. The corridor was dark but she had a flashlight and several oil lamps burned at intervals. It was enough to read by. It was strange to think of Arsov as young and in love. Moreover, it warmed her to know that he had found someone to love his entire life.
She flipped past where she had read earlier. The ink was faded and difficult to read, but she was more familiar with the young woman’s handwriting now. She tilted the book toward the light.
Tonight is my last night here, and I’m filled with joy that I will see Marcel soon. He and Madame have decided that I must go to Switzerland and I know that I can be strong for the journey. I must be; although some days I feel more tired than I admit. Everyone does so much. They help so many people, while I am only a burden. Marcel will not let me say this, but I feel it. I have promised him that in Switzerland I will go into the mountains for good clean air to defeat this horrible sickness and thinking about our future gives me strength. When next I write I will be in another country, reunited with him, and all will be well! My only sadness is that I cannot take Frédéric. He is safe with his new family, and I would put everyone in danger by contacting him. Madame is right that he is too young to be worried by news of my illness. He was terrified when he left us, and hearing that I am ill would only frighten him again. He is surely happy with new brothers to play with. Safe and happy. When this war is over, he will join me and Marcel and we will start our new life together.
Agnes smiled. To think that the diary had survived a war. She was reminded of her mother’s advice to keep a journal. Perhaps there was merit in the idea. On the other hand her mother wanted her to record her feelings in the wake of George’s death. Those were days she didn’t want to remember in detail.
Footsteps sounded at the far end of the corridor and she raced to finish reading the section.
She has given me a ring to show them when I arrive, as a token. It is a kind of code between us all and I must not lose it.
“Inspector, I need to talk to you.”
The young maid, Marie-José, stepped near and Agnes slipped the diary in her pocket, annoyed by the interruption. “Did you find Mimi?” she asked.
“No. That’s why I’m here.”
Agnes tamped down the dull panic in her gut. The chateau was enormous. Dozens of people could hide if they wanted to. It was more and more likely that Mimi had gotten trapped or had fallen through the floor in some unused part of an attic. A thousand scenarios were possible, each preventing her from coming out of hiding. They needed daylight to search again.
“What will happen when you find out who killed the woman?” Marie-José asked, nervously twisting the strings of her apron.
Agnes shifted mental gears. “Jail, trial, and then prison if we’ve done our job right.”
“I wouldn’t have thought it of anyone I know.”
“Not all killers are the same: some enjoy the act of the crime, others strike in the anger of the moment. Our job is to find justice for the victim.” Agnes hesitated, remembering the first night, when Marie-José recounted Nick Graves leaving the library. The girl had the same nervousness about her tonight. “That’s why we keep asking questions.”