The Sanatorium(54)

Elin exchanges a glance with Felisa. “I’m going to brief everyone fully in a few minutes,” she replies evenly. “We’re putting clear protocols in place to contain the situation. This evening, we’ll be moving everyone into rooms on the lower floors, rooms that are usually reserved for employees. Members of staff will be used as security in all of the public spaces.”

“Security?”

“Yes. In every corridor. We’re doing everything we can to keep people safe.”

There’s what seems to be an interminable silence as the woman absorbs Elin’s words.

Finally, her shoulders relax. To Elin’s relief, she says, “I’ll tell them.” She gestures again to the table where her parents are sitting. “But I still think you need to communicate more effectively. Keep everyone informed if anything changes.”

“Of course.”

Elin waits for the woman to leave, then takes a seat. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

“It’s fine,” Felisa replies. “It’s to be expected, isn’t it? People are worried.”

Elin nods, putting her notebook on the table. “So, I’m trying to get a sense of Adele’s last few days, work out what might have provoked the attack.”

Sipping her glass of water, Felisa nods. “She finished her shift on Friday, wasn’t due back in until Tuesday of next week.”

“And you saw her on Friday, before she left?” Elin scribbles furiously. Her writing is loose, a scrawl, but she can’t do any better. The fatigue she felt in the changing room is now all-consuming, every movement slow, lackluster, like wading through mud.

I need to eat something.

“Briefly. She was hurrying, wanted to get back to her son before he left with his father for the week.”

“They’re not together?”

Felisa shakes her head. “It’s not a recent thing, though. They were never really together. I think they tried for a while, for the sake of the boy, but . . .”

“And how did she seem to you?”

“Fine. Stressed, because she didn’t want to be late, but—” She breaks off. “Do you think she even made it home?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure the police will check.”

Privately, Elin’s sure she didn’t. Because she knows Adele was tied up, Elin’s hypothesized that she had been held somewhere at the hotel or nearby until she was killed.

Felisa’s hand clamps around her glass, knuckles turning white with the pressure. “Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense.”

Elin presses on. “Were you aware of any issues Adele had? Personally? Professionally?”

“No, but Adele’s Swiss. I know it sounds strange, but there really is a Swiss . . . reserve.” She gives a weak smile. “When I lived in Geneva, it took two years for my neighbor to progress from ‘Bonjour’ to ‘Bonjour, ?a va?’” “Felisa hesitates, as if debating whether to say something else. “It wasn’t only that; Adele, as a person, she could be . . . distant.”

“In what way?”

“She was unusual, for one of the housekeeping team. Staff turnover in jobs like this, it’s high. Lots of foreign staff. The fact that Adele’s Swiss, it’s rare. I think she liked the job, but I always got the feeling that she thought she was beyond it, so didn’t really want to engage. Kept to herself.” Felisa smiles. “I think she was probably right. She’s a clever girl. I was surprised she was even doing a job like this.”

“So why was she?”

“I asked her once. She said she didn’t have a choice. No qualifications, had her little boy to look after.”

Elin nods, mulling over what Felisa’s said. Something’s not right about Adele’s situation. Something doesn’t fit.

“One more thing. I wanted to ask you about Laure Strehl. Are you aware she’s missing?”

“Yes.” Felisa rests her elbows against the table. “Do you think . . . that whoever did this to Adele . . .” She trails off, swallowing hard.

“We don’t know. That’s why we need to understand if there’s any connection between them. Would you say that Adele and Laure were friends?”

“Yes,” she replies, something flickering across her face that Elin can’t decipher.

She knows something, doesn’t she? Knows something and isn’t sure if she should repeat it.

“Were they close?” Elin probes.

Felisa audibly exhales. “Up until a few months ago, yes. I used to always see them together, then it stopped. I assumed it was just a disagreement, then a few weeks ago, I was with Adele, and Laure walked right past her without saying hello.” She frowns. “It was strange. Adele’s face, afterward, her expression . . . she looked frightened, that’s the only way I can describe it.”

“Of Laure?”

“Yes. It didn’t surprise me. Laure . . . Don’t take this the wrong way, but she could be intense. Takes herself too seriously. At meetings, she’s the one who doesn’t crack a smile, writes every tiny detail down.” She lowers her voice. “Cecile, the manager, she’s the same.” She frowns. “But then, I think that’s for a different reason. She doesn’t have a family, a partner, so she puts everything into this place. Too much, I think.”