“I’m officially well enough to be back at work.” Agnes dropped her handbag on the kitchen counter.
“Did you pay off the doctor?” her youngest son said, only to be smacked on the head by his older sibling.
“Hardly, although for a moment I thought I might have to. You’ve all finished eating?”
The boys were picking up their coats and heading for the door. “Can’t be late to school, mère.”
She said goodbye to a closed door. “Did you have a chance to eat?” she asked André Petit, noting his empty plate.
“Enough for three men. Sybille was insistent. I told her I’d wait here—keep an eye on the boys—so she could go ahead to the butcher. Something about a cut of meat he’s ordered for her. Might be that she wanted me to get a dose of what it’ll be like when my boy is older. I’ve never heard such complaining.”
“Anything serious?”
He laughed. “No, complaining to complain.”
“If you’re on a first-name basis with my mother-in-law, you must have made a good impression.”
Agnes took a forkful of risotto from the serving bowl. “She really is a good cook. So what did you find at the Institute yesterday?”
“It’s worse than the scene of a traffic accident. I’ve talked to most of the teachers and staff, and they don’t remember anything about the day Chavanon died. Or anything that matters. I’ve a few more to go before I’ll call it quits. Maybe Boschung knew the man was killed but realized he couldn’t figure it out and so called it a natural death.”
“That’s unfair.”
Petit followed Agnes’s lead and moved his plate to the counter beside the sink. “You’re right. But they’re all vague, and what they’re not vague about conflicts with every other person’s account. I don’t know why they have these receptions if no one pays attention to what goes on.”
“I’m not sure that’s the purpose of a school reception. They’re meant to be forgettable, a pleasant memory.”
“It’s a strange world, a boarding school. Superstitious lot.”
“Why do you say that?” Agnes studied a chocolate cake under a glass dome. She gestured toward it.
“No thanks, I don’t have a sweet teeth.” He sat down on a stool. “I asked about the lights like you told me to. Got the stiff eye. A couple of them said they’d reported it to Monsieur Fontenay and got told off for not concentrating on their studies. I stopped asking since it’s nothing to do with Chavanon dying and it was making them go quiet.”
“You said you had something important to tell me?”
“Yes, the best is for last. I have two names I think you’ll be interested in calling. They are parents at the reception.” He passed a sheet of paper to her. She glanced at the notes and nodded.
“That’s not all,” Petit said a little proudly.
When he finished his report, Agnes thumped him on the shoulder. “I knew Mercier was hiding something. You earned your lunch today. Well done.”
“You’ll follow up on this?”
“Oh, yes, right away.”
* * *
Despite Petit’s revelation, Agnes was still thinking about the lights at the school when she walked into the security room at Baselworld.
“Found her,” said Aubry.
“I got your message yesterday.” Agnes shook hands with the officer who manned the monitor. He handed her a printed image taken from the video. “Was I right?”
“Incroyable,” he said. “She is beautiful.”
“We used the software and found her on the Tokyo tapes as well,” said Aubry. “We’ve got everyone on it. She won’t elude us.”
“She’s probably on another continent by now,” said Agnes.
“How would she know we’re looking for her?”
Agnes glanced around. “Has Monsieur Mercier come by? I was supposed to meet him, and his assistant didn’t know where he was. She thought he was here looking for me.”
“No, but if he does show up, we’ll call.”
“Don’t bother being nice to him; he’s probably avoiding me on purpose.”
* * *
A few minutes later Agnes checked an image in her stored photographs, then tapped a number on her phone screen. Gianfranco Giberti answered on the second ring. His voice over the phone was smooth as velvet.
“I don’t have a great amount of time,” he said in response to her request.
“Monsieur Giberti, I’m standing outside the Omega pavilion and see you. You don’t look busy to me. Ten minutes is all I need.”
When he joined her, she sensed the change in his manner. He was on edge. The Baselworld crowd flowed around them, but Giberti wasn’t interested. He was entirely focused on Agnes.
“This shouldn’t take long,” she said. “I’m due to meet with Antoine Mercier. Do you know him?”
“We all know him. And I saw you holding the Daily News where we were photographed together.”
“Of course. Shows how making a pleasantry can sound inane. Have you had a chance to think again about anything you know or have heard about Monsieur Chavanon? I’m certain there is gossip at the show.”
“The police rely on gossip?”
“We rely on whatever it takes. Gossip isn’t necessarily untrue, it’s simply without purpose other than to pass on details of some happening.”
“I know nothing.”
“Is Mademoiselle Chavanon at work today?”
“Of course not.”
“I’m surprised you know offhand. I thought that you had no contact now that you aren’t a couple.”
“I could hardly not notice her in the pavilion. It is large, but not that large.”
Agnes shifted as if to shield her words from anyone passing by. “We know that there was truth to the rumor that Monsieur Chavanon had invented something important.”
Giberti paled beneath his tan. “Do you have the invention? Did the police find it amongst his things in the workshop?”
Agnes shrugged noncommittally, hating to fuel the fire with nonsense but needing to shake answers from these closemouthed people.
“Are the family in danger?” Giberti added. “You would tell them if they were?”
“What makes you think they’re in danger?”
“Monsieur Chavanon is dead, and you think someone stole something from him.” Giberti’s phone rang, and instinctively he pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Christine Chavanon’s photograph and name flashed across the glass.
“Answer it,” said Agnes, noting the alarm on Giberti’s face. “What if there is a problem?”
“Christine,” he said into the phone. “I’m surprised by the call, but hope I can help you.”
Agnes couldn’t hear the woman’s voice, but she didn’t speak long, for Giberti quickly replied, “I am being interviewed by Inspector Lüthi.” He held out the phone to Agnes. “She’s upset and dialed my number by mistake. Meant to get her supervisor. She’d like to speak with you.”
“Why are you talking to Gianfranco?” Christine demanded once Agnes was on the phone.
“I happened to see him.”
“I’m at Leo’s school. Why don’t you come here and we can talk more. I understand now what happened to my father.”