Page 51 of A Death in Cornwall

“And her father?” asked Lovegrove.

“You’re standing on the spot where it happened.”

Lovegrove took two steps to the left and listened to the silken sound of Anna’s violin. “You never told me how you know her.”

“Julian arranged for me to clean a painting for her father.”

“Which one?”

Gabriel pointed toward the Raphael. “That one.”

***

Anna insisted on preparing dinner, so they gathered around her in the kitchen and held their collective breath while she attacked a large yellow onion with a razor-sharp knife.

“What are we having?” asked Gabriel warily.

“Boeuf bourguignon. It’s a French country stew beloved by peasants like you.”

“Perhaps I should handle the parts involving Swiss-made weaponry.”

“Absolutely not!” She looked him straight in the eye as the knife reduced a carrot to perfect orange disks. “A man of your talent should never handle sharp objects.”

“Anna, please.”

“Shit!” she whispered and thrust her left forefinger into her mouth. “Look what you’ve done.”

Gabriel hastened to his feet. “Let me see it.”

Smiling, Anna showed him the undamaged appendage. “Works every time.”

Gabriel relieved her of the knife and finished chopping the vegetables.

“Not bad,” she said, looking over his shoulder.

“I happen to be married to a world-class cook.”

“That was cruel.” Anna snatched a slice of carrot from the cutting board. “Even for you.”

Fortunately, Anna’s butcher had already cubed the beef. Thirty minutes later, browned and seasoned and drenched in a bottle of excellent burgundy, it was simmering in a 350-degree oven. They shared another bottle of the wine in the half-light of the drawing room while Anna led Nicholas Lovegrove on an hour-long guided tour of her family’s scandalous past. She omitted several episodes in which Gabriel had played a starring role.

“You can be sure that Monsieur Ricard is well aware of the many skeletons in my closet. I will do my best to convince him that I am just as unscrupulous as my father. It shouldn’t be difficult. As you might have heard, I can be quite unpleasant at times.” She looked at Gabriel. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ll withhold my answer until after I’ve devoured at least two servings of that boeuf bourguignon.”

They ate at the table in the kitchen while listening to Radio Swiss Jazz on an old Bose. Anna was at her most charming, regaling them with uproarious tales of her untidy love life late into the evening. Lovegrove finally left around eleven and headed to the Dolder Grand. Ingrid saw to the dishes while Gabriel, in the drawing room, gave his asset a final operational briefing.

“And where will you be while we’re inside the Freeport?” she asked.

“Here in Zurich. But don’t worry, I’ll be able to hear everything.”

“How?”

He opened his laptop and tapped the trackpad. A moment later came the sound of water splashing in the basin. In the background was Franco Ambrosetti’s lovely version of “Flamenco Sketches.”

“What’s the source of the audio?” asked Anna.

“Your new assistant’s mobile phone.”

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