Naughty In Nice

by Rhys Bowen

  The young gendarme began to cross the terrace on his way back to the front door. Then he turned back to us. “Does this Sir Toby live alone at his villa?”

  “His wife was in town yesterday,” I said. “I saw her checking into the Negresco, so I don’t believe she was staying at the villa.”

  “Why was that, do you think?” the policeman asked.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I don’t know Lady Groper,” I said. “And I also met his son at the casino, but I couldn’t tell you where he was staying—with friends, I gather.”

  “So none of them was staying with the poor papa?” he asked. “Does this not seem strange?”

  “As I said, we don’t know the family,” Vera said firmly.

  “So he would have been in the house alone, apart from the servants?”

  “We don’t know,” Coco said, sounding rather irritated now. “Madame Daniels, who owns this villa, has no social contact with her neighbor.”

  “Then we will trouble you no more.” The young gendarmes bowed and left us. The moment they had gone the three women turned on me. “You said you spent the afternoon with a friend. So you didn’t go to Sir Toby after all?” Coco asked.

  “I did go,” I said. “I went out on his yacht. But then Jean-Paul came by in his speedboat and I went off with him to his villa.”

  I saw Mummy’s eyebrows rise.

  “Where he treated me like a perfect gentleman,” I said. “Unlike Sir Toby, who tried to make a horrible pass at me. Groper was a good name for him. He was all hands.”

  “The nasty little swine,” Mummy said. “It’s too bad he’s dead. I’d have liked to deliver a knee where it could have done some damage.” (You can tell at times that she wasn’t born a lady, can’t you? But I have to say I didn’t disagree with her.)

  “I think it might be best, given the circumstances, if you don’t reveal the full details of what happened on Sir Toby’s yacht,” Coco said carefully. “Seeing that someone may have hit him over the head.”

  “You don’t think anyone could imagine that Georgiana was somehow involved in his death!” Mummy said indignantly. “That’s absurd.”

  “To us, yes. But to an annoying little inspecteur who can’t see past the end of his nose, he might jump at such an available suspect.”

  “I can’t lie to the police,” I said.

  “No, but you can truthfully say that you went for a sail with Sir Toby earlier in the day and later were with the marquis. Thank God he’s a respected alibi!”

  As she finished speaking there was a pounding on the front door. Mummy went to open it, arriving before her maid. A worried-looking Johnson was standing there.

  “Sorry to trouble you, ma’am,” he said, “but I’ve just come back from town and there seems to be a police vehicle blocking the entrance to Sir Toby’s driveway. I wondered if you knew anything about it.”

  “And you are?” Mummy asked, in her best ex-duchess voice.

  “Johnson, ma’am. Sir Toby’s manservant. I just wondered if something had happened.”

  “Yes, it has,” Mummy said. “Your employer is lying facedown in his swimming pool.”

  The color drained from Johnson’s face. “Dead, you mean? Sir Toby has drowned? But that’s not possible. He was an excellent swimmer. Besides”—he paused, thinking—“how can he be here at all? He went out on the yacht today and I saw the yacht in the old port when I was coming back from town.”

  “I’m afraid we didn’t really know your master,” Mummy said. “But the police are at the villa. You’d better go down there and see if you can help them with their inquiries.”

  “Oh, dear. I don’t know how I’m going to do that,” Johnson said. “My French is nonexistent. I had trouble in town today trying to carry out Sir Toby’s various commissions.”

  “Doesn’t he have any French-speaking servants?” Coco asked.

  “Only Marie, the cook, and it was her half day off.”

  “So the house was empty,” I said.

  He looked at me, as if he was seeing me for the first time. “Yes, the house was empty for the afternoon. I don’t know how or why Sir Toby came back. He knew Marie was off and that I would be kept all afternoon trying to muddle my way through the things he wanted done.” He looked at me again. “But you were on the yacht with him. You must know of his movements.”

  “I left his yacht quite early in the day,” I said. “A friend came to the yacht to collect me in his motorboat, so I never saw in which direction Sir Toby eventually sailed. It was heading for Monte Carlo at the time I chose to leave.”

  “I see.” He was frowning, trying to read the full meaning of my words.

  “We all just arrived home,” I said, “and we happened to spot the body in the swimming pool.”

  “It’s too bad, isn’t it?” Johnson made a face. “I thought I’d landed myself a plum job for once and I’d be in clover. Now I’m back to square one.” He sighed. “Oh, well. I suppose I’d better go down and face the music. I hope one of the policemen speaks some English. I don’t suppose one of you would like to come down and translate for me?”

  “Certainly not,” Vera said. “Such impudence, talking to your betters like that.”

  Johnson flushed. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean what I said. I meant one of your servants, of course. I’m just so flustered at the news. I won’t trouble you any longer.”

  He hurried out. Mummy closed the door behind him. “What an extraordinary young man.”

  “He was obviously very upset,” I said. “And frightened of dealing with foreign policemen. I can’t say I blame him. He’ll have to try to explain his own movements, won’t he?”

  “Luckily for him he’s arrived back in the car to find the entrance blocked,” Mummy said. “That pretty much guarantees that he was not pushing his master into a swimming pool.”

  “Why would he want to, anyway?” I said. “He’s upset that he’s lost such a good position. If he had been the one to hit his master over the head, he’d have absconded with some of Sir Toby’s art treasures.” As I said this I felt a horrid flush rising on my face, because stealing a treasure was exactly what I had planned to do. Thank heavens I hadn’t been caught in the house with the snuffbox in my hand and Sir Toby lying dead in the pool. That would have looked bad for me, wouldn’t it?

  Suddenly Coco ran to the front door and wrenched it open again. “Young man, wait,” she called. Johnson was already at our gate. He turned and looked back hopefully.

  “We have decided to be gracious and come and help you in your need,” she said.

  “Have you gone mad?” Vera hissed. “We don’t want to get involved with the French police. You know what they are like.”

  “But, chérie, we can’t miss out on the chance to witness a real crime scene. Everyone will invite us to dinner to hear the gory details. Come on. Where is your sense of adventure?”

  She started off down the drive toward the young man. Mummy’s face also had an expectant smile on it. “I’ve been dying to see around his place,” she said. “Come on, Vera. Georgie.”

  Vera gave me a resigned look and followed along. So did I. Two conflicting thoughts were going through my head. One was that there might be a remote chance that I could put the queen’s snuffbox into my pocket when nobody was looking. It would probably be my only opportunity. On the other hand my more sensible side, the side that took after my austere great-grandmother, was whispering that it might not go down very well with the police if I were caught pocketing an item from a murder scene—especially since it might come up that I had been out with Sir Toby on his yacht that morning. Still, curiosity won out over my qualms and I followed the others down Sir Toby’s long, sweeping drive.

  Chapter 21

  At the villa of Sir Toby Groper (deceased)

  January 26, 1933

  One of the gendarmes was speaking into a telephone as we entered.

  “Yes, sir, I would say that foul play cannot be ruled out. Yes, I suggest that
we do notify the detectives in Nice to come to inspect the scene. I have not moved the body or touched anything.” He hung up and turned to stare at us.

  “What are you doing here, ladies?” he asked. “You have something to tell us about this tragic incident?”

  “This young man is the servant of Sir Toby Groper,” Coco said. “He has just arrived home in his master’s automobile and found the driveway blocked by your police vehicle. He came to our house and was most distressed by the news about his master. I am sure you will wish to ask him questions, and since he speaks no French, we have volunteered to help him.”

  “Four lady interpreters?” the gendarme raised an eyebrow. “A very fortunate young man.”

  “I accompanied Madame Chanel because it was not right that she had to endure an unpleasant situation alone,” Vera said. “And naturally these other ladies did not wish to remain home alone, knowing there might still be a murderer at large in the area.”

  “Murderer?” the policeman asked sharply, glancing at his colleague, who had just come in from the pool area. “Who said anything about murder?”

  “One has to consider all possibilities,” Vera said quickly.

  “Men do not often fall into their own swimming pools and die.”

  “He could have had a heart attack,” the first gendarme said.

  “The water around him appeared to be pink, indicating that he had been bleeding,” Vera said.

  “He could have slipped on the wet cement and hit his head,” commented the gendarme who had just entered. His colleague turned to him. “I think you should stay by the body until the inspector arrives. We should not allow it to be tampered with in any way.”

  “Who could tamper with it?” the other gendarme demanded. “It is in a swimming pool halfway down a cliff, cut off from the world.”

  “There are also buzzards and seagulls,” the first gendarme said. “They will be attracted to this kind of corpse.”

  The other gendarme, who looked as if he was fresh out of training school, turned decidedly green. “I will stay with the body,” he said and retreated again. The first gendarme turned to us. “It is interesting that you suspect a murder, however. Perhaps you know more about this matter than you are revealing to us. You English know much about the various intrigues that go on when you come to the Riviera.”

  “I assure you we know nothing about Sir Toby Groper,” Vera said. “Only what we have overheard from our own terrace.”

  “And what did you overhear?”

  “Today, as I told you, we were in Nice all day, so we heard nothing. We were actually at police headquarters in Nice, if you need an alibi for us,” Coco said.

  “And what were you doing at police headquarters?”

  “A valuable necklace was stolen from us last night. We were attempting to aid the police in its recovery.”

  This cheered the young gendarme no end. “Ah—a robbery took place last night. And today a man is found dead in his swimming pool. Perhaps a second robbery was planned and Sir Toby surprised the thieves, who hit him over the head and threw him into his pool.”

  “The robbery took place at the casino on the pier,” Vera said.

  “Ah.” The young gendarme looked around as if he were unsure what to do next. His gaze fell on Johnson. “This young man—is he the only servant in the house?”

  The question was translated for Johnson. Coco in turn translated the answer for the policeman. “He says there is a cook, Marie, but that it is her half day off to visit her family. There is also a local woman who comes in every day to clean, but only in the mornings, and there are two gardeners and a chauffeur.”

  “And where are these people now?”

  “The gardeners do not live on the premises. I have the address at which they can be found, if you will wait. They usually start early then go home after lunch. And the chauffeur has a small apartment over the garage. I think he was also given the afternoon off, as Sir Toby planned to be on his yacht and this young man was given the car.”

  “And what is your capacity in this household?” Johnson was asked.

  “He is—he was Sir Toby’s manservant, valet,” Coco translated. “He also acted as secretary when necessary and helped Sir Toby with his correspondence.”

  “Why was he not attending on his master, leaving him in the house alone?” the policeman asked.

  “Sir Toby went off on his yacht about midday,” Johnson said, addressing the answer to Coco rather than the gendarme. “I was told to take his car and go into Nice, where I had various commissions to carry out. I had to send a telegram to England, to have his shoes resoled, to obtain more of his favorite cigars and to mail letters. He told me that I need not hurry back as he thought he might sail to Monte Carlo and probably dine there. Therefore I took the liberty of having a cup of coffee in a café and of strolling around, observing the people. This is my first trip abroad, so it’s all a novelty to me.”

  “And you returned when?”

  “A few moments ago, as I told you. The driveway was blocked by your car, so I went to Madame’s villa next door to find out what was wrong.”

  As this question-and-answer session continued, I found my gaze drifting to the glass-topped table in which the queen’s snuffbox reposed. If only they would all go out to the pool, I might have a chance to lift the lid and take it. My heart was racing. This was not in my character, having been brought up with strong Scottish virtues and the Ten Commandments rammed down my throat by my nanny. But was it stealing to retrieve what had been stolen by someone else? Probably not. The point was that it would be seen as stealing if I were caught, and I wasn’t sure that the queen would want me to reveal her little scheme to the French police.

  “It will be simple to verify your movements in town today,” the gendarme said, “if you will write for us the names of the establishments you visited.”

  “Certainly.” Johnson went across to a bureau and opened it, taking out a sheet of paper. He wrote swiftly, then handed the paper to the policeman.

  I edged closer to the table. They were watching Johnson. I eased the lid up a little. My hand slid inside—

  “What is going on here?” a voice demanded in French, and to my horror Inspector Lafite stood behind me. “What are all these people doing at the scene of a possible crime?” His gaze swept the room, taking us all in. It fastened on me as I tried to withdraw my hand from the table. To my horror the lid had sagged shut and my hand was stuck. I stood there, giving the inspector an inane smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice that one of my hands was stuck in a table full of valuable objects.

  “We are staying in the next villa,” Coco said, successfully diverting the inspector’s attention from me to her. “Sir Toby’s young manservant arrived on our doorstep in great distress, so naturally we came with him as interpreters, as he speaks no French.”

  “And we did not want to see him bullied or intimidated by the French police,” Vera added. It was clear she had taken a strong dislike to the little inspector.

  “These boys are gendarmes—country policemen,” the inspector said. “We town police are of the civility the most great. We do not bully,” Lafite said.

  Vera grunted but said nothing. While this exchange had been going on, I lifted the lid and pulled my hand free, unfortunately without the snuffbox in it. The lid closed with a rather loud clack. The inspector spun around. “Sorry, I bumped into the table,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “You are the young lady from whom the jewels were taken last night.”

  “That is correct,” I said. “I am staying at the villa next door with these ladies.”

  “Hmmm,” he said, his mind clearly trying to work out an involvement in a robbery and then a suspicious death. “Please do not leave until I have questioned you. Now, where is this body?”

  “Still in the swimming pool, sir,” the young gendarme said, obviously in awe of Lafite. “I left my colleague to guard it. Nothing has been moved nor the body deranged.”
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br />   The inspector gave a curt nod and strode out to the terrace. We followed at a safe distance, although I wasn’t sure that I wanted to see the body at close range. As we neared the pool, I could see it still lying on the top step, half submerged.

  “Good God, he looks like a pink hippopotamus,” Mummy’s clear voice rang out, echoing back from the cliffs around us. “How utterly revolting. I think I’ve seen enough. I’ll be back at the villa, making cocktails.” And she departed.

  Inspector Lafite squatted down beside it, then looked up at us.

  “He has been hit on the head,” he said. It came out like “’Ee ’as been ’eet on the ’ead.” It was rather an unnecessary statement, since at close range it was obvious Sir Toby’s skull had been smashed at the back with considerable force, leaving a horrid matted mess of blood and hair. Lafite turned to his men. “Telephone to my department in Nice. Tell them we need a team of men and a vehicle to transport the body. In the meantime, begin to search the premises for the murder weapon. The criminal may have thrown it down the cliff or hidden it in the shrubbery.”

  The two men began picking their way around the perimeter of the pool. Lafite turned his attention back to us.

  “Who discovered the body?” he asked us in French.

  “Lady Georgiana did,” Vera said, stepping between me and the inspector in an effort to protect me, I suppose. “She arrived home to find nobody here, looked over the edge of the terrace and saw the body in the pool. She was just coming up to get help when we arrived home and she showed us the body. We called the police.”

  “Why did none of the servants discover their master was dead?” the inspector asked in slow, heavy-accented English as he turned to glare at Johnson, who took a step back. “They could not have attended to him very diligently.”

  “There were no servants in the house,” Coco said. “Their master was supposed to be on his yacht today. This young man was running errands for Sir Toby in town, using Sir Toby’s car. The cook had been given the afternoon off.”