by Rhys Bowen
“He saw it was going to rain and came back to get a tool, I gather. I rather think I’m going to pay him a visit and try to get the truth out of him.”
Johnson frowned. “Be careful, my lady.” He lowered his voice, looking around to see if anyone else was within hearing distance. “If someone is paying this man, he may well be in league with some kind of gangsters. There are plenty of them on the Riviera, so I hear, including the mafia.” He paused, considering. “But don’t you have an alibi for yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes, I do. I was at the villa of the Marquis de Ronchard and then he drove me home, where the servants saw me.”
“There you are, then.” He gave me a relieved smile.
“I told the inspector that, but it doesn’t seem good enough for him.”
“He doesn’t seem too bright to me,” Johnson said. “I’ll let him know about Schumann and the threats. Although I find it so hard to get through to him, what with me speaking no French and his awful English. He may end up thinking I’m trying to confess myself.”
He gave me a grin as he carried the bedsheets toward the back of the house. I stood watching him, wondering if I had an ally.
Chapter 26
January 27, 1933
A hectic day on the Côte d’Azur.
As we came out of the villa, Mummy slipped her arms through Coco’s and Vera’s, marching them up the driveway like a brisk governess with two reluctant schoolgirls. “God, how terribly dreary, wasn’t she? I suppose one should feel sorry for her—”
“Sorry for her? But no,” Coco said. “She is rid of a bad husband and she has plenty of money to enjoy life.”
And she doesn’t have to go through an ugly divorce case, either, I thought but didn’t say out loud. If only there was a sensible policeman I could share this knowledge with. Or someone like Granddad or Darcy, who would know whom to tell. I found myself wondering if Lady Groper had orchestrated the whole thing perfectly—the alibi of being in the hills, far enough away from Nice, of not finding out about the murder until she read the morning papers. Or—an even more chilling thought struck me—the coincidence of their son, Bobby, suddenly turning up, but not wanting to be seen. Was it possible that Lady G and Bobby had planned this between them? I had seen from her face that he was the apple of his mother’s eye. Was it plausible that he had not made contact with her and she had really not known he was here? If the police had decided that I was the guilty party, then I’d have to seek out Bobby for myself and see if I could get to the truth.
“She could lead a delightful life if she chooses,” Chanel continued. “But I do not think she will do so. She will certainly not buy herself a decent wardrobe. She will hunt and fish and live in the boring English countryside.” And she gave that delightful laugh.
“I know,” Mummy said suddenly. “Let’s have a party. Things have been all too gloomy around here and we haven’t had a party in ages.”
“Is that wise, with Georgiana under suspicion of murder?” Vera asked.
“Darling, that’s the very best time to do it. Georgie needs cheering up, don’t you, darling?” She looked back at me, trailing behind them up the driveway under the eyes of the watching policemen. “And we’ll show these horrid little men that they’ve got it wrong and they can’t intimidate us.”
“When do you propose holding this party?” Vera asked.
“Why not tonight? I’ll get on the telephone—invite a few people and they’ll spread the word.”
“Tonight, Claire!” Vera complained. “We need food and drink and decorations.”
“Simple, darling. I’ll telephone my favorite restaurant for their lovely hors d’oeuvres platters, cold lobster, that kind of thing, and I think you’ll find that my wine cellar is well stocked. So we just need ice and lemons and a few fun things like paper lanterns—the shops are full of fun stuff ready for carnival. I’ll pop into town. No problem.”
“Let me go,” I said.
They turned to look at me.
“I want to show them that I’m not their prisoner.” Another thought had also come to me. I wanted to speak to the crew of that yacht and find out exactly what happened yesterday afternoon and how Sir Toby came to be back at his villa.
“That’s the spirit, my sweet,” Mummy said. “Of course. You go into town and enjoy yourself. I’ll make a list of things to buy.”
We went into the house and Mummy sat at her pretty little secretary desk, scribbling at a list that got longer and longer. “Oh, and fireworks,” she chirped. “We must have fireworks, don’t you think? And masks? Do you think it should be a fancy dress do? Or just carnival masks?”
“Aren’t you going a little overboard?” I asked, picturing a day ahead of me of trying to find these items in a town I didn’t know.
“Nonsense, darling. What’s the point of a party if you don’t go overboard?”
I sat on the sofa watching her, admiring her. Not only was she beautiful, but she had a wonderful way of shaking off life’s little problems like water off a duck’s back. Nothing seemed to upset her. I just wished I had inherited that trait. Then I noticed that while we had been at the villa, someone had delivered the morning papers. There it was—the big, black headline, English Peer Found Dead in Swimming Pool. My eyes scanned down the article. Then I looked up, frowning. Lady Groper had said she’d found out about her husband’s death from the morning papers, but in this particular article there was no mention of the blow to the back of Sir Toby’s head or anything about him bleeding to death. I went through the rest of the papers. Again no mention of details.
“Here you are, darling.” Mummy waved a long list at me. “Just a few things to pick up in town. I’d better get busy making telephone calls or we’ll have no food, no ice and no guests.” And she was off, yelling instructions to servants.
Franz was summoned to bring the motorcar to the front door. But as I came out, a policeman stepped to block my way. “Excuse me, mademoiselle, but you must not leave.”
“Must not leave Nice,” I corrected him. “I’m not leaving Nice. I’m going shopping.” And I showed him the list.
He looked very worried. “I do not think my chief would want you to go into the town alone. It would be too easy for you to board a train or the boat of a friend and thus escape.”
“I have no intention of escaping,” I said. “But nobody said I had to remain a prisoner in my house. My mother is giving a party and I am helping her. So if you want to come with me to keep an eye on me, you’re welcome to do so. In fact, you can help me find the right shop for these items.” I waved the list again. I could see indecision on his face. He knew he couldn’t let me go alone, but the thought of shopping with a young woman was daunting. Duty won out.
“Very well. I shall accompany you. But I warn you—if you try to make an escape, you will be returned to a jail cell.”
“No escape, I promise. I wouldn’t want to miss the party tonight,” I said and climbed into the backseat of the Mercedes. The young policeman got in beside me, ignoring the dirty look he got from Franz.
One thing I realized as we drove into town was that I probably wouldn’t have time to seek out Bobby Groper today, unless I happened to bump into him. In fact, I rather suspected that by the time I had fulfilled Mummy’s commissions, I’d have to rush back to deliver them for the party. Oh, well. It was better than sitting around at home all day. The weather was perfect, the sea was blue, the sky even bluer, and a walk along the Promenade would be enough to raise my spirits.
With assistance from my poor policeman friend, whose name turned out to be Marcel, I located lemons and paper lanterns and even fireworks and a selection of carnival masks. It really was rather fun shopping in the market and having someone to carry the stuff back to the car. I got some funny looks from people as I strode ahead with a uniformed policeman in tow, loaded with my packages. When we had finished, I treated him to a coffee at one of the little outdoor cafés, then told him I was going to walk along the seafront to get som
e fresh air. He didn’t have to accompany me, I said. He could sit on one of the benches and watch me. He agreed to this, obviously not having enjoyed the indignity of the shopping.
I stood for a while in the fresh breeze blowing off the sea. After the previous day’s rainstorm, the sea was still choppy, and waves hissed and crashed, rattling the pebbles. I found myself scanning the beach to see if I could spot Darcy. If only, I thought, and I reminded myself that Jean-Paul was filling his shoes quite admirably. He had rescued me twice—once from Sir Toby’s clutches and then again, obviously having paid a large amount of bail money to have me released from jail. And he was gorgeous and rich and everything a girl could want—except that he wasn’t Darcy. However much I tried to fool myself, I still cared horribly about Darcy, and thinking of him produced an almost physical hurt in my heart.
But the day was too windy and even the hardy types were not swimming in the sea. I turned away to continue my walk when I heard my name being called, and there, coming toward me, were the two elderly princesses from the night of my modeling disaster. The spry little French princess was walking beside an old-fashioned wicker bath chair in which the large Russian princess sat, being pushed by a formidable woman dressed in black.
“Lady Georgiana. How lovely to see you,” Princess Marie said in English, holding out her dainty hand, clad in a gray silk glove, to me. “I trust you suffered no lasting injury from your tumble the other night?”
“No, thank you. I am fully recovered,” I said. “And I hope that the princess also suffered no ill effects.”
“She did not, I am pleased to say.” She smiled at me, patting my hand now. “So all is well, and we take a nice stroll and enjoy the good weather.”
I didn’t like to ask whether the princess might have come upon a pearl and diamond necklace hidden about her person when she undressed that night. But I did say, “Of course, we’re still frightfully upset about the missing necklace. We can’t imagine who took it.”
“There are clever thieves in the world,” Princess Marie said, while the dour Russian lady nodded in agreement. “Princess Theodora here had her jewels taken from her compartment on a train, when she fled from Russia. The brazen thief climbed in through the open window, removed the jewel case as she slept, then climbed out again.”
Princess Theodora sighed, but still said nothing. I wondered if she spoke English.
“I am sorry to hear about the loss of your jewels,” I said in French.
“Tragic,” she said, sighing again.
“The princess has known much sorrow,” Princess Marie said in a low voice. “We live a simple life in Paris. We do not move in society anymore, so I bring her here to cheer her up.”
From her face it didn’t look as if it was doing much good.
“But you are a young thing.” Marie smiled brightly at me. “You should not concern yourself about a stolen necklace. You should be out dancing and having fun, and meeting interesting men. But never an Irishman, remember. They make wonderful lovers but poor husbands.”
A sob rose unbidden in my throat and I forced it into a hiccup, then remembered my manners. “My mother is giving a party tonight at her villa,” I said. “Perhaps you would like to come? I suspect it will be quite informal.”
She smiled, a little sadly. “Oh, no, my dear. We do not go into society any longer. We allowed ourselves the indulgence of the fashion show the other evening, but we rarely go out at night. And all our friends are dead.”
I nodded in commiseration.
Suddenly her face brightened up. “You must come to lunch,” she said. “If you have time in your busy social schedule. It would brighten the day of two old dinosaurs.”
“Thank you, I’d love to,” I said.
“Come tomorrow,” she said. “Any day you like. You’ll find us at the Hotel de la Méditerranée. On the Promenade. Not the quality of the Negresco, of course, but a high class of clientele, and they take good care of us.” She reached into a tiny silk purse. “Here is my card. I will tell the hotel receptionist to expect you.”
I thanked them again and watched them making their slow way along the boulevard. And I realized that they knew nothing about the murder or my arrest. As the princess had said, they did not get out in society much. Would they feel so happy about inviting a suspected murderer into their rooms?
I met up with my policeman again and went back to the motorcar. As we passed the port, I remembered that I had planned to interview the crew of Sir Toby’s yacht and asked Franz to stop the car.
“I wish to speak to the crew of Sir Toby’s yacht,” I announced to my policeman.
“I am not sure . . .” my policeman began, but I cut him off. “Can you see any reason why I shouldn’t talk to the crew? They are not under suspicion, are they? I am. I have to do everything I can to clear my name.”
With that, I got out of the car and strode down the dockside to the yacht. The gangplank was lowered and I went on board.
“Hello!” I called, and almost immediately a face appeared from belowdecks.
“Oh, it’s you, miss,” he said. He was a young Englishman with a trace of Yorkshire accent. “I’m sorry, the police said we weren’t to leave and nobody was allowed on board.”
“They don’t think Sir Toby was killed here, do they?”
“The police don’t let us know what they’re thinking,” he said. “We told them that Sir Toby was alive and well when we docked here.”
“Why did you come into the harbor here instead of sailing back to the villa?” I asked.
The young crewman shrugged. “Who knows? He was the boss. He said ‘sail into Nice’ and so we did. He told us to take the afternoon off and that he’d take a taxi home later and we were to await instructions. That’s all I can tell you.”
“And you told the police that?”
“We did.”
“He didn’t say where he was going or whom he planned to meet?”
“People like Sir Toby don’t have to tell their crew anything. We were paid well to keep quiet and say nothing.”
“I presume Sir Toby entertained other young ladies on his yacht. Do you remember another young lady who resembled me?”
“No, miss. I can’t say that I do.” His face was so impassive that I couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.
“So you couldn’t tell me whether any other young lady might have had a reason to want Sir Toby dead?”
“No, miss. I couldn’t tell you.”
“And you also told them that I’d been on the yacht that morning and left rather abruptly?”
He looked uncomfortable now. “We had to, miss. He asked who else had been on the yacht. We didn’t say anything to incriminate you, miss. We knew what Sir Toby was like, and I can’t say I blame you for jumping overboard to your friend’s speedboat. Although I have to say it took guts. Not many young ladies would have jumped into the water like that. . . .”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “The inspector has still put two and two together and come up with a motive for murder, so the sooner this is solved, the better.”
I started to make my way back to the gangplank.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, miss,” he said. “But frankly there’s nothing else to say.”
I walked slowly back to the motorcar. So either Sir Toby had an assignation in town and had taken a taxi home after his meeting, or mooring in town had been a smoke screen so that he could take a taxi home for a meeting that nobody else would know about. I could hardly question every taxi driver in Nice, could I?
We drove home. I stared out the window, not really seeing the spectacular scene below me—the white boats bobbing on blue water, the pastel villas perched on the hillsides. All I felt was frustration, and a hint of fear. What if they found my fingerprints on that little table, for example— even on the objects inside that table? Would that add to the weight of evidence against me?
By the time we arrived back at the villa, I had come to a decision. Danger or no dang
er, I was going to confront that gardener. I wanted to hear from his own lips exactly what he had seen that afternoon. Surely I’d know if he had told a lie. I helped Franz unload the motorcar, carrying the packages in to oohs and aahs of delight from my mother, who had already done an amazing job decorating the terrace with fairy lights and white-clothed tables. Ice buckets stood ready, as did small plates and forks and serving dishes.
“The food is all ordered. We’ve got masses of champagne on ice and more arriving any minute. Forty people have already said they are coming,” she said happily, “and they will all tell their friends, so we’ll wind up with a good crowd.”
I had a sudden thought. “Can I invite Binky?” I said. “I know it will mean Fig too, but he’s having such a dreary time at that awful villa, and he is such a good soul at heart.”
“The more the merrier, darling. You know how fond I am of him,” Mummy said.
I telephoned and the dragon agreed to pass on the message to the duke. Well, I’d done my part. Now for something a little more difficult. I went upstairs and deliberately put on the blue and white sailor outfit. Then I told the policeman standing outside our front gate that I wished to speak to Sir Toby’s gardener. He conferred with the policeman guarding Sir Toby’s gate.
“Not possible, mademoiselle,” he said. Why couldn’t these Frenchmen get the concept of “my lady” into their heads?
“And why not? This man’s evidence has convinced your inspector that I am guilty. I want to find out for myself what he really saw. One of you can come with me, if you like.”
The two men exchanged glances, then gave that Gallic shrug. “Why not?” one said. “I will accompany her.”
The address was obtained and we walked up the road until we came to a row of cottages. A woman answered our knock, wiping her hands on her apron.
“But my husband has not come home yet,” she said. “I thought maybe you police have required him to give his testimony again at headquarters.”