Mischief in St. Tropez

by C. G Oster

  Dory drove them back along the coast, deep in thought.

  Chapter 24

  T he consulate’s telephone remained permanently engaged. It was impossible to reach them, but Lady Pettifer used her trusted network of friends to garner what information was available. The Government had committed to sending transport to Nice to pick up anyone needing to be conveyed back to the UK.

  Each night, they listened diligently to the BBC, heard how the Grand Duchess Charlotte of Luxembourg and her family had fled across France as the occupation of Luxembourg had started. The resignation of Neville Chamberlain and the appointment of Winston Churchill as the new Prime Minister. Para shooting troops being defeated. Intense fighting between the Dutch and Belgium troops against the Germans. The Kaiser being offered asylum and the Norwegian and Dutch Governments shifting to London.

  There was so much happening every day, they had a hard time keeping up. It seemed as though the world was devolving in front of them. They listened to the French news also, which tended to focus more on the battles in its neighboring countries and the movement of troops eastward in the country.

  They sat with their sherries and listened in horror. There was nothing they could do but sit and listen, and wait for this ship that was supposed to arrive. How a ship would transport over a thousand people, Dory didn’t know. They intently listened for any news about Switzerland to see whatever hell Vivian was heading toward, but Switzerland wasn’t mentioned. Whatever agreement they had with the Germans was keeping them out of this war. It couldn’t simply be their ferocious army that was keeping the Germans away. Or perhaps they simply didn’t want to deal with the Alps.

  Dory didn’t dare think what would happen if the ship didn’t come. Spain was probably the best answer. It seemed Franco was intent on not getting involved. Every day, more and more people chose to flee instead of wait for the ship. Lady Pettifer felt it was safer to wait, trusted the British Government’s promises more than the French officials’ lack of concern for the British expats.

  Sleepless nights continued and Dory woke feeling exhausted and bleary-eyed in the mornings. The waiting was awful, but another day started and there was no news of a ship arriving. In fact, there was little news at all. Apparently, Major Dodds kept reassuring people that the ship was on the way, but it would take some time to get there.

  Even Livinia stayed at home, although she couldn’t bear to hide in her boredom. With great sighs, she wandered from room to room, wondering when Richard would come to visit. Instead of banding them all together, the occurring events were making them all seek their own solitude.

  It felt wrong to do joyous things like swimming or even reading, so Dory turned her attention to Baron Drecsay and the puzzle it still posed. She wanted to write to DI Ridley about what she had learned, but she felt as though she shouldn’t. He would be too distracted to worry about what she was doing. When they’d spoken, though, he’d offered to listen.

  With this in mind, she grabbed the receiver and rang through to the operator. At this point, she didn’t really know who she wanted to call, but she asked for the office of the prosecutor in Nice and to her surprise was put through straight away.

  The woman who answered wasn’t impressed when Dory asked if anyone knew of a solicitor called Mr. Henri. Grudgingly, Dory was passed to another woman, and then another, who surprisingly had heard of a Mr. Henri, who had offices in Marseille.

  “Oh,” Dory said. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected this to work, but here she was—a step closer. Thanking the woman, Dory hung up and called the operator yet again, this time asking for Marseilles, where asking for Advokat Monsieur Henri got her put forward to his office. It was ludicrously simple once she put her mind to it and imagined who could help.

  A receptionist answered, but Monsieur Henri was not available just at the time. The woman took Dory’s details and promised that he would call her at the earliest opportunity.

  With a nervous sigh, Dory paced. It seemed nothing she did would alleviate the pervasive nervousness in her, but she knew it had nothing to do with waiting for Mr. Henri’s call—even though she did highly anticipate this upcoming conversation. There was no indication how long the man would be in returning her call. It could be he was engaging in blind panic like so many others.

  Dory imagined him haphazardly packing up his office and preparing to flee. Probably not. He appeared to be French, so there was nowhere he would go. For a moment, Dory felt the gravity of the situation that was unfolding north of them. She hoped the poor Luxembourgian and the Belgian peoples were alright, able to imagine the blind panic there. Perhaps it was unkind of her to think derisively about people’s unthinking need for action.

  “Stop that incessant pacing,” Lady Pettifer called from the salon and Dory went over to sit with her.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just can’t seem to relax.”

  “That’s hardly surprising, I suppose.”

  The telephone rang and Dory flew up to reach it before Mr. Fernley had a chance.

  “Yes,” she said when the man on the other end asked for Miss Dory Sparks.

  “How can I be of assistance?” he continued.

  “Well, I am actually calling about Baron Drecsay. I am sure you are aware of what’s happened.”

  “I am,” the man confirmed. Dory could hear the suspicion in his voice.

  Again Dory struggled for words. “I wished to ask you about the properties that he had been… given by Countess Tirau.”

  “Yes,” the man said yet again, waiting for her to come to the point.

  “Uhh, I heard there were a few properties. One in Antibes and also an island in Scotland.”

  “That is correct.”

  “And you handled the conveyance for these properties?”

  “Yes.” A sigh of annoyed resignation sounded through the phone.

  “What other properties were there?”

  “Why do you wish to know?”

  “Oh, I am investigating his death on behalf of his family.” The lie had become familiar now and she was essentially the self-appointed private investigator for the family.

  “I see. There are also three properties in Hungary, an apartment in Paris, and a parcel of land in Palestine.”

  Dory’s eyebrows rose. The Baron wasn’t exactly destitute. “And all of these properties were gifts from the countess?”

  “Yes. This does not cover the properties belonging to the title in Hungary, which are extensive.”

  “And all of the properties go to the next baron? I understand he had no children or family.”

  “I do not deal with the succession of the title and his properties, as such, but I understand his heir was a cousin. You will have to direct your queries to his solicitor in Hungary.”

  “So there is nothing untoward about any of these properties?”

  “Not that I know of. They are all quite impractical. There were, of course, some liens from creditors, so the heir will not receive all of the properties. The baron did have debts. His finances were disorderly, frankly. I am still dealing with the liens, and more creditors are coming forward.”

  “It appears some of the baron’s jewelry has been unaccounted for.”

  “Yes, that seems to be true, but that is an issue for the new baron to take up with the police.”

  “Can you tell me about the creditors?”

  “I don’t remember off the top of my head, but I will ask my assistant to send you a list of creditors and their claims.”

  “That would be much appreciated,” Dory said with a smile. Mr. Henri had run out of patience with her, so she thanked him and let him go.

  “Anything interesting?” Lady Pettifer called and Dory returned to the salon with the piece of paper on which she had scribbled everything Mr. Henri had said.

  “There are a number of properties—an apartment in Paris, the property in Antibes, the Scottish Island, a number of properties in Hungary, and lastly a parcel of land in Palestine.”

 
“Palestine? Why in God’s name would he have land in Palestine?”

  “Well, the countess seemed to like to give him properties he could not use.”

  “So you think one of these properties is the reason he was killed?”

  With a sigh, Dory sat down heavily. “I don’t know. I can’t find any other reason. His relationships seemed quite stable. He was interested in Livinia, and we didn’t kill him. Unless there is someone jealous of that.”

  “Like Richard?”

  They both chuckled.

  “Well, Richard really didn’t like Drecsay, but I can’t imagine him killing for it,” Dory said. “But then he was there. He had opportunity.”

  “Livinia and Drecsay had only gotten to know each other. It is difficult to imagine that Richard was so incensed he would destroy his rival.”

  “It hadn’t even occurred to me to think of Richard as a suspect, but I suppose I must. He had opportunity,” Dory said. “And a semblance of a motive.”

  “It would be an unhinged mind who would murder for such a reason.”

  Could it be that Richard was hiding such a dark urge behind a good-natured façade? It was something that had to be considered.

  Chapter 25

  T he detailed list of the properties arrived from Mr. Henri a few days later. Included was a list of creditor liens against Baron Drecsay. They arrived in a large manila envelope that Mr. Fernley delivered with the rest of the post. The postal service hadn’t ceased. Normalcy was highly appreciated, seen as a sign that the world wasn’t entirely falling apart.

  Dory and Lady Pettifer sat in the covered area outside, the shade and the breeze keeping them cool. Midday was starting to be a period for staying in the shade. Livinia’s music played above their heads. Like this, everything seemed perfectly normal. It was almost a cruel illusion.

  “So what have we?” Lady Pettifer asked as Dory unwound the tie of the envelope and pulled out the sheets of paper inside.

  “Here are the properties. The property in Antibes. Five acres some seven miles away from the coast. It is currently an overgrown orchard. It has access to Chermin des Combes.”

  “Not particularly valuable,” Lady Pettifer said.

  “The apartment in Paris. Place Vendôme.”

  “Well, that is nothing to scoff at. It must be worth quite a bit.”

  “Two rooms.”

  “Just a bolt hole, then.”

  “In Hungary, a farm. No, two farms. Quite sizeable.”

  “I don’t think the properties in Hungary will be of any interest to anyone here,” Lady Pettifer stated.

  “The land in Palestine, which is down to the south, one hundred and fifty miles from the Egyptian border.”

  “That’s nothing but desert. It’s not even close to any significant town as far as I know. How much land?

  “Twenty-two acres,” Dory read.

  “Twenty-two acres of desert. I’m surprised she didn’t buy him half the Sahara. Is that it?”

  “There is the island in Scotland. Unnamed Island, it says. And then it gives coordinates.”

  “I’m assuming no one is fighting over that one if no one can bother naming it. And the liens.”

  Dory found the other sheet of paper.

  “Well, the Hotel Contano has put a claim in to the estate, but not to a specific piece of property. A number of retailers in Nice have done the same. Prince Barenoli has a lien against the Parisian apartment,” Dory said with surprise. “He mentioned nothing about that. If fact, didn’t he say something about anyone giving Drecsay money being stupid? Didn’t mention he was referring to himself.”

  “The Prince has money, but some people are averse to losing it.”

  For a moment, Dory considered what Lady Pettifer said, trying to see if she could find a motive there. “The apartment is worth something, but not a great deal.”

  “An apartment like that is not something he would choose to stay in. His intention would be to sell it and realize the money.”

  “He hadn’t mentioned any of this.”

  “I’m sure he dismisses it as nothing, but he must be aware that it does give him some degree of motive.”

  Hardly convincing, Dory thought. Nothing they had found so far was directly suggested a motive for murder. “Then the land in Palestine. Oh,” Dory said as she saw the name. “Terry Wilcott has placed a lien against it. Also something he didn’t mention when I spoke to him.”

  “Why specifically that?” Lady Pettifer asked.

  With a gust of wind, Livinia arrived from inside the house. “What are you talking about?” she said as she sat down.

  “Terry Wilcott had taken a lien out against one of Baron Drecsay’s properties,” Dory said.

  The scones were more interesting to Livinia than any lien Terry had placed. “Seems everyone is circling like vultures now that he’s dead.”

  “Well, the Prince is as well,” Dory stated.

  “Is he? Drecsay must have owed him money.”

  “It seems Drecsay owed quite a few people money.”

  Livinia was conspicuously quiet on this subject. To her, it didn’t really matter now, Dory supposed. Money wasn’t something she readily thought about. It simply appeared when she needed it.

  “I think I would like to speak to Terry again,” Dory said, turning her attention to Lady Pettifer to see if she agreed with her assessment of the next step.

  “I suppose I can take you to see him. He has a house in Cannes.” Livinia said.

  In a sense, Dory was glad she didn’t have to go all the way to Nice. Cannes was much closer and it wouldn’t take them long to go there and back. Nice required more planning.

  “Actually, it would be nice to get out of the house for a bit. We’ve been cooped up here for days on end.”

  “Why don’t you set off now,” Lady Pettifer suggested. “I might go upstairs and rest.”

  “Marvellous,” Livinia sang and rose with her half-eaten scone still in her hand. “Come on, Dory. I’ll drive.” Livinia was already marching through the house to the other side.

  With a wince, Dory grabbed her hat and followed. She hated it when Livinia drove, but Terry was Livinia’s friend and Dory wasn’t entirely sure how he would behave if it was just her alone.

  They drove down the coast and it was lovely. The sun shone, the breeze was cooling. The water glittered where the sun reflected.

  “I was going spare in the house all day long,” Livinia said, clearly joyful about getting out. “No one is doing anything at the moment. Everything feels so suppressed. I hope this war doesn’t go on forever.”

  In fact, there were troops in Cannes. Dory hadn’t seen this before. Endless men dressed in olive green uniforms, with trucks the same color. They had helmets and weapons.

  “What are they doing down here?” Livinia uttered.

  “I think they must be guarding against the Italians,” Dory said quietly. It was disconcerting seeing them. The war was encroaching on the coast as well. They had to be quite worried about the Italians to send so many troops. They passed endless rows of parked trucks with green canvas canopies.

  With a sharp turn, Livinia drove down a street leading away from the promenade, until she stopped in front of a white house. It was modest in comparison to Archie Wilshire’s house. Nice, in quite a modern style with large windows in what had to be the salon.

  With light steps, Livinia walked up the marble stairs to the front door and worked the iron knocker. A butler appeared and Livinia stated their business.

  They were led through to the salon with the large windows, which was a lovely room with wood paneling and endless carpets. Terry had good taste in furniture. Everything looked modern and clean.

  “Livinia,” he said as he rose from his sofa where he was reading the local paper. “And you brought the charming Miss Sparks.” His tone defied his statement. He didn’t think her charming at all. In fact, he didn’t quite know why she was there.

  “Dory had a few questions she wanted to put
to you.”

  “Oh?” he said with raised eyebrows. “Regarding?”

  “The lien you placed against Baron Drecsay’s property,” Dory said.

  “Oh that,” Terry said and visibly relaxed back into the sofa. “What can I tell you? He owed me some money.”

  “Why the land in Palestine?”

  “Uhh,” he said in a drawn-out manner. “Well, he didn’t owe me a great deal. Two hundred pounds and it seemed to be the property that best approximated the sum.”

  “You didn’t see fit to forgive the sum?” Dory wasn’t sure why she asked that; she just did. Maybe because she believed Archie Wilshire would forgive such a sum to a friend, but Terry had not.

  “Forgive? We never forgive a sum. Practically a family motto.”

  “What in the world are you going to do with a plot in Palestine?” Livinia asked.

  “It’s not worth a great deal. About two hundred pounds, I would assume. Unfortunately, with everything going on, I can’t sell it. So I’m stuck with it for a while—at least until the war is over. Drinks, anyone?”

  “Yes, a martini would be marvelous,” Livinia said.

  “Maybe just a splash of gin in some tonic,” Dory said, knowing she would be driving home, and Livinia would not be wanting to return to the house in the next two hours.

  Terry and Livinia started talking about their friends and what everyone was doing. Archie Wilshire had gone, and taken his wife with him. He was a pilot as it turned out and simply flew his own plane north. Dory hoped it was safe to fly planes across the country now. It was a question that had to be asked of even the mundane things. Surely no one would fire at a small aircraft flying north, but you couldn’t take these things for granted.

  Like them, Terry was going to wait for the ship to come, which in intervening days had turned into two ships that were definitely being diverted to the coast to pick them up. Everyone sounded so sure. The consulate had even called the house to assure them that the ships were coming and they all had to—absolutely had to—leave on the ships, or they would themselves be responsible for any consequences for staying put.