Naughty In Nice

by Rhys Bowen

  “Possible,” my policeman said. “But I know nothing of this. I will ask.”

  So we walked back to Sir Toby’s property. An impressively high wall of rough stone bordered the road, cutting off any view of the villa, but I noticed that there was a small door in the wall. Presumably the gardener entered the property this way, rather than through the impressive main gate. I tried the door and it swung open.

  “This must be how the staff come to work,” I said to the policeman. “I’m going to see whether it is possible to get a good look at someone entering from the main driveway.” And without waiting for approval, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. A narrow flagstoned path wound between mimosa trees in full flower and black cypress trees. On either side of us were fountains and flower beds and gracious lawns. It was truly a lovely garden, especially as we were in the middle of winter. The scent of the fluffy mimosa flowers was sweet in the air. Birds were chirping gaily. A skinny cat crossed the path ahead of us, stalking something—presumably one of the birds. Suddenly its fur shot up and it bolted away as if burned. I looked to see what had spooked it so violently and saw the foot, sticking out from under a large oleander bush.

  I grabbed the sleeve of my young policeman, who gave a horrified yelp and rushed over to part the foliage. Underneath the oleander bush, a burly man with tanned skin and grizzled gray hair was lying with a pair of what looked like gardening shears sticking out of his back.

  Chapter 27

  Villa Marguerite

  January 27, 1933

  One might have thought that the discovery of yet another dead body in the next-door shrubbery would have put a damper on my mother’s party plans. Not a bit of it.

  “Well, at least you’re off the hook, darling,” she said. “You were in town all day and accompanied every step of the way by one of that silly inspector’s own men.”

  This much, of course, was true.

  “I do see Georgie’s point,” Vera said. “I mean to say, do you think it’s—well—proper to hold a party when people seem to be dropping like flies next door?”

  “All the more reason to cheer ourselves up,” Mummy said. “After all, nobody that we know is doing the killing, so let’s enjoy ourselves and leave the Gropers and their murderers to sort themselves out.”

  As you have probably realized, my mother was one of the world’s truly self-centered women.

  “But what about Lady Groper?” Vera pointed out. “How will she feel if there’s a party going on right next door?”

  “Then send Georgie over to invite her,” Mummy said airily. “She’ll need cheering up too, won’t she? Now, do you think these flowers go well in this niche?” The dead gardener, for indeed it was he I had stumbled upon, was put from her mind and she was back in full party preparation.

  Vera suggested that I pay a courtesy call on Lady Groper. I saw her point—she may not have been fond of her philandering husband but a violent death is a terrible shock to the system. So I had a policeman let me into the Gropers’ estate. The door was opened by Johnson, who was beginning to look rather haggard.

  “Lady Groper’s not here,” he said. “She decided that she didn’t want to spend the night here after all. She said it was too unsettling to be in this house and headed back to the Negresco. I gather she’s coming back to resume cataloging her stuff tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think I’d want to stay here either,” I said.

  “I’m not exactly enjoying it myself.” Johnson made a face. “But I’ve been asked by the police to stay on and keep an eye on the place. And there’s still a policeman stationed outside if I need help.”

  “There was a policeman stationed outside when the gardener was killed,” I said. “Be careful, won’t you?”

  He gave a grin of bravado. “Who’d want to kill me? I’m not worth anything to anybody. As soon as this is over, I’ll be out on my ear.”

  “You don’t think Lady Groper will keep employing you?”

  “She made it clear that she had no intention of doing so. She said she never approved of her husband’s choice of servants. Besides, I bet she’d be a cow to work for.”

  I felt sorry for him. He was a bright young man forced into this kind of work by circumstance, and now he was jobless again. I walked slowly back up the driveway. Truthfully I wasn’t anxious to be roped into more party preparations. I just wasn’t in the mood. I told myself that I should be happy that I would no longer be suspected of the first murder if I couldn’t have committed the second, but I kept seeing that poor man lying there with those shears savagely driven into his back. And I thought back to the wound on Sir Toby’s head. Surely it would have been simple enough to have knocked him out and then dragged him into the pool to drown. These were crimes of great savagery committed by a violent and angry person. As I went about my tasks—blowing up balloons, setting out candles and ashtrays—I wondered why it had become necessary to kill the gardener. I could come up with two reasons—one, that he had been part of the original plot, including the need to incriminate me, and his conscience had gotten the better of him, or two, that he knew who had committed the murder and was attempting, foolishly as it turned out, to extract some hush money from the murderer.

  I had just pondered these things when Inspector Lafite turned up, the last person any of us wanted to see.

  “Lady Georgiana. We meet again. And do I understand correctly that you were the one who discovered this body?” he asked. “I find this most interesting.”

  “Yes, your man was with me. I saw the foot sticking out and he parted the branches to reveal the man lying there.” I made sure he knew that his man was part of this equation.

  “And how did you come to be strolling through the garden of Sir Toby Groper? Was this a usual occupation for you? You had done it before, perhaps?”

  I tried not to let my face show annoyance. He was so clearly trying to trap me into confessing that I often took a shortcut across Sir Toby’s property.

  “That’s simple to answer,” I said. “I wanted to meet this gardener for myself. I wanted him to have a chance to see me face-to-face and realize that I was not the one he saw sneaking into Sir Toby’s house. Since I was under the supervision of your men, I took one of them with me. The gardener’s wife said he had not returned home from work. On our way back to Sir Toby’s house we noticed the small door in the wall, found it unlocked and followed the path. That’s when we saw the foot.”

  “A second murder,” he said. “One must ask oneself why this man was killed.”

  “Presumably because he knew who the murderer of Sir Toby was,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed. He stroked his extravagant mustache.

  “Precisely, young lady. And if he was the only witness to the murderer entering the house? Why, he must be silenced forever.”

  I looked at him and had to laugh. “Surely even you cannot suspect me of this second crime,” I said. “For one thing I was in town all day, in the company of one of your men, and for another, I just don’t think I possess the strength to kill a man of his size by stabbing him with a garden tool.”

  “Perhaps yes, perhaps no,” he said. “My men will be examining the murder weapon for fingerprints. And do not think you are in the clear because you went to town. I am told that this man had been dead for some time when you found him. Perhaps since before you took your nice little trip to town to create your alibi.”

  I could feel my anger rising. “May I remind you, Inspector, that your own men are standing guard outside our house? And outside Sir Toby’s house too. How do you think I got past them?”

  That smug look returned to his face. “I understand it is possible to make one’s way down the cliff from your terrace to the terrace of Sir Toby. In fact, my men tell me that there are indications that somebody has climbed down that way recently.”

  “Yes, I did,” I said. “When I first arrived at the villa I wanted to see if I could get down to the beach from our villa. I realized I would be trespassing on Sir Toby�
�s property, so I went back. He was still alive at the time,” I added. “And he had a lady called Olga with him. They were arguing, loudly.” I paused, staring eye to eye with Inspector Lafite. “Have you looked for this Mademoiselle Olga, Inspector? I am told she is a passionate and violent person. The kind of person who might stab someone with a pair of garden shears.”

  I used this as my parting blow, turned my back on him and started to set out ashtrays again. In the end he admitted defeat and left.

  Deliveries started—trays of food and sacks of ice, extra champagne in case the cellar ran dry.

  “Heavens, are you planning to feed the five thousand?” I asked my mother, who was flitting around in her element, bossing the staff, as well as some extra local women she had acquired for the evening.

  “The biggest crime in all of society is to run short of food,” she said.

  “But what if nobody comes? It was rather short notice, wasn’t it?”

  She smiled and patted my hand as if I were sweet but silly. “Darling, people drive for miles for free food and drink.”

  “But not our crowd, surely.”

  She turned to rearrange an enormous vase of spring flowers. “In case you haven’t noticed, the world is in a depression. Our crowd might be putting on a brave front, but they are struggling to keep up appearances, and hurting like everyone else.”

  “Except for you, apparently.”

  “Ah, well, I’m enjoying Max’s money.” She gave a naughty smile.

  “I thought Germany was in a worse state than everywhere else,” I commented.

  “It is. Absolutely terrible. The mark isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on. People are using their life savings to buy bread.”

  “So how is Max doing so brilliantly?”

  “He’s not stupid, darling. His money has always been in Switzerland, and he owns factories around the world. And now he’s working with the German government to develop new military vehicles. Of course, you’re not supposed to know that.”

  “But that might all come to an end for you, if you don’t return to him as commanded,” I pointed out.

  “It might. We’ll see how I feel about him, and what else turns up. Something usually does. Now let’s go and see how they are getting on with those oysters, shall we?”

  I went upstairs to change, wishing that I had smart silk pajamas or a slinky backless dress like the other guests would have. My dresses looked hopelessly unsophisticated and old-fashioned. And I didn’t have the heart to wear the dress I had worn the evening before. It now reminded me too strongly of the police cell and my current predicament. And as far as I could tell, Inspector Lafite still wanted to find me guilty. He was probably working hard at this moment to come up with another piece of incriminating evidence.

  So I was hardly in the mood for a party when I went down to join my mother and the first guests. It appeared that she was right about food and drink enticing people and that those original forty she had invited had all told their friends. More and more people kept arriving. What’s more, they all appeared to know each other, and there were scenes of embracing and murmurs of “darling” this and “darling” that. And it was amazingly informal after the parties I was used to at home. On the rare occasions we gave parties at Castle Rannoch, the guests would be announced by the butler and then greeted formally by the hosts before they were allowed to mingle. It seemed that on the Continent the British really did let down their stuffiness. People came, grabbed drinks from trays and generally made themselves at home without even introducing themselves to the hostess.

  “Do you know all these people?” I whispered to Mummy.

  “Haven’t a clue who they are, darling,” she whispered back, then stretched out her arms dramatically. “Darlings! How lovely that you could come!” she cooed and rushed to greet the newest arrivals.

  I overheard the words “Toby Groper,” “next-door villa” and “murder” and realized that as well as food and drink our place had the added attraction of being next to the murder site. But I didn’t hear any whispers mentioning my name or any quick glances in my direction, for which I was truly grateful. So nobody outside my immediate circle knew that I had been arrested and was the prime suspect. I eavesdropped shamelessly as people speculated who might have done it. The interesting thing was that Toby Groper was clearly not among their set—in fact, he was regarded as a bit of a bounder. Also so rich that it was vulgar.

  “Kept the place absolutely stuffed with bloody antiques and pictures. Like a bloody great mausoleum or art gallery,” I heard one man say. “And didn’t even play a decent game of tennis.”

  I broke off my eavesdropping as someone tapped on my shoulder and was pleased to see Belinda, looking rather stunning in a figure-hugging emerald green dress that made it perfectly clear she was wearing nothing beneath it.

  “What a nice surprise,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were invited.”

  “Of course I wasn’t. But when has that ever deterred me from anything? I overheard some people talking about it in Galeries Lafayette this afternoon. All that lovely free food and drink, darling. One could hardly pass it up, could one? But I’m awfully relieved to see you here, yourself. Last time I saw you, you were being dragged off by a horrid little policeman with a ridiculous mustache. What on earth did he want with you? Was it about the missing necklace?”

  “Worse than that. He thinks I killed our neighbor, Sir Toby.”

  “I heard a rumor that someone had been murdered. So that’s who it was. Toby Groper, eh? Horrid man. Pinched my bottom once. But what in God’s name would make that inspector think that you did it? It’s too ridiculous for words.”

  “I know. It is, but he’s not very bright and extremely pompous and it’s a case of ‘I’m guilty until proven innocent’ to him. I’d still be in a jail cell if it weren’t for Jean-Paul, who bailed me out and found me a lawyer.”

  “How awful. You poor darling. But don’t worry. I’m sure your heavenly marquis knows how to bribe the right people and they’ll sort it out soon. If not, you can simply start waving the royal standard and they’ll have to back down.”

  “I hope so,” I said. I looked around. “Did you bring Neville?”

  “Still parking the car, I believe. And yes, I am with him, unless and until something better turns up.”

  “So he’s not quite as wonderful as you thought he was?”

  “I never said ‘wonderful,’” Belinda muttered, looking around to see if he was approaching. “And frankly I think I overestimated his prowess in—that area. It is so off-putting if one is asked if one ‘fancies a spot of the old rumpy-pumpy,’ and even worse when he has his teddy bear sitting on the bed beside us.”

  “Belinda!” I exclaimed, not knowing whether to laugh or be shocked.

  “It’s too much boarding school,” Belinda said. “It makes them all strange. I’m on the lookout for a nice Continental type with oodles of money, like your marquis. He’s still in pursuit, is he?”

  “He appears to be.”

  “Great catch, darling. I’m mad with jealousy.” She leaned closer. “So do tell, how far have you got with him? Is it positively blissful?”

  “Not very far yet,” I said. “I might have had more to tell if I hadn’t been hauled off to a police station last night.”

  “Is he here? Perhaps you can carry on a little later from where you left off.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “I haven’t seen him yet, but I’m sure Mummy invited him. She fancies him herself.”

  “Oh, Lord.” Belinda grabbed my arm suddenly. “Isn’t that your brother just coming in the door? Don’t tell me the dreaded Fig is going to be here.”

  I spotted him through the crowd and his face broke into a big smile. “What-ho, Georgie. It’s good to see you, old thing.” And he barged his way toward me.

  “Where’s Fig?” I asked cautiously as he put his arm around me.

  “Sends her apologies. Doesn’t think that the noise and all the standing would be g
ood for her. But Ducky and Foggy are here.” I turned to see Ducky in an outfit even more dreary looking than mine. In fact, she looked as if she might have knitted the evening gown herself from an unwashed brown sheep. She nodded a greeting to me. Foggy came up, and he greeted me more effusively. “Hello, old thing. Splendid to see you again. I must say, you’re looking rather pretty. And what a splendid place this is. You must give me a private tour later.” He gave me a little nudge, and was that a wink?

  Yes, I know what your idea of a private tour is, I thought, and I directed them toward the champagne while I made my escape.

  “Where does the money come from for all this?” Ducky’s brittle voice carried as they moved away. “I mean, it’s not as if she’s an actress anymore, is it?”

  “Talk about biting the hand that feeds you,” Vera muttered in my ear. “How are you surviving, old thing?”

  “I’m all right,” I said.

  “It can’t be easy, knowing that dreadful inspector is lurking,” Vera said.

  “Or that a murderer is lurking,” I said.

  “That too, of course. I wish they’d find the blasted man so that we can go home. We’ve got work to do. It’s not good for Coco to sit idle. She smokes and drinks too much. She’s the type of person who needs to be busy all the time or she selfdestructs.” She looked up just then. “I think your marquis is just arriving.”

  Chapter 28

  The night of January 27, 1933

  Party at the Villa Marguerite.

  I felt my pulse quicken as I saw him scanning the crowd. He spotted me and came over. “You don’t have anything to drink,” he said. He snatched two glasses of champagne from a tray and handed me one. “If you don’t mind my saying so, that is a perfectly terrible dress. It does nothing for you and makes you look about ten years old.”

  “I know,” I said. “My wardrobe is positively hopeless. Everyone’s so smart here.”

  “I thought Madame Chanel was designing you a dress,” he said.