Mischief in St. Tropez

by C. G Oster

  For a moment, Dory considered if she should walk to the village, perhaps purchase one of the small bars of chocolate they sold at the village store. It was an indulgence she allowed herself every once in a while. Then she grew worried about the thought of some of these luxury items growing short in supply. Perhaps her love of chocolate would be something she would have to sacrifice to this war.

  A renewed discomfort washed over her, like it did every time she thought of the fact that they were at war. Each night, they listened to the BBC and to the relentless German march across Europe. Around here, though, it wasn’t the Germans that terrified the population, but the Italians. They were so very close to the border and Mussolini made discomforting noises, and if anyone was to come marching into town, it would be them. The very thought of it was difficult to contemplate. How could life change so quickly? Soldiers coming to disrupt and take control over of a region.

  What kind of life would they have if the Italians marched into town? They had no great love for the British. There would be a scramble to flee. But so far, no one had come marching across the Italian Alps. Or would they come by sea like the Germans did? Would she wake up one morning and a battalion full of them would be on their doorstep? Dory shuddered.

  *

  Livinia did return for supper, still dressed in her tennis whites. A grass stain was prominent on one of her knees, and her nose and cheeks were golden with additional sun. She had skin that could take the sun, turning her skin golden. Dory didn’t.

  “You won’t believe what they are saying in town,” Livinia said as she sat down at the table, having changed for supper. Her eyes were lit up with excitement. “That Baron Drecsay had a hidden life and that he was killed for spying for the Italians. I don’t believe a word of it, but there are those saying it.”

  “A spy?” Lady Pettifer said. “That’s a little far-fetched, isn’t it?”

  “Considering he’s been here for years. What in the world could he be spying on down here? Although, technically, he’s part English, they also said. Tied to the Elmhurst family. I had no idea. Like I keep telling everyone, I didn't actually know him. But a spy, can you imagine?”

  Both Dory and Lady Pettifer sat in silence for a moment. Yes, the newspapers were full of talk of spies, but for there to actually be one in their midst, at a party they had attended—that seemed preposterous. Could it be? Dory had to question herself. Could it be that he was a spy and was murdered for being found out? “Surely if he was a spy, they would have dragged him away to be questioned somewhere?”

  “He was friends with that Prince Barenoli, who is definitely Italian.”

  “Few amongst the Italian nobility are friends with that upstart Mussolini,” Lady Pettifer said. “One cannot jump to the conclusion that being Italian means one is favorable to either Mussolini or the fascists. The world is more complicated than that.”

  “Well, not everyone seems that way inclined,” Livinia said. “And Hungary has displayed a cozy relationship with the Nazis.”

  Dory could hear someone else’s words coming out of Livinia, because never in a thousand years would she care about such politics if there wasn’t a murder involved.

  “It’s never that simple,” Lady Pettifer said. “We can’t simply label people sympathetic because of where they’re from.”

  “Still, we’ve locked up every German in the region,” Livinia countered.

  Lady Pettifer only sighed. “Unless there is some evidence that he was spying, we cannot treat assertions that he was a spy, and murdered for it, as anything more than rumor.”

  “And really, would it be appropriate to dispatch a spy at Lady Tonbridge’s party?” Dory said.

  “Perhaps they took their chance as soon as they could out him?”

  “Who?” Lady Pettifer demanded.

  “The people looking for spies.”

  “They’re hardly going to be at Lady Tonbridge’s party, are they?”

  “Who’s to say? With the Duke and Duchess of Windsor here, who’s to say what kind of hidden military men are lurking around the place? They would definitely act if they came across an embedded spy.”

  Again Dory heard someone else’s words coming out of Livinia’s mouth. “We can’t assume anything. If there is no proof, there is no fact. Assumptions only mean mistakes.” Now she heard DI Ridley’s sentiments coming out of her own mouth. “Unless there is something actually proving he’s a spy, then it’s pure speculation. We have to stick to the facts.”

  “Which are: someone knocked him over the head at a party.”

  “So we know it was someone at the party,” Lady Pettifer stated.

  Chapter 9

  D ory had to drive whenever Lady Pettifer came in the car, because Lady Pettifer much preferred it to Lavinia’s driving, and Dory couldn't blame her. Lavinia's driving was nerve-wracking for anyone. The road along the coast was winding, with tight corners around the dramatic sheer cliffs. They arrived at the Promenade de Anglaise shortly after noon.

  It had taken about an hour and a half to get there, and they were set to meet some friends of Lady Pettifer’s in a café along the esplanade, and perhaps wander around some of the shops afterward. Lady Pettifer was in need of new stockings.

  It wasn't often that they came to Nice, as it was a bit of a drive, but it was nice to venture away from the house every once in a while. Nice was cosmopolitan compared to the small village of St. Tropez. Even though a good portion of residents had gone back to their respective countries, there was no vast absence of people walking along the promenade, and the cafés were patronised enough.

  A parking space was available near the Café de Flore, which was situated on a corner. Cane chairs covered the walkway outside of the Café, encircling small white marble tables. It was quite busy with most tables taken. Multiple languages were heard—Dory identified French, Portuguese and English. With Nice being so busy, it was hard to imagine that so much of the population was now absent. On the streets, it didn't seem so, but perhaps it was less busy than a year ago.

  “Finally we’re here. You really do drive like an old woman, Dory,” Lavinia said as she contorted herself out of the back of the car. With sharp strokes, she straightened her skirt. “I hate sitting in the back. My knees always end up in awkward positions and my skirt crumbles up.” There was plenty of space in the back; Lavinia was just annoyed that Dory was asked to drive instead of her.

  “I better go call Richard,” she continued. “I'll only be a moment, so go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.” She ran off toward the telephone booth further down the street, while Dory helped Lady Pettifer out of the car.

  They walked to the café, where Lady Pettifer spotted her party. “There,” she said indicating toward the far side, where in a shaded corner, close to the building itself, sat two elderly women, waving when they spotted the new arrivals.

  Lady Pettifer made the introductions. A Lady Summernot and Miss Greer. The women shared a resemblance, so Dory assumed they were sisters.

  “Is Lavinia not joining us today?” one of the ladies asked, looking disappointed.

  “She's here. Simply making arrangements by telephone. You know the young girls,” Lady Pettifer said. “They can't simply do one thing in a day, they have to do several. She's planning the rest of her afternoon as we speak.”

  The women chuckled lightly and indicated to seats for Dory and Lady Pettifer.

  “And how are you, Dory?” Miss Greer asked.

  “Well. It was a lovely drive.”

  The waiter, dressed rather informally without a jacket approached, his hair neatly combed and he smiled beneath his trimmed mustache.

  “Tea I think,” Lady Pettifer said. “Darjeeling, if you have any.”

  “I'll have the same,” Dory added and the other two agreed.

  “The temperature is certainly getting warmer. Not quite intolerable yet.” Lady Summernot stated. “We do get the sea breezes, so we are not as badly off as some, but I've had to bring some of my more del
icate flowers inside.”

  Miss Greer shifted in her seat. “We were awfully surprised to hear about that unfortunate incident with the Hungarian man. It's so shocking.”

  “To think something like that would happen here,” Lady Summernot added. “This is such a safe place. It's distressing to hear any such news. Poor man. I understand he has no family here. I don’t actually know if he has any family at all.”

  “I did hear that Lavinia found the body,” Miss Greer said. “I hope she’s not too distressed by it.”

  “That has made it around, has it?” Lady Pettifer asked. The two ladies were looking at her expectantly, hoping she would enlighten them further. “Lavinia was returning from the powder room when she saw the poor man lying on the floor in the study, bashed about the head.”

  Technically it was true, but Lavinia had been going to the study to meet the man. The powder room was nowhere near the study, and she couldn't simply have been walking past on her way back. Lavinia had definitely been seeking him out, but it wasn't something that Lady Pettifer wanted these women to talk about. Even Dory had heard that these two were notorious gossips, and anything that came out of their mouths, would be known throughout the entire coast.

  “It is very curious, though. I knew the man. Very charming. The kind of handsome that you know would lead a man into trouble,” Lady Summernot said knowingly.

  “He looked just like Rudolph Valentino,” Miss Greer said wistfully. “It's all such a shame.”

  “From what I understand, they haven't found the culprit yet,” added Lady Summernot. “But I gather the police have determined it was a cuckolded husband, an enraged and jealous man being responsible for the act. It seems our Baron Drecsay had been caught in a bedroom or two in his time. So he had more than one enemy amongst the husbands around here. It goes to reason that one of them decided to take their fury out on the man himself.”

  “That's only conjecture, though,” Lady Pettifer added.

  “Well this was heard said by the regional head for the gendarmerie himself, so there must be some truth to it. At least that is the direction that the police inquiry had led them to.”

  Lady Pettifer and Dory exchanged looks. This was news to them. They had heard nothing about an irate husband, but then they were quite far away from the gossip and the tattling tongues of Nice and Cannes.

  “Is it a police inquiry or a gendarmerie inquiry? Why do the French have to be difficult and have two police forces? It’s so confusing,” Lady Summernot added.

  “We heard it said by some that he is suspected of being a spy,” Dory said and both of the women went silent as their attention turned to her.

  “Some are seeing spies around every corner, aren't they?” Miss Greer finally said. “If he were a spy, he was certainly a flamboyant one. I would have thought spies were supposed to blend in and go unnoticed, but Baron Drecsay was anything but.”

  “It’s much more likely that he was caught climbing out of some bedroom or other,” Lady Summernot said with amusement in her voice. “He was a lively boy, that one.”

  “Hello, ladies,” Lavinia said brightly as she sat down.

  “Has your afternoon been planned out then?” queried Lady Summernot.

  “Well, I have just found out what everyone else is up to. Myrtle is having a bit of a pool party at her house later this afternoon. So I wonder if you could drop me off on the way home,” Lavinia said, turning her attention to Lady Pettifer and Dory.

  “Of course,” Lady Pettifer said.

  It seemed that Lavinia was being embraced back into her crowd, having survived the ordeal of finding a body in the study at Lady Tonbridge’s party.

  “It's so awfully hot,” Lavinia said, fanning herself with the menu from the table.

  It was true that it was heating up significantly in the afternoons, but it wasn’t properly summer yet. Likely they were heading for a very hot summer. Or perhaps Lavinia's mind was on the refreshing depths of Myrtle’s pool.

  “It's such a beautiful day,” said Miss Greer, looking around as if just noticing the weather. “We are packing, of course.”

  “Oh, you're returning to England?” Lady Pettifer asked.

  “Well, we have a few more weeks,” Lady Summernot said, “but with all the trouble we are hearing on the wireless, we thought we’d better head back to England.”

  “Others were having endless trouble booking passage,” Miss Greer added. “The passenger lines aren't running like they used to. We thought we’d head down to the booking office later this afternoon. It can’t be as bad as people say.”

  “The blockades must be stopping some ships from coming through. No doubt the Navy had commandeered some of the passenger traffic.”

  “Well, people must still travel,” Miss Greer said. “Otherwise we understand some are driving all the way to Calais. I'd hate for that to be the only way to return to England.”

  “There are still ships sailing,” Lady Summernot said. “Perhaps we need to look at booking passage from Marseilles instead.”

  “I wish they would have communicated the difficulty in booking passage more. If we'd known it would be so difficult, we would have left earlier. But there's been nothing. We haven't heard a thing.”

  “I'm sure they're not willing to broadcast exactly what's happening with the ships in the area,” Lady Pettifer said quietly.

  “You don't think the ships are at risk, do you? Nothing's happened so far.” Grave concern registered in Miss Greer’s face.

  “At wartime, there's always a risk.”

  “Surely they wouldn't interfere with civilian ships?”

  “I hope not,” Lady Summernot said. “Passenger transport was quite safe during the last war. I doubt even the Germans would sink so low as to torpedo a civilian ship. I think interfering even with merchant ships is a crime. Doing so with the passenger ships, civilian ships, would be an atrocity. Not even the Germans could be that unreasonable.”

  By the look of Lady Pettifer's expression, Dory knew that she wasn't convinced. Lady Pettifer rarely gave the Germans the same benefit of the doubt as others did. Even her brother, Lord Wallisford, was a little bit more blasé about the Germans, while the Lady Pettifer was deeply concerned about this war, and her suspicions about their safety ran to everything. Dory could only hope she was wrong. It was distressing to think that civilian ships would be targeted as part of the military operations, but they couldn’t deny it was a risk.

  “I hate all this talk about the war and the Germans,” Lavinia stated. “They’re not breaching the French lines and that's that. I wish we could all stop talking about it.”

  Lady Pettifer gave her a circumspect look, almost pitying. Although Dory wished dearly that Lavinia was right. The Germans were moving north because they could, but they wouldn't come this far south as Italy and the French were holding them to the east. Hopefully the Germans had been hemmed in enough to have done all the damage they could at this point.

  Chapter 10

  T he house of Lavinia's friend sat at the top of a very steep hill and a small cable car led from the garage down by the coast road, reaching up through the trees covering the side of the hill. Dory pulled over and Lavinia got out, telling them not to wait up. In a way, Lavinia almost looked relieved escaping their company. She didn't always hide how bored she was with them.

  In the slowly rising cable car, she looked a small and lonely figure, inching her way up the side of the hill.

  With a wave, Dory pulled away and they continued driving down the road toward St. Tropez.

  “What do you think of what Lady Summernot said about the police having concluded some wronged husband had killed Baron Drecsay?” Dory asked.

  Lady Pettifer sat quietly for a moment as if considering the idea. “It's hard to say as there's no particular husband anyone can point to. I'm sure the man was no saint, but if passions were so inflamed that they led to murder, wouldn't we know more about it?”

  “The theory does sound possible, but you'
re right, there seems to be no evidence to back it up. At least not anything we've come across. Do you think the police could know something and are refusing to tell anyone?”

  “I doubt it. Can’t hide anything in a place like this,” Lady Pettifer said. “If there was something going on, it would certainly not be quiet. And if he were in the thick with some lover, would he really be sniffing around Lavinia the way he was?”

  “Maybe that was a distraction from an affair he was having, a means to deflect attention?”

  “If a man were to murder his wife's lover, it's more likely because the news was emerging about it.”

  “Or perhaps there was blackmail involved,” Dory said.

  “This is all pure speculation. Speculation means nothing without proof.”

  “It must be that the police have no proof, otherwise they would've arrested someone by now if there was any truth to their suspicions. Provided their suspicions are correct to begin with.”

  “I'm sure if Lady Summernot is talking about it, there could well be some truth to it. She is very good at garnering what is true and what is not. I'll give her that. The woman has a good fifty years’ experience with receiving and conveying tidbits about the people around here,” Lady Pettifer said dryly.

  Biting her lip, Dory had to wonder if there were some unpleasant turns in the history between Lady Pettifer and Lady Summernot. On first appearance, they seemed very friendly, but when studying closer, Dory could see that there was tension between the ladies, at least from Lady Pettifer’s side. It wasn't her place to dwell about things like that. If Lady Pettifer wanted to inform her of any past transgressions, she would.

  Picking a piece of lint off her skirt, Lady Pettifer sighed. “My worry, though, is that the French Police will not look into it further. Like Miss Greer said, ‘people are seeing spies in every shadow,’ and that is probably true for the police as well. They would be much more concerned about the potential of military presence in the area.”

  “It is a murder,” Dory said emphatically.