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Authors: Rhys Bowen

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BOOK: Naughty In Nice
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“Of passion?” I almost laughed out loud. “I felt no passion for Sir Toby, I assure you.”
He leaned closer to me. His garlic breath became stronger, almost overpowering in that small room. “I understand that you leaped from Sir Toby’s yacht into the arms of the marquis. Maybe this Sir Toby tries to have his way with you. Maybe he forces you against your will, and you return to seek vengeance for your honor.”
“You sound like an Italian opera,” I said. “Maybe people behave in that way in France, but not in England or Scotland, I assure you.”
“Then you please tell me why you crept into Sir Toby’s garden, sneaking forward like a thief and carrying something under your arm.”
“The answer to that is that it wasn’t I. Your observer saw someone else who may have resembled me. In fact, several people have mentioned that they have spotted someone in Nice who looks like me. I suggest you find her.”
“Were you wearing white trousers today, milady?” He glanced at a sheet of paper in front of him. “And a dark blue jacket? And a sailor’s hat?”
“Yes, I was, but—”
“This is exactly how you were described when seen creeping into Sir Toby’s house at around three o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Who exactly described me and witnessed this fictitious event?”
“One of Sir Toby’s gardeners. He had finished his work and gone home for the day, but then he remembered that he had left out the good pruning shears and he saw that it was about to rain. So he returned and was looking for the implement among the shrubs when he heard someone coming. He thought it might be Sir Toby and he did not want to get into trouble for leaving his tools behind, so he ducked down, and was surprised to see a young lady—the same young lady that he had seen that morning, in fact, wearing the same outfit she had worn in the morning—creeping furtively up toward the house as if she didn’t want to be noticed.”
He got to his feet, coming to stand over me. “It would be easier for us all if you confessed right away. Crimes of passion are understood in France. If this man violated your honor, the judge will understand that you came to confront him. Perhaps he laughed at you. Mocked you. Boasted about his control over you. And on the spur of the moment you were angry and humiliated. You picked up a heavy object and hit him. You did not mean to kill him, but he pitched forward into the pool. The court will understand this and will not pass a heavy sentence on you, I promise. The jurors have daughters. They will understand that your action was justified.”
“I would be happy to confess if any of this had happened,” I said. “Fortunately it is all untrue. I did not go to Sir Toby’s house and I did not hit him over the head. Now please release me and let me go home until I can meet you tomorrow at a civilized hour with a lawyer present.”
Lafite smiled and shook his head. “Oh, no, milady. That would not do at all. I am well aware that your relative the Prince of Wales cruises this coast on the yacht of the famous Duke of Westminster. If I let you go, I suspect they would spirit you away on this yacht and you would not be seen again. Lafite does not lose his quarry so easily.”
“But you can’t keep me here,” I said. “I’m innocent. You only have the most circumstantial evidence that just isn’t true.”
He leaned down and grinned into my face. His garlic breath nearly overwhelmed me once again. “You forget that in France we follow the Napoleonic Code. Here you are guilty until proven innocent, not the other way around. If you did not commit this murder, you will have to prove it to me and prove it to the judge.”
“Then I will do so,” I said, staring him in the eye to show that I wasn’t afraid.
At that moment there came the sound of raised voices from outside the door, among them a man saying loudly in French, “No,
Mesdames
, you may not enter.”
“We demand to see Lady Georgiana. What have you done with her?”
“I assure you she is quite safe, but she is being questioned by Inspector Lafite.”
“By that fool?” Coco’s voice had become shrill. “Let us in at once.”
“I cannot let you pass,
Madame
,” came the worried voice. “Now please go home before I have you arrested.”
“Then arrest me.” Coco’s voice was getting closer by the moment. “Arrest Madame Daniels. Arrest Madame Bate Lombardi when she gets here. It will only make you look extremely foolish when you have to apologize to us. I should tell you that at this moment a message is being sent to the yacht of the Duke of Westminster, who is a dear friend of mine and related to Mrs. Bate Lombardi. And you know who is on that yacht? The Prince of Wales, son of the English king and cousin to the young lady you have locked up in your jail cell. A message has also been sent to the English consul, who is on his way here, and to the ex-husband of Mrs. Bate Lombardi, who is a correspondent for NBC—the important American broadcasting network. Soon your chief’s foolishness will be known all over the globe and the British ambassador will be hurrying down from Paris with a stern message from the English king.”
I thought I noticed Lafite turning a trifle green. At least his smile had faded. I don’t think until this moment he had quite realized my importance or that he may have created an international incident of great magnitude. I don’t think I had either.
Then another, richer, louder voice boomed over Coco’s, echoing off the tiled hallway walls of the police station. “My poor baby. I demand that you let me see my child. I demand to know what you brutes are doing to her. You couldn’t be heartless enough to keep her mother from her in her hour of need!”
Mummy was playing the part of the bereft mother—and, naturally, playing it awfully well. Miraculously, she was actually acknowledging me as her daughter, but her speech was being lost on the constable guarding the door as it was in English, Mummy’s French not being up to dramatics. Lafite went to the door and opened it with a sigh. “Madam,” he said in English, “your daughter is safe and unharmed. Please observe her for yourself.”
“My darling!” Mummy cried and threw herself at me, uttering great, heart-wrenching sobs. It was a very convincing performance and I think the younger policeman dabbed his eyes. Then she turned the full force of her gaze onto Lafite. “You will let me take her home, won’t you? If you keep her here, I shall sit on the pavement outside in the cold all night, hoping and praying and waiting.”
“
Madame
, I cannot let her go. She will flee to the arms of her royal cousin and will never face justice for her crime.”
“What crime?” Mummy demanded. “You can’t seriously think that my daughter had anything to do with the death of Sir Toby? Look at her—a sweet, innocent girl. She is in a state of complete shock.”
“Sweet, innocent girls have been known to kill before now,” Lafite said. “They have even killed their mothers, I believe.”
“But not my daughter. She is the great-granddaughter of Queen Victoria. She has been raised with that code of honor.”
“I remember that your Queen Victoria killed many people as your country tried to rule the world,” Lafite said.
“Yes, but not personally,” Mummy answered. “She had armies to do that for her.”
Lafite smirked. “But you are not of royal blood,
Madame
. And you clearly have passion in your veins. Maybe your daughter, she takes after you.”
I was tired and scared and angry. I got to my feet. “This is silly and it’s getting us nowhere,” I said. “I didn’t kill Sir Toby. I did not return to his house in the afternoon. I’ve made it clear to you that the marquis drove me home, in the rain. He drove me right up to the front door and I ran inside, where my maid greeted me. If I’d gone to Sir Toby’s I’d have been wet, wouldn’t I?”
“My lady, this does not prove your innocence. Who is to say you did not slip away later, when the rain stopped?”
I decided that a white lie might be in order. “My maid was with me, helping me prepare for my dinner with the marquis. She would have noticed if I’d left the villa. Why don’t you question her?”
“We shall, mademoiselle. Trust me, we shall question everyone. But I would take the word of a maid who is loyal to her mistress with the speck of salt.”
“Then I suggest you question Sir Toby’s wife and son, and his mistress, because they all have better motives to want him dead than I.”
Lafite waved these suggestions aside. “I will decide whom to investigate. And at this moment the cards are all stacked against you, Lady Georgiana of Rannoch. It all comes back to the fact that a reliable man did not see a ghost when he noticed you in Sir Toby’s front garden. But trust me, Lafite will leave no pebble not-turned-over to get at the truth.”
Mummy put a protective arm around my shoulders. “Then it may interest you to know that Madame Chanel has just telephoned to her friend at the Sûreté in Paris, and what’s more we have a top man from Scotland Yard arriving any moment. So you had better pray, Monsieur Lafite, that you get it right, because the eyes of the world are on you.”
“You may bring who you like,
Madame
. I have already told you that the Yard of Scotland has no power here. I, Lafite, have the power to send this young woman to trial or not.”
I don’t know how long this impasse would have continued or whether Mummy would have eventually worn him down, but once more there were voices in the tiled hallway—men’s voices this time—and Jean-Paul stalked into the room, followed by a distinguished-looking man with gray hair.
“I said I would return to put matters right, and I have,” Jean-Paul announced, as dramatically as my mother had done. “Inspector, may I present Monsieur Balzac, the eminent criminal defense lawyer. Together we have been to the home of Monsieur le Juge and I have placed with him a considerable sum of money to guarantee that Lady Georgiana does not flee from Nice so she may be free to return to her villa.”
I wanted to rush over to him and hug him, but Mummy got there first. “You are a wonderful, wonderful man,” she said, flinging her arms around his neck. “I don’t know how we’ll be able to repay you.” Her actions indicated that she had a jolly good idea of one way to repay him.
Lafite shot a glance at the young policeman. “Very well,” he said. “You may take her home tonight. But I send my men to guard the house. Do not even think of leaving Nice, any of you.”
“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Mummy said. “Where else would one want to be in the winter?” She took my hand. “Come, darling. We’re going home.”
And she dragged me triumphantly past the little inspector.
 
Chapter 24
 
January 26–27, 1933
At the Villa Marguerite. Still shaken and stirred.
 
We stood together on the pavement in a little group: Mummy and Jean-Paul and the lawyer and Coco had joined us as well.
“So where to now?” Jean-Paul said cheerfully. “The casino or the Negresco for a late drink?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather go home,” I said. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be a very gay and witty companion tonight.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, darling,” Mummy said. “It’s been a nightmare for you. I’ll take you home straight away. See, my car is waiting over there. If you’ll excuse us, Marquis.”
“I understand.” He gave me a wonderful smile. “Go home and sleep well,
ma petite
.”
“I’m sorry our lovely evening was spoiled,” I said.
He took my hand and raised it to his lips. “There will be other evenings,” he said, and he looked at me as his lips lingered on my hand in a way that, in spite of everything, made me feel weak at the knees.
“You’ve certainly made a conquest there,” Mummy said as we reached the car and the chauffeur got out to open the door for us. “Positively drooling over you, darling. Well, you wouldn’t do too badly if you snagged that one. A marquis isn’t as good as a prince, I know, but he does have oodles of loot.”
“Mummy, how can you talk about such things, after what has just happened?”
She patted my knee as she climbed into the car beside me. “I prefer not to dwell on the unpleasant aspects of life. And now the marquis and his lawyer have taken charge, this will all be forgotten in an instant. Especially when our man from Scotland Yard arrives.”
BOOK: Naughty In Nice
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