Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

Toby’s villa the next afternoon, sending someone who looked like me to pin everything on me.” I could feel a lump in my throat and swallowed it back hastily.
    “You are trying to tell us that Jean-Paul killed Sir Toby?”
    I shook my head violently. “He was with me. By the time he drove me home, Sir Toby must have been already dead. It was the young woman who must have killed him—or maybe they had a third coconspirator we don’t even know about.”
    “This is absurd,” Chanel said. “Jean-Paul is fabulously rich. Everyone knows that. And he comes from an old family. Why would he want to rob people?”
    “For the fun of it, maybe?” I was trying to stay calm and detached. “Look, I have no idea why. But someone must be told. Can you go and find your friend Jacques Germain? He will know what to do.”
    Coco shrugged and threw her scarf around her shoulders. The wind had picked up and it was chilly so near to the sea. “We did not arrange a time or place to meet, but we will do our best. But what about you?”
    “I want to keep on looking for the girl,” I said. “I think I’m in the right area now. Someone recognized me, or thought he recognized me, up on the hill to the left of Cimiez.”
    “University quarter,” Coco said, nodding.
    “That makes sense. There were young men sitting at a corner bar. I’m going right back there.”
    “Half a mo,” Granddad said. “Do you think that wise? I mean this girl—well, she’s an all-around bad lot, ain’t she? What’s more, she’s dangerous too. I don’t want you going after her alone.”
    “But I’m the only one who can find out who she is and where she lives,” I said. “One chap already recognized me. I’ll find out her name and address then I’ll come and find you and we can pass the information over to the police.”
    Granddad sucked through his teeth before nodding. “All right, but you be careful. I know what you’re like—rushing into the middle of trouble.”
    “I don’t rush into it,” I said. “Trouble seems to come and find me.”
    He gave me a reassuring pat. “You come straight back as soon as you find out her name, got it?”
    I nodded and watched them get into the motor, wishing I could go with them and that this horrible thing was over and done with. I was about to retrace my steps when I heard a woman’s voice calling me. I saw a bath chair bearing down on me and recognized the two princesses.
    “How lovely. You are coming for lunch. We’re just on our way home from our walk now,” Princess Marie greeted me. “Come along. It’s not far.”
    There was nothing I wanted less at that moment than lunch with two elderly princesses. I was about to make my apologies when I saw their expectant faces and I realized at the same moment that a lunch with them might not be wasted time, if I could escape at a reasonable hour. I allowed myself to be led along the Promenade des Anglais and into a hotel that was not the quality of the Negresco but more like the seaside hotels one encountered in England. It was pleasant enough, respectable, comfortable, but not glamorous. It reinforced to me that the princesses lived very simply.
    Their suite on the first floor was not opulent but pleasant, with French windows leading out to a balcony and a lovely view of the seafront and the blue water beyond. The wind was whipping up the water into impressive waves and we could hear the hiss and slap of water on stones through the open windows. The furniture was old-fashioned but good quality, with the obligatory gilt-framed landscapes of the Romantic era on the walls.
    “Tell Antoine we will take our meal in our suite today,” Princess Marie said to the black-clad maid who was divesting Princess Theodora of her bonnet and cape. “And tell him we have a guest, so maybe a little extra wine?”
    She led me over to a table in the window. “The food is really quite good here, and so much cheaper than renting a whole villa that one doesn’t really need. Do sit down, my dear. This is such a treat for us. You don’t know how much the old yearn for the company of the young.”
    Even if nothing came out of this I was glad I had come. They were so nice and normal and this was a world I was used to—manners and polite conversation and standards that would never be lowered, in spite of lack of money. Almost immediately a young man wheeled in a trolley containing a tureen of soup, chicken salad, desserts, bread and white wine. He served us the