Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

rather well built too, like the statue of Michelangelo’s David , which I had studied earnestly with my friends on a school trip to Florence.
    Then my chance for observation was cut short. There were broad steps at that end of the pool. He stepped onto the top one and stood, ankle-deep in water, looking around for a moment before he dove gracefully into the pool, cutting through the water with strong, effortless strokes. The visit to Sir Toby took on a more appealing aspect—I would be introduced to his guest and express delight that we were next-door neighbors. Maybe he was an Italian count, or another French marquis. Suddenly it seemed I was turning into a man-chasing flirt—quite unlike me. Well, why not? I asked myself. Now that there wasn’t one particular chap in my life, then the more the merrier. And who knows, maybe I’d finally do what was expected of me and marry well.
    I made my way back up through the gardens and arrived on the terrace to find a council of war going on at the breakfast table.
    “We’ll have to do something,” Vera was saying. “We can’t sit back and leave it to that pompous little twit. He’ll be worse than useless. You’ll have to call your friend in the Sûreté, Coco. Persuade him to come down and take over the case.”
    “He can’t just come down and take over, my dear,” Coco said. “I explained that to you last night. He would have to be invited by the police of the region, and that inspector certainly will never allow anyone to step on his extralarge toes.”
    “You noticed that too, did you?” Mummy said. “He did have big feet for his size. That’s why I thought it was so funny his name was Lafite.”
    They laughed at this. Then Vera grew somber again.
    “We will have to start investigating ourselves,” Vera said. “There is no other option. I must recover that necklace or Her Majesty will never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself.”
    “It wasn’t your fault,” Mummy said. “You kept the wretched jewels in the bank. You brought them to the room under police guard. Who was to know that Georgie was going to tumble off the stage and that someone would be quick thinking enough to snatch them in an instant?”
    I started to mention the tacky substance on the sole of my shoe, then shut my mouth again. I wasn’t wholly convinced that Madame Chanel herself had not caused the accident to create a sensation, as she put it.
    “It’s a pity my grandfather isn’t closer,” I said. “He’d know what to do.”
    “Your grandfather? That fearsome Scottish man with the big beard? I thought he’d been dead for years,” Vera said.
    “No, I mean my other grandfather.” Mummy shot me a warning look. She didn’t like revealing her lowly ancestry any more than she liked disclosing that she was old enough to have a grown-up daughter.
    I ignored her. “He was a London policeman until he retired. He’s very good at this sort of thing.”
    “Well, then”—Vera brightened up—“let’s ask him to come out and help us, shall we?”
    “I don’t think he’d come,” I said. “He couldn’t afford the ticket, for one thing.”
    “We’d pay for his ticket, of course,” Vera said.
    “I still don’t think he’d come. He’s never been abroad. He has a distrust for anything farther away than Southend.”
    Vera turned to Mummy. “He’s your father, Claire. You invite him. Tell him how much we need him.”
    “And he has had such bad bronchitis, Mummy,” I said, warming to this now. “The climate would be wonderful for him if we can persuade him to come.”
    “He wouldn’t come if I asked him,” Mummy said. “You are the apple of his eye. You invite him.”
    “And he can stay here?” I said.
    “Of course. If he doesn’t mind roughing it. I don’t think he’d want to stay in the house, would he? Not his thing at all. There’s a gardener’s cottage that’s unoccupied at the moment. It never seemed worth having a live-in gardener since I only come here once in a blue moon, and one can always find handy little men when one wants them.”
    “A cottage? That’s wonderful.” I found there was a big bubble of happiness inside me at the thought of having Granddad close by. “I’ll send him a telegram, shall I? I’ll tell him we’re in trouble and desperately need him. And we’ve taken care of his journey for him. And it will be so good for his chest to be in this climate.”
    “That’s turning into an expensive telegram,” Mummy pointed