Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

Toby Groper.”

 
    Chapter 23
     
    The night of January 26, 1933
In a French police station. Horrid experience.
     
    I stared at him. My mouth was probably open, which I know is not acceptable for a lady. But you must admit it’s not every day that one is accused of murder.
    “If you will please step outside, mademoiselle,” Lafite said quietly. “I’m sure you do not want to cause a disturbance or a scandal in such a place as this.”
    Shock does funny things. I looked at his comical face with its exaggerated mustache and I started to laugh as he took my arm.
    Jean-Paul, however, had leaped to his feet. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “This young lady is the daughter of an English duke. She is related to royalty.”
    “Her background is of no consequence,” Lafite said.
    “Please come with me quietly, mademoiselle, and let us have no unpleasantness. I am sure you would not wish to cause embarrassment to Monsieur le Marquis.”
    One of his men took my other arm. I was conscious of faces staring at me as I was led through the restaurant and out to the street, where several police motorcars were drawn up.
    “Now, mademoiselle. Get in, please.” Lafite opened a rear door of one of the cars for me. I was moving mechanically, like a puppet, but Jean-Paul stepped between me and the police-vehicle door.
    “This is absurd,” Jean-Paul said, his eyes blazing. “You know who I am, and I can vouch for her.”
    “Forgive me, Marquis. Of course we know who you are. However, we have reason to believe that this young lady is guilty of this terrible crime.”
    “What reason?” I demanded.
    “I am not at liberty to discuss this here. We will wait until we are in the privacy of the police station. Now, please enter the automobile.”
    “I’m coming too, if you are taking her,” Jean-Paul said. He tried to force his way into the motorcar.
    “I am afraid that is not possible, Marquis. You must realize this is a very serious matter. You cannot be allowed to interfere with the course of justice.”
    “Then I will go immediately to telephone a lawyer friend of mine.” Jean-Paul scowled at him, then touched my arm gently. “You are not obliged to say anything until you have a lawyer present. Do not worry, ma petite . It is all a horrible mistake and we will have you back home in no time at all.”
    For the first time I realized the enormity of what was happening to me. “Please go and tell my mother where I am. Madame Chanel and Vera will know what to do.”
    “They will be hammering at the police-station door like ravening wolves,” Jean-Paul said with a smile. His hand touched my cheek. “Courage, chérie . All will be well.”
    With that, Lafite bundled me into the backseat of the car and we took off, driving along the winding coastal road until the lights of the city appeared below us. I sat with my lips pressed together, trying to look composed and haughty, but under my thin dress I could feel my legs trembling. I was in a foreign country. I knew little of their justice system and I was in the hands of a bumbling policeman. I prayed that Jean-Paul’s lawyer and Mummy would arrive as soon as possible.
    The police station appeared horribly bright after the darkness of the car. I was led through tiled hallways to a bare room that contained a table and two uncomfortable-looking chairs.
    “Please take a seat, mademoiselle,” Lafite said.
    “I am not ‘mademoiselle,’” I said, trying to sound like my great-grandmother. “I am a noble lady, a cousin to the King of England, and there will be serious repercussions about this folly when His Majesty learns of it.” At least I think that’s what I said. My French might have become a little wobbly at such a moment of stress.
    Lafite did not appear to be worried by this threat. “Believe me, I realize the seriousness of this charge and would not have acted had I not been completely sure of my facts. We have proof, you see.”
    “What proof?” I demanded. I was so angry and frightened that I forgot Jean-Paul’s warning not to say anything until I had a lawyer present.
    Lafite looked smug again. He put his hand up and stroked at his mustache. “You were seen entering the house of Sir Toby this afternoon.”
    Oh, crikey. Someone must have seen me making my way down the cliff to his garden. I couldn’t think how, unless it was from a passing boat. Our terrace and Sir Toby’s swimming pool were not visible to the outside world.
    “Well, that’s easy