Naughty In Nice (A Royal Spyness Mystery)

house at around three o’clock? He is lying? For what purpose?”
    “Someone has paid him to pin the crime on me, perhaps?” I suggested. “Or he saw someone who looked like me. The funny thing is that several people have seen someone who resembles me in Nice. We should try to find this person. Perhaps she had a good reason to go and visit Sir Toby yesterday.”
    “We will certainly try to do this,” he said. He leaned across and patted my knee. “Do not worry. I am sure there is not enough evidence to bring a case against you, especially given who you are and your royal connections. When they look into the affairs of Sir Toby, they will find someone with a compelling motive for wanting him dead. You say you saw him at the casino. Maybe he had gambling debts. Maybe he had run afoul of the mafia—we are not far from the Italian border here. Or maybe he surprised a thief in the course of a robbery. I understand he owned many fine objets d’art.”
    “Yes,” I said. “That’s much more likely. And I know from what I overheard that he had quarreled recently with his wife and his mistress. I just hope that Inspector Lafite doesn’t think he has found the ideal suspect in me and doesn’t bother to investigate any further.”
    “We will have to make sure that he keeps on looking,” Balzac said. He got to his feet. “So have courage, young lady. I think our inspector realizes now that he acted hastily. Let us hope that he will soon be on the track of the real criminal.” He shook my hand. “À bientôt.” Then he left the room, leaving me feeling uneasy. I sensed that he didn’t really believe I was out of the woods, nor that I was completely innocent.
    I went out onto the terrace. The unsettled weather of the previous night had vanished to leave a clear, sparkling morning with the sea so blue that it looked like liquid sapphire. A seagull circled lazily overhead. A small fishing boat chugged past with men in striped jerseys on board. It would have been a perfect day if this cloud hadn’t been hanging over us. My mother, Vera and Coco were sitting at the table, looking gloomy. They all attempted to brighten up when they saw me. Mummy jumped to her feet.
    “Hello, darling, had a lovely long sleep?” She came to kiss my cheek.
    “Yes, thank you. I did. And I’ve just been talking to Jean-Paul’s lawyer.”
    “That’s good. He’ll take care of everything. They’ll sort it all out in no time, you’ll see,” Vera said. “Have you had breakfast?”
    “No, and I’m starving.”
    She got up. “I’ll go and tell Cook to prepare you eggs and bacon. You need a proper breakfast at times like these.”
    I drew up a chair at the table, reaching forward to pour myself some coffee. “Are you going to send Granddad another telegram?” I asked Mummy.
    “Already done. I sent Franz into town with it first thing.”
    “You’re wonderful.” I beamed at her. “I do hope he comes.”
    “He will, after he reads my dramatic rendition of your dire circumstances. I’m almost as good on paper as I am on the stage.”
    “But you said telegrams were expensive. You paid by the word, you said.”
    She laughed. “Dear child, I am not exactly penniless. Besides, it’s Max’s money—at least for the moment.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I received a letter from him this morning saying how much he missed me and how he wanted me to return home to him. It was phrased as a request, but it sounded to me like an order.”
    “Oh, golly. Will you go?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t like being bossed. I’m writing back to tell him that my daughter needs me. And while I’m here I may look for someone to fill his shoes, so to speak. Since you’ve snagged the marquis, I’ll have to cast my net farther afield.”
    “Mummy, you are terrible.” I couldn’t help laughing.
    “Ah, but you have to admit I do have fun.” Her face clouded suddenly. “Oh, God—you know what just struck me? If that silly little French inspector decides to delve into our connections with Sir Toby, he’ll find out that Max and he had a blazing row over Sir Toby trying to steal his designs. Lafite would make hay with that, wouldn’t he?”
    “At least you have an alibi for the time he was killed,” I said. “I don’t. I think I’m going to visit that gardener this morning and confront him about what he actually saw. That way I’ll know whether someone was paying him to say that he saw me. But I can’t think why they’d choose