At last I reached the oleanders around Sir Toby’s pool without sitting on my bottom once—quite an achievement. I peered through the leaves at the house. No sign of movement. One of the French doors appeared to be still slightly open. Perfect. All I had to do was tiptoe around the pool . . . I emerged from the shrubs, holding my breath, and moved forward cautiously. The pool deck was slippery with rain. I should take care not to lose my footing and fall in, because a big splash would certainly . . . I glanced into the pool and let out an involuntary yelp of horror.

Sir Toby was in his pool. I leaped back behind the nearest bush. How could he be home already when his yacht was not there? I peeked through the branches. He didn’t appear to have seen me. That’s when I noticed that he was lying facedown, sprawled across the top step, half submerged in water, and across the back of his head was a red stain that was turning the water around him pink.

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

January 26, 1933
Villa Marguerite. Sir Toby is dead in his swimming pool.
Oh, crikey.

I didn’t know what to do. If I shouted for help, I’d have to explain my presence trespassing in his back garden. I started to inch away until I reached the shrubs around the perimeter, then I slithered and clawed my way back up the hill until I was standing safely on my mother’s terrace. I felt as if I was about to be sick. He had to be dead, didn’t he? He hadn’t moved, and his head—my stomach heaved. The back of his head had been smashed in. I leaned over the railing and noticed that I could see him from there, sprawled on that broad top step, half submerged in water.

I should call the police but had no idea how to do this in France. So I should alert the servants and have them do the calling.

As I walked toward the house I heard voices echoing in the marble hallway.

“And that funny little man’s face—wasn’t it a picture, after I said we were bringing in a top English policeman!” My mother’s voice, carrying clearly.

“And he said, ‘But this is France, Madame. An English policeman has no power to investigate a crime committed in France. It is an outrage. It will not be permitted.’”

Then they went into peals of laugher. I hurried inside to join them.

“Oh, there you are, darling. How was the visit to Sir Toby? Did you get the scoop on what happened to Olga? We’ve been laying bets on why she left. Such fun. And we—” She broke off. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s Sir Toby,” I said. “Come and look.”