Back Naughty in Nice
Chapters (40)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. Chapter 32
  36. Chapter 33
  37. Chapter 34
  38. Chapter 35
  39. Historical Note
  40. Click here for more books by this author

Lafite’s eyes narrowed. “You did not mention this to me when I questioned you earlier. In fact, you gave me to understand that you did not know Sir Toby. And yes, his manservant tells us that not only did you visit him at his house, but you went out sailing on his yacht—just the two of you. This does not indicate to me persons that do not know each other.”

“I thought it had no relevance to his murder, since there would be plenty of witnesses to confirm that he was alive when I left his boat. And I only met Sir Toby last night. I admired his yacht and he was kind enough to invite me out for a short sail. That was the only time I had any contact with him. I had never been to his house before or after.”

“But again you attempt to deceive Lafite.” He wagged his finger at me. “You are not telling the truth, I think. You were seen by a reliable witness entering the house of Sir Toby at around three o’clock this afternoon—which happens to be the time that the doctor has estimated for Sir Toby’s murder. What is more, this reliable witness describes your behavior as furtive. He says you crept through the shrubbery as if you did not wish to be seen. And you were carrying something. What have you got to say to that?”

“I say it is nonsense,” I replied. “At three o’clock this afternoon I was at the villa of the Marquis de Ronchard. He and his servants can vouch for me.”

“And you left his villa at what time?”

I frowned. “I’m not quite sure of the time . . .”

“You are not quite sure of the time,” he mimicked.

“It was immediately after it started raining,” I said. “I was certainly home by four.”

“Giving you enough time to pay a visit to the villa of Sir Toby,” he said triumphantly.

“It was pouring with rain,” I said.

“Murders can be committed in the rain, I believe. But my witness does not mention rain. I suspect it was a short, sharp shower and it had stopped by the time you paid your visit.”

“This is absurd,” I said. “Pray, what would my motive have been, given that I had never met Sir Toby until last night?”

“Who can say? You come to the Riviera and immediately a valuable necklace is stolen from your neck. And the next day you are alone with a man who is murdered. We in the police of France are taught not to believe in coincidences. What do these two events have in common? we ask ourselves, and the answer to both the robbery and the murder is you, mademoiselle.”