“This must be how the staff come to work,” I said to the policeman. “I’m going to see whether it is possible to get a good look at someone entering from the main driveway.” And without waiting for approval, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. A narrow flagstoned path wound between mimosa trees in full flower and black cypress trees. On either side of us were fountains and flower beds and gracious lawns. It was truly a lovely garden, especially as we were in the middle of winter. The scent of the fluffy mimosa flowers was sweet in the air. Birds were chirping gaily. A skinny cat crossed the path ahead of us, stalking something—presumably one of the birds. Suddenly its fur shot up and it bolted away as if burned. I looked to see what had spooked it so violently and saw the foot, sticking out from under a large oleander bush.

I grabbed the sleeve of my young policeman, who gave a horrified yelp and rushed over to part the foliage. Underneath the oleander bush, a burly man with tanned skin and grizzled gray hair was lying with a pair of what looked like gardening shears sticking out of his back.

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Villa Marguerite
January 27, 1933

One might have thought that the discovery of yet another dead body in the next-door shrubbery would have put a damper on my mother’s party plans. Not a bit of it.

“Well, at least you’re off the hook, darling,” she said. “You were in town all day and accompanied every step of the way by one of that silly inspector’s own men.”

This much, of course, was true.

“I do see Georgie’s point,” Vera said. “I mean to say, do you think it’s—well—proper to hold a party when people seem to be dropping like flies next door?”

“All the more reason to cheer ourselves up,” Mummy said. “After all, nobody that we know is doing the killing, so let’s enjoy ourselves and leave the Gropers and their murderers to sort themselves out.”

As you have probably realized, my mother was one of the world’s truly self-centered women.

“But what about Lady Groper?” Vera pointed out. “How will she feel if there’s a party going on right next door?”

“Then send Georgie over to invite her,” Mummy said airily. “She’ll need cheering up too, won’t she? Now, do you think these flowers go well in this niche?” The dead gardener, for indeed it was he I had stumbled upon, was put from her mind and she was back in full party preparation.