I went upstairs to change, wishing that I had smart silk pajamas or a slinky backless dress like the other guests would have. My dresses looked hopelessly unsophisticated and old-fashioned. And I didn’t have the heart to wear the dress I had worn the evening before. It now reminded me too strongly of the police cell and my current predicament. And as far as I could tell, Inspector Lafite still wanted to find me guilty. He was probably working hard at this moment to come up with another piece of incriminating evidence.

So I was hardly in the mood for a party when I went down to join my mother and the first guests. It appeared that she was right about food and drink enticing people and that those original forty she had invited had all told their friends. More and more people kept arriving. What’s more, they all appeared to know each other, and there were scenes of embracing and murmurs of “darling” this and “darling” that. And it was amazingly informal after the parties I was used to at home. On the rare occasions we gave parties at Castle Rannoch, the guests would be announced by the butler and then greeted formally by the hosts before they were allowed to mingle. It seemed that on the Continent the British really did let down their stuffiness. People came, grabbed drinks from trays and generally made themselves at home without even introducing themselves to the hostess.

“Do you know all these people?” I whispered to Mummy.

“Haven’t a clue who they are, darling,” she whispered back, then stretched out her arms dramatically. “Darlings! How lovely that you could come!” she cooed and rushed to greet the newest arrivals.

I overheard the words “Toby Groper,” “next-door villa” and “murder” and realized that as well as food and drink our place had the added attraction of being next to the murder site. But I didn’t hear any whispers mentioning my name or any quick glances in my direction, for which I was truly grateful. So nobody outside my immediate circle knew that I had been arrested and was the prime suspect. I eavesdropped shamelessly as people speculated who might have done it. The interesting thing was that Toby Groper was clearly not among their set—in fact, he was regarded as a bit of a bounder. Also so rich that it was vulgar.

“Kept the place absolutely stuffed with bloody antiques and pictures. Like a bloody great mausoleum or art gallery,” I heard one man say. “And didn’t even play a decent game of tennis.”

I broke off my eavesdropping as someone tapped on my shoulder and was pleased to see Belinda, looking rather stunning in a figure-hugging emerald green dress that made it perfectly clear she was wearing nothing beneath it.

“What a nice surprise,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were invited.”