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

Tuxedo-clad men got down on their hands and knees and were soon searching diligently. The poor dowager on whom I had landed was assisted to her feet and led to a safer location, still fanning herself. Soon everyone around was involved in the search. Even women in their evening finery were crawling around on all fours between the rows of chairs. If it hadn’t been so horribly serious, it would have been funny. But the necklace was not found.

“Did it fall somewhere inside her clothing?” someone else suggested.

I felt my pockets and inside my blouse, then shook my head.

“I’m sorry to say this,” Vera announced, “but I have sent one of the gendarmes to summon his superior. Everyone will have to be searched.”

“This is an outrage!” Mrs. Simpson said. “There are some very important people in this room. Obviously they haven’t taken a stupid necklace. Try searching the hired help.”

“There were no waiters near the stage when she fell,” someone else pointed out.

“My wife is feeling faint. She needs fresh air,” a distinguished, military-looking man complained.

“I’m sorry, but nobody is to leave,” Vera said firmly.

She had now brought in one of the gendarmes to help her guard the door. “I ask for a little patience,” she said. “This necklace must be found. It is extremely valuable.”

Again a whisper went through the crowd. I was sitting on the chair, sipping my brandy, trying to recollect exactly what had happened. Had I felt anyone touching the necklace? I was fairly sure I hadn’t. Surely I would have noticed hands at the back of my neck. But then, I was rather shocked at the time. It was suggested that the necklace could have somehow rolled under the catwalk, in spite of the heavy velvet drapes around it. A couple of young men obligingly held up the drape while the waiters were instructed to crawl beneath it. But they came out empty-handed.

“The necklace must be somewhere in this room,” Chanel said, pacing up and down past me. “We would have noticed if anyone had opened a door after you fell. We would have seen the light coming from outside.”