“He can’t just come down and take over, my dear,” Coco said. “I explained that to you last night. He would have to be invited by the police of the region, and that inspector certainly will never allow anyone to step on his extralarge toes.”

“You noticed that too, did you?” Mummy said. “He did have big feet for his size. That’s why I thought it was so funny his name was Lafite.”

They laughed at this. Then Vera grew somber again.

“We will have to start investigating ourselves,” Vera said. “There is no other option. I must recover that necklace or Her Majesty will never forgive me. I’d never forgive myself.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Mummy said. “You kept the wretched jewels in the bank. You brought them to the room under police guard. Who was to know that Georgie was going to tumble off the stage and that someone would be quick thinking enough to snatch them in an instant?”

I started to mention the tacky substance on the sole of my shoe, then shut my mouth again. I wasn’t wholly convinced that Madame Chanel herself had not caused the accident to create a sensation, as she put it.

“It’s a pity my grandfather isn’t closer,” I said. “He’d know what to do.”

“Your grandfather? That fearsome Scottish man with the big beard? I thought he’d been dead for years,” Vera said.

“No, I mean my other grandfather.” Mummy shot me a warning look. She didn’t like revealing her lowly ancestry any more than she liked disclosing that she was old enough to have a grown-up daughter.

I ignored her. “He was a London policeman until he retired. He’s very good at this sort of thing.”

“Well, then”—Vera brightened up—“let’s ask him to come out and help us, shall we?”

“I don’t think he’d come,” I said. “He couldn’t afford the ticket, for one thing.”

“We’d pay for his ticket, of course,” Vera said.

“I still don’t think he’d come. He’s never been abroad. He has a distrust for anything farther away than Southend.”

Vera turned to Mummy. “He’s your father, Claire. You invite him. Tell him how much we need him.”

“And he has had such bad bronchitis, Mummy,” I said, warming to this now. “The climate would be wonderful for him if we can persuade him to come.”

“He wouldn’t come if I asked him,” Mummy said. “You are the apple of his eye. You invite him.”

“And he can stay here?” I said.