“I don’t think I like the thought of walking up this path,” she said. “Where is the young man with his little cart when we need him? Did you notice a telephone in the cottage?”

“It’s not too far and it’s a nice evening,” I said.

Mummy looked around. “I certainly don’t intend to walk down it alone at night. What about the wild animals? I shall keep thinking we’re being stalked by lions and tigers.” She latched on to my arm. “I’m not even keen to meet a zebra face-to-face. I hear they’ve got nasty tempers.”

“I think wild animals are usually shy and avoid humans,” I said, staring up at the castle that loomed above us, gleaming in the setting sun. “But isn’t this place extraordinary? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s certainly over the top, and completely tasteless,” Mummy said. “He must have an awful lot of money to waste. I thought Max was rich, but at least he’s sensible. I must write and tell him about this.”

“Your German must have improved,” I said.

She glared at me. “He has a secretary to translate.” She looked around again. “Drinks by the pool, didn’t he say? I didn’t bring my costume, did you?”

“No,” I said. There was no way I’d have wanted to reveal my body to a group that included Craig and Stella.

“It’s a little nippy for a swim,” Mummy said, “and I don’t look my best with goose bumps.”

As we approached the pool we could see Cy Goldman and several other people already assembled amid the archways and palm trees. Stella was in a bright green, formfitting bathing suit, sitting with her feet in the clear blue water, holding a martini in her hand. She was looking up at someone, laughing, and I couldn’t tell if she was flirting with Juan or Darcy or both. Mr. Goldman beckoned us over and told us to order cocktails from the barman.

“Enjoy yourselves while you can before my wife gets here,” he said. Then he looked up and swore under his breath. Another motorcar was coming up the canyon. “Too late,” Cy said.

The motor came to a halt. A chauffeur opened the back door and a large woman in black stepped out. She was dressed for New York not California in a two-piece suit with a diamond brooch on her lapel. Her hair was marcel waved into tight curls and her face was a mask of bright makeup. She looked around with disapproval then stalked over toward us. “There you are, Cyrus,” she said. “I was expecting you’d have had the courtesy to wait until I arrived. But no, you can’t even be bothered to greet your wife when you haven’t seen her in ages. I only saw you for a couple of seconds when you were in New York.”