Then I realized that no, we weren’t. Juan had been absent since dinner. And Mrs. Goldman had gone to bed before the crime happened. That made me pause and consider. There was clearly no love lost between her and her husband. They had lived apart for years. And she never came out West. Stella said she hated this castle. Had wanting to see the candlesticks merely been an excuse to come out here and kill him? Presumably she was now a very rich widow.

I went over to the group of sofas and tried to see if the stairs were visible to those of us who were sitting facing that way. They were. But not the actual entrance to the passageway leading to the library. Had we seen Mrs. Goldman going upstairs in the first place? I wondered. Maybe she had never done so and hidden in an alcove behind one of the statues until the right moment. After all, she had refused Barbara Kindell’s offer to accompany her. I shuddered. Murder is horrible enough but when someone kills a person they are supposed to love, then that’s even worse. Had they been in love to begin with, like Darcy and me? If so, when did love turn sour?

I jumped as Mummy touched me. “Don’t worry about him, darling. He can take care of himself. Come and sit down. Or better yet, get your old mother a drink.”

“What would you like?” Charlie asked. “I’m acting as bartender.”

“Oh, I think it better be a large brandy,” Mummy said. “I shall need fortification to face policemen.” She reclined in a dramatic pose of the distressed damsel. “I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here in the first place. I should never have accepted Mr. Goldman’s offer. Why would I want to be a film star, at my age? So silly. And now it will be in the papers and Max will hear about it, and he loathes scandal. And what’s more, Homer Clegg will find out about it and all will be lost.”

“Homer Clegg?” Charlie Chaplin asked with interest.

“Mummy’s husband. The one she’s trying to get unhitched from without his knowing.”

“Oh, honey, I’ve been through that hundreds of times. And every one of them was a nightmare. I hope you’re doing it in Reno?”

Mummy nodded.

“Then at least you have a chance of things going smoothly. Anyway, if you want expert advice just ask me.”

“You’re very sweet,” Mummy said. “And you are extremely talented too. An absolute genius. I wouldn’t have minded making a picture with you.”

“It would have been fun, I’m sure. But I rather fear that I’m a has-been. My day was over the moment they invented the talkies.”

“No, surely not. You’ve made some talking pictures,” Mummy said.