“I’m not so sure about that,” I said.

“What are your thoughts then?” he asked as we stepped into the cold dampness of the nighttime fog. Belinda latched on to one of my arms with an iron grip. I slipped the other arm through Darcy’s and together we made our way down the flagstoned path.

“Well, Mrs. Goldman is the obvious one,” I said. “Why did she come here when she normally avoids this place like the plague? I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Goldman had announced that he planned to get a divorce and marry Stella. I really don’t believe that they were a devoted couple, as Barbara Kindell insists, do you? And why is she here too? Was she in on the plot with Mrs. Goldman or is she simply hoping to get some kind of scoop?”

“There’s nobody else who would seem to benefit from Mr. Goldman’s death,” Darcy said. “In fact they will all be out of a job if Golden Pictures folds.”

“Actually the one person I keep coming back to,” I said, “is Algie Broxley-Foggett. He was on the ship. He turns up out of the blue and gets himself invited here. And when I suggested that the candlestick could have been hidden in a suit of armor I remembered him and his ridiculous claim about wanting to see how he’d look as a knight.”

Darcy walked on in silence for a few seconds, our footsteps echoing in the stillness of the foggy night, then he said, “You might have something there. He was the only one unaccounted for after we left the library.”

“And he didn’t run up the stairs with us when they found the candlestick in Stella’s bed,” I added. “Was that because he knew what they must have found?”

“Interesting,” Darcy said. “So you think he could be the thief I’m tracking, don’t you? I’d love to find out more about him—whether he was present at all the gatherings where jewelry was stolen. Whether Scotland Yard has any suspicions about him.”

“So how could you find that out?” I asked.

“I’ll have to send a cable to London and that would involve driving into Los Angeles, I suspect.”

“Do you think the sheriff would let you leave?”

“I can ask in the morning. No telegraph office will be open before eight or nine, I’m sure. And I’m not ditching you tonight. In fact I may just sleep on your sofa, just to make sure.”

“Mummy’s got other plans, so I gather,” I said. “You could have her room.”

“Darlings, I don’t want to be a killjoy,” Belinda said. “Why don’t I take your mother’s room and you two can be cozy together.”

Darcy gave me a quick glance. “If you don’t mind . . .”