“Perhaps they have margin calls to make or losses to cover?” I suggested.
“Perhaps the owner had no choice,” said Matthias. “Do you know the circumstances, Charley?”
We were enjoying the warm, limpid evening outside on the terrace. Matthias had driven over to join us for dinner with a regular update on the burglaries—none of the stolen jewelry yet recovered, the Hôtel Miramar’s night watchman coshed on the head still hazy on the description of his assailant—which had led to us giving thanks for the distance between those unhappy happenings and the Villa Mirabeau.
“Only that we are able to enjoy it briefly before it is sold,” said Charley.
“I’ll make inquiries,” said Matthias.
“You—you are not planning to meddle in—”
“I’m just going to make inquiries, Charley. What sort of skeletons d
