Serafina lifted her chin and put on a brave face as Catherine greeted Sarah and Mrs. Decker with hugs and kisses.
Mrs. Decker agreed to stay for lunch, and Maeve and Catherine were delighted at the opportunity to show off what they had been learning from Mrs. Ellsworth. They had just finished eating the meal of egg sandwiches, cheese and crackers, and pickled peaches the girls had put out when the doorbell rang.
Maeve and Catherine went to answer it, and Sarah couldn’t help the small thrill she felt when she heard the rumble of Malloy’s deep voice. She was already smiling when Maeve came back to the kitchen, but Maeve was alone and the expression on her face sobered Sarah instantly.
“Mrs. Brandt, Mr. Malloy is here, and he said he needs to see Serafina.”
Serafina rose quickly to her feet, but the blood had drained from her face, and her lovely eyes were enormous.
“Does he want to see her alone?” Sarah asked with an anxious glance at Serafina.
“He asked would you come with her,” Maeve reported.
Serafina turned to Sarah, and her eyes were terrified.
“Mother, would you make sure Catherine stays in the kitchen?” Sarah asked, taking Serafina’s arm. “Perhaps he has some news about who killed Mrs. Gittings,” she said encouragingly as she led the girl out of the kitchen and toward the front of the house.
“Of course,” her mother said. “Come here, Catherine, and help me finish my peaches.”
Sarah could feel Serafina trembling as they made their way into the front room that served as Sarah’s office. Malloy was standing at the window, looking out into the street, but he turned when he heard them enter. His expression was too serious to mean he had brought good news.
“Malloy,” she said in greeting.
“Mrs. Brandt,” he replied. “Serafina, maybe you should sit down.”
The girl made a small sound, but she stiffened her spine. “Just tell me,” she begged him.
Malloy glanced at Sarah, who shrugged. She didn’t know what his news was, so she couldn’t judge what Serafina’s reaction might be.
“We’ve found the body of a young man,” he said as gently as he could, although the words themselves were so harsh, no amount of kindness could soften them. “We think it might be DiLoreto.”
“No,” she protested desperately. “That is impossible!”
“What do you mean, you think it might be him?” Sarah asked. “Couldn’t you identify him?”
“He was beaten pretty badly,” Malloy said.
Serafina cried out, and her knees buckled. Sarah grabbed hold of her, but she would have fallen if Malloy hadn’t caught her and half carried her to one of the chairs that sat by the front window. “I told her to sit down,” he grumbled as he set her in the chair.
“But you do not know it is Nicola,” Serafina said, clinging desperately to his sleeve. “You said this yourself.”
“That’s right, I don’t, but Donatelli is the one who found him, and he saw him in person. He’s the right size and hair color, and Donatelli found him not too far from Waverly Place.”
Serafina was shaking her head in silent denial.
“Why are you telling her this if you aren’t sure?” Sarah asked, not bothering to hide her annoyance at him.
He gave her an apologetic look. “We need to see if she can identify him.”
Serafina made a moaning sound.
Sarah glared at him. “But you said his face . . .”
“The body,” he quickly explained. “See if she can recognize the body. They were lovers,” he added. “She should be able to tell if it’s him.”
Tears were streaming down the girl’s face now, and her expression was painful to behold. “He killed him! He killed my Nicola!”
“Who did?” Malloy asked in surprise. “Who killed him?”
“The Professor. I know he did it.”
“Why would he kill Nicola?”
“For stealing the money.”
“And maybe to avenge Mrs. Gittings,” Sarah suggested. “He was the one who thought Nicola had killed her.”
“He would have had to find him first,” Malloy pointed out.
“Maybe he came back to the house looking for Serafina,” Sarah said.
“Maybe,” Malloy allowed. “Serafina, will you come with me to see if this is him?”
Serafina looked beseechingly at Sarah.
“It might not be him,” Sarah said reasonably. “You’d want to know if it isn’t him, wouldn’t you?”
“And if it is him?” she asked in a small voice.
Sarah patted her shoulder. “You’ll want to know that, too.”
The girl covered her face and wept for a few minutes before pulling herself together. When she looked back up at Sarah, her eyes were red-rimmed but determined. “I will go.” She pushed herself to her feet.
“And I will go with you,” Sarah said.
Sarah had to explain to Maeve and her mother what had happened. They both expressed their sympathy to Serafina, who somehow managed to hold herself together.
“Take my carriage,” Mrs. Decker offered, and she went out and instructed the driver.
Sarah was grateful that they didn’t have to find a cab or, even worse, take the Elevated Train, where they would be an object of curiosity, especially if the body really was Nicola and Serafina was grieving when they returned.
When they were securely inside the carriage and on their way to the morgue, Sarah knew they couldn’t just sit there in silence during the whole trip, letting Serafina’s imagination conjure visions of her beaten lover. She caught Malloy’s eye, sent him a silent message, and asked, “Did you find out anything useful today?”
He understood her instantly and played along. “Not much, except that everything Serafina told us about Sharpe and Cunningham was true.”
“I would not lie to you, Mr. Malloy,” the girl said, surprising them both. Plainly, she was willing to be distracted.
“Do you think either of them could have killed Mrs. Gittings?” Sarah asked him.
“I’m sure either one of them could have, but I’m not sure either of them did. They didn’t like her much, but from what I gathered, Cunningham didn’t know she was the one behind the phony investment scheme where he got cheated. He didn’t even know he’d gotten cheated.”
Serafina smiled grimly. “Mrs. Gittings would be happy to know that. She thought he could be cheated at least three times before he realized it.”
Sarah gasped in outrage, but Malloy chuckled his appreciation.
“She might’ve gotten him even more times than that. He’s not very bright.”
“But if he didn’t know he’d been cheated, why would he have wanted to kill Mrs. Gittings?” Sarah asked.
“Because she wouldn’t give him Serafina,” Malloy said baldly. “He wanted her, and he was angry because Mrs. Gittings wanted him to give her money. After he lost what money he had on the phony investment, he was starting to feel desperate.”
“Did you ask him about freeing his hands during the séance?” Sarah asked.
“Yes. He pretended he didn’t know the trick, but he’s not a very good liar. That still doesn’t prove he did it, though.”
“What about Mr. Sharpe?” Sarah asked with a glance at Serafina. She was staring blankly out the window now. Sarah wasn’t sure she was even listening to them anymore.
“He was just as angry at Mrs. Gittings. She wasn’t going to let him take Serafina either. She wasn’t going to lose her meal ticket.”
“Was he angry enough to kill Mrs. Gittings?”
“If he was, he didn’t let on. He’s too smart for that. So what about you? Did you find out anything from Mrs. Burke?”
“Just that she hated Mrs. Gittings, too. And she was terrified that her husband was going to find out she’d been selling her jewelry to pay for the séances.”
“We already knew that,” Malloy reminded her.
“Yes, but we didn’t know she was actually giving the jewelry to
Mrs. Gittings to sell for her. She said she thought Mrs. Gittings was cheating her.”
“She probably was,” Malloy said. “Did she say anything else?”
“Not much before she fainted,” Sarah said dryly.
“She fainted?” Malloy and Serafina echoed in unison. At least Serafina was listening again.
“Yes, she did. Apparently, talking about Mrs. Gittings’s murder upsets her, although Mother thinks she might have been pretending. According to her, ladies often use a fainting spell to end an unpleasant scene.”
“Really?” Serafina asked with credible disbelief, but when Sarah looked at her, she saw a knowing gleam in her eye. That’s when she remembered how Serafina had fainted at the séance she’d attended.
“Yes, really,” Sarah confirmed with a grim smile of her own.
“Didn’t she tell you anything you didn’t know before?” Malloy prodded.
“Just that Mrs. Gittings and the Professor seemed angry with each other that day. She thought they must have had an argument.”
“Did they?” Malloy asked Serafina.
“Yes, I told you, they argued every day. He wanted to use the money from the séances to do something else, but she wanted to keep doing the séances. It was so easy, she said, and so safe.”
“Did she think what the Professor wanted to do wasn’t safe?” Sarah asked curiously.
“It was dangerous, she said. She said it many times, but he would not listen. He kept saying how much money they would have.”
“What does it matter?” Malloy asked impatiently. “The Professor wasn’t even in the room when she was killed, remember?”
“Are you absolutely sure he wasn’t?” Sarah asked, including both of them in the question.
“I did not see him,” Serafina said with a shrug.
“And neither did anybody else,” Malloy added. “I asked all of them when they saw him after the murder, and he was in the doorway, so he must have just come in.”
“When did they see him come into the room?” Serafina asked with a frown, surprising both of them with her interest.
“Nobody was really sure,” Malloy said. “They didn’t notice him until they started to leave the room. I guess he came when you called for him and was just standing there, trying to figure out what had happened while everybody else was looking at Mrs. Gittings.”
Serafina frowned, as if this information displeased her somehow.
Sarah sighed. “That’s really too bad. It would so nice if he was the killer.”
“Yes, it would,” Malloy agreed. Sarah knew he was thinking of the difficulties he would face if one of Serafina’s wealthy clients was guilty.
“Yes, it would,” Serafina echoed, and Sarah knew she was thinking of Nicola.
But if Nicola was dead, none of this would matter, because protecting Nicola was the only reason they had for finding the real killer.
WHEN THE CARRIAGE STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE MORGUE, Serafina looked out the carriage window with dread. “What will I have to do?” she asked Malloy.
“I’ll take you down to where the . . . where the boy is. He’ll be covered with a sheet. You won’t have to look at his face if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t,” she assured him apprehensively.
“Did he have any birthmarks?”
“I do not know what that is,” Serafina said, looking to Sarah for help.
“Any marks on his body that you would recognize,” Sarah explained.
“I would know his hands,” Serafina said. “And his feet.”
“Then Mr. Malloy will show you the hands and the feet,” Sarah promised.
Malloy frowned, but he got out of the carriage and helped them down. Sarah put her arm around the girl as they entered the building and found she was trembling again. This must be terrifying for her, Sarah thought. When they were inside, Malloy spoke to someone sitting at a desk in a voice too low for them to hear. Then a young man in a cheap suit that was stained with things Sarah didn’t want to identify came out and led them down a flight of stairs to a large room furnished with several metal tables and lots of strange-looking equipment. She had seen autopsies at the hospital during her training, but she’d never been to a morgue. The smell brought the gorge up in her throat, and she swallowed it down hard, refusing to be sick.
Something shaped like a human body lay on one of the tables, covered by a sheet.
“I don’t want to see the face,” Serafina reminded him anxiously, her eyes wild with fright.
“You don’t have to,” Malloy said. He spoke to the young man again, and he carefully lifted the sheet on the side of the table nearest them. They could see a bare arm.
Serafina moved closer and looked down at the hand. The knuckles were badly skinned and the nails broken. He had fought for his life. She stared at the hand for a long moment. “Can I see his feet?” she asked. She sounded amazingly calm. She was probably in shock.
The young man covered the arm again and moved to the end of the table and lifted the sheet to reveal the bare feet. The toenails were long and unkempt. The body had been washed, but dirt was still embedded in the nails. Blisters reddened the small toes of both feet.
“Could you . . . Could I see his back,” she asked so softly they could hardly hear her.
The young man looked annoyed, but a glance at Malloy convinced him not to object. “Can you give me a hand, Mr. Malloy?” he asked instead.
Sarah and Serafina turned away while the two men struggled to lift the body. She thought she heard the young man say, “He’s stiff.”
“All right,” Malloy said after another moment, and when they looked, they saw the dead man’s bare back. The sheet had been draped to cover the buttocks. Malloy and the young man were holding the body balanced on its side. Rigor mor tis was still present, and the body seemed carved of stone. Sarah could clearly see a large, brown birthmark on the left shoulder blade.
The girl made a whimpering sound.
“Serafina?” Sarah asked anxiously.
Serafina sounded for a moment as if she couldn’t breathe, and then the awful choking noises collapsed upon themselves into wracking sobs that convulsed her young body.
“Is it Nicola?” Malloy asked, shouting to be heard.
“Yes, yes!” she cried, and ran from the room.
Sarah hurried after her and found her slumped on the stairs, sobbing.
“Come upstairs,” Sarah coaxed her. “We’ll find someplace quiet and—”
“No, no, take me out of this place!” she begged, lurching to her feet. “Please, I cannot stay here.”
“Of course,” Sarah said and helped her up the stairs and out into the street, where the Decker carriage waited in silent splendor. The driver jumped down and helped them inside. Although he’d been trained not to show emotion, even he seemed moved by the girl’s anguished grief.
“I’m so sorry,” Sarah said, wrapping her arms around the girl’s slender body and pulling her close. She held her while she wept out her pain, and by the time Malloy had finished his business inside and rejoined them, she was exhausted and drained and lay limp in Sarah’s arms.
Malloy instructed the driver to return them to Sarah’s house. The trip back was conducted in near silence, but when they were almost there, Serafina pulled away from Sarah and sat upright, her spine suddenly rigid.
“Nicola did not kill Mrs. Gittings,” she told them both.
“We know he didn’t,” Sarah assured her, earning a black look from Malloy.
When Malloy didn’t confirm her sentiments, Serafina turned her marvelous eyes on him. “But you will stop looking for the killer now, will you not?”
“I told you before, I can only question those people once.
Cunningham and Sharpe didn’t confess, and Mrs. Burke fainted. The Professor is the only other person there, and he wasn’t in the room. There isn’t much more I can do.”
“Nicola is not a killer. I will not let people think he is.” Sarah knew that few people would th
ink about Nicola DiLoreto at all, but she didn’t want to upset Serafina again by saying so. She would broach the subject later, when the girl was calmer. “We know he was innocent,” she tried. “That’s what’s important.”
“No, finding the real killer is important,” Serafina said.
“Do you know who it is?” Malloy asked with great interest.
“I will find out,” Serafina said with perfect confidence. “The spirits will tell me.”
Malloy ran a hand over his face to hide his exasperation. “When they do,” he said when he’d recovered his composure, “let me know.”
And just as if he’d made a perfectly logical request, she said, “I will.”
BACK AT SARAH’S HOUSE, MRS. DECKER AND MAEVE WERE saddened to learn that the dead man really was Nicola. Even Catherine offered her sympathies by climbing into Serafina’s lap and wrapping her small arms around the girl’s neck.
Maeve made tea for everyone and set out cookies that she and Catherine had made while they were gone, but Malloy declined the offer and took his leave. Sarah saw him to the door, and when they were alone, he said, “I’m sorry you had to go to that place.”
“I didn’t mind. I couldn’t let her face that alone.”
“I was hoping it wasn’t him,” he confessed. “At least part of me was. The other part hoped it was, because I’m still convinced he was the one who killed Mrs. Gittings.”
“So this is the end of the investigation, I suppose.”
“Unless something turns up to change my mind,” he told her with an apologetic shrug.
“At least Serafina won’t have to see Nicola tried for murder.”
“Or executed,” Malloy added grimly.
Someone knocked on Sarah’s front door. “Oh, dear, I hope it isn’t a delivery,” she muttered. “After the day I’ve had, I’m not in any condition to do one right now.”
Malloy stood back so she could open the door, and they were both surprised to see John Sharpe standing on her doorstep.
“Mrs. Brandt, please forgive me for intruding,” Sharpe said while he was pushing his way into the house, belying his apology even as he was making it. “I was told . . . What are you doing here?” he demanded when he saw Malloy.
Murder on Waverly Place Page 21
