“So? What does that have to do with anything?”
“If we’re going to find the killer, we must dig into the victim’s past. Who were his enemies? More important, who were his friends?”
“Nonsense. At the heart of murder is lucre, mind me.”
“Often that’s true. But sometimes it’s love, a love gone feral.”
The madam stared at Serafina. “You’ve gone round the twist. And don’t explain, I don’t want to know.”
“So much for your detecting skills.” Serafina dug into her reticule and brought out her notebook, opened it to the coiling thread she’d found in the baroness’s villa, and placed it on the desk.
Rosa examined it, pulled at it, watched it stretch. She shoved a large piece of cake into her mouth and said through the morsel, “What am I thinking?” She rang the bell again.
When the maid appeared, she said, “Get the laundress.”
Serafina sipped her latté. “Why would a baroness risk such behavior with a servant? We all know that husbands can keep a mistress or two, but let a wife of any class so much as look at another man and she risks the end of her marriage, the loss of children, position, social ostracism. Why are you looking at me like that?”
They were interrupted by a knock, and the laundress, a squat woman with a red face, waddled into the room.
Rosa showed her the thread.
“Not from my laundry room, I tell you.”
“Of course not. But from where? Who would wear such a fabric?”
The laundress worried the snaky remnant between two fingers, shuffled over to a window. Serafina and Rosa followed her. In the morning light, it took on a fiery glow.
“Perhaps a clown’s costume?” Serafina asked.
The laundress hunched her loaf-like shoulders and shook her head. “The raveling from one who prances on a stage or flies through the air.”
When the laundress closed the door and the two of them returned to the desk, Rosa handed back the thread and notebook. “Take it with you tonight. Pinch the gown from a dancing bear and compare threads.”
When Serafina made no reply, Rosa said, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the circus.”
“Don’t be silly. The children look forward to it. And my family needs to laugh together.” She told Rosa about the tiff she’d overheard late yesterday between Maria and Teo, but the madam gave her a blank look. Serafina knew Rosa had an eye for the main chance, yet did not fully comprehend the altercations, the conspiracies, the intrigues that were daily occurrences in a large family.
“Speaking of forgetting,” Serafina said, “we haven’t finished with the baroness. I said she’d be ostracized for the behavior you allege.”
Rosa held her nose aloft and trumpeted, “You’re forgetting one small detail: her family is the one with the money.”
Serafina gazed at a point in the room.
“There goes your mind off that cliff again.”
“Just chewing on your words. And if the baron found her out, what would he do?”
“It depends,” the madam said. “But consider: if he has all the trappings of wealth and title, the ability to come and go whenever and with whomever he pleases, why would he risk a scandal? Lawyers would become involved, that’s a given, and when they do, all parties lose.”
Serafina had to agree with that. “In addition, he drinks.”
“Well, there you have it.”
“But could the baron have killed Cecco or arranged for his death?”
A Sprung Sofa
Serafina sat on a sprung sofa, waiting for Guardian Angel’s mother superior. The nun was a lifelong friend of Serafina’s dead mother and someone who’d helped Serafina in the past. Soon a wizened figure in black sailed into the room, veil flowing.
After dispensing with the usual exchange of news, Serafina asked Mother Concetta about the Lanza butler.
“Cecco? An orphan loved by all,” she said.
“No enemies?”
Concetta narrowed her eyes. “I mourn his death. Not unexpected.”
“How so?”
“A man so perfect unwittingly makes enemies.”
“Can you be more specific?”
The nun fingered her beads for a while. “When a boy becomes a man, we no longer suit his needs. But Cecco was a difficult case.”
“How so?”
“He wasn’t interested in tilling the fields or in carpentry or smithing. Whatever we tried, we couldn’t find an occupation for him. Oh, he was strong and tall, quick to learn, but none of our usual friends wanted to take him on. Too handsome, I suspect.”
There was something the nun was withholding. Serafina could feel it in the way the woman looked down at her hands. “That’s all you have to tell me?”
She straightened her wimple. “He had a wanderer’s heart.”
“And?”
“Just like your mother’s, your tongue persists.”
Serafina smile was wistful. “Who were his friends?”
“Cecco was a friend to all and had a special gift for knowing what others needed. He bound all wounds, quelled disturbances, dispelled intrigues. The other children flocked to him.”
“Then why couldn’t Cecco work here as a helping hand, a counselor, as Carmela did?”
The nun appeared not to have heard the question. She continued down her own track. “Perhaps ‘happy’ is the wrong word. Show me an orphan, and I’ll show you a sad face.”
Mother Concetta stopped talking. She seemed to be smoothing the rough edges of a memory. Soon she squirmed, withdrew a linen from her pocket, and wiped her brow. “You won’t give up, will you?”
Serafina made no reply.
“There was a boy. So lithe were his limbs; he’d run and tumble, an acrobatic magician. He idolized Cecco. For weeks, they’d be inseparable. Then the younger boy would ignore Cecco, and a heavy silence ruled the orphanage.”
“Can you be more specific?”
The nun glanced at the crucifix listing on the wall. “In the end, we had to separate them. We sent Cecco away. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Sent him where?”
“Barco’s circus.
“Why not the acrobat friend of his?”
“Cecco was older, you see, so he had to leave. And when he departed, the younger boy was relieved at first, and the house breathed again. His elation, however, soon turned to despondency. We feared for his soul.”
Serafina saw deep shadows flicker across Mother Concetta’s face.
After a long moment, the nun continued. “One of my many great sins—I did nothing to assuage the boy’s sorrow. I knew I should have gotten guidance from someone wiser in these things than myself, but I waited for time to heal the boy.”
Serafina considered Concetta’s response for a moment. “And was he healed?”
Mother Concetta shook her head. “One day he disappeared.”
“His name?”
“Roberto.”
Field Full Of Wagons
Early Thursday morning, October 29, 1868
“Try running away again and I’ll kill you. Understand?”
Teo held his breath.
The specter shook him and said, “Do … you … understand?”
Teo nodded.
“I should have killed you and thrown your body in the lake on the outskirts of town,” he said. The monster stuck his filthy gun into Teo’s face again.
“Go on, kill me. My parents are dead, Falco’s as good as dead, and I left my brother when I ran away. I got nothing more to lose.” Teo shut his eyes and plugged his ears.
But the monster turned all of a sudden and looked hard at the ground and sat. He shook his head and said he’d become awful in his own sight, lower than beasts in a field. With that, Teo saw the specter turn into a huge winged creature and flap out of the man’s head and disappear.
Teo felt an easing in his throat.
The man stowed the gun in his belt, and Teo could scarce believe his eyes when he saw water r
olling down the man’s cheeks. Teo heard him say that he’d killed the best life in the world.
For the rest of the journey, the man hung his head and shook it good, saying not another word, nor did he point the gun in Teo’s face again, but he didn’t stop shoving Teo forward with his mighty paw.
The sun was up when they arrived at a field full of wagons and cages and roaring beasts. A round man greeted them. Teo looked at all the circus performers, but the man shoved him inside a wagon and told him to sit and said he wouldn’t be hurt. “Not unless you try to escape. I need you to make shoes, like the shoes your father once made for me.”
A Twisted Mustache
Thursday afternoon, October 29, 1868
Serafina hated being a snoop. However, for the sake of the baroness—to say nothing of her family and the citizens of her town—she wanted Cecco’s killer brought to justice. She doubted that would happen with Colonna as investigator, so she’d have to step in.
Despite the commissioner requesting her expertise whenever needed, Colonna still thought of her as an outsider. Worse, he thought of her as a woman. She hated the way he winked at her as if she were still a schoolgirl playing at a game of hunt the slipper. With her daughter’s ability to get to the heart of things, Carmela told her not to let Colonna’s jealousy bother her too much, but Serafina couldn’t help it. After all, why should that no-nothing, venal inspector bask in the glory of a title and a large salary while she, Serafina, was paid a pittance and did most of the difficult work of detecting for him?
Dr. Loffredo’s absence meant that Serafina would have to speak with the assistant medical examiner and discover for herself just how Cecco was killed. As she made her way to the morgue, Serafina burrowed into her cape, bending into the wind, preoccupied with Mother Concetta’s remarks. She hurried past mules pulling carts, brushed a straggler running to school, heard the bells chiming the hour. When she opened the door, she smelled the cloying stench of death.
“What can I do for you?” a guard asked.
“I’m here to see the assistant medical examiner. Is he available?”
The guard escorted her to a basement office, and in a few minutes, Loffredo’s assistant entered.
Serafina, who had been holding a linen to her nose and mouth, cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Doctor. I know my visit is highly irregular, but I’d like to ask you about the Lanza case.”
“Not at all, I’ll be glad to tell you as much as I can. You know how we love working with you.” The doctor paused. “I wish I could say the same about some others.” He winked, pointing to the ceiling.
“Too kind. I’ve just come from Villa Lanza where the baroness, my client who is soon to give birth, is distraught. She is anxious to hear the cause and manner of her butler’s death. I wondered if there was anything you could tell me. Have you been able to examine the body?”
“No autopsy yet, but I was called to the scene by Inspector Colonna. Have you had a chance to speak with him?”
“Not yet.”
“From the looks of it, the butler was killed by a single shot to the heart. Not much blood. The gun was fired by a professional.”
“How so?”
“As I told the inspector—”
“Did I hear my name?” Colonna asked, pushing into the office on splayed feet . He stroked his mustache. “Fina, my dear, what a surprise!”
Serafina swallowed. “We were just speaking of you.”
Colonna looked at the doctor. “But go on, please. Don’t let me stop you.”
“The gun which, I understand, has not yet been found, must have been a revolver with a fairly short barrel. And this killer hit the victim in just the right spot, resulting in instant death and very little loss of blood.”
Colonna eyes twinkled. “Almost solved, my dear, so don’t worry your pretty head.”
“Would you like to hear what I’ve learned?” Serafina asked.
He gave her a self-indulgent smile and shook his head.
“So you’ve retrieved the gun? Examined the locks in the house? Found the jewels? Taken the killer into custody? Accepted his signed confession?”
Colonna grinned. “Not quite. But it’s a case of theft, pure and simple. All the baroness’s jewels are missing.”
“All? That’s not what I understand.”
He twisted one end of his mustache. “Quite a substantial amount. The butler got in the way. All we need to do is find the thief.”
“Was theft the only motive? You’ve ruled out the baron? Any other enemies the butler might have had?”
“Decidedly. No Sicilian baron murders, you ought to know that. And butlers have no enemies—they are loved by everyone. He will be mourned.”
Ridiculous jackanapes, he won’t even try to solve this case. Already spending the reward the baron will pay. Or worse: she stared at him as the truth dawned. “You still have the pearls, the emerald necklace, the diamonds—a small price for your silence?”
Colonna’s face reddened. He opened his mouth to say something when Serafina heard running feet.
Carmela burst inside. “Teo’s missing!”
Golden Orb
Serafina mulled over recent events in her study on the third floor, once her mother’s room. It stood opposite the nursery and the garret she’d made into a bedroom for Teo.
They’d looked everywhere for Teo, in the cellar of the apothecary shop, in the schoolyard, the library, down by the harbor where he loved to watch the fishermen, even in his old home, now empty and waiting for new owners. No Teo. Everyone had joined in the search, Carmela, Vicenzu, even Rosa. Time, she knew, was running out, and soon she’d have to face the fact that perhaps he had gone for good.
The children had returned from school. In a few hours, they’d be leaving for the circus.
Earlier, when she’d asked Maria about her words with Teo in the parlor, the child mumbled something, then said, “He came into my parlor after supper last night—”
“What do you mean ‘my parlor’?”
“Where I practice. He’s not allowed in there.”
“Whose rule is that?”
Maria shoved her glasses up to the bridge of her nose and said no more, but her eyes were filling with water.
Of all her children, Maria was the most puzzling, not at all like her siblings. She had adult responses to most situations and was concerned only with her piano. Seemingly unaware of her talent, she was kind, humble, gracious—or was Serafina blind? As her daughter stood before her, Serafina realized that she could cajole or insist, but in the end, if Maria didn’t want to do what her mother suggested, Serafina had little recourse. She could solve most murders and already knew who had killed Cecco and why and where to find him. But her children? They were difficult. She felt helpless.
Maria broke the silence. “Teo’s weird. Everyone says so. Look at him—he’s not like us. Maybe the specter ate him.”
“Nonsense! There is no specter, and I’m disappointed. I thought you were able to see what other children could not see. Teo might be different, but we’re all different. Each of us is an enigma. How do you expect to make music if you don’t celebrate the mystery of others?”
Her reverie faded. Serafina stopped her pacing and sat in her mother’s favorite chair, wondering how she could have been a better example for her children. Was her little liaison with Dr. Loffredo somehow responsible for their willfulness? She pushed away the thought.
Suddenly there was the smell of lavender and orange peel, a puff of smoke and Maddalena, the ghost of her mother, appeared, looking fresh and full of youth and life. She wore her green velvet gown and wrinkled her nose.
“You’re sitting in my chair!”
“Honestly, Mama, sit on the bed if you must. Unless you are prepared to help, I don’t have time for this, not this evening. We’re going to the circus, and I’ve got to catch a killer!” Serafina rose and sat on the bed as her mother maneuvered her way into her chair.
“Send for Badali. You’ll need him,”
her mother said.
“Is that all you’ve got to say? You’re worse than Mother Concetta.”
“Don’t speak ill of my friend! I’m loyal, which is more than I can say about Maria. I’ll see what I can do about her, but I can’t promise. Oh, and don’t forget to talk to the wet nurse.”
With that, Maddalena vanished.
“Impossible!” Serafina said, then sat back down in her mother’s chair. After she had digested her mother’s words, she went to the desk and scribbled a note to Badali, a carabiniere who’d helped her in the past.
On the landing, Serafina remembered her mother’s directive and retraced her steps. She opened the door to the nursery and greeted the wet nurse, pecking her on both cheeks.
“What time did Teo leave last night?”
The nurse arranged her pendulous bosoms and spoke, eyes closed, bandana canted to one side. “The moon were a golden orb over the sea. It rose, shimmering, and when it were at its zenith …” Here she paused, opened her eyes, stared at Serafina. “… Teo kissed his brother goodbye and departed.”
With that, the last piece fell into place in Serafina’s mind, and she took a moment to finalize her plans. Swallowing her fears, she walked downstairs and asked her factotum to deliver her note to Captain Badali.
A Light Supper
Early Thursday evening, October 29, 1868
As she entered the dining room, she saw the upturned faces of her children, smiling and expectant, except for Maria who hunched over her score. Rosa and her daughter, Tessa had arrived. All were gathered around the table.
“About time,” Rosa said. She wore her purple velvet and matching pillbox with feathers.
“We’re going to the circus!” Totò, her youngest, said.
“Right you are, my brightest boy!” Serafina kissed him and sat. After the domestic served a light supper—pasta con le sarde and squid salad—she stood, about to detail her plan, when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Vicenzu ran to open it.
Death Of A Sad Face (A Serafina Florio Mystery) Page 3
