Death of a Serpent (22 page)

“You’re joking.”

“No, well, I mean where’s her coat or shawl or cape? If she met her killer outside, she’d be wearing one, no?” She faced him, held out her palms. “Let’s take a peek in Gusti’s room. We’d better hurry before the police come and traipse through Rosa’s house, messing up the evidence.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And far be it from you to leave anything behind for them to find.”

“Except, of course, for the body.”

“Oh, please.”

“Four bodies in less than four months. No leads, no theories—”

“Not true. There’s a theory, and you know what it is. Besides, the police have their hands full. Protests, bandits, prisoners being set free, wave after wave of cholera, the September uprising, the curfew. They’re up to their eyeballs in work. And I must say, you’re not very trusting.”

“Not very trusting? Cautious, that’s all. But as for trust, I trust my family and Rosa.”

“Carmela too?”

She swiveled from him, looked beyond the rocks to a ragged sky, and spoke into the wind, “I’ll catch this killer. I swear I will.” She held a hand over her mouth and blinked her eyes dry before turning back to him. “I think Gusti was killed inside this house, right under everyone’s noses and her body dumped here. And what’s more, I think whoever killed Gusti knows who killed the other three. Tessa stays with us until we catch him.”

• • •

Rosa had a large tray on her desk with cups, plates, napkins, utensils, two pots of fresh tea and steaming milk. She motioned for them to sit and pulled the cord.

“In Gusti’s bag,” Serafina said, handing her the two gold coins.

The domestic entered holding another tray with a large cassata. “Cook made your favorite t
orta
,” she said.

“Formusa knows how to cheer me up.” Looking at her guests, she said, “Eat. You’ll feel better.” Rosa cut pieces of cake for Serafina and Carlo. He began eating his portion, forking down large mouthfuls and asking for seconds while Rosa beamed. Serafina declined the cake but drank her tea and asked for more. “This time with more milk.”

“Appetites your Carlo has, and we can fill them, am I right, Mr. Carlo? Salute to you.”

Carlo reddened and wiped the corners of his mouth.

Serafina rolled her eyes. “First, we need to look in Gusti’s room. It won’t take long.”

• • •

Rosa said, “Follow me, but, shhh, the others still sleep. They know nothing yet.”

Serafina looked at her watch pin. “Shouldn’t some of them be up?”

“Saturday morning, and they worked hard last night. Noon or one before they’ll rise,” she said.

“We’ll need to wake them before that,” Serafina said. “I want to interview all the women who were here last night.”

Rosa shrugged and led them to Gusti’s room. She climbed the three flights without breathing, it seemed to Serafina.

Rosa turned the key, and the three of them entered.

“Gusti not make the bed? Not like her. Neat as a pin, that one,” Rosa said. Twisted bedclothes lay in a heap on the floor, the mattress at angles to the posts. Dresser drawers were open, as were the two cabinet doors, their contents jumbled together and strewn over the floor.

“Signs of a fight,” Serafina said.

“Shhh!” Rosa put a finger to her lips.

“Let’s get on with this. We’re wasting time.”

Carlo said, “No bickering, you two. And show some respect for the dead.”

“Respect the living first. The dead are dead. They need nothing,” Rosa said, making the sign of the cross.

They looked through Gusti’s clothes, on the floor of the cabinet, behind it, underneath the bed, in all the dresser drawers. They found nothing except clothes: no jewelry, no money, no letters, no clues.

They were about to leave when Serafina noticed an etching of the Duomo askew on the wall. She looked behind it and saw a hole covered by an ill-fitting piece of plaster.

“We need light,” Carlo whispered. He found some matchsticks next to the lamp on the nightstand, lit the wick, and held the lamp up to the hole.

Serafina peered inside. “I see something over there.” She reached in and retrieved a leather case. Locked. She shook the case. “Sounds like jewels to me.”

Rosa nodded.

They untangled the bed clothes and looked through them.

Serafina ran her hand over the surface of the mattress. “Turn it over.”

Carlo frowned, but heaved the mattress up and over, Rosa and Serafina catching it before it hit the springs.

Serafina found a small square of rough stitching. Carlo cut around them with his pocket knife, reached into the opening. He pulled out a key and some paper—documents or letters.

Serafina held her hand out for the key. “Necklaces and bracelets, gobs of them.” She bit into one. “Gold.”

“I wonder what she did for this strand?” Rosa’s eyes sparked in the dim light.

• • •

“Give the jewels and key to Rosa. Put the papers in your pocket. No time to read them now,” Serafina said. “Let’s clean up this mess and get out.”

While Serafina and Rosa folded the sheets, Carlo refitted the piece of plaster and picture. He looked at the documents and thrust them into his pocket. When he thought Serafina wasn’t looking, he whispered something in Rosa’s ear.

“Inside job, Rosa,” Serafina said.

Rosa’s eyes were like spoiled fruit. “None of my girls did this. None. Properly screened, or they don’t get in. Gusti’s killer must be a customer. My fault, all my fault.” She shook her head. “Business not so good, especially around
Li Morti
. Too soft I was. Let some salty characters into the house.”

“Falco?” Serafina asked.

Rosa’s eyes moistened.

Serafina hugged her. “No more blame.”

“Besides, we don’t have the time,” Carlo added.

Serafina turned to him. “She was strangled in here. The killer was looking for something.”

“But left the jewels?” Carlo held up both hands.

“Not any of my girls—”

“Not looking for money or jewels,” Serafina said. “Admit it, Rosa. The killer had to have knowledge that only an insider could give him. We’ll find out when we talk to the women.”

“If she was strangled here, how would the killer get rid of the body?” Carlo asked.

Rosa said, “Couldn’t carry Gusti down the main staircase, not past the guards.”

“Even after midnight?” Serafina asked.

“Since Gemma’s murder, there’s a guard at the door, always. Another makes the rounds. Guards, easy to find after the war—all the leftovers.”

“Leftovers?” Serafina asked.

“Redshirts. Scarpo hired them to work the off-hour shifts. Turi used them to ride behind the carriage. Don’t you remember seeing them on our trip to Palermo?”

Serafina nodded.

The madam continued. “Scarpo himself watched during our peak hours. Or Arcangelo.” She brushed the air with both hands and shook her head. “An inside job?—impossible! Murdered outside, Gusti.”

“Then why wasn’t she wearing a cape?”

Rosa chewed on her thumbnail. “Dragged her body down the back stairs, then. But there’s a bolt on the outside. Always fastened.”

“Must’ve had the key, or something wrong with the lock. Let’s find out.”

“This way.” Rosa turned to Carlo. “Take that lamp.” She looked at Serafina and put a forefinger to her lips. “And you, shhh, like an aging
strega
, the pitch of your voice.”

Rosa led them down the hall to a door and opened it.

Carlo held his lamp high. They saw freshly-made footprints in the layer of dust on the top landing, too many to count, and a dust-free path down the middle of the stairs.

“Dragged the body,” Carlo said. “Dead weight too heavy for the killer.”

As he led the way, the lantern cast globes of dim light on walls and ceiling. Dark, winding, cavernous, the staircase, with air that smelled like the exhalation of old ghosts.

Halfway down, Rosa pointed to something glinting.

Carlo picked it up.

“The other earring,” Serafina said.

“Other?” Rosa asked.

“Found one outside, near the body.”

“Let’s see what Colonna does with it,” Rosa said, turning up one corner of her mouth.

“He won’t find it. I took it.”

At the bottom, Carlo opened the door with ease, a few meters from where Scarpo stood next to Gusti’s body.

Scarpo said, “You took the key, Signura?”

“Unlocked,” Carlo said.

Serafina looked at the bolt. “No lock. Gone. No sign of force.”

“The spider crawls up my neck again.”

Serafina swiveled to Rosa. “Gusti’s killer had inside help, face it.”

“Or Don Tigro. His men work magic, guards or no guards,” Carlo added.

Serafina said, “His men would have taken Gusti’s jewels. If not her jewels, then for sure her twenty lire gold piece.”

• • •

They were back in Rosa’s office by nine.

“Killed in her own room, Gusti. Murderer dragged her body down the back stairs. Who’d know about that staircase, or have the key to the outside lock?” Serafina asked.

The madam sat at her desk, about to say something when they heard the crunch of wooden wheels on stone, the low tones of male whispers. One voice had an unmistakable pitch, like the fingernails of a
strega
sliding down a wall: Colonna.

Serafina said, “We’d better go out there.”

Carlo looked at Rosa. “My trusting Mama.”

Rosa rocked her head back and forth, eyes closed. Both forefingers ticked in the air like a pendulum. “Watch Colonna operate: you’ll get a big lesson on how to do nothing.”

• • •

Colonna wore a long overcoat and fedora hat. He moved from side to side.

“Hello, Inspector,” Serafina said.

He looked at Serafina with narrowed eyes. “You again?”

“I sent for her, Inspector,” Rosa said. She managed a smile.

Taking his arm, Rosa said, “Forgive me, distraught I was, but now I feel better, now that you’re here.” She pressed her front into his forearm. “But you see, you and your men, you’ve been so busy, so much violence, so many crimes. Oh Madonna, I say to myself, that Inspector, how does he do it? So I asked my friend, Fina, here, to help me.” She patted his hand.

Smiling, he tipped his hat. “Hard for you, Signura, I know, and you keep such a, such a clean and distinguished establishment.” He couldn’t help himself. His eyes roamed over Rosa’s bosomy immenseness.

The madam smiled and looked into his eyes. “Too kind, Pirricù.”

“And your friend—Fina, you say?” He looked at Serafina. “Found out what, so far?”

Serafina interrupted. “And we sent for you, as soon as we heard. We didn’t know if you’d be here or in Catania. We’re told there’s been another uprising. The peasants are—”

“Well, I’m here but leaving shortly. Troops sent to Catania, most of my men with them. Only Colonna here!” He thumped his chest “Two others to help me keep the peace.” He gestured to the two uniformed men who followed him.

They nodded.

Colonna continued. “But we’ll manage. Loffredo should arrive any minute.” He turned to his men. “Get the artist.”

“Already sketching the body,” someone said.

“When he finishes, and Loffredo finishes,” Colonna said, gesturing to indicate the meaning of ‘finishes,’ “take the body away.” Another flourish. “In the meantime, La Signura and I will be in her office.”

Serafina saw the artist kneeling by the body. Several meters away, two hospital workers in black cassocks bearing a stretcher stood in silence, their eyes cast to the ground, hoods donned, waiting alongside a draped cart and mule in mourning headgear. They reminded her of that Sunday in October and a death so different. How Rosa had grieved, still does, for Bella. She must find this killer.

• • •

Serafina smelled Loffredo’s pomade and heard his distinctive step but continued talking to her son, feeling her cheeks burn despite the sea wind.

Dr. Loffredo removed his gloves and kissed Serafina’s hand. “Upsetting for you. And poor Rosa, a fourth victim.”

“Otto, you remember my son, Carlo. He goes to University. Home for
Li Morti
.”

“Doubt I would have recognized you. A man now, and the last time we met, you were a child. Hear good things about you from Professor Libertate. ‘Excellent doctor he’ll make,’ he tells me. Said you’re an exacting dissector.” He paused, looking closer at Carlo’s face. “You have your mother’s looks, her gift of persistence, your father’s scholarly bent, and your parents’ intelligence. If you’re not busy Monday morning, would you be so kind as to assist in the examination at the morgue? What I do here is preliminary.”

“I’ll be there, but I’d like to take a train Monday afternoon. Exam Tuesday morning.”

“Understood. Meet you at, say, nine o’clock?”

Breaking Free

“P
irricù, is it?” Serafina lifted an eyebrow. She sat across the desk from Rosa.

“Good riddance to that insolent goose of an inspector. One small look at the body, two big glasses of grappa, and in three minutes he’s gone.”

“Loffredo is here now, doing the preliminary examination with Carlo. They’ll continue in the morgue Monday morning. Strangled with her own scarf.”

Rosa shuddered. “Marsala?”

“Too early for me, but I could use another cup of tea or a caffè.”

Rosa pulled the cord. In a few minutes, the domestic came in with a tray and two cups of espresso.

“Too old for this business.”

Serafina said nothing. She took a cup and drank. In the past when she’d suggested that Rosa close the house, the idea was met with a sudden storm.

“I miss Tessa. Arcangelo picks her up this evening,” Rosa said, downing her espresso.

“Don’t you think Tessa should stay with us, in light of Gusti’s murder, just until we find the killer?”

Rosa opened her mouth to protest.

Serafina held up her hand. “Think about it. And after Loffredo leaves, you must wake the women. Need to talk to them.”

Rosa opened her mouth again.

“We interview the women, you and I together, in this room. Today. The killer has an accomplice, someone who knows the house well, the ins and outs, the front, the back, the comings, the goings. Is there a customer who knows the layout of this house so well? Consider the question before you answer,” Serafina said.