Death In Bagheria (A Serafina Florio Mystery) (24 page)

Perchance to
D
ream

T
hey said goodnight in the hall, Serafina smiling to herself as Umbrello helped Rosa into her room. Loffredo said goodnight to Renata and waited in the hall while Serafina went into the room with her daughter, making sure she was safe and locked in. “What’s left of it—two hours and I’ve still got to pack,” Renata said.

“Don’t worry, my precious, I’ll wake you.”

In her room and alone at last, Serafina and Loffredo made good use of the few hours they had, but the lovemaking did nothing to quench her thirst for him. Afterward, they stood at the window, looking at the sea. They kissed, pressed closer. She heard the thundering of his heart.

“What are we going to do about Elena?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I had to marry her, you know that. She had to marry me. We never shared love.”

“You mean, you two …”

“A marriage of convenience only.”

They were silent, he standing behind her, pressing her to him as if he would never leave her.

Just then, a wisp of something near the cork tree caught her attention, a shadowy figure in black lace walking slowly in the tall grass, moving in graceful measure toward the house as the eastern sky began to lighten.

She pointed. “See him?”

He shook his head.

“There. In the grass. Such a slight movement, almost a whispering.”

“Yes. Now I do. It’s a woman. What’s she doing there, walking all alone? The baron’s mistress?”

She told him about Naldo.

He was silent for a long time. “He’s got a wife and children, I know that. Dr. Noce told me they live in Prizzi, but they never visit here, a feud or something with the baron and baroness.”

“Perhaps an arranged marriage like yours?”

“Never. The doctor said Naldo adores his wife, although you’d never know it by his behavior at dinner.”

“My impression when Rosa and I interviewed him was that he is deeply troubled about his mother.” She turned to face him. “But if he has a happy marriage … why does a man dress as he does?”

“I wouldn’t know why, not for sure, but some men, a very few, I understand, need the softness of women’s clothes against their skin—they cannot help it. In some cultures, especially with certain tribes in the Middle and Far East, this behavior is acceptable, even laudable. I’ve heard of generals before battles preparing themselves by dressing as women.”

“Whatever for?”

“They say it empowers them.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand it, either, but that doesn’t make me better, just ignorant. One thing’s sure, men who have the need to dress in women’s clothes are shunned in our culture. Their predilection is not spoken of; we don’t even know what to call it. Their secret engulfs them.”

She told him what she knew from the interview with Naldo about his relationship with his mother.

He hunched his shoulders, made no reply. “He felt his mother’s coldness, whether real or perceived. It could explain his need, but it doesn’t explain wanting to kill her, if he colludes with whoever poisoned her.”

“Perhaps something else does. Perhaps she found out about the smuggling and threatened to expose it.” She shook her head. “But I just don’t know that, not yet.”

They were silent for a time. Serafina felt her exhaustion but was reluctant to move.

He kissed the top of her head. “He’ll inherit his father’s title, his business, his estate—the whole lot—now that Genoveffa has given herself to God. And if there is smuggling going on, and it appears that there is, the inheritance will be huge.”

“Are you sure of that? I would think that the church has found a way to profit from Genoveffa’s inheritance,” she said, burrowing deeper into his warmth and avoiding the rays of the rising sun.

“That’s a question for a lawyer,” he said, “and we’ve got ten more minutes.”

“And don’t forget, there’s Adriana, too,” she whispered into his ear. She was not sure he heard.

D
e
p
arture

Sa
turday, March 26, 1870

A
t six-fifty Saturday morning, an ungodly hour as far as Serafina was concerned, the staff, attired in white and black, were assembled on the drive flanking the front door. Serafina, Renata, Loffredo, and Rosa, blinking her eyes but surprisingly jolly, stood at the end of the line beside the scullery maid. Serafina watched a lock of her daughter’s hair moving in the breeze. She squeezed her hand. “Did you say goodbye to Mima?” she whispered.

“Couldn’t find her. I thought she’d be out here, but I don’t see her in line, do you? I said goodbye to the rest of the kitchen staff.”

At six-fifty-five, the baron’s coach and four drove up. And precisely at seven, the baron emerged, escorting Doucette down the steps and waiting for her with his hands clasped in front, snubbing Serafina, but saying goodbye to the others, many of whom had been her colleagues for over ten years. After securing Doucette’s trunk in the rumble, Umbrello helped her into the carriage, and she waved as the coachman flicked his reins and drove away. The whole party stood there until the coach, surrounded by a cloud of dust, rounded the corner and disappeared.

Umbrello walked up to Serafina and handed her a parcel done up in brown paper and twine. “Found in Doucette’s trunk, as we thought.”

“Will we see you soon in Oltramari?” she asked Umbrello, thanking him for everything.

“Not soon enough,” Rosa said. “But he visits Sunday for two days, after the Prizzi housekeeper arrives to spell him,” Rosa said.

“Then you’ll join us for supper?”

“As long as Renata doesn’t steam the fish.”

Serafina’s group followed the baron into his office to say goodbye, where she warned him to watch Adriana. She felt better about leaving the child with her father after he assured her that he’d asked Umbrello to help Ornetta until the Prizzi housekeeper arrived on Sunday and also had arranged for several additional men to watch from a distance.

“And I’m sending two men to ride behind you,” he said. “They have business in Oltramari.”

“This is for Naldo.” Serafina handed him a notebook. “I found it in the ladies’ parlor. I’ve finished reading it, and I thought he’d like to have it as a keepsake. In it, the baroness writes about him as a boy, and with great love, I might add.”

While he and Loffredo shook hands and exchanged their goodbyes, Serafina glanced out the window at all the activity in the harbor, where yet another of the baron’s ship was being guided out to sea.

“So nothing conclusive yet?” Geraldo smiled, happier than she’d seen him during their visit, probably looking forward to their departure.

She shook her head, having decided earlier, after they’d all conferred, not to mention the substances they’d found on his estate or onboard the ship. At least, not until Loffredo ran tests to determine their composition and she’d spoken with Genoveffa, who, after all, was her employer.

“I’m sure you are correct, my dear, there was every opportunity for my wife to be fed a toxic substance, even old Dr. Noce agrees, but we have no proof. I just cannot understand why anyone would want to kill her. She had no enemies, none at all. But your visit was not a waste of time, and it’s been a delight meeting you.” He handed her a sealed envelope. “A token of my appreciation.”

She was about to protest that she hadn’t earned it yet when she saw the resolve on Rosa’s face and thought better of it. “You are too kind,” she said and stuffed it into her reticule.

“Give my best to Mima, and tell her I’ll visit soon,” Renata said.

Their carriages pulled up. Loffredo would follow and rejoin them in Oltramari. If there were no delays, they should be home before nine.

They said their goodbyes and departed.

After the villa faded from view, Rosa asked Serafina to open the envelope, and the two gaped at the amount as they swayed down the drive.

“My investigation is far from finished, and I shouldn’t have accepted this.”

“You can’t afford to turn it down.”

A
cceptance

W
he
n Serafina walked into the great room, her grandson, who was running around the house and keeping the domestic out of sorts, slammed into her, begging to be held, but changed his mind at the sight of Loffredo and stretched out his arms to him. Loffredo scooped him up and swung him over his head, marching down the hall with him perched on his shoulders and greeting Vicenzu when he opened the door.

“You’ll need to do that every time you come over, you know,” Vicenzu said. “He’s sure you’re visiting him, when we know full well that you’re here to be with Mama.” He turned to Serafina. “I heard you’d arrived, so I …”

“You came to collect the cheque?” she asked, a little breathless from Vicenzu’s remark but managing herself into calm all the same. She stole a glance at Loffredo, who stood with Nunzio sitting on his shoulders and a rueful smile on his face, his arm around Serafina while her grandson kicked his heels against Loffredo’s chest.

“Once more, but then the horse needs a rest,” he told Nunzio.

When they disappeared, Serafina reached into her reticule and handed her son the baron’s envelope.

Vicenzu reddened when he saw the amount. “One thousand lire, ‘For services rendered,’ it says. Is he made of money?”

“And my investigation’s not over, not by any means. I have a good idea who poisoned the baroness, but—”

“He gave you the sum to be rid of you,” Vicenzu said.

“Well, he’s going to get a surprise because I’m not about to stop, not after the time I had on Friday, not at all. I’m going full tilt until I’m sure who did it and can prove it.”

Setting Carmela’s child down, Loffredo took a seat beside Serafina. “Does Renata know about the attack?”

Serafina shook her head, so she asked Renata to sit with them and she told the two about the incident on the roof Friday afternoon during the rainstorm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Renata asked, her eyes wide.

“You had your hands full, my sweet.” Serafina sent her a knowing look, and Renata blushed.

“Someone wants you out of the picture,” Vicenzu said. His hands, which had been folded on the table in front of him, began to twist one end of the tablecloth. “And they’re not going to stop until they succeed. You’ve got to take care.”

Loffredo said, “That’s why I stayed Friday, and in part, that’s why I’m here. I know your mother.”

“Too damn right, you do!”

“Vicenzu!” Renata said and rose, muttering something about needing to make some
dolci
.

Serafina had never seen Vicenzu’s face so red. He stammered, “No, I didn’t mean … I meant … I’m glad you’re here. Carlo’s at school, and I’ve got the apothecary. We’ve had to let the shop boy go, and Teo, who usually helps me out before and after school, well, Teo’s been busy with Totò—you know how much he needs managing. I was worried about you. If we lost you, I don’t know what we’d do, things are so slow.” Beads of sweat had formed on his upper lip.

Serafina reached out and touched his hand. This was unlike Vicenzu, she’d never seen him so distraught, and in front of Loffredo, who, after all, was outside the family. “A little dry spell at the pharmacy, my darling, nothing more. You’re doing so well, Papa would be proud.” And she meant it, even though she felt her temples throb. She was proud that the apothecary shop, unlike all the other stores in Oltramari, was still prosperous. More and more, the rest of the town was looking like a vagrant, rustier and more threadbare by the minute. Oh, she knew that the shop was feeling a little of the general pinch: few people bought anything but medicinals—no more soaps and toiletries, they sat on the shelves, losing their scent and gathering dust. Vicenzu and Teo came home from the shop laden with bread and fish, but seldom with coins; Renata worked miracles with the food they brought her. And thank goodness for the inventiveness of her daughter Giulia who designed for the contessa, and fashioned their clothes from leftover fabric. She chewed her lip. Once more she’d have to set aside her dream of hot water running in the upstairs bath.

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” Loffredo said.

“Not bad at all, I’m sure, a slow month and my son worries,” Serafina said. “Vicenzu, let’s have this discussion some other time. Loffredo is our guest.”

Loffredo looked at her. “You should have asked me, I’d be glad—”

“Never!” Serafina said. “Put it out of your head.” She looked directly at Loffredo. “It would be the end of us, believe me.”

Loffredo turned from her as if she’d slapped him.

“I’m sorry,” she said at once and took his hand. “That was such a generous thought, and believe me, I cherish the man. I couldn’t bear to lose you. Please forgive me.” She kissed his cheek, not caring if her son saw, watching as a small finger tapped at Loffredo’s elbow.

“One more ride, but that’s all.”

After Loffredo and Nunzio disappeared, there was a silence between Serafina and her son.

Vicenzu’s face, if anything, was redder than before. He stood and began pacing, addressing Serafina. “It’s never the right time to talk about what’s happening—I hardly ever see you. But I’ll tell you something, if it weren’t for the money you’re bringing in because of this case, I’d have to close the shop. I’m not making it, just not doing it.” He stopped talking, head down, fists slammed into his pockets. “Should have told you before this. I thought I’d break the news to you Wednesday, but there wasn’t time. Never enough time. I know I shouldn’t have said anything in front of Loffredo, but the words just came out.”

She realized her son had been holding in his fear for months. Why hadn’t she seen it before this? Did the pinch of the times and the bad figures in the ledgers bring on Giorgio’s death? It was a crisis of heart that killed him instantly, she knew, but it could have been caused by an old and growing worry that he’d not shared with her. She’d let the burden of finances rest on Giorgio’s shoulders, and now she was repeating it with her son. Rosa was right—she hadn’t been good with coins. The lump in her throat returned.

Vicenzu continued, looking at his hands. “It’s been hard for two years. I’ve had to dip into your stipend most of the time. I knew you thought me an ogre, and I should have told you, but … I kept telling myself, next month it’s got to be better. The retainer you gave me this week was a gift from the gods. I had to use part of it to pay for supplies instead of putting them on account, but it gives us fresh air, a new start, perhaps for the rest of this year and part of next, if we’re careful. Now with this,” he said, waving the bank note in the air, “I can pay off some of our debts, breathe again. Giulia can buy fabrics, and we’ll get hides for Teo so that he can make us new shoes.”

He paused, and she smiled and nodded.

“It means Renata can go to La Vucciria and make us great dinners again, and Carlo can continue with his studies, Maria with her lessons, and Giulia can buy fabric for your clothes. Without it, I don’t know what we’d have done. But I must be careful, must be …”

He began pacing again. “There’s talk of the banks failing. If they did, we’d be ruined. The shops on both sides of us are boarded up. I’m not proud of it, taking money from you, but no one has coins these days to pay me.”

“Why would we be ruined if the banks fail?” she asked.

He sat down and rubbed his forehead. “That’s for another day, Mama.”

Serafina took her son’s hands in hers. She should have seen the trouble before this. It explained why he’d seemed so out of sorts of late, why his vehement response when she insisted on new clothes last fall, why he counted the logs for the fire.

“When customers come in and they need medicine, what am I to do?” Vicenzu sat, holding one end of the tablecloth as if he were clinging to a precipice.

Loffredo came back into the room and set Nunzio down. “And if the bad times continue, what will you do, go to America?”

The question was a thunderclap. She swallowed hard and clung to him, not caring if her son and daughter saw her, holding him as if she were in a raging storm and he was a buoy, her last hope.

“Coffee?” Renata asked, wiping her hands in her apron.

Serafina didn’t answer.

“Mama?”

“Please, and we could all use some food. We haven’t eaten today.” She dabbed her eyes with a linen.

Vicenzu looked at her. “They didn’t give you breakfast at Villa Caterina? They say it’s the most opulent palace in Bagheria.”

Nunzio was back, tapping Loffredo’s elbow again, and once more he acquiesced, but only this one time and no more, and that’s it, she heard him say again. They galloped away.

As she and Renata tried to reassure Vicenzu, they heard the back door slam.

Taking off her garden gloves as she strode into the room, Carmela said, “Whose carriage is parked in back of our house?”

Carmela stopped short when she saw her son on Loffredo’s shoulders. She managed an icy smile while grabbing a kicking Nunzio into her arms. She kissed Renata and gave Serafina a stiff hug, whispering her regret at their words the other morning.

Not at all pleased with her daughter’s reception of Loffredo and too tired to hide her emotion, Serafina opened her mouth to express her dismay, wishing that Rosa were here to fling one of her barbs, but before she could speak, Teo and Totò barged in, making their usual noise. The two boys ignored Serafina and walked over to Loffredo.

“This is what I wanted to show you.” Teo held out a leather pouch. “What do you think?”

Loffredo emptied the sack into his hand, setting the pieces one by one in front of him and examining them closely. “The finest set I’ve seen. Each piece is so well balanced.” He threw three pieces up in the air and caught them all on the back of his hand.

Teo stared at him, a smile spreading across his round face.

“Where did you get these?” Loffredo asked him. “Impossible to lose when you play with bones like these.”

“That’s why I want to play with them,” Totò said, raking a hand through blond curls. “And he’s promised to let me have them, too, haven’t you?”

“If you pass the test today,” Teo said.

“The test?” Renata asked.

“His altar boy exam,” Teo said.

“Do me a favor, run next door and ask Rosa if Tessa can play.”

Totò made a face. “No time for girls. Maybe later.”

“Shhh, let Teo answer Loffredo’s question,” Vicenzu said.

“My father carved them.”

Loffredo touched each piece again. “Why so many? I still have mine, but the set is only five.”

“There should be fifteen here,” Teo said, beginning to count them. “He made three sets for me, in case I lose some.”

“Have you ever caught all five?” Totò asked Loffredo.

“Once, but I couldn’t do it today—I haven’t practiced, you see.”

Totò counted them aloud as he put them back and handed the pouch to Teo.

Looking at Teo, Loffredo said, “Your father was generous.”

“Your father only carved five for you?” Teo asked.

Loffredo shook his head. “None at all. He purchased a set for me.”

Teo and Totò shrugged, looking at Loffredo with something akin to pity.

“Carlo still has his, but I lost mine,” Vicenzu said.

“Teo promised I could play with the knucklebones this weekend, didn’t you?” Totò said.

Teo looked at Serafina and nodded. “If he knows all his Latin by tonight.”

“Just once,” Totò said. “I heard her, she said I should study it just once more, Teo, and just the big parts. Anyway, she’s a witch.”

“Totò!”

Serafina’s older children suppressed grins.

“Well, she is. She yelled at Stefano because he didn’t know when to ring the bells even though we practiced and practiced.” He turned to Teo. “And after we practice, I can keep your knucklebones till Monday, you said I could.” Totò saw the domestic carrying a platter with bowls of
biancomangiare
with orange sauce and almonds, and loaves of warm bread and set it on the table.

“Can I have some?” Totò asked, taking a piece of bread.

“Before you eat, fetch Tessa. Now! Teo, help him.” Serafina felt pity for Tessa, an only child, remembering the night long ago when Rosa, who still owned her brothel, sent for Serafina: ‘Bleeding, no baby, come at once!’ Serafina was too late, and the mother died, poor soul, but she managed to save the infant. Health officials ordered Rosa to bring the baby to the orphanage, but she refused. Money changed hands; Tessa remained with Rosa. “We’ll leave plenty of food for you, I promise.”

Stuffing the knucklebones into his pocket, Teo pulled Totò’s shirt, dragging him toward the door, throwing a look at Loffredo over his shoulder, and they disappeared.

Loffredo helped himself to a bowl and gulped down his food. “It’s getting late and I have work to do.” He motioned to Vicenzu and they rose. On the way out, Serafina heard them talking of toxic substances, laced tea, and laudanum. “I have equipment in my office, but I thought yours might be better,” he said, and their voices trailed away.

After they left, there was the usual rush of emotion between Serafina and Carmela. Serafina tossed a few remarks Carmela’s way about the poor job she did feigning politeness with Loffredo while Renata walked back and forth from the table to the stove preparing something or other, at one point bringing a plate of cookies to the table and pouring coffee for the three of them.

“I wish Giulia were here.”

“She comes home tonight, but just for tomorrow, and it’s Maria’s weekend with Aunt Giuseppina, remember? But they try to come home tonight,” Carmela said, biting into a cookie.

Despite the breakfast she’d just finished, Serafina felt famished. She grabbed a handful of olives and cookies and stuffed them into her mouth, disregarding her daughters, who stared at her. When Renata was out of earshot, Serafina told Carmela about Renata’s dreadful tryst with della Trabia, “a dangerous character and one of my primary suspects.” She sketched Renata’s rescue at Solunto.

Carmela shook her head, staring at nothing and chewing on a cookie. “Doesn’t do well with men. Doesn’t even understand what’s going on between you and Loffredo.”

“And I want you to help her in that department.”