Death Of A Sad Face (A Serafina Florio Mystery) (2 page)

After swallowing the last of her caffè, she scooped up the paper again and stared at the words flickering in the candlelight while the memory of the children’s raised voices last night played about her mind.

The door opened, letting in a howl of air. Boots clomped down the hall.

“Back so soon?” she asked.

Vicenzu shrugged off his cape. “Why are you up so early? It’s not yet first light.”

“The wind woke me, whipping against the shutters, making a sound like a wild specter.”

“Go on about the specter.” He grinned. “Grate’s cold.” He limped over to the hearth and began poking about the charred logs. Soon she heard the crackle of the fire and felt warmth creep into her toes.

Over his shoulder, he asked, “Where’s Teo? He was supposed to meet me at the pharmacy this morning.”

“I thought we agreed he was not to work in the store on school days. His teacher says he’s not made many friends, and I’m worried about him. He’s had a terrible time of it.”

“Haven’t we all! But I need him to help me with a new delivery this morning. If Teo were grateful, he’d have started a fire for you and gotten to the shop before me.”

“He’s not a servant. He’s a guest, a boy bewildered by the sudden loss of both parents. Give him time to find his way.”

“Too much of a mope, Teo.”

She shook her head. “I remember how you were after your accident.”

“That’s different. I was physically hurt and couldn’t walk.”

She might as well stop arguing—Vicenzu was born with endless answers. Serafina consulted her watch pin. “Let him sleep. I’ll help as soon as I finish reading.” She rattled her paper. “In the meantime, sit, have some caffè.”

He threw up his hands and pulled out a chair.

“So, my ornery dog, anyone talking about the murder?” Serafina pointed to the picture of a smirking Colonna.

He shrugged. “Your friend?”

“The inspector? Hardly.”

“No, I mean it happened at Villa Lanza. Isn’t the baroness one of your clients?”

“And her baby’s due any moment! I must pay her a visit this morning.”

“Which means you can’t help me, and I’d better wake Teo.” Vicenzu started for the stairs.

“Eat first, then wake him. He’s a child and needs his rest.”

“I’ll help,” Carmela said, entering the room. “I used to work for Papa before your accident, don’t you remember?”

Vicenzu shook his head. “If you say so.”

“Besides, I need to get out of this house.” She rolled her eyes in Vicenzu’s direction, sat, and turned to Serafina. “Don’t forget the circus tonight. The children are looking forward to it, especially Tessa and Totò—even Maria.”

The domestic padded over with a loaf of warm bread and bowls of
biancomangiare
. She poured coffee and departed.

Carmela continued. “We’re taking two carriages. It’s all arranged. That look on your face tells me you won’t be home for the noon meal, but be sure you’re back before the light fades. We’ll have an early supper and be off.”

Villa Lanza

Villa Lanza stood in splendor three doors away from Serafina’s home. Like the others in the neighborhood, the residence of Ignazio Lanza, Baron of Oltramari, overlooked the city center.

The footman took Serafina’s cape and escorted her to the upstairs parlor. While waiting for the baroness, Serafina stood warming herself next to a roaring fire. The room, if overstuffed with gilt and carved wood, was furnished in the latest style.

In a moment, Baroness Lucia appeared, clothed in a raw silk dressing gown, the rich fabric reflecting the firelight’s reddish glow, the neck and sleeves finished in lace detail. She swayed into the room like a camel crossing the desert on swollen hooves, one hand shoved into the small of her back, forcing herself forward. Even at this early hour, her raven hair was coiffed. Nonetheless, the poor woman looked dazed. The features of her face, although rouged and powdered, were puffed with weeping and with child.

Serafina kissed her on both cheeks. “My poor dear, I came as soon as I heard. Do sit down, and let me see you. No cramps?”

Lucia shook her head. She sat in a deep chair, fished for a linen, and blew her nose. “Your visit is such a comfort.” She cleared her throat, hesitated. “What to say? The inspector tries to be charming, but he’s not at all like you. It took him an hour to arrive. He was gone in a flash.”

Serafina bit her lip. “Inspector Colonna will take great pains to ferret out the truth.” There, that ought to support that venal colleague of hers.

“If you say so, but I feel better, now that you’ve arrived.”

“I’m here as your midwife, my dear, so first things first. You’ve had a fright, the murder of one of your servants in your own home. Let’s make sure you and your baby are not in danger.”

As she expressed her gratitude, the baroness showed Serafina to her boudoir, an airy room with a view of the Tyrrhenian Sea, and asked a maid to bring them refreshments. Serafina asked Lucia to lie down on a velvet chaise and took her pulse.

The baroness closed her eyes. “Five boys. Let’s hope this one’s a girl.”

After the examination, Serafina said, “The baby’s dropped, I can see that, and since it’s your sixth, when she decides to arrive, she will be quick. As soon as your water breaks or if you feel any discomfort, send one of the servants for me, no matter the hour.”

“You’re so kind.”

“Where are your other children?”

“Away at school. Ignazio’s idea, not mine.” She frowned. “But I’m glad they weren’t here last night.”

“Of course! And too much excitement for you.” Serafina undid her satchel and brought out a bottle. “A special potion, my mother’s recipe for creating calm during the final days of confinement. Take three spoonfuls twice a day, one in the morning, two at night.”

A maid appeared, carrying a silver tea service and pastries. While she poured, Serafina helped Lucia take a spoonful of the tonic.

The baroness washed it down with a sip of tea. “Horrible, seeing Cecco lying there.”

“Cecco?”

“The butler. Whatever shall I do without him? Such a kind man, so very loving and considerate.” She dabbed at her eyes with a linen. “An orphan, did you know?”

Serafina shook her head.

“Yes. Sent to us from Guardian Angel. We hired him as a footman, but when old Donato died, Cecco took his place. He was the best servant anyone could want. Smart, quiet, never shirked.” The baroness began sobbing, and Serafina gave her a moment before asking, “Did he get along with the other servants?”

She nodded. “With the good ones. Demanding with the others and such a comfort to me. He helped me in the running of the house. The baron leaves me alone so much of time—at his hunting club more often than not—so Cecco and I had many quiet moments together.” She stared at nothing. “And Ignazio hated him from the beginning. Men can be so cruel.”

“Hush now, and finish your tea.” How strange, Serafina thought, the woman seemed more distressed at losing her butler than concerned with the health of her fetus after such a piercing disturbance. She must talk to Rosa. “Is the baron here? I’d like to meet with him, just to reassure him.”

“At his club or out hunting, who knows. Most days, I barely see him.” The baroness blew her nose again.

Serafina took a bite of pastry. “Surely he was here last night when the butler was killed?”

“No, but he arrived in time to speak with Colonna.”

Serafina waited for her to continue.

Lucia pushed away her cup. “Cecco and I had just finished with our evening talk; you know—a butler’s responsible for everything in a big house like this. We’d begun planning for the gala we give each year at our villa in Bagheria.”

“You don’t have a housekeeper who helps you with such things?”

“We used to, but Cecco’s such an organizer and so lovely to be with that I dispensed with her.” She flapped her hand. “A witch of a woman! Always making up to Ignazio. You know how haughty some servants can be.”

Serafina frowned. “Go on.”

“But I’ll remember Cecco forever,” she said, a vacant look in her eyes. “The moon had just risen high in the sky. I remember because Cecco said something about the moon and how it glowed and wasn’t it romantic, and suddenly I heard noises coming from the front hall—a turning of the key in the lock, the creaking of the front door. I thought it must be Ignazio coming home, so Cecco went downstairs to attend to him. My husband had dismissed his valet a while ago, and he often needs assistance when he arrives—unsteady, you know.”

“Your husband drinks?”

She nodded. “Then I heard low voices …” She trailed off, staring into space. “A scuffle, brief silence then the voices grew louder, and then—oh, it was too awful—a shot!”

“The time?”

She shook her head. “How should I know? I remember running down the stairs and, and there he was in the vestibule, my Cecco, twisted, lying next to a potted palm, eyes open. I knew, I knew! I looked outside.”

“Through the window?”

She shook her head. “The front door was open.”

“And you saw?”

“A figure leaping away into the night.”

“Can you describe him?”

Lucia shook her head. “I saw his silhouette, that’s all. He was lit from the side by the gaslight on the walk. He seemed to fly. His cape was outstretched.”

Serafina reached into her bag for a linen and wiped Lucia’s brow. “There were jewels in the butler’s hand?” Why had she asked the question? She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and thought of the slippery nature of truth. “Forgive me, I’d no right to ask.”

“No, I’m glad you did. I feel so much better when I talk about it.” Lucia put a hand on her protruding middle and waited a moment before continuing. “Cecco was lying on the floor. My pearls, the strand given to me on my wedding day, were wound around his fingers. His eyes stared at nothing.” She buried her face in her hands.

Serafina threw her arms around Lucia.

“Who knew I’d be so all alone!” she wailed.

“Except for the other servants. Weren’t they here?”

Lucia did not seem to hear the question. “Now I have no one!”

Serafina rummaged in her bag for another linen, handed it to the woman.

“Would you like to see where it happened?”

“Of course. Then I must leave. I mustn’t meddle in Inspector Colonna’s case.”

After telling a maid to remove the tray and fetch Serafina’s cape, Lucia led her down the main staircase. Plush carpeting cushioned their feet. When they reached the bottom, they walked through marble busts and potted plants to the main hall.

In the center of the floor, Serafina saw a dark stain, small, circular. She pointed to it. “Where you found the butler?”

Lucia nodded.

Serafina opened the front door and examined the lock. She saw no evidence of tampering.

“Was anyone else here when you arrived?”

“I was the first. Two maids and a footman arrived a moment later. Cook’s night off, and the scullery maid stays below stairs. Our driver and a second footman arrived later with Ignazio.”

Serafina reminded herself again that she was intruding on the inspector’s business, but she owed the distraught woman some peace of mind, so she might as well find out as much as she could. She noticed interior doors on either side of the entryway. “Behind those doors?”

“Receiving room’s on one side, Ignazio’s library is on the other.”

“I’d like to talk with the other servants.”

“Please do.” Lucia rang the bell. In a moment, a maid appeared, and the baroness asked her to fetch the servants who were with her last night.

When they arrived, Serafina asked them what they’d seen and heard. They each said they’d run upstairs because they heard a shot and described the scene in detail, matching Lucia’s account. No one noticed the hour.

Serafina turned to Lucia. “You must rest. I’ll leave you now. I’m sure the inspector has made a thorough search.”

The baroness shook her head. “That rogue. He kept calling me, ‘my dear little baroness.’ Impossible, I tell you. First thing he did was grab the pearls out of Cecco’s hand and shove them into his pocket. I hadn’t even closed the poor man’s eyes. I should have said something but, what to say, I wasn’t myself. Uniformed men arrived, and a doctor examined Cecco. Then someone from the paper arrived. I was too stunned, I let him inside—and they took the body away. About that time, Ignazio came in, unsteady on his pins. He told me to go upstairs, he’d finish with the inspector. The last thing I remember, he and Colonna walked into Ignazio’s study.”

“Where do you keep your jewels?”

“In a strongbox in the study.”

“Are all your jewels missing?”

“Not all, an emerald necklace and a few diamonds from India. Ignazio made some arrangements with the inspector. He told me someone would call today and help me make a detailed list of the missing pieces.”

“And has anyone called?”

Lucia shook her head.

Serafina frowned. “Might I see the strongbox?”

Lucia showed her into the study, lifted a stone in front of the hearth. Serafina peered inside and saw a solid brass box. She examined the lock. No sign of tampering.

Serafina put her arm through Lucia’s as they walked out of the study. “Might I speak with the scullery maid? She may have seen or heard something last night.”

A parlor maid escorted Serafina down to the kitchen, a cavernous space below stairs with gleaming pots and pans, double ovens, a slate sink, butcher blocks scattered throughout. The scullery maid, a young girl with curly hair, a winning smile, and raw hands, sat in the corner shining a brass pot. She stood and fumbled with what passed for a curtsey when Serafina entered.

“No, dear lady, I heard nothing last night. Poor Cecco!” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You liked him?”

“We all did.”

Serafina thanked her. On the landing, she turned to the maid and said, “Tell me about the housekeeper.”

The woman stiffened.

“Forgive me, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that I want to ferret out the truth of Cecco’s death.”

The maid ran a hand over her brow. “Please don’t tell anyone—they’d have my job—but I’m worried about the housekeeper.”

“How so?”