Authors: Victoria Thompson

Murder on Waverly Place (26 page)

BOOK: Murder on Waverly Place

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“How do you know that?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“Couldn’t you tell?” Mrs. Burke asked. “From the way they acted that day? Well, perhaps it wasn’t an argument, but they were both very angry. The look she gave him when he escorted me into the parlor that day could have burned a hole through him, and he returned it in kind.”

“Oh, dear, I’m afraid I didn’t notice a thing,” Mrs. Decker said in dismay.

“There’s no reason you should have,” Mrs. Burke assured her. “But I was the first to arrive that day, and of course I was anxious about seeing Mrs. Gittings. I didn’t know what terrible thing she might say to me about the money.”

“I wonder if Madame Serafina knows what they argued about?” Sarah asked her mother.

“She did say they had disagreed about something,” Mrs. Decker recalled.

“When did you speak to Madame Serafina?” Mrs. Burke asked with interest.

Mrs. Decker smiled. “She’s staying with Sarah until the killer is caught.”

“How wonderful!” Mrs. Burke exclaimed. “Perhaps she could do a sitting for me. I’ve been afraid to go back to the house on Waverly and—”

“Of course, if everyone was holding hands around the table,” Sarah said quickly, diverting her from this disturbing plan, “then no one could have gotten up without someone else knowing it.”

“Which proves that the killer had to be someone else,” Mrs. Decker added.

“Unless . . .” Sarah mused.

“Unless what?” Mrs. Burke asked apprehensively, clutching her handkerchief to her breast.

“Unless the killer was sitting right beside her.”

Mrs. Burke stared at her for a long moment before giving a small cry and fainting dead away.

“
D
O YOU THINK SHE REALLY FAINTED?” SARAH ASKED her mother when they were alone in the carriage and heading back to Sarah’s house. After calling for Mrs. Burke’s maid to attend her, they’d felt obligated to leave rather than upset their reluctant hostess further.

“It’s so difficult to really tell,” Mrs. Decker said with a sigh. “Properly bred young ladies cultivate the art of fainting from childhood just in case the need ever arises. One can never be certain of actually being able to faint at the precise moment it would be most advantageous, so learning how to pretend is essential.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sarah said with disapproval. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

“Exactly,” her mother said. “Most people never do, not really. But when you want to escape a difficult situation, nothing drives tormentors away more quickly than a well-timed swoon.”

“As we just proved,” Sarah sighed. “Would a cold-blooded killer swoon, do you think?”

“I have no idea,” Mrs. Decker said. “But she might very well pretend to, if someone was questioning her about it.”

“So we’re back where we started. I hope Malloy has had more luck than we have today. So far, all we’ve learned is that Mrs. Burke is very upset by Mrs. Gittings’s murder and that talking about it makes her faint, or at least pretend to.”

“We also learned that Mrs. Gittings and the Professor were angry with each other the day she died,” Mrs. Decker reminded her.

“That’s very interesting but hardly helpful. He’s the one person we know couldn’t have been in that room.”

“But if Nicola could have come in through the cabinet, why couldn’t the Professor have done the same thing?”

“Because Nicola would have encountered him, either in the cabinet or in the space behind it. Besides, the Professor is a large man. I can’t imagine him getting through the false door in the back of the cabinet at all, and certainly not without Nicola knowing about it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Mrs. Decker allowed. “So the argument between him and Mrs. Gittings is meaningless.”

“Probably,” Sarah agreed. “But I don’t think we can rule out the possibility that Mrs. Burke is the killer. She did act strangely today.”

“Yes, she did. I don’t suppose I can blame her for detesting Mrs. Gittings. In her place, I’m sure I would have felt the same.”

“I hope you wouldn’t have murdered her, though,” Sarah said with a small smile.

“I hope so, too,” Mrs. Decker said, completely serious. “Of course, I’ve never been in such a desperate situation.”

“What would you have done if Serafina had started giving you messages from Maggie?” Sarah asked, matching her mother’s somber mood.

Her mother looked sharply at Sarah, trying to judge if there was any underlying meaning to the question. “Do you mean would I have been willing to sell my jewelry in order to keep coming back to see her?”

“Yes, since you put it that way. I can’t imagine Father cutting off your funds, but he might very well forbid you to go to another séance. That would force you at least to lie in order to conceal your actions from him. Would you do that?”

Mrs. Decker gave her daughter a pitying glance. “I’ve often told your father what he wanted to hear instead of the truth, which he would not have found so pleasant.”

“I’m sure you have, but have you actually lied to him? Outright lied by telling him you would be in one place when you were, in fact, in another?”

Her mother had to give this some thought. “I don’t think so, not outright lied. But if I were desperate . . .”

“Then you think you could do it?”

“If I thought it was important enough,” Mrs. Decker admitted.

“Would hearing messages from Maggie have been important enough?”

Her mother considered the question for a long moment. “If I truly believed they were from her, then yes, I would have lied without a trace of guilt.”

“Would you have killed?” Sarah pressed her.

Her mother shook her head in disapproval. “Be serious, Sarah.”

“I am being serious. Someone cared enough about something to kill Mrs. Gittings. If we can figure out what it was, we’ll know who did it.”

“Then if you insist, I would have to say no. I don’t think I could kill anyone, no matter the provocation.”

“Then I suppose you’re not the person I should be asking.” Sarah said with another small smile.

“But the others at the table are just like me, aren’t they? They’re all people of privilege whose only real worry in life is whether or not to carry an umbrella when they leave the house or whether they were invited to the most desirable parties.”

“But they were much more . . . I’m not sure what to call it,” Sarah confessed.

“Obsessed?” Mrs. Decker supplied.

“Yes, that’s it. They were obsessed with speaking to the spirits of their loved ones.”

“They were convinced Serafina could contact them.”

Sarah considered this. “Do you think Serafina is really able to contact spirits?”

This time Mrs. Decker smiled ruefully. “When I was sitting in that dark room, holding hands with strangers, it seemed very possible that she could. Certainly, the others believed it with all their hearts, and perhaps that was part of it. But now . . .”

“Now?” Sarah prodded when she hesitated.

“Now that I’ve seen Serafina sitting in your kitchen and looking for all the world like an ordinary girl, I’m no longer as sure.”

Sarah felt an odd sense of relief.

At Sarah’s house, Serafina greeted them at the door, her hope that they had found out something helpful from Mrs. Burke shining heartbreakingly bright on her young face. Sarah quickly shook her head and, in the moment before Catherine descended upon them, managed to say, “She didn’t tell us anything important.”

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.”

BOOK: Murder on Waverly Place

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