Victoria Thompson - Murder On Waverly Place

“Was she willing to let the girl go for a price?” Frank asked, remembering what the Gittings woman had offered Cunningham.

“Absolutely not. She was getting rich from the business, and she wasn’t going to let Madame Serafina go.”

Frank nodded. Sharpe could probably easily afford to meet the price she’d quoted Cunningham, and he wouldn’t have fallen for some phony investment scheme. No, he would be far more dangerous, so she’d have to refuse him outright. “Didn’t you try to convince Madame Serafina to leave her anyway?”

“Of course I did, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said she owed everything to Mrs. Gittings, and she couldn’t leave her.”

“That’s touching,” Frank observed, earning a glare from Sharpe.

“Touching or not, she refused my offer, and nothing I said could convince her.”

“You were sitting right next to Mrs. Gittings at the séance, weren’t you?”

Instantly, Sharpe was back on guard again. “I already told you that.”

“Did you notice anything strange during the séance?”

“Do you mean did I know someone stabbed her to death?” he replied sarcastically. “No, I did not.”

“She didn’t cry out or jerk or squeeze your arm or-”

“No, I told you. I didn’t notice anything until she let go of my wrist and fell to the floor.”

“And you’re sure nobody else was in the room besides the people at the table?”

“No,” Sharpe said, annoyed again. “I told you, no one else was there.”

“Then how do you think the boy killed her, if he wasn’t in the room?” Frank asked with a puzzled frown.

Sharpe gaped at him in surprise. “I… The Professor said… I suppose he must have gotten in somehow,” he tried.

“How?” Frank asked, genuinely curious. “Was it a parlor trick, do you think?”

“No, of course not,” Sharpe said impatiently.

“Then how did he do it? Everybody said no one was in the room when they got there, and no one could come in by the door without everyone seeing him. So how did he get in to kill her? You see, that’s the first thing they’ll ask at his trial, and I have to have an answer.”

Sharpe rubbed his forehead as if it ached. “I don’t… He must have been hiding somewhere.”

“Where?” Frank asked with interest.

“I… In the cabinet,” he finally remembered. “He could have been hiding in there.”

“Didn’t you check it when you came into the room?” Frank asked.

“No, why should I?” Sharpe asked, defensive now. “I told you, Madame Serafina never used cheap parlor tricks.”

“Is that what the cabinet is for, parlor tricks?”

“I have no idea,” he insisted.

“Why was it there, then?”

Sharpe sighed in exasperation. “Some spiritualists use them. They climb inside and ask someone to tie them up. Then when the so-called spirits appear, everyone thinks they must be real because the spiritualist is tied up inside the cabinet.”

“Are you saying this is some kind of trick?”

“Naturally it’s a trick. The spiritualist knows how to hold her hands in such a way that even the tightest knots will fall off when she relaxes them. Then she is free to move around the room in the dark during the séance and pretend to be a spirit. Sometimes they even pretend to materialize and let everyone see them. And when the séance is over, they find the spiritualist still securely tied up in the cabinet because she’s slipped the ropes back on.”

Frank nodded, impressed. “But Madame Serafina never did that,” he guessed.

“No, I told you, she didn’t have to use tricks.”

“What if I told you the police checked the cabinet after the séance, and it was empty?”

“I’d say the boy had sneaked out while we were all in the parlor.”

Frank nodded sagely. “Do you think any of the other people at the séance could have killed Mrs. Gittings?”

He found this suggestion absurd. “What on earth for?”

“Some people didn’t like her,” Frank confided. “Even you didn’t like her.”

“I detested her, but that’s not reason enough to kill her.”

“She was keeping Madame Serafina a prisoner,” Frank reminded him. “She was using her like a pimp.”

Sharp stiffened in outrage. “How dare you!”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? She was selling the girl’s talents and keeping the money. You just wanted to get her away from all that.”

“Any honorable man would have done the same thing!”

“Of course he would,” Frank agreed. “But the girl wouldn’t leave, would she? That must have made you angry.”

“I was furious, but there was nothing I could do short of kidnapping her!”

“You could have killed Mrs. Gittings,” Franks suggested.

For a moment, Sharpe just stared at him in stunned silence, until the fact that Frank had just accused him of murder finally sank in. Then he lunged to his feet, his face nearly purple with rage. “Get out of here!” he bellowed. “Get out of here right now!”

Frank rose, betraying not the slightest hint of anxiety. He tucked his notebook and pencil back into his coat pocket and started for the door. He stopped when he reached it and turned back. “Should I tell Madame Serafina that you asked about her?”

He watched the emotions play across the other man’s face. His concern for the girl finally won out, and he reined in his outrage with difficulty. “When will she be returning to Waverly Place?”

“I don’t know,” Frank said quite truthfully. “But I can ask her to send you word when she does.”

Sharpe looked as if he were swallowing broken glass, but he said, “Thank you.”

Frank managed not to smile. At least Sharpe wouldn’t be storming down to Police Headquarters and demanding his head. Not yet, anyway.

SARAH DIDN’T LIKE LEAVING SERAFINA ALONE WITH JUST Maeve and Catherine to watch her. She might very well decide to sneak off and find Nicola and disappear forever. But as Maeve had pointed out to her when they’d discussed it in whispers this morning while Serafina was still upstairs, Serafina could easily have sneaked out during the night if she’d wanted to. So when Mrs. Decker’s carriage rattled down Bank Street, Sarah bade all the girls good-bye and joined her mother inside it.

“I suppose we should discuss what we want to ask Mrs. Burke,” Sarah’s mother said when they’d exchanged greetings.

“You can leave that part to me,” Sarah assured her.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Mrs. Decker asked with more than a touch of dismay.

“You are supposed to express your horror at the murder and sympathize with Mrs. Burke’s feelings and basically convince her we’re only there to offer our condolences on her ordeal and to gossip about it, just the way society ladies always do.”

“Really, Sarah, you make us sound like ghouls.”

“Not at all, Mother. I’m sure you hardly ever have the opportunity to gossip about a murder that took place before your very eyes.”

“I wish it had taken place before my very eyes,” Mrs. Decker said with a sigh. “Finding the killer would be so much easier!”

By the time they reached the Burke home, Sarah had given her mother numerous possible topics to use in conversation with Mrs. Burke while Sarah looked for an opening to ask the questions she really wanted to ask.

But when the maid answered the door, she informed them that Mrs. Burke was indisposed and not receiving visitors at present. Sarah was already turning to leave when Mrs. Decker said, “Nonsense. She’ll see us, I’m sure. Take my card up to her and ask.”

The poor girl looked horrified and stared at Mrs. Decker’s calling card as if it were a snake. Apparently, she’d never encountered a visitor rude enough to challenge her mistress’s will.