Susan Anderson - Death Of A Sad Face

Lately, life had been filled with dead bodies, and she wasn’t in the mood for another one. First, it was her husband’s death over two years ago, followed by a bloody uprising in town, and a slew of other killings, too many to count. Most of all, she remembered the look on the faces of those weighted with sudden loss. Teo’s eyes swam into view.

She worried about them, Teo and his baby brother, ever since their arrival for a stay of indefinite duration, and hadn’t anticipated the difficulty her children had in accepting the newcomers. Maria, especially. Perhaps Serafina should have sent Teo and his brother to the orphanage like her friends advised, but after the horror they’d witnessed and her involvement in the case, she couldn’t abandon those two boys, just couldn’t do it. Her older children had welcomed them. Vicenzu, the son who now ran the family pharmacy, saw another pair of willing hands. No, it was Maria, her youngest daughter, who’d not welcomed the pair. Come to think of it, ever since Serafina had begun her sleuthing, she’d felt the heft of Maria’s spirits. Vicenzu said she was imagining trouble-the household would settle of its own accord soon enough-but she doubted it. She must spend more time with them, but how could she? The family needed the extra stipend her sleuthing fetched, and detecting required time away from home, lots of it, whole swaths of days when her mind did nothing but ruminate. And so, when she was home, she wasn’t there for her children, not really. Oh, it was all too much of a muddle.

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 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?”