Susan Anderson: Murder On The Rue Cassette

Carmela, who’d taken charge of Arcangelo and Teo with the intent of forming a skilled surveillance team, tapped Serafina on the shoulder. “Don’t turn around, but someone’s following us, I’m sure of it. No need to tell Rosa.”

“No need to tell Rosa what,” the madam demanded. “If you refer to those two louts following us, I’ve been watching them ever since they hailed a hansom at the harbor. They’ve been trailing us at a safe distance. And this is the first you’ve noticed them? Arcangelo failed to find the men who were following Fina in Oltramari; the three of you will have to do better in Paris.”

Arms folded, one foot tapping the dusty ground, Carmela opened her mouth to speak, but looked down and kept her mouth shut for a moment before she managed to say, “You’re right, of course.”

Serafina frowned. Rosa had a point, but what had she expected? Her assistants consisted of her children and a stableboy, not exactly experts in the art of detection. And there hadn’t been enough time to teach them more than what they knew naturally of stealth.

“We’ll do better, I promise,” Carmela said.

Serafina smiled at her daughter. “Are there two men, average in height, the taller of the two wearing a dark cloak, and the other, a leather jerkin and cap?”

Carmela nodded.

“The same two who followed you in Oltramari?” Rosa asked.

Serafina shrugged. “As you pointed out, Teo and Arcangelo didn’t have luck finding them.” She swallowed and tried to keep her voice from trembling. She considered for a moment, her head pounding. Who would want her followed? “Let’s slow down,” she said, “and think this through. We’ve been rushing ever since Friday morning.”

“In Oltramari, the shadows could have been anywhere in town, but we didn’t have time for a proper search,” Carmela said. “On the ship we spent every waking moment trying to find them. Unless they were squirreled in by the crew, they weren’t onboard, I’m sure of it. We scoured every hold.”

“Then how did they get here?” Rosa asked.

“There could be two different sets of men, two different people paying them,” Carmela said.

Serafina looked at the sky and told herself to remain calm. “We need to confront them. You know what to do.”

Carmela nodded and snapped her fingers. In seconds Arcangelo and Teo appeared. “How much time do we have?”

Serafina looked at her watch. “Twenty-five minutes, and I’ll want to talk with the men, at the very least, listen to their speech and find out what sort of thugs we’re dealing with.”

“Can I go, too?” Tessa asked. “All I’m doing is sitting around with you two.”

The madam’s first response was to refuse and there was a row, stomping feet and raised voices. Onlookers became interested. But when Carmela said that Tessa could help with a diversionary tactic she’d been thinking of using, Rosa relented.

Rosa and Serafina found a bench near the entrance and sat enjoying the warmth of the morning sun. If Paris was as delightful as Marseille, their stay would have its rewards. A young girl selling carnations came over to them and Rosa bought two, gave one to Serafina and pinned the other on herself. A breeze from the harbor brought the sharp scent of fish.

Serafina shielded her eyes with her hand and looked into the center of the square where the two shadows leaned against a statue as if in conversation, their attention momentarily arrested by Carmela and Tessa who just happened to be strolling past the men.

All at once the cap flew off one of the men and there was a cloud of dust. Instantly, he bent over, clutching his ear. His companion ran to him, looking over his shoulder at Serafina and Rosa as they approached.

“I saw you both in Oltramari yesterday. Your cover is infantile. What do you think you’re doing?” Serafina asked.

“We’re here for your protection,” one of the men said in a thick accent as his companion wiped the blood from his ear.

“I don’t believe you. Who’s paying you?”

“Can’t tell you who he is, the boss’ll have my hide if you find out. Been in danger many times and you’ve pulled through, thanks to us, so you ought to be grateful.”

“Nonsense, we owe you nothing,” Rosa said. “But I recognize your friend with the ear. I’ve seen him in the piazza talking to old soldiers.” The journey through choppy waters had been tiring and they still had a long train ride ahead.

They stared at Serafina but made no move to leave.

“You can go home and tell your boss that we don’t need your protection. Leave now or I’ll call the police.”

They watched them disappear. So they were Palermitans, their clothes too good to be friends of Don Tigro who had peasants from Oltramari working for him.

“Are they Inspector Colonna’s men?” Rosa asked.

Serafina shook her head. “He has nothing to gain.”

“Perhaps a bribe when you return? I can hear him now. ‘If it weren’t for my men protecting you, you’d have failed.’ Never forget how crooked the fat inspector can be,” Rosa said. “And there’s something comic about those two.”

“They’re unprofessional, that’s for sure, but I fail to see the humor. And they’re deflecting us from our task, so they do cause harm.” Serafina said nothing more, but thought they might be hired by Busacca who was having her shadowed, not so much for protection-he would have mentioned them-but for information. But why would he do that? She’d promised to send him a report of her progress at the end of each week. She considered some more and concluded Busacca did not trust her. He was a businessman protecting his interests. She couldn’t blame him. After all, she and Loffredo were lovers and he knew it. He’d hired her on the strength of her reputation for finding killers. She relaxed.

In a few minutes, Carmela and her group appeared.

Rosa hugged Tessa and told her how good she was. “A little actress.”

Serafina said nothing more about the men. They were harmless enough now, perhaps comical as Rosa suggested, but she feared they might cause harm in the future.

Serafina watched the landscape speed by from their first-class compartment, the view blurred by steam and the strong rays of the setting sun. Unlike the Italian landscape which was craggy one moment and breathtakingly beautiful the next, the French countryside seemed all of a piece as the train sped through fields of grain and apple orchards with mountains in the distance. The land was peaceful, the contours undulating, and yet there was something mysterious about it. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was if they rode across a great stage where nothing was real. Yes, that was it, the French panorama seemed too good to be true, created by a designer who understood that style, if displayed to perfection, could be alive and arresting, could be an expression of a nation’s soul.

They were rolling at top speed but it seemed as though nothing moved. The train arced and dipped slightly through planted fields, the acreage vast, the sun a glowing ball sinking toward the horizon. Peasants bent to their work and a farmer tilled his land with a plow pulled by four horses while above them, large winged creatures soared and dipped, their underbellies catching the last rays of the day.

The clack of the wheels, the sway of the car lulled her into a mindless state. She tried to picture the dead Elena and the streets of Paris as she, remembered them, all the while ordering in her mind the steps she must take to find the killer. She looked at her watch pin. They were to arrive at the Gare de Lyon in a few hours. She was sick of the train’s lurching movement, but at least it was the last leg of the trip. She watched Rosa seated opposite her swaying on plush seats and rubbed her eyes, trying to calculate the distance they’d traveled in less than three days, close to fifteen hundred kilometers, most of it by steamer.