Susan Anderson - No More Brothers

“You’ve done your best,” Vicenzu muttered. “Give it up.”

After Ugo’s requiem, the mourners processed to the cemetery for the burial. Altar boys swung censers. The choir sang In Paradisum . Serafina squinted into bright sun, looking for the shoemaker and his wife so she could offer her final condolences, perhaps ask him a question or two while she had him backed into a corner.

She turned to Carlo. “Something’s not right. Where’s Rodolfo? Graziella?

“Not here. So why are we still in line-to kiss the priest?”

She told her sons she needed to buy something from the grocer’s.

Vicenzu looked at her.

“Something personal. Even a mother needs her privacy.”

He grinned-so unlike Vicenzu.

“Go home without me. Eat if I’m not back.”

When they were out of sight, she picked up her pace. She hurried past the apothecary shop and knocked on the shoemaker’s front door.

No answer.

She peered inside. Empty.

Her stomach knotted.

Lifting her skirts, she went around to the back. Motes of dust swam in the late morning sun. The stable was empty. No evidence of life except for a wizened man in straw hat and apron who emerged from one of the stalls, mopping his face with a bandana. He called himself the caretaker.

“I came to see Graziella.”

“Not here.”

“Do you know when she’ll return?”

He stared at the ground. “No harm in telling you, but keep it to yourself.”

She waited.

He removed his hat and bowed. “Not here, dear lady.”

“The shoemaker?”

He stepped closer to her. One eye wandered. “Whole family’s gone, but like I say, not a word.”

“Of course.”

“Took the lot of them this morning to the station.”

“Where?”

“Boarded the train for Bagheria.”

“When will they return, do you know?”

The caretaker shrugged. “Locked up the house, the shop, everything.”

“Are they visiting relatives in the north, perhaps?”

“Couldn’t say.”

“Couldn’t or won’t.”

“Like I say, they’re gone.”

She stood, trying to take in his words.

“But when? Rodolfo attended his brother’s funeral today. I saw him and his wife walking behind the coffin.”

He shook his head. “Nope. The domestic and her husband stood in for them.”

“But I was sure I saw Graziella. Wore a veil of mourning over a big hat?” She gestured haloes around her head to indicate a wide brim.

He lowered his voice and spoke to her as if she had a distemper. “The shoemaker asked me to take them to the station this morning. Cart was creaking with the load. All their belongings. Gave me nice coins for my trouble, I can tell you. Threw in the mule and trap. Asked me to guard the house and stables.”

“How long?”

The man closed his eyes. “No returns, dear lady, no returns. Told me not to tell anyone, but like I say, no harm in telling you.”

She ranged around the piazza, oblivious to everything around her, mentally ordering all that she knew into neat piles before heading for the Municipal Building.

Without knocking, she stuck her head in Colonna’s office. He was busy dunking a biscuit in and out of his coffee.

“First it was only a burr on the edge of my understanding, but now, finally, I’m convinced that Rodolfo planned Ugo’s murder and hired Abatti to do the deed.”

He flapped his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. “Again?”

“Hear me out!” Rodolfo and his family had fled. There was a chance she could still catch them if she hurried, and here she sat, trying to convince this oaf of an inspector. Why? Even the commissioner told Serafina not to bother with Colonna, but just this one, final time, she must try.

To her surprise, Colonna sat up, folded his hands, and seemed attentive. “All right, let’s hear it.”

“No interruptions?”

“You know me.”

She rubbed her temples. “Several years ago, the shoemaker purchased arsenic trioxide from the apothecary shop. I found a tin of it in his backroom.”

“And that proves?”

“That Rodolfo had the means to poison his brother.”

“But I’ve purchased rat poison from Giorgio. Does that make me a murderer?”

She bit her tongue. “And now the shoemaker’s taken flight-damning evidence of his guilt.”

“Means nothing. Look around and you’ll see whole families disappear in the middle of the night. Rodolfo’s business turns sour; he thinks he sees verdant pastures; he leaves. His ‘flight,’ as you call it, has nothing to do with his brother’s murder.”

She blew a stray curl off her forehead.

“I must admit, your arguments are persuasive.” Colonna leaned back in his chair and folded his fingers over his stomach. “But tell me, why are you so sure Rodolfo knew the Abatti?”

“Boffo told me that he’d seen Rodolfo with a faded soldier.”

Colonna shook his head. “How many faded soldiers did you pass in the piazza today?”

With that, Serafina realized she would never convince him. She rose from her chair.

Stopped. Felt the missing piece click into place. “Of course! How could I have forgotten?”

“Forgotten what?” a voice asked behind her.

She turned and saw the commissioner leaning against the doorjamb.

“Go on, don’t mind me.”

So much for Colonna’s rapt attention.

She faced the inspector. “Thank you.”

Colonna’s smile was broad. “Anytime, my dear.”

“No. Truly, I mean it. Thank you. Your questions dislodged a memory-something I’d forgotten-the image of Abatti pounding down the shoemaker’s steps, brushing my shoulder as I prepared to enter the shoemaker’s shop on the day I found Ugo’s body. He had the Marsala Medal in his hand.”

There was a momentary silence.

Colonna sighed. “Long gone, that medal, I’m afraid.”

“Splendid work, Dona Fina. Both of you,” the commissioner said. “We’d be fools to press charges just yet, but there’s enough circumstantial evidence to take the shoemaker in for questioning.” He looked at Colonna. “Do we have men to assist her?”

He shook his head. “Most are on loan to the city of Catania. Only three here and I need them by my side.”

The commissioner shook his head. “You can spare Badali. Send for him.”

“Tell Badali to meet me at home.” Serafina looked back at the commissioner as she rushed down the hall and waved.

The sun was at its zenith as Serafina crossed the piazza on her way to Rosa’s. She quickened her pace.

Tart experience taught her that the only way to handle Rosa was to start talking immediately and to use the most important word first. Serafina knew she’d have at most three short sentences in which to galvanize the madam into action before she lost Rosa’s attention.

She rehearsed while opening the gate. When her head was clear and her breathing softer, she ran up the steps and into Rosa’s front office where the madam sat behind her desk, whispering to stacks of coins and writing numbers into her precious ledger.

Rosa looked up and opened her mouth.

But before she could speak, Serafina began. “Lucre was behind the shoemaker’s plan to kill his brother. This morning he and his family fled. We must stop them.”

Rosa pulled the cord. When a maid appeared, she said, “Tell the driver to ready the coach and meet me in front. Be quick!” She pulled Serafina with her.

“Where are we going?”