Susan Anderson - Death of a Serpent

Rosa asked, “This ‘opportunity.’ What do you mean?”

“We’ve touched on it.”

“Well, touch on it again.” Rosa said.

Serafina drank the last of her caffè. “Ave Maria’s wagon made it all fall into place. The ragpicker’s cart gave her opportunity to be here, to be there, to fetch, to carry, to costume.”

The madam shook her head. “Too much. We’ll be here all morning.”

Colonna appeared dumbfounded. He shifted in his chair. “The people are proud of you, Donna Fina,” he said. “And you too, Rosa. A writer from Giornale Di Sicilia called on the mayor the other day asking for your addresses. Doubtless he’ll want to interview you both.”

Serafina asked, “So I take it the case is closed, the killings solved as far as you are concerned, even though there are still unknowns, especially surrounding Lola’s death? No note and you still say it’s a suicide?”

Again the inspector shrugged. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. “No need for you ladies to be present at the hearing. Before she took her life, Lola signed a confession. She admitted killing five women.”

“It was six, that I know of,” Serafina said. “Gemma, Nelli, Bella, Eugenia, Gusti, Rosalia.”

He shrugged again.

“Gross incompetent,” Rosa muttered.

After he left, the madam said, “Why couldn’t I see it? She had moods you know, my Lola, terrible and deep. And yet she was an angel sometimes, so loving, so droll. But she wanted to take over my house. A devil disguised as a monk.”

“What about me? I’m the wizard, remember? You handed me the truth about her in the beginning.” Serafina reached into her reticule, brought out the notebook, flipped to the right page and read, “’My Lola, she can do anything when she wants.’ I should have asked you what you meant by ‘when she wants.’ I should have taken more time questioning the women. I knew they were hiding something from me, probably from themselves. It took me too long to discover.”

“Took me long enough to see. Took you long enough to decide, slow and pokey as usual. But you found the killer in less than three weeks. Your plan was brilliant. Shimmering fantasy. And you have your daughter back. Time to move on.”

“No thanks to you!”

“That threadbare argument again?” Rosa said. “Give it up, Fina.”

Serafina made baroque circles in the air. “This house, the whole thing. Too much for you. We are women of a certain age now.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“And I have a plan,” Serafina said. “You sell the business to Scarpo. Buy the villa next to ours.”

Rosa opened her mouth, but Serafina continued. “Picture it. A sunny day. You sleep till noon, waking to Maria’s Brahms wafting through the window. Renata runs over with a tray of pastries for your breakfast. Vicenzu’s medicinal recipes settle your stomach. In the afternoon, you have a fitting for a new wardrobe created to your specifications by the House of Giulia while your gardens are primped by Carmela. Totò helps Tessa milk your goat. Dr. Carlo fixes your every pain. And the best of all, I promise to invent intrigue upon intrigue for us to solve. See what happens when you give Tessa a proper life?”

Rosa gestured to the door. “Out! Now! But what’s wrong with your eyes? You haven’t seen the carts passing in and out of the gate next to your door? The carpenters? The stone masons? The gardeners?”

Serafina shook her head.

“And you, a wizard? Tessa and I move in tomorrow.”