No More Brothers (A Serafina Florio Mystery) (12 page)

Lying on the sofa in the sitting room, Totò stuck out his lower lip, turned away from Serafina, and buried his mop of golden curls in his blanket. When she tried to hug him, he squirmed away.

The domestic, who sat rocking in her corner, motioned with her eyes to Serafina. When she bent to listen, Assunta said, “The male twin talks too much. I changed Carmela’s baby and rocked him to sleep. Totò has a chill, nothing much.”

Serafina smiled, patted Assunta’s arm, and whispered her thanks.

She strode back to the sofa and sat next to Totò. “Let me hold you. You’ll feel better.” She heard the ticking of the clock’s pendulum.

After more coaxing, he climbed into Serafina’s lap and she kissed his forehead. As she soothed her son, she felt a heaviness in her limbs. Soon she’d have to explain to Rosa why she couldn’t go. She’d learned a lesson: there were limits to the amount of truth anyone could discover. Besides, the commissioner was satisfied with her work.

A rasping began in her ear. Its inflection sounded like Maddalena’s voice at its most strident. Serafina pulled on an earlobe. The disturbance did not abate.

Presently, Totò quieted. She eased him onto the sofa and was about to go tell Rosa of her change in plans when she heard Carmela’s footsteps in the hall.

“Rosa sent me in to find you.”

“I can’t go. Totò’s ill.”

“You’ve a killer to catch.”

“Not that again!” Carlo said.

Vicenzu turned from his abacus. “I suppose it’s all right with you if her stipend dies and you can’t finish school.”

Carlo’s eyes flicked from side to side. “But these are my free days and I’m left with a mess.”

Carmela glared at her twin as she strode into the sitting room and bent to kiss Totò’s forehead. “He’s fine. Give him to Assunta. She can take him for an ice.”

Totò’s head popped up.

Carmela stomped over to Carlo. “Grow up. And, Mama, you need to go. Now!”

The hissing in Serafina’s ears receded.

A knock on the door. Steps in the hall. A policeman appeared at the edge of the sitting room. All eyes were on him as he stood facing them.

“Badali, here.” He smiled.

“He’s going with us,” Serafina said.

“Rosa’s not taking her guards?” Vicenzu asked.

“Her guards scare bandits on the road. A show of strength, nothing more.” Serafina stood. “I might be gone a few days.”

“Then you’ll need a change of linen. I’ll pack for you.” Carmela raced out, glancing at Badali.

Serafina blew kisses to the room, motioned for the policeman to follow.
Tall, handsome, young. Angle of nose, Roman. Perfect.

“Have you told your wife you might not be coming home tonight?”

“Not married,” Badali said.

Yes, indeed. Perfect!

B
adali rode with the driver. Rosa’s guards surrounded the coach. On their ride to the
cala
, Palermo’s ancient harbor where the admiral’s ship was docked, Serafina told her about finding Ugo’s body on the beach.

The coach wheels bounced over the cobbles. Serafina hung onto a handle as they careened down Via Serpentina. She told Rosa about finding gold and silver in Ugo’s home, catching Abatti at the scene of the crime, and his confession to poisoning then stabbing Ugo.

“Where’s the gold?”

“I’m coming to that.”

They were silent a moment as they swayed into a turn.

The madam shielded her eyes from the glare of the sea. “The most important evidence of all and you leave it for the end, but let me guess. Colonna believes Abatti and you don’t.”

“How did you know?”

The madam chuckled. “Cold cod, the shoemaker. But if Colonna had the gold in his possession and—”

“You’re getting ahead of my story. Now listen.” Serafina told her about her interview with the shoemaker on the day she found Ugo’s body. She spoke of Graziella’s melancholia. She told Rosa about the shoemaker’s shocked reaction at the wake when questioned about the rat poison, about finding a tin of it in his backroom, and finished with the account of the caretaker—that he’d taken the whole family to the station where they’d boarded the train for Bagheria.

“Must be headed for Palermo docks.”

“He didn’t know.”

Rosa was silent for a moment. “Do you have proof that the shoemaker knows Abatti?”

“I remember Abatti bounding down the shoemaker’s steps as I prepared to enter his shop shortly after I found Ugo’s body.”

“Perhaps the soldier bought shoes?”

Serafina canted her eyes in Rosa’s direction.

“A joke. Your word is enough for me. Quick: get back to the gold.”

The madam’s mind is like a trap.
“Colonna plays shady dealings sometimes, but—”

“Sometimes?” Rosa asked. “How much?”

“A chest full of the stuff. The inspector told me he had an understanding with the shoemaker.”

Rosa held onto her hat as the coach rounded another corner. “I’ll bet. Where’s the gold now?”

“According to Colonna, the shoemaker has it.”

The madam rolled her eyes. “Except for Colonna’s generous cut—that’s the ‘understanding’ part. No wonder he swallowed Abatti’s confession.”

“But now the commissioner’s involved. He wants me to question the shoemaker in a more formal setting.”

“No doubt you persuaded him.”

“I reminded him that should fratricide be hinted and our initial investigation appear to be less than thorough, the press might—”

Rosa chuckled. “They’d have a delicious romp.” Her eyes exploded as she turned to Serafina. “What’s this I hear about you and Loffredo?”

S
erafina felt queasy when she stepped on board the admiral’s ship. She presented her identification and asked to see the admiral.

“Not here at the moment, dear lady.”

Rosa spoke up and soon the sailors escorted the group down to his office where the admiral gave her a blustery kiss. She grabbed the admiral’s sleeve, pressing it to her chest. “We depend on you. I know you’ll help.” She turned to Serafina who explained the reason for their visit and requested information regarding the shoemaker’s family who she believed had tickets on a steamer.

“The name of the ship? The date of departure?”

She did not know.

As they waited for his secretary to retrieve the passenger lists, the admiral smiled at Rosa. “Like yesterday and yet so many years have passed. Not a day older, my sweet.”

Serafina looked at Badali and smiled.

It seemed like hours before the underling returned. “Rodolfo Pandolfina, a shoemaker from Oltramari in the province of Palermo, boarded a paddle steamer this afternoon. With him were his wife and two children. Earlier this week, he booked passage on a foreign vessel, the
Aleppo
. Tomorrow afternoon it leaves Messina bound for Liverpool.”

“Why Messina? Palermo’s not good enough for them?” Rosa asked.

The admiral shrugged. “Probably booked tickets for the first available passage.”

Wednesday, February 20, 1867

E
arly the next morning, Rosa’s carriage rolled toward Messina’s harbor. The screeching of the gulls filled Serafina’s ears. Although they had stopped for the night at a comfortable inn on the outskirts, her eyelids felt like shells in rough sand.

As the coach swayed from side to side, so did Serafina’s mind. She wondered if, after all, Carlo had been correct and she was acting to make herself look good in the eyes of the public. Was the shoemaker an innocent man determined to escape the meanness of his present life and create a better world for his family? She shook her head, convinced of his guilt.

They stopped at a promontory overlooking Messina. The harbor was almost as large as the port of Palermo, Serafina thought, and this morning, it bustled. Vendors hawked their wares to crowds gathered around several docked vessels. Wagons carrying trunks moved in all directions. Passengers scurried off paddle steamers lugging their belongings. They called for porters or to family members or stood in long lines for boarding one of several moored ships. For a moment the scene made her breathless.

Badali stood next to her, rumbling on about the difference between a ship and a barque, but she paid no attention. Instead, she marveled at the movement of so many peoples, wondered where they were heading and why. She felt the salt sea air on her face and gazed through mist to the mainland. Listening to the slap of the waves, she pictured for an instant the ancient hag she’d seen last week in Oltramari’s piazza and remembered with amusement Teo’s account of her. The image faded and in its wake, Serafina felt the weight of farewells.

The policeman swung an arm toward the large vessel in front of them. “That’s the one we want, the
Aleppo
.” Its wharf teemed with carts and people. Men working pulleys hoisted large crates into the hold. On deck, the crew busied themselves checking the rigging, rolling barrels, or repairing sails.

Hoards of men and women pushed their way up a crowded plank. As they boarded, two men stopped them. “Checking credentials,” Badali said. Serafina visored her eyes looking for the shoemaker and his family.

“Look over there.” Badali indicated a group of carabinieri close to the stack who appeared to be talking to the ship’s officers. One flapped papers toward the gangplank.

“Let’s get down there,” Rosa said. “Can’t do anything from here. My guards will stay with the carriage.”

They walked for a few meters until Serafina saw an empty cart and asked the driver to take them down to the dock.

He shook his head. “Wharf restricted to passengers.”

Rosa intervened with coins and the cart’s wheels crunched gravel as they made their way down a steep road to the harbor.

“Boarding’s slow today,” one of the workers told them as they walked alongside the line of people waiting to board. “Shouldn’t be taking this long.” He wore a Phrygian cap and drooled in Rosa’s direction.

Without warning, the queue stalled. A moan went up from the line. Squinting up, Serafina saw carabinieri muscling their way down the steps, against the tide of oncoming passengers. Slowly they reached the bottom of the gangplank and clambered onto the wharf a few meters from where Serafina’s group stood.

With a shock, she saw them, the shoemaker and his family, surrounded by the military police. Badali and Serafina inched forward. She heard shouting and saw Graziella holding her baby and railing against her captors. Teo huddled against his father. Like a huge snake slithering away, the other passengers distanced themselves from the altercation.

“Terrible mistake,” Serafina heard Graziella say. Her voice sliced through the air like a bullet.

One of the carabinieri tried to placate her. “Orders are to hold your husband for questioning. Won’t take long and you can be on your way.”

“Take
him
, not us, you idiot!” Graziella rocked back and forth, flung her arms like a wild woman.

“But my dear lady,” the carabiniere began again.

She screamed it now, her arm pointing to her husband. “Take him!”

“Can’t. You’re on the same ticket, madam. ‘Rodolfo Pandolfina, party of four,’ it says.”

Graziella’s face mottled. “Don’t be pigheaded, man! Give
me
the ticket! Take him. He’s the one you want.” She grabbed for the ticket in the officer’s hand.

The shoemaker mopped his brow. “Be reasonable, my dear. Think of the children.”

“Damn you and your reason. That’s all I hear!”

Teo clung to his mother’s sleeve. “It’s all right, Mama. Please don’t shout. Not again, please!”

Graziella jerked herself free from her son’s grasp and spat her words. “Here, make yourself useful.” She thrust the baby into Teo’s arms.

Teo stood for a moment, facing away from his mother, looking out to sea. Slowly he rocked his brother.

Serafina ran to them, enveloped the boy and the baby, and backed away from the shouting to a safe distance. She hugged Teo and the baby to her side until they were buried in her voluminous skirts.

The whole world seemed to still, except for a woman gone mad. Graziella was screaming, her neck raw with congestion. People looked on, frozen.

So swiftly that Serafina thought her mind played its tricks again, Graziella reached into her reticule and withdrew a silver object. She aimed it at her husband and bellowed. He stood fast to the spot, opening and closing his mouth.

“Delayed until I could stand it no longer. Like glue, your mind. Finally! Finally I found someone to kill him. Almost succeeded. Would have, too, but for you.”

Graziella pulled the trigger.

Soft, the sound of the shot, it seemed no louder than a puff of wind.

Rodolfo fell, a blossom of red on his chest.

Graziella put the barrel to her temple.

Another puff of wind.

T
hey were silent as the coach rolled out of Messina. Rosa sat opposite Serafina who held the baby. Teo sat beside her, staring straight ahead.

Rosa told the driver to stop at the inn where they stayed last night. She asked for a wet nurse. They fed the horses and the baby and were off.

In a while, Teo lifted his face to Serafina. “Why?”

She looked at Rosa who said, “Tell him.”

Serafina did. Afterward, she said, “No one has the words to say how much your parents suffered. No one has the words to explain why your mother did what she did. No one has the words to take away your hurt.”

His tears began. Serafina was relieved. Handing the baby to Rosa, she wrapped her arms around the boy and held him so tight that she feared his bones would crack. She prayed to the
Madonna
. She did not interrupt his sobbing. She repeated her account of the event several times on the way home, holding him each time he wept.

Thursday, February 21, 1867

A
splinter of the rising sun bounced off shop windows as she opened Loffredo’s door. The maid was clearing his breakfast. When she saw Serafina, her mouth formed a scorpion’s smile and she scuttled out of the room.