Death Of A Sad Face (A Serafina Florio Mystery) Read Free

together.” She stared at nothing. “And Ignazio hated him from the beginning. Men can be so cruel.”
    “Hush now, and finish your tea.” How strange, Serafina thought, the woman seemed more distressed at losing her butler than concerned with the health of her fetus after such a piercing disturbance. She must talk to Rosa. “Is the baron here? I’d like to meet with him, just to reassure him.”
    “At his club or out hunting, who knows. Most days, I barely see him.” The baroness blew her nose again.
    Serafina took a bite of pastry. “Surely he was here last night when the butler was killed?”
    “No, but he arrived in time to speak with Colonna.”
    Serafina waited for her to continue.
    Lucia pushed away her cup. “Cecco and I had just finished with our evening talk; you know—a butler’s responsible for everything in a big house like this. We’d begun planning for the gala we give each year at our villa in Bagheria.”
    “You don’t have a housekeeper who helps you with such things?”
    “We used to, but Cecco’s such an organizer and so lovely to be with that I dispensed with her.” She flapped her hand. “A witch of a woman! Always making up to Ignazio. You know how haughty some servants can be.”
    Serafina frowned. “Go on.”
    “But I’ll remember Cecco forever,” she said, a vacant look in her eyes. “The moon had just risen high in the sky. I remember because Cecco said something about the moon and how it glowed and wasn’t it romantic, and suddenly I heard noises coming from the front hall—a turning of the key in the lock, the creaking of the front door. I thought it must be Ignazio coming home, so Cecco went downstairs to attend to him. My husband had dismissed his valet a while ago, and he often needs assistance when he arrives—unsteady, you know.”
    “Your husband drinks?”
    She nodded. “Then I heard low voices …” She trailed off, staring into space. “A scuffle, brief silence then the voices grew louder, and then—oh, it was too awful—a shot!”
    “The time?”
    She shook her head. “How should I know? I remember running down the stairs and, and there he was in the vestibule, my Cecco, twisted, lying next to a potted palm, eyes open. I knew, I knew! I looked outside.”
    “Through the window?”
    She shook her head. “The front door was open.”
    “And you saw?”
    “A figure leaping away into the night.”
    “Can you describe him?”
    Lucia shook her head. “I saw his silhouette, that’s all. He was lit from the side by the gaslight on the walk. He seemed to fly. His cape was outstretched.”
    Serafina reached into her bag for a linen and wiped Lucia’s brow. “There were jewels in the butler’s hand?” Why had she asked the question? She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and thought of the slippery nature of truth. “Forgive me, I’d no right to ask.”
    “No, I’m glad you did. I feel so much better when I talk about it.” Lucia put a hand on her protruding middle and waited a moment before continuing. “Cecco was lying on the floor. My pearls, the strand given to me on my wedding day, were wound around his fingers. His eyes stared at nothing.” She buried her face in her hands.
    Serafina threw her arms around Lucia.
    “Who knew I’d be so all alone!” she wailed.
    “Except for the other servants. Weren’t they here?”
    Lucia did not seem to hear the question. “Now I have no one!”
    Serafina rummaged in her bag for another linen, handed it to the woman.
    “Would you like to see where it happened?”
    “Of course. Then I must leave. I mustn’t meddle in Inspector Colonna’s case.”
    After telling a maid to remove the tray and fetch Serafina’s cape, Lucia led her down the main staircase. Plush carpeting cushioned their feet. When they reached the bottom, they walked through marble busts and potted plants to the main hall.
    In the center of the floor, Serafina saw a dark stain, small, circular. She pointed to it. “Where you found