Murder On The Rue Cassette (A Serafina Florio Mystery) (33 page)

“No doubt they’ve always been up
to no good,” Loffredo said.

“A bad seed from the time he was
two, Sophie, his mother said of her oldest son.”

Serafina stared at Valois, then
lost herself for a moment while she considered something.

“More about Sophie in a moment,”
Valois said.

“Back to their involvement with
Elena,” Serafina said, glancing up, glad to see that Rosa and Françoise were in
the middle of a conversation about something or other, doubtless having to do
with Tessa’s painting ability—Rosa, the campaigner.

“Elena approached Beniamino and
asked him to help her disappear. She chose well. She and Beniamino were first
cousins and kindred souls. We’ve had our eye on him for a while. He’s been
involved in thievery, extortion, fraud, minor crimes.”

“Perhaps to you, but not to me,”
Loffredo said, wrapping his arm around Serafina’s waist.

Valois smiled and continued.
“Together the photographer and Beniamino helped Elena fake her own death.

“How?”

“Seems the photographer knew a
guard at Prison Saint-Lazare. Are you familiar with it?”

Serafina shook her head.

“You will be, I fear.
Confiscated from the Lazarists during the Reign of Terror in 1793, it was
turned into a keep for women by Napoleon. It’s a large prison with an
all-female population on the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis. For the most part,
the women are well-treated. The prisoners don’t think so, of course—they
call it ‘Saint-Lago’. But the first offenders and those awaiting trial are
allowed to rent large cells. They have maid service and special food.”

Loffredo closed his eyes.

“In one wing, prostitutes are
medically treated for crimes against the city’s sanitary laws, namely for
having a venereal disease. In this city, street women must pass a physical exam
every month. If they fail, they’re rounded up and taken to Prison
Saint-Lazare.”

“And how does this guard fit
into the ...” Serafina stopped herself, suddenly understanding. “That’s where
they found the woman to take Elena’s place.”

“Exactly.”

Serafina’s feet grew cold. “But
I thought she was an acquaintance of Gaston.”

“Perhaps she was at one time. Or
she became a symbol to him, I’m not sure. A ready scapegoat, someone he could
blame for his disease. Don’t forget, we are dealing with diseased minds,
desperate souls,” Valois said.

“Prostitutes are always made the
scapegoats, no?” Serafina asked.

Loffredo and Valois looked at
each other and shrugged.

“Syphilis is a terrible disease,
and because of it, the European populations are thinning out,” Loffredo said.
“Especially German and French males.”

“Venereal disease and war,”
Valois said.

“So to continue,” Serafina said.

“Most of the women are cared for
by an order of nuns and are given good care. As you can imagine, the female
prison population can be a rough lot, foul-mouthed and ungrateful. The nuns put
up with insults, salty language. Their lives are not easy. But this guard
watched
les cachots
,
the cells housing those in solitary confinement, and according to their plan,
he promised one of these women, a desperate prostitute, freedom in exchange for
a small favor. All she had to do was deliver a package to a woman in the Rue
Cassette. Thrilled by the prospect of being free, she agreed. And so in the early
morning hours of April 16, the guard led her out through the prison courtyard,
threw her into a wagon used for transporting the women, and drove her to the
Rue Cassette, releasing her steps from where Elena and Gaston waited.”

“Terrible,” Loffredo said.

Valois nodded.

“How much did Elena pay?”
Serafina asked.

“In return for finding the
woman, Elena paid Beniamino a sum of two million francs, but asked for IOUs to
explain the withdrawal, should her father ever question it.”

“And that’s where the IOUs come
in,” Serafina said.

“Right. Since Beniamino wanted
to hurt his youngest brother, he created IOUs totaling two million francs, but
signed them with his brother’s name.”

“Nice brother.”

“How is it that children from
one family can be so different?” Serafina asked.

“You don’t want to hear my
answer,” Valois said.

“I’ve heard your answer, and I
don’t believe it. I believe we can all grow, make amends, and change.”

Loffredo nodded.

“Some of the rest of the story
you know. When we discovered the body, I asked our photographer to record the
event. Later he stole the prints and the plates. What you don’t know is that he
presented them to Beniamino and was paid his fee. And bad seed that he was,
Beniamino pleaded with Ricci to hide the plates and photos in the store he
managed on Rue du Mont-Parnasse.”

“The beast. And Sophie knew of
this plan?”

“She denies having any knowledge
of the plan to obtain the woman, but there are discrepancies in her story. In
the end, we know she agreed to the fraud and was happy to take her share of the
two million francs. But along with her son, the photographer, and the prison
guard, she will be tried for conspiracy and murder. As of now. She’s an old
woman, going blind. I doubt she’ll be made to live out her days in prison. The
jury will have mercy.”

“How could she not know about
the plan to procure a woman of the streets?” Serafina asked.

“Blinded by greed?”

“What about Gaston?”

He shook his head. “The four
men—Beniamino, the photographer, the guard, and Gaston—are held
without bail in Prison de Mazas, accused of conspiring to murder. For now
Sophie’s in Prison Saint-Lazare.”

“And Busacca knows all this?”

“Perhaps not everything. He
knows his sister awaits trial for her part in the murder and attempted fraud.
But our case is weak. We are certain she knew about the murder of the woman,
but she hasn’t admitted it. She has a large cell separated from the rest of the
inmates for which she pays seven or eight francs a month. The nuns take good
care of her and listen to her sobbing tale, but there she is.”

“I must visit her,” Serafina
said.

“I hoped you’d say that.
Permission has been granted.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip
of paper. “I’ll be interested to hear what you find out.”

She heard Maria’s piano wafting
down from above and wrinkled her brow. “It’s not Scarlatti.”

“Saint-Saëns, perhaps,” Loffredo
said. “A French composer, anyway.”

They were interrupted by the
butler carrying a silver tray followed by Renata and two maids carrying the
café, profiteroles, and cannoli.

“Upstairs all of you, or you’ll
miss the
glace au four
!” Renata said.

Chapter
44: Prison Saint-Lazare

Serafina paid the driver and looked up at Prison
Saint-Lazare, a mammoth gothic structure converted to a women’s prison in the
beginning of the century. She walked up to the front door and rang the bell,
feeling her stomach do somersaults, coming to rest on her bones. After
presenting her papers to the porter, Serafina was ushered into a small waiting
room. She looked at the drab walls and the plain furniture, the shutters on the
window, the crucifix on the wall, and decided Sophie was in a warm place in the
prison, well cared for by the sisters of Marie-Joseph.

“Why are you here?” Sophie asked
after she was guided into the room and helped to her seat by a nun. The old
lady’s sight had diminished in the few short weeks since Serafina first met
her.

“Because I have questions and
you’re the only one who has the courage to answer them.”

Sophie scoffed, but for the
first time looked at Serafina.

“The first time I met you, you
spoke of your oldest son, Beniamino.”

Sophie looked away.

There was silence. It filled the
room, the corners, the crevices in the worn floorboards and stretched beyond
the prison’s gates to the world outside where all street noise for the moment
seemed to stop. Serafina’s heart thudded against the walls of her chest. She
must not fail, she must find the truth, and she believed this woman was the
key.

“Do you know where Beniamino is?
Last time we spoke of him, you mentioned the south of France.”

Sophie worked her mouth back and
forth, but made no reply.

“Why did you encourage Elena to
feign her death?”

Sophie straightened. She opened
her mouth, but closed it again, moved her jaw from side to side. She said
nothing.

Again Serafina remained still,
aware of the how the sun oozed from behind the window shade and made pools of
light on the walls and floor. She stared at Sophie, letting silence do its
work.

“She was my niece and she needed
help, asked for it. We gave it.”

“We?”

Sophie said nothing.

“We’ve had a cool spring, at
least compared to Oltramari.”

Sophie’s laugh was a bark.
“Sweltered most days in Oltramari. I was a girl and had servants to fan me
then. Here, you see, the temperature is milder, but wait until the winter.
You’ll freeze.”

“The nuns take good care of
you.”

She nodded.

“You were the brains behind it,
weren’t you? I see your brilliance upon this whole affair.”

Silence. Serafina looked at her
watch. She was allotted twenty minutes and had used five and was nowhere near
the core of what Sophie knew.

“Why?”

“Because Beniamino has no
inkling, not the faintest idea of how to run a business or how to grasp what he
does not have.”

“None of your business,” Sophie
said.

“When you were a girl in
Oltramari, did you ever dream you’d land in Paris with a husband and three
sons?”

“Are you here to chat?”

“Chatting, passing the
time—that’s what you’re doing with me. You played them all for fools, but
you can’t fool me. And finding the brains behind the disappearance of Elena
Loffredo is my business,” Serafina said. “Anything concerning Elena is my
business. She’s caused me endless trouble. She’s been a thorn in my side for
over thirty years. So now I want to understand how you decided to help her fake
her death.”

Serafina watched Sophie’s hands
grasp each other and twist.

“When she came to you,
distraught and with child, she wanted Beniamino’s address in the south of
France, didn’t she? She wanted to get away from Paris, from the voices that
haunted her, but you gave her something more. Your mind went to work.”

Sophie raised her head, said
nothing, but she was listening, Serafina could feel the iron of the old woman’s
mind galvanizing to attention.

“You were the one who suggested
she disappear, that she fake her death, weren’t you?”

Again Sophie was silent, but for
an instant, Serafina thought she saw the gleam of a smile.

“You found Beniamino in the
south of France, hauled him home, told him how much in debt you were and unless
he helped, he’d be doomed to a life of poverty. You pulled him, prodded him
until he told you about a friend he had, a guard at the very prison we sit in
who could help. Your brains, Sophie, and Beniamino’s friend. And if that
wouldn’t work, you had other ideas, other places, perhaps more dangerous, to
procure a fallen woman, a dupe.”

“I’m the one with ideas. The
stupid cow hadn’t an inkling of what to do. My sons sit there, hopeless,
waiting for me to think. Ricci, a coward, refused to help; David, a fearful
sod, huddled away from the light begged me not to involve him. Only Beniamino
had the courage.”

“When you’d thought it through,
you sent for Elena, presented your plan, gave her your terms.”

She nodded, a crooked smile on
her face, her eyes without light. “I told her she needed to disappear. Paris
was too great a distraction. Slovenly trollop. I had to get her out of
Paris—she was giving our family a bad name, don’t you see? ‘The sun will
cure you,’ I told her, ‘you need to paint, create your legacy for the world.’”

“And she listened.”

“Oh, she listened, of course she
did. I flattered her, just like you tried to do with me because you think I’m a
fool. But I’m the one with the brains. I know how to achieve. The three Busacca
stores will crumble without me. I give them a year. Yes, I presented my plan to
her. She thought it was wonderful.” Sophie rubbed her hands. “I’d found the
perfect dupe. My plan was a superb feat.”

“You had it all thought out,
didn’t you? Including a fee up front, a quick burial before I or anyone who’d
recognize the truth had the chance to see the dead woman’s body. You had her
change her beneficiaries with a few strokes of the pen.”

“What kind of harm did we cause?
The woman who took her place was a harlot, diseased. She was going to die
anyway. And Elena was no better. Levi should have seen, but he’s blind. He
threw money at her and went back to Sicily where he didn’t have to face what
his daughter had become.” Sophie flicked her hand back and forth as if by doing
so she could get rid of whatever was in her way. “But I needed the money, our
money, the family’s money, and I had to live in Paris where the gossips are
frightful. I took back what was rightfully ours and got rid of the tarnish to
our name, that’s all.”