Murder on Waverly Place (16 page)

As they made their way down the stairs again, they found the Professor waiting for them at the bottom. “You shouldn’t leave,” he told her sternly.

“I have no choice,” she replied testily. “If I do not go with Mrs. Brandt, they will put me in jail.”

The Professor frowned at her. “What about your other clients? Will you come back to see them?”

“I . . . I do not know,” she said, glancing uncertainly at Sarah.

“When they read about Mrs. Gittings in the newspapers, I doubt they’ll even show up,” Malloy said, coming back in the front door. “Mrs. Decker’s carriage is out front. I still don’t see any reporters, so you should be able to get away without anybody seeing you.”

Mrs. Decker stepped into the hallway from the parlor. “Come, my dear,” she said to Serafina. “Everything will be all right, you’ll see.”

Sarah doubted this very much, but she didn’t want to upset Serafina. The girl went to Mrs. Decker and the two started toward the front door, which the cop was holding for them.

Malloy touched Sarah’s arm as she passed. “Tell Maeve to find out as much as she can about her,” he said softly, so that only she could hear.

Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise. “So that’s why you wanted to send her to my house!”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “I’ll come by tomorrow to see how you’re doing with her.”

“Catherine will be very glad to see you,” she told him acidly, and followed her mother and Serafina out to the waiting carriage.

The driver was trying to take Serafina’s bag, but she was saying, “No, please, I want to keep it with me!”

“It’s all right, Peter,” Mrs. Decker told him, and he nodded and helped them all into the carriage.

“I can’t believe there are no reporters here yet,” Sarah said as the carriage pulled out into the street.

“Yes, we’ve been very lucky,” her mother agreed.

“Why would reporters be here?” Serafina asked.

“Because they like to write about sensational murders,” Sarah explained. “Lots of people will buy their newspapers to read about them.”

“Why is Mrs. Gittings’s murder sensational?” Serafina wanted to know.

“Because rich people are involved,” Sarah said.

“Don’t be vulgar, dear,” her mother chided.

Now Serafina was even more confused. “Why is that vulgar?”

“Because rich people don’t like to talk about how much money they have,” Sarah said, with a sly glance at her mother.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not important,” Mrs. Decker said in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “You’ll be very comfortable at Mrs. Brandt’s house, I think.”

“I am very grateful to you,” Serafina said to Sarah. “Maybe I can be some company for you, since you live alone.”

“I don’t live alone,” Sarah said with a small smile.

Serafina frowned. “But you are a widow, are you not?”

“How did you know that, my dear?” Mrs. Decker asked in surprise.

“I can feel it,” the girl said, perfectly serious. “And you have no children. I feel that, too.”

Sarah smiled again at the girl’s attempts to prove her supernatural powers. “I have a daughter.”

Serafina wasn’t convinced. “She was not born to you, I think,” she argued.

“No,” Sarah had to admit. “I recently adopted her. And her nursemaid lives with us, too.”

Serafina nodded, as if she’d known all along. “That is why I could not see her.”

Sarah wasn’t quite sure what to say to this, so she changed the subject again. “Do you have any idea where Nicola would have gone?”

“No,” she said. “We have no family, no one he could trust.”

“No friends?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“No one he could
trust
,” Serafina repeated. “When the police are looking for you, you must be very careful.”

Sarah was sure that was true. “Mr. Malloy found the opening into the back of the cabinet,” she tried.

Serafina’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.

“What are you talking about, dear?” her mother asked.

“The wall in the séance room, the one where that big cabinet sits, is a false wall. There’s a space behind it, and there’s an opening in the back of the cabinet, so someone can go in and out.”

Mrs. Decker gasped in surprise. “Is that true?” she asked Serafina.

The girl pressed her lips together, plainly loath to reply. “Mrs. Gittings,” she said after a moment, the words strained and reluctant. “She thought we needed to make a bigger show. She did not think that talking to the spirits was enough.”

“They have a gramophone back there,” Sarah told her mother.

“A gramophone? Whatever for?” Mrs. Decker asked.

“One of the records was of a baby crying,” she said, glancing at Serafina to see her reaction.

Mrs. Decker gasped again. “Is that how you made me think you were talking to my daughter?” she demanded of the girl.

Serafina’s face looked as if it had turned to stone, but her dark eyes shone with suppressed fury. “I told you, Mrs. Gittings wanted to make a big show. I did not like it. I just wanted to talk with the spirits, but she said no one would come unless we did those other things.”

Mrs. Decker sank back against the cushioned seat, not certain what to make of it.

“I will contact your daughter for you, Mrs. Decker,” Serafina said quickly, sensing that she was losing the confidence of one of her benefactors. “Now that Mrs. Gittings . . . She will no longer make me tease people so they will come back again and again. I can find out the truth for you. I will not even charge you a fee.”

“We’ll see,” Sarah said before her mother could respond. “It might be better if you just use this time to rest. How did you first learn to . . . to contact the spirits?” she asked to change the subject yet again.

“My mother used to read the cards,” she said. “I learned from her. When she died . . . I had to earn my own living. I am a good girl, Mrs. Brandt. I did not want to go to one of those houses where the men visit women.”

“Of course not,” Sarah said. Girls like Serafina, left alone in the world with no way to survive, too often ended up selling the only thing they had of value—themselves.

“I would sit on a street corner. I had a crate with a cloth over it to spread out the cards. I would tell people’s fortunes. I can also read palms. I was . . . very good,” she added, lowering her gaze modestly.

“It’s a long way from telling fortunes on a street corner to conducting séances on Waverly Place,” Sarah observed.

“Mrs. Gittings did that,” Serafina said simply. “She came by where I was working one day, and I told her fortune. She said I had a gift. She said I should not be wasting my talents for pennies. She said I could be rich if I would let her help me.”

“You must have been very excited,” Sarah said.

“Oh, yes,” Serafina said, remembering that time. “Nicola, he got work whenever he could, and we looked after each other, but we were always very poor. Sometimes we had no place to sleep. Mrs. Gittings said we would live in a big house and have anything we want.”

“And she brought you to that house?”

“Yes. She said she owned it, but I found out later she is only renting it. She did not even buy furniture for the rooms we did not use. She said there was no need, because we would be moving to a bigger house soon. We just needed a few more clients.”

“And did you get rich?” Mrs. Decker asked, having recovered from her shock about the gramophone.

Serafina looked at her with sad eyes. “She kept all the money for herself. She said she was saving it for our future. She said it was business, that we would need a bigger house, nearer to where rich people lived, and when we got that, we would have many more clients and make much more money and get truly rich.”

“I’m afraid that gives you and Nicola a very good reason to want Mrs. Gittings dead,” Sarah said.

Serafina looked up at her in surprise. “But without her, we would have nothing. We could not afford to rent a house ourselves, and we could not support ourselves if we went back to the streets.”

“Mr. Sharpe would have given you a house,” Sarah recalled, and suddenly realized she hadn’t finished telling Malloy what she knew about Sharpe. She’d gotten distracted by the cabinet when she was telling him about Sharpe’s experiences with the spirits.

“Mr. Cunningham probably would have, too,” Mrs. Decker added.

But Serafina was shaking her head. “Neither of them would have allowed Nicola to come with me. Men are too . . . too jealous, and I could not go without him. And if I did want to go with one of them, I did not have to kill Mrs. Gittings. I could just leave her,” she added reasonably.

Sarah had to admit she was making a good case. “Did Nicola get along with Mrs. Gittings?”

She lowered her gaze again. “He was angry that she would not give us our part of the money, but he did not kill her,” she added quickly. “She had the money locked in a safe, and if she was dead, we could never get it out.”

“What about that Professor fellow?” Sarah asked. “How does he fit into all of this?”

“He is Mrs. Gittings’s lover,” Serafina said baldly.

“He is?” Mrs. Decker exclaimed in surprise. “How very curious.”

Serafina seemed surprised at her surprise. “They have known each other for a long time.”

“How did they make a living before they met you?” Sarah asked.

“I do not know,” Serafina claimed. “But I do not think they are honest people.”

Sarah couldn’t help thinking that’s how Malloy would have described Serafina and Nicola, too.

“If Nicola didn’t do it, who do you think did kill Mrs. Gittings?” Sarah asked.

“I do not know, but it must be one of the clients in the room.”

“But we were all holding each other’s hands,” Mrs. Decker reminded her.

“If someone let go of Mrs. Gittings’s hand, she cannot tell us now, can she?” Serafina said grimly.

Sarah looked at the girl in surprise. Neither she nor Malloy had thought of this. “Who was sitting beside her?”

Serafina pressed her lips together, but Mrs. Decker said, “Mrs. Burke and Mr. Sharpe.”

Both of them had reason to wish Mrs. Gittings out of the way, at least, but did they have enough reason to kill her? And even if they did, would they have actually done it?

“Mr. Cunningham was sitting too far away,” Mrs. Decker was saying, “and I was holding his wrist, so I know he never moved from his chair.”

“And of course you didn’t kill her, Mother, so you’re a reliable witness.”

Mrs. Decker blanched. “Don’t even think that! I couldn’t possibly be a witness to anything. Your father would never allow it.”

“I only meant as far as determining who was where when Mrs. Gittings was killed,” Sarah clarified.

“No one will be a witness,” Serafina said in despair, her wondrous eyes filling with tears. “They will all say they were not there at all and that Nicola killed her. No one will help us!”

“Don’t worry,” Sarah said, taking her hand. “Mr. Malloy will find out the truth.”

But the tears began to stream down Serafina’s face. She knew Sarah was lying to be kind.

After what seemed like hours, they finally arrived at Sarah’s house. The driver helped them down, but once again, Serafina refused to allow him to carry her bag. She clutched it tightly as they climbed Sarah’s front steps.

By the time Sarah had unlocked the door and pushed it open, Catherine was already racing down the stairs to greet her. She stopped short when she saw Serafina and stared at the stranger.

“Catherine,” Sarah said, “I’ve brought a guest home. This is Miss Serafina Straface. She is going to stay with us for a few days.”

Catherine gave a polite little bob and murmured something that sounded like, “Pleased to meet you,” although Sarah couldn’t have sworn to it. She was still staring with more than polite curiosity at their guest. That was when Sarah realized that Serafina was still wearing the flowing black gown she wore for the séance. She looked like a character in a play who had wandered out of the theater and gotten lost.

Maeve was coming down the stairs at a much more dignified pace, and she also stopped to stare curiously at the stranger. Sarah introduced the two girls and watched as they eyed each other suspiciously. She could hardly wait to hear what Maeve thought of the spiritualist.

Sarah turned to her mother, who was hovering anxiously behind them. “You should go on home now, Mother. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“No!” Catherine protested, and hurried to greet Sarah’s mother, ducking around the now-forgotten guest.

Mrs. Decker leaned down to give Catherine a kiss. “I can’t stay today, my darling, but I’ll come for a visit tomorrow, I promise.”

Catherine pretended to pout, and Mrs. Decker promised a gift when she returned, and thus her departure was successfully negotiated.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” she asked Sarah before she left.

“Oh, yes, and if we need anything, we’ll let you know. Go on now. You’ll want to be home when Father gets there.”

Reluctantly, Mrs. Decker took her leave.

When the door had closed behind her, Maeve eyed Serafina up and down and said, “You’re the spiritualist.”

“What’s a spirit-ist?” Catherine asked, struggling with the unfamiliar word.

“Someone who tells people stories,” Maeve said before Sarah could think of a suitable answer.

“I like stories,” Catherine said brightly. “Will you tell me one?”

“Maybe later,” Sarah said, shooting Maeve a warning look. “Serafina is very tired, and she needs a quiet place to rest. I thought she could share your room, Maeve. Would that be all right?”

“Oh, yes,” Maeve agreed quickly, almost as if she already understood her role in the drama Sarah had set up. “I’ll take you upstairs and show you where to put your things. Let me take that for you,” she added, reaching for the bag.