Authors: Victoria Thompson

Murder on Waverly Place (17 page)

BOOK: Murder on Waverly Place

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“No!” Serafina said, surprising them all with her vehemence. She caught herself instantly. “I mean, that is kind of you, but I can manage. I would like to lie down for a little while, if I could. My head hurts so . . .”

“Would you like something to eat first?” Sarah asked.

“No, no, I could not eat at all,” the girl assured her. “I just need to rest.”

“Come on upstairs, then,” Maeve said, taking the other girl’s arm and gently leading her to the stairway.

“Is Mrs. Ellsworth here?” Sarah asked as the girls started up.

“No,” Maeve reported over her shoulder with a sly grin, “but I’m sure she’ll be here very soon.”

Mrs. Ellsworth would have noted the arrival of Mrs. Decker’s carriage and seen Serafina alighting. Wild horses couldn’t keep her from coming over to investigate.

Catherine started up the stairs after the other girls, but Sarah called her back. “Come and help me in the kitchen, sweetheart, and tell me what you and Maeve have been doing all day.”

Sarah, realizing she was famished, had made herself a sandwich and found some cookies for Catherine by the time Maeve returned.

“She’s already asleep or at least pretending to be,” Maeve reported, taking a seat opposite Sarah at the kitchen table. “Who was it who . . . ? She glanced at Catherine, who was listening avidly to every word. “Who got sick?”

“Mrs. Gittings,” Sarah said. “She was Serafina’s . . . I’m not sure what the correct term would be, but she was in charge of the whole thing. It was her house and she was the one who set up the séances.”

“I figured she must’ve had somebody helping her. She’s young to be so successful, with so many rich clients and all.”

“Mrs. Gittings found her telling fortunes on street corners.”

“Did she read palms or cards?” Maeve asked with interest. Plainly, she had more than a passing knowledge of such things.

“Both, she told me. She also said she was very good at it.”

Maeve grinned. “I’m sure she was. So why is she here?”

Sarah looked at Catherine, who was eating a cookie and still listening intently to every word. “Mr. Malloy agreed with me that she would be better off here. Her fiancé, a fellow named Nicola, he’s . . . Well, he seems to have wandered off, and Mr. Malloy thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on her until he turns up again.”

“Will he turn up here, do you think?”

“I doubt it. He won’t know Serafina is here,” Sarah said, “and he won’t want to show his face anyplace where he might be recognized.”

“Why won’t he want to show his face?” Catherine asked, her eyes wide with interest.

Sarah gave her a reassuring smile. “Because he’s hiding, the way you and Maeve play hide and seek sometimes. He doesn’t want anyone to find him.”

“So he’s the one?” Maeve asked cryptically.

“Serafina swears he isn’t,” Sarah replied just as cryptically. “But Mr. Malloy suspects him.”

Maeve nodded wisely.

“Is Mr. Malloy coming to visit, too?” Catherine asked.

“As a matter of fact, he is,” Sarah said. “But not until tomorrow. You’ll have lots of company tomorrow.”

Catherine clapped her hands, sending cookie crumbs flying, which made her giggle in delight.

Maeve would have asked another question, but just then, Mrs. Ellsworth knocked on the back door. Catherine let her in, and they spent a few minutes in greetings.

“I had some bread in the oven and had to wait until it was done before I could come over,” she explained, her well-lined face alight with curiosity. Sarah could imagine how impatient she must have been to get over here and find out what had happened. She was looking around, obviously expecting to see the strange woman who had arrived with Sarah in her mother’s carriage.

“Come along, Catherine,” Maeve said, taking the child by the hand. “Mrs. Ellsworth and your mama want to talk. But we have to be very quiet upstairs, so we don’t wake our guest.”

“Why is she sleeping in the daytime?” Catherine asked as they disappeared into the next room.

When the girls were gone, Mrs. Ellsworth, who had taken a seat at the kitchen table, asked, “Who on earth was that woman you brought home?”

“That was Madame Serafina.”

“The spiritualist?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked in amazement. “What is she doing here?”

“A woman was murdered at her séance today.”

“Is that where you were today? When I stopped by earlier, Maeve just said you’d been called out, so naturally, I thought you were at a delivery.”

“That
is
where I went when they sent for me, but I wasn’t there when it happened,” Sarah explained. “My mother was, though.”

“I thought she was finished with all of that!”

“So did I.” Sarah sighed. “She went back today, however, and one of the people at the séance was murdered. Naturally, my mother wanted to keep her name out of it if she could, so she sent for Mr. Malloy.”

“How very sensible of her. And he naturally sent for you. Please, tell me everything that happened,” she pleaded.

Sarah did so, answering Mrs. Ellsworth’s many questions as she went along.

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Ellsworth exclaimed when Sarah was finished. “I can’t believe Mr. Malloy agreed to allow Madame Serafina to come here. Isn’t he worried that the killer will show up?”

“We aren’t sure that Nicola really is the killer,” Sarah reminded her. “Serafina swears he isn’t.”

“Of course she does, but what if he is and what if he shows up on your doorstep?”

“There’s no reason why he should,” Sarah said. “And even if he does, there’s no reason for him to harm any of us.”

“I certainly hope you’re right. But how long do you intend to keep the girl here? They might well never locate this Nicola fellow. What will you do then?”

“I guess we’ll decide when the time comes. Meanwhile, we’re going to see if we can find out what Serafina really knows about the murder and if there’s anything else she hasn’t told us yet.”

“Oh, how very clever of you!”

“Yes, it is,” a voice behind Sarah said. She turned to see Serafina standing there.

“Oh,” Sarah exclaimed, wondering how much the girl had overheard and trying to recall what she had been saying. Nothing too insulting to her guest, she hoped. “How are you feeling?”

“I am hungry now,” Serafina admitted, eyeing Mrs. Ellsworth suspiciously.

“Sit down and I’ll fix you something to eat.” Sarah introduced the two women, then started making a sandwich for Serafina and boiling water for tea.

Serafina sat down across from Mrs. Ellsworth, who was studying her with an intensity that was almost rude.

“Do you believe in the spirit world, Mrs. Ellsworth?” Serafina asked in a voice Sarah recognized as that of the professional spiritualist she had met that first day and not the frightened young woman she had brought home with her this afternoon. Her nap had restored her self-confidence.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Ellsworth assured her. “If you mean do I believe in heaven and hell, that is.”

The girl reached across the table and laid her hand over Mrs. Ellsworth’s and closed her eyes for a long moment. Mrs. Ellsworth watched her in silent fascination. “I see a father figure. You have been thinking about him.”

“That must be my late husband,” Mrs. Ellsworth said in surprise. “I was just thinking about him the other day.”

“I sense that you have a question, something you would like to have answered.”

Sarah’s instinct was to interrupt, but held her tongue, curious to see what would happen.

“I do!” Mrs. Ellsworth exclaimed. “I was telling Mrs. Brandt about it not too long ago. I was wondering where he had put his pocket watch. I never found it after he died.”

“Yes, that is what I am seeing. A gold pocket watch. It was very important to him.”

“Yes, his father gave it to him. He was very ill before he died, and he started hiding things. I found most of the things, but not the watch.”

“You are right, he did hide it.” She closed her eyes again. “I see a dark place, small and dark. And the letter B.”

“The letter B?” Mrs. Ellsworth echoed uncertainly.

Serafina opened her eyes again. “Yes, something starts with the letter B. He wanted to keep the watch safe.”

“Oh, yes, he always said it should go to our son, Nelson,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “That’s why I was so upset when I couldn’t find it.”

“He did not want it to be lost, so he hid it very well. You will find it soon.”

“Really?” Mrs. Ellsworth said.

Sarah set the plate down in front of Serafina with a deliberate clunk. “Let’s let Serafina eat now,” she suggested.

“Thank you,” Serafina said with sincere gratitude and began to devour the sandwich Sarah had made her.

“Did you hear that, Mrs. Brandt?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked. “She told me where to look for my husband’s watch.”

“Yes, I heard,” Sarah said, watching Serafina for any change of expression, but she saw none. “Where do you think it could be?”

“The letter B,” Mrs. Ellsworth mused. “That could be the bedroom, of course. Or perhaps the bureau.”

Sarah could think of dozens of words starting with B that could provide hiding places for a watch. She’d point that out to Mrs. Ellsworth later, however.

“How do you do that?” Mrs. Ellsworth was asking her. “How do you know things about people, I mean?”

“It is a gift,” Serafina replied simply. “I cannot help it.”

“I found a penny this morning when I was on my way to the market,” Mrs. Ellsworth told Sarah. “That’s good luck, you know. I picked it up, of course. You must pick it up or it won’t be good luck. I just knew something good was going to happen today.”

Sarah didn’t mention that Mrs. Ellsworth hadn’t actually found the missing watch yet.

When Serafina had finished the sandwich, she looked up to where Sarah stood pouring tea for all of them. “I know you think I am protecting Nicola, but he did not do this thing. It was one of the others. I know it was. You have to help me find out which one.”

“But my dear,” Mrs. Ellsworth said without a trace of irony, “can’t you just ask the spirits to tell you?”

S
ARAH HAD TO SWALLOW THE BARK OF LAUGHTER THAT rose up in her throat. If she laughed, Serafina would never trust her again. But Serafina wasn’t looking at Sarah at all. She was speaking to Mrs. Ellsworth.

“I have tried to ask them,” she said solemnly, “but they will not speak to me about this.”

“Whyever not?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked, outraged on her new friend’s behalf.

“I do not know. Perhaps Mrs. Gittings is blocking the message because she is angry with me.”

“So how do you propose to find out who really killed this Mrs. Gittings?” Mrs. Ellsworth asked.

Serafina glanced at Sarah. “I do not know.”

Mrs. Ellsworth patted her hand reassuringly. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Mrs. Brandt is an expert at finding murderers.”

“She is?” Serafina exclaimed as Sarah winced.

“Oh, yes, she’s helped Detective Sergeant Malloy solve dozens of cases.”

“Not dozens,” Sarah protested, although sometimes it did seem like it. “Just a . . . a few.”

“Then you
can
help me,” Serafina said with relief. “The spirits have not deserted me at all. They have led me to you.”

Sarah took a seat at the table and passed the sugar bowl to her guests so they could sweeten their tea. “You’ll have to help
me
before I can help you,” she said. “You have to tell me everything you know about everyone involved. If we have any hope at all of saving Nicola, we must find the real killer.”

“Mrs. Brandt said your Nicola was playing a violin all through the séance, so he couldn’t be the killer,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.

“That is right, he was.”

“How do we know it wasn’t just one of the gramophone records?” Sarah challenged.

“Because we do not have the violin on a record,” Serafina replied. “We do not know what the spirits will say, so Nicola must listen and play music to suit what happens. We can go back to the house so you can see we have no such records. I promise, you will see this is true.”

“He could have been walking around the room in the dark, though, and stabbed Mrs. Gittings while he was playing,” Sarah tried.

“He never comes out of the cabinet,” Serafina insisted.

“That would be very difficult to prove,” Sarah argued.

“But playing a violin takes two hands,” Mrs. Ellsworth pointed out. “How could he hold a knife? And if the room was dark enough that they couldn’t see him, how could he see where Mrs. Gittings was to stab her?”

“Did everyone always sit in the same place at the table?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Serafina said. “I tell them where to sit each time, and she is right, he could not see Mrs. Gittings in the dark.”

But Sarah was pretty sure it would be easy enough to memorize the layout of the room, and if Serafina told people where to sit . . . Well, finding Mrs. Gittings would certainly be possible. That’s what Malloy would say, anyway.

The sound of running feet distracted them, and Catherine raced into the room to remind them it was time to cook supper. Maeve took charge of the kitchen, and all conversation about murder ceased in deference to Catherine’s tender years.

T
HE NEXT MORNING, FRANK HAD JUST ARRIVED AT POLICE Headquarters when he got an urgent message from Professor Rogers, asking him to return to the house. Frank was sure Nicola wouldn’t have shown his face there again, which was the only reason he could imagine that the Professor would call him back, but he made the trip down to Waverly Place just in case.

The Professor answered Frank’s knock and ushered him inside after looking around to see if anyone was lurking out on the street.

“The newspapermen were here for hours last night,” the Professor informed him as if he thought it was Frank’s fault.

BOOK: Murder on Waverly Place

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