Murder On The Rue Cassette (A Serafina Florio Mystery) (24 page)

“I took Madame Florio and her
party to
Les Halles
last night,” Loffredo
explained.

“After we’d spent the evening at
the salon they call
Les
Mardistes
,”
Serafina said, and summarized what they’d learned there from Elena’s friends.

“When Carmela said she’d heard
Elena was in the south of France, a painter’s response was ‘Who told you?
Weren’t supposed to say anything.’ Carmela’s at the woman’s studio now to see
if she might have Elena’s address.”

Valois made no reply. He rubbed
his lapels and narrowed his gaze. Serafina noticed a tremor in his hand.

“But I called for you on another
important matter. The order of exhumation has been issued by the court, a rabbi
summoned, and the body is to be unearthed one week from tomorrow in Versailles.
Because he examined the body, Dr. Mélange will also accompany us. I’ve
contacted Madame de Masson. She sent word that she and her two sons will be
there.”

Serafina felt tired, not elated.

Valois seemed subdued.

There was a knock and Carmela
entered. She threw her reticule on the bed and crossed her arms. “I traipsed
all the way to Maître Albert and that woman wasn’t there. This is the second
time. How can she paint when he’s never in her studio? Impossible!” She turned
and saw Valois. “Forgive me. I had no idea.”

“I’ve told the inspector we’re
searching for Elena’s address in the south.”

“We have an old address in
Arles, but Loffredo thinks she’s no longer there. In the past, she’s let an
apartment.”

“Perhaps we may be able to
help,” Valois said.

Chapter 31: Versailles

Their mood was somber. Dressed
in black, they stood in the chill on one corner of Madame Sophie de Masson’s estate.
The gates of a small cemetery were open. For centuries it had been the burial
ground of the Parisian branch of the Busacca family. They were surrounded by
formal French gardens, classically posed statues, and ornamental pools similar
to those at the Palace of Versailles. Trails of mist hung low on the ground
partially covering the grass, the walkways, the shrubs. The moisture seeped
into her bones. Serafina’s feet were ice as she crunched them back and forth in
the gravel. She heard birds calling to one another in the near distance.

The casket had been lifted from
its stone enclosure in the ground and placed alongside the freshly dug earth,
the cover not yet removed. It sat on a platform, waiting for the medical
examiner, the rabbi, and a representative of the court to begin the process of
exhumation. David and Ricci Busacca flanked their mother. Beniamino was not
present. David glanced at Tessa. Loffredo, Serafina, Rosa, Tessa, and Carmela
stood on the other side of the bier, the officials in the center.

“Are all assembled?” Valois
asked.

Serafina nodded.

“Wait!” someone called,
alighting from a
voiture
de grande remise
.
They turned to the abrupt sound of his voice as Levi Busacca limped into view.

Sophie visibly shivered and
clutched the arms of her sons.

Busacca touched his hat to
Serafina and stood by her side, his face grim.

Serafina introduced him to
Inspector Valois. In a few moments he nodded to the two workers who began
opening the casket. Serafina stared at the ground, listening to the creak of
wood breaking the silence. It seemed to take forever.

“You will each file past and
look at the deceased,” Valois said.

Sophie turned away, shaking her
head, a linen to her throat, but the others peered inside, shaking their heads.
Serafina held a handkerchief to her nose and mouth, trying not to inhale when
she leaned in to view the corpse, now well into the process of deterioration.

“Sophie, how could you have
identified this woman as my daughter?” Busacca asked. He turned to Valois.
“Remove the body from our family plot and send my sister a bill for all
expenses incurred. And I mean all investigative expenses.” He turned to
Serafina. “Grim but necessary. Excellent work. Meet me in three hours in the
lobby of the Hôtel du Louvre.”

“They tricked me, Loffredo and
his lover,” Sophie whined. She stood before them, an old woman, her finger
accusatory.

Serafina blanched. Valois looked
from Loffredo to Serafina. Carmela bit her lip. Rosa looked at the ground.
David continued to gaze at Tessa.

Busacca’s face was crimson. “A
shameful lie, but the Florio woman is too smart for your tricks. You fooled
only yourself. My daughter’s not in her tomb, not yet. But her spirit is dying,
and you’ve taken advantage of her. Her disappearance is another of her whims, a
bid for ... whatever it is she seeks. Instead of helping her and warning me,
you’ve made her perversity far worse.”

“But don’t you see? That woman
and Loffredo took advantage of my poor eyesight.”

“You’re not worth any more
words.” He limped away, looking straight ahead.

Valois thanked the officials,
told Madame de Masson that he would like to talk to them tomorrow. “I want all
three of your sons present.”

“Tomorrow is impossible. I must
see to my work.”

“Then I will have two policemen
take you into the prefecture for questioning.”

* * *

After the noon meal, they sat in
Serafina’s rooms around a table. Several waiters served them café and an
assortment of sweets. Busacca looked tired.

Rosa asked for café au lait and a
large slice of cake. “Something cold on the top and perhaps some chocolate
sauce on the side. And a cookie or two. It’s a shame to be in Paris and not
sample.” She turned to Busacca. “Nice to see you again, Levi,” she said through
her cake.

As they sat munching sweets,
Busacca asked how Serafina discovered the ruse.

“I began with the feeling that
something was wrong. I came too late to view the body—your sister made
sure of that. That was my first clue that there might be a cover up. A gnawing
question plagued me. Why would Sophie insist on the burial of a Christian in
accordance with the Jewish laws? That was closely followed by the fact that
none of Elena’s friends knew of her death, and I thought that was strange. I
still suspect that one or two know where she is and are hiding the truth.
Although the press didn’t cover the murder, why wouldn’t the family notify at
least one of her companions? And then there was the discrepancy of the dead
woman’s clothes and personal hygiene, decidedly not those of a countess.
Suspicious events kept piling—the theft of the photographs and the plates
of the dead woman’s face. The more we were prevented from uncovering the facts,
the more I was convinced that Elena was not dead.” Serafina told him details of
the attack in Elena’s apartment and what she’d discovered about Elena’s lovers
and her pregnancy.

Busacca was noticeably moved.
“So I am to be a grandfather at last. I beat Sophie.”

Serafina’s smile was wan. She
looked at Loffredo who shook his head.

“Our sources tell us Elena
changed her will shortly before she disappeared,” Rosa said, “naming the chief
beneficiary as your sister.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up and
he rang the bell. “I’ll find out the truth.”

There was a knock on the door
and a maid entered. Busacca scribbled a note and handed it to her. “See that
this is delivered to my lawyer,” he said. He wrote the name of the firm and
address and gave the paper to Serafina. “In case you have questions.”

“It’s not against the law to
change a will. But if part of it includes an insurance policy and Sophie tries
to claim the money, that will be important information as far as Valois is
concerned, assuming she colluded with Elena to contrive her death and assuming
Elena is still alive,” Serafina said.

“So we’re left with another
mystery,” Busacca said, “Is my daughter alive and if so, where is she and why
has she disappeared?” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a large book,
wrote a cheque, handing it to Serafina.

“Instead of finding her
murderer, I want you to find my daughter. Apparently you’ve already started the
search. Any leads?”

She shook her head and showed
him the notice she’d run in seven daily papers. “No responses.”

He wasn’t surprised, he told
her. “Her friends don’t bother reading, but I’m prepared to offer a reward.
Re-run it, advertising the amount of five thousand francs for credible
information.”

Serafina glanced at Rosa.

“From what a few friends tell
us, I think she might be in the south of France. The exhibit of a new style of
painting, the work of many who are her friends, has made an impact on her. I
think it provoked a deep response and she wants to be a part of it.”

“So she’s hiding somewhere and
painting?” Busacca shook his head.

Rosa leaned in closer and eyed
the cheque in Serafina’s hand, a note for triple her initial retainer. Serafina
folded it and put it in her reticule.

“Cable me if you need more. I
won’t ask for an accounting, nor do I expect a happy outcome. Quite the
contrary. I believe my daughter is behind her own disappearance. I can only
imagine what laws she’s broken. Of course if you could rescue my grandchild
...”

“We’ll do everything possible,
Levi.”

As Serafina watched, Busacca
slumped. He changed from a business man to a beaten soul, his eyes haunted.
“Ultimately, this is on my head. She was my daughter, perfect in every way, and
I showered her with gifts, slowly killing her spirit.” He turned to Loffredo.
“Look at me. I’m a father who has failed. I’ve managed to kill my own child.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,”
Rosa said.

His eyes began to water. “You
are too kind. Even so, if she turned up today, I’d take her in and love her.”

He turned to Loffredo. “I
suppose you’ve done an adequate job putting up with her all these years. Still,
with the right sort of man, someone she loved ... But there I go, trying to
blame someone else when I’m the one who ruined her. I made her incapable of
loving anyone other than herself, if you can call her self-regard ‘love’.” He
got up to leave and put his hand out. “I’ve misjudged you, I’m afraid.”

He turned to Serafina. “You’ll
find my daughter, of that I have no doubt. I’ll be in town for some time,
untangling the financial mess I found in the Paris stores. The business belongs
to me and to Sophie in equal parts, but she’ll agree to do whatever I tell her.
It’s time she collected an allowance.”

He stopped, seemed to notice his
tea for the first time and took a sip, wincing. “If her sons can’t handle the
stores, I’ll find others who can. And I want to speak with your daughter,
Carmela. I arrived yesterday and had a long chat with an old friend, Madame
Joyeuse.”

* * *

Carmela sat next to Serafina.
Her eyes were moist, her cheeks red. The others were waiting in the lobby. They
planned to celebrate.

“Levi Busacca wants me to start
working with Madame Joyeuse,” Carmela said, suppressing a smile. She grew more
animated. “She told him I was a natural designer.”

“Who’s Madame Joyeuse?”

“The chief designer for Busacca
Millinery. I told you about her last week. She’s the one who trained all the
other designers. I think Busacca hired her long ago and he has a regard for her
design.”

“And she has a high notion of
your design based on what?” Why couldn’t Serafina be more pleased for her
daughter?

Carmela cupped a hand to her
chest. “The pillbox I made for myself, the suggestions I made while she was
designing a hat for Tessa. And I told Busacca to his face what I thought of his
millinery—at least the stores in Paris, I don’t know about the store in
Palermo.”

“I remember your telling me that
the world of fashion is changing, but his stores are being left behind.”

She nodded. “That’s what I told
him, I didn’t care what he thought of me. I had to be honest. He wants me to
work with Madame Joyeuse while I’m here. I’m to talk to her, and together we’ll
agree on a salary. But I don’t think he’s returning to Palermo right away.”

Serafina smiled. Finally,
Carmela had come into her own. But her smile soon faded. She needed Carmela.

“And as soon as the case is
over, I’m to cable him the date of my return to Oltramari. He wants to train me
himself. He wants to show me the whole operation, how to buy, where to buy, how
to hire designers. I’m to oversee all the stores.” She stopped, looking into
Serafina’s eyes, pleading. “I told him I couldn’t promise that I’d like that kind
of position, but I’d love to design for him.”

“He told me I must be an
innovator. I must lead the other designers. Far more exciting that mere
design.”

“But we have so much still to
do,” Serafina said, hearing a whine in her voice not unlike Sophie’s high-pitched
accusations in Versailles. “We must find Elena and discover who killed the
woman on the Rue Cassette, and I need you by my side. How can you help me and
learn millinery at the same time?”

Serafina wished she could take
back the words. She was spoiling her daughter’s news. And it was the first time
she’d seen Carmela happy, really happy, the first time she thought her daughter
had a future.

“Forgive me,” Serafina said. “I
was thinking of myself. You must see Madame Joyeuse this afternoon. Now.” She wrapped
her arms around Carmela. She tried to tell her how happy she was for her, but
the words wouldn’t come out.

Carmela hung her head and walked
away.

After she left, Serafina went to
the window and looked out at the bustle of Paris, the stamina, the style, the
gaiety. She wished it would seep into her soul. She wished she could be a more
loving mother.

There was a knock on the door.
Rosa.

“We’re waiting for you in the
lobby and you sit here. We haven’t eaten and. Do something with your hair, will
you? Where’s that Gesuzza?”

* * *

The day was gray, but not
Serafina’s heart, not when she saw her family waiting for her. She took
Loffredo’s arm and they walked out of the hotel.

“Where are we going?”

“To eat, where else?” Rosa said.

“Too late for a noon meal, too
early for dinner,” Teo said.

Arcangelo pulled his sleeves. “I
know a small café.”

“How would you know a café?”
Rosa asked.

“I remember passing it. They’re
open day and night.”