Near the cactus bloomed the geranium her great-grandmother had planted, one of her mother’s favorites because of its acrid stench, its stem now the size of a man’s thigh. Serafina smelled its sourness, the bitter-sweetness of the soil.
The stone angel over the lintel smiled down at her. She glared back. Her stomach growled.
“Too early in the morning for you, Mama. Where were you?” Renata asked.
“Took a walk.”
“And what’s happened to your skirt?”
Before Serafina could reply, Giulia said, “The goat again.”
Maria played her scales or one of those Brahms pieces, Serafina couldn’t tell which.
“Vicenzu?”
“Left early for the shop.”
Renata said, “While you were gone, Rosa came in her shiny carriage. Surrounds herself with an army these days. First time she’s come to the house since Papa died.”
Serafina shrugged. She listened as Maria transitioned to Scarlatti.
“She brought us these,” Renata said, holding up a silver tray piled with dolci.
Serafina said nothing. She kissed her daughters.
“Beppe!” she yelled.
When he appeared she handed him the reticule and said, “Take this to Inspector Colonna. Tell him I found it on the shore. It belongs to one of Rosa’s deceased.”
Reconciliation
Sunday, October 21, 1866
From her room, Serafina saw the madam’s carriage pull into the drive. She grabbed a book from Giorgio’s shelves, ran up the steps to the third floor, and curled up in her mother’s favorite chair.
“Donna Fina! La Signura to see you,” Assunta rasped.
Serafina imagined the domestic’s lips on the keyhole. “Put her in the parlor. Tell her I’ll be down in a while. There’s something I must finish. If she wants to wait, fine.”
Serafina shivered. She flipped the pages of Moby Dick, attempting to get beyond the first sentence. But she found the story boring, the English words, difficult. She turned up the wick, ranged over the floor, sat down with the book again at the sound of a knock.
Her daughter entered. “Rosa’s downstairs in the parlor.”
“So?”
“She’s your oldest friend,” Renata said. “What happened between you two?”
“I’ll be down after I finish this book.”
“She doesn’t look well. Lost weight. Her face is drawn.”
“Tell her I need to finish something. Perhaps she doesn’t need to know I’m reading. Tell her I’m straightening Giorgio’s papers. If she wants to wait, I’ll be down. I don’t know when.”
“I can’t imagine what words were exchanged, but-”
“She crossed the boundaries of friendship.” Serafina continued to read, but the words ran together.
Renata sat on the corner of the bed. “It’s going to take you a year to finish that book, especially with Giulia not here to translate every other word.”
“Nonsense. I do quite well in English.”
Silence.
“Rosa helped us during the war. Saved the apothecary shop, Papa said.”
“Since that time she’s hurt us, I can tell you that much. The disturbance between us, it has to do with your older sister. I’ll say no more.”
“She doesn’t look well. Her gait is slow, her color, pallid.”
“A fantasy she creates.” Serafina gazed at her daughter, saw the frown.
“She’s your friend, Mama, no matter what she’s done. Besides, it looks like she’s aged fifteen years.”
Serafina rose. She should have chosen a more interesting book.
• • •
Rosa stood when Serafina entered the parlor.
Renata served them caffè and brought Rosa a special tray of dolci, but the madam declined.
Serafina heard soft notes coming from the parlor. “Maria’s piano,” she said.
Rosa nodded. “Lovely.”
They listened to the music, a slow movement, melodic, hopeful. Their eyes did not meet.
Rosa said, “Sorry I am that I didn’t call you when Carmela knocked on my door. I was wrong. Scarpo hired two more guards. On his orders, they begin the search for her.”
Serafina pressed her lips together. She looked down at her hands. “Nothing more you can say or do. No more about Carmela.”
The music stopped.
A moment of silence.
Scales again, oh Madonna, but at least it’s not Brahms.
“The commissioner, that prancing hippo, accused me of not wetting the don’s beak.”
“He said that?” Serafina asked.
“Not with words. Simpered around the room, he did.” Rosa moved her torso from side to side, crooking her elbows and swaying in imitation.
Serafina smiled. She had missed the madam’s view of the world.
Rosa continued. “Spread thin, he said. Talked about the uprisings, the loss of men. Said they are doing everything they can against such a force.”
“What force? And the uprisings have diminished, not like last month when the prisons were unlocked and we couldn’t leave the house,” Serafina said.
“A day after I met with the commissioner, who chances to visit but the inspector. Waddled in, he did, with Bella’s purse. Found on the shore, he told me. Contains fifty lire and a pair of yellow gloves.”
“Along with a rosary and Bella’s identity card,” Serafina said. “I was the one who found it near some rocks past the cove. I had Beppe bring it to him.”
“That fat inspector!” Rosa twisted her handkerchief. “What will I do? Whatever we know about the killings, we know because of you.” She looked at Serafina. Her eyes were hungry.
Serafina looked at the floor and shook her head.
Silence.
She told Rosa about visiting the embalmer, the carving of the winding snake-like creature on Bella’s forehead, and what she’d discovered from talking to the priests about the brazen serpent.
The madam put a hand to her chest. “Brazen serpent?” She smiled. “Was a girl from the north, she talked about the end of the world. My girls loved to listen to her fantasy. ‘At the end of the world, the serpent will hiss.’” Rosa made a long hissing sound, imitating the prostitute. “How her eyes looked when she hissed. Such a lovely fantasy. But long gone, the girl.”
“When did she leave?”
“I sent her away. Not popular with the customers.”
“When was this?”
“Two, maybe four years ago. Didn’t last long, the girl.”
“Her name?”
“Hilaria, she called herself.”
“Do you know where she is now?”
The madam shook her head. “Nor if she still uses that name.”
Serafina said, “There was a reason why you found the bodies on the seventh day of each month.”
“Reason? Tell me, oh sorceress.”
She told her what she’d learned from the professor about the perfection of six, the fullness of seven, but she could tell that the madam wasn’t listening.
Rosa fanned herself. “Too many words. Just say, ‘A wild creature kills the girls.’”
Decisions, Suspects, Plans
Monday, October 22, 1866
“Don’t wait up for me. One of Rosa’s women must be in a difficult way.” Serafina studied the pale skin beneath her children’s eyes. “Come here, all of you and give me a kiss. Renata, Vicenzu, you are in charge. Maria and Giulia, don’t forget your studies. Who will help Totò brush his teeth? Thank you, Maria.”
“Do you have to go?” Totò asked.
“Shhh!” someone said.
• • •
As she entered the room, Serafina sensed a brighter mood. She glanced at the bust of Mary Magdalene on Rosa’s desk, kissed her friend on both cheeks, and sank into a chair.
“The earth cools; the babies are busy. So many to deliver.” Serafina removed her gloves and rubbed her hands. “First it was Graziella. Her babies arrive with big heads, and she’s such a small woman. The peasants have been at it, too: Crocifisa and Maruzzedda, two of them at once. Ran back and forth from one home to the other. No sleep.” She paused. “And now another one? A prostitute needs me?”