He sat and held his head again.
Serafina was silent for a while.
“What clothes did she choose?”
He threw up his hands. “A day dress, a suit, I suppose you’d say.”
“And what time did she leave?”
“I didn’t look at my watch, but it was well after midnight.”
“No one else was here? Forgive me, a stupid question. Did she say where she was going?”
He shook his head, unable to speak, buried his head. The monks were still chanting next door.
“I’m very sorry to admit she is my countrywoman.” Serafina was silent for a while. “Did you hear about the woman shot to death in the Rue Cassette?”
He nodded. “I saw her body lying in the street.”
“Why would you have? She died early in the morning.”
“After Elena left, I became frenzied, and to calm myself, I walked the streets. Walking helps me, you see, something I do when I need to work on a problem. I was aimless that night. I walked along the Seine, in the Luxembourg, sat on a bench, my mind a blank, trying not to think of her, of what I’d done… to my life. As I made my way home, I noticed a commotion in the Rue Cassette. Sergents de ville were there in droves kneeling around a body, a photographer, a doctor, perhaps, an ambulance. I remember the horse was skittish. A crowd was gathering. Not unusual. There are a few cafes that draw a low clientele. I asked someone what had happened. A dead woman, he told me.”
“Did you see her face?”
“Not all of it, she was lying on her side. She looked like a woman of the night.”
“Could it have been Elena?”
“Hardly. Not her height or shape, not at all. Smaller. I bent down and looked. It was a passing glance, but I didn’t recognize her.” Gaston was hugging himself, trying to keep from shaking.
“And no one saw you?”
“They saw me, but would they remember? Hardly. They were watching horror, much in demand. They were drunk with it.”
As she was about to leave, she thought of one more question. “Do you own a gun?”
He looked at her like she’d gone round the twist. “I have a gun, yes. For protection.”
“May I see it?”
“Of course.”
While she waited for Gaston to return, she thought about what he’d told her. At first she disbelieved his version of Elena’s behavior. But the man was suffering, that was apparent.
When he returned, he was still shaking. “I must have misplaced it. I can’t seem to find it anywhere.” He pulled at the sides of his hair.
“Sit down. Tell me about the gun.”
Gaston shrugged. “New. A revolver made in France near Lyon. I bought it from a friend last year.”
“Where do you usually keep it?”
“In a locked drawer in my bed chamber.”
“Was the lock tampered with?”
Gaston shook his head.
Chapter 14: La Maison Doree
How she obtained a reservation no one quite knew except that Serafina saw Rosa engage three of the hotel’s staff in animated conversation at the concierge station. Precisely at nine, a voiture de grande remise pulled up in front of the Hotel du Louvre. The driver helped them into the carriage drawn by a matching pair of grays and drove to La Maison Doree on the Boulevard des Italiens.
They were seated at a large round table in a private cabinet with a view of the main dining room. Arcangelo, his hair slicked and his face washed, sat next to Tessa. Wearing her teal brocade and a sea green velvet choker, she glanced at Teo who sat on her other side, his face buried in the wine list. Carmela, Rosa, and Serafina were dressed in evening gowns, Gesuzza in her finest black bombazine. Waiters swarmed around them as the maitre d’hotel welcomed them to his restaurant, “The finest in all of Paris.” It looked as though every table was taken and the high-ceilinged room blazed with candles.
“May I suggest some simple dishes to start the meal? I recommend the escargots from Burgundy marinated in a delicate white wine, a fresh green bean salad, the first of the season, a foie gras de canard with fig and grape, and-”
Rosa answered the waiter. “Perfect. Bring them. Two of everything. But before you do, bring us champagne while we wait. Veuve Cliquot. And bring a few baguettes or rolls or whatever kind of bread you offer and some pate. These boys are dying of hunger.”
Arcangelo eyed all the forks and spoons on either side of his plate. Serafina told him to start with the outermost fork or spoon and work his way in. A waiter overheard. Dressed like the others in livery with wig and knee breeches, he hiked his nose higher than Serafina thought possible.
After their food arrived, she felt rather than saw the waiters around their table lifting their shoulders, so she asked the maitre d’hotel for more privacy.
They toasted Paris and their hotel. Carmela drank to Busacca et Fils.
While they ordered the main course, Serafina told them of her visit to the Rue Cassette, her fortuitous meeting with the policeman who found the body, the statement she’d wrung from the owner of the Cafe Odile, and her meeting with Etienne Gaston, and his assertion that the dead woman on the Rue Cassette was not Elena.
“Why did the owner of the Cafe Odile lie?” Tessa asked.
“Lucre, my girl.” Rosa turned to Serafina. “Give me the barkeep’s statement. I’ll give it to Valois and get him to spring Loffredo. Remember, you cannot be seen to be in Loffredo’s camp, much less in his bed.”
There was a hush around the table as Tessa, Teo, and Arcangelo looked at one another. Serafina felt her face fill with color.
Each of them had an opinion of Gaston. They were a hung jury: three said he was guilty, three, not guilty, Serafina abstaining.
“I can’t make up my mind about him,” she said.
“What little there is of it tonight,” Rosa added.
When their entrees arrived, Serafina took a bite of her duckling, marveling at the crunch of the skin, the sweet tenderness of the meat. It was cooked to perfection, sizzling on the plate and filled with a bread and orange stuffing. She relished all the different flavors. Perhaps the French relied too much on sauce. Still, she was glad to partake of their cuisine and to share the experience with her daughter and friends.
“Our meeting with Valois is not until nine tomorrow morning and there is one thing we need to explore beforehand, Elena’s apartment.” She sliced a piece of duck and dipped it into a side dish of mashed potatoes.
“How will we do that?” Rosa asked, her mouth full of veal sauteed in apples.
“I’m not sure, but we’ve always managed before this. We’ll find a custodian or some other servant who’ll let us into her apartment. You know how Elena always angers them. It won’t be difficult to get them on our side. We’re sure to find information that we must have.”
Carmela cleared her throat. “Arcangelo and Teo were over there this afternoon.”
“It’s a distance. How did they manage?”
Arcangelo, his cheeks distended with food, looked at her. His eyes reflected candlelight.
Carmela answered for him. “They took le petite ceinture.”
“The train that goes around Paris,” Rosa explained, dabbing her mouth with the linen.
“And what did you see?”
Arcangelo swallowed his food. “A fancy building on a square. Custodian or guard or something, has a station just inside the gate and we talked to him. I said I was Elena’s friend and had important information for her. The custodian told me she was out at the moment.”