Murder on Waverly Place

by Victoria Thompson

  “No, we sat in different places, depending on what Madame was sensing about us on that day.”

  Which meant that the killer couldn’t have known he or she would be sitting in a convenient place to stab Mrs. Gittings.

  But Madame Serafina could place a killer next to her if she wanted to.

  “What happened after you all sat down?”

  “Madame talked to us. She said she sensed great unease, lots of anger.”

  “Does she usually talk to you like that before she starts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what did she do?”

  “She told us to hold hands, then she got up and turned out the light and closed the door.”

  “What were you doing while she did this?”

  He looked startled by the question. “Nothing. I was just sitting there.”

  “That’s not what Mrs. Decker said.”

  Cunningham looked confused. “What did she say?”

  “She said you started coughing and then you let go of her hand. She said you didn’t take hold of it again until the room was dark and Madame Serafina had returned to the table.”

  “I don’t remember,” he lied. “But if she said so, I guess it must be true.”

  “Why were you coughing?” Frank asked.

  “What do you mean?” he asked indignantly. “How should I know why I was coughing?”

  “Do you cough a lot? I haven’t heard you cough since I’ve been here.”

  “No, I don’t cough a lot. What does it matter if I coughed or not?”

  “It matters because you let go of Mrs. Decker’s hand, or rather, you made her let go of your wrist until the lights were out and she couldn’t see whose wrist she was holding.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Cunningham demanded.

  “I’m trying to say that you could have put your hands in your lap after the room was dark and let Mrs. Decker take Madame Serafina’s wrist, thinking it was yours. Then you could have waited until everyone was busy trying to talk to the spirits and gotten out of your chair and stabbed Mrs. Gittings with no one the wiser.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” he cried, outraged. “Why would I want to kill her?”

  “Because if she was dead, you wouldn’t have to pay her any money to get Madame Serafina to become your mistress.”

  He exploded out of his chair again, but that was a mistake. He sank back down, clutching it with both hands again. “Damn you!” he whispered savagely. “I didn’t kill that bitch!”

  Frank let that pass. “When did you first realize something was wrong with Mrs. Gittings?”

  He glared at Frank through narrowed eyes, suspicious again. “When Mrs. Burke started screaming.”

  “You were the first one to notice she’d been stabbed, weren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. Everything happened so fast. I just remember seeing the knife handle sticking out of her back.”

  “Did you notice anyone else in the room except the people sitting around the table?”

  “Anyone else? You mean another person?”

  “Yes, another person.”

  “No, of course not,” he snapped.

  “What about the Professor? Didn’t he come in when Madame Serafina called him?”

  He frowned, trying to remember. “I guess so. He was by the door when we all started out.”

  “And you never saw the Italian boy?”

  “I’ve never seen an Italian boy at the house at all,” he said crossly. “Where did he come from?”

  “He’s a friend of Madame Serafina’s,” Frank said with just a slight emphasis on friend.

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means that they’ve known each other for a long time.”

  “Then he must be the one who killed Mrs. Gittings.” He seemed relieved by the thought.

  “That’s what the Professor thinks.”

  “He should know, then. All I know is that no one at the séance could have done it.”

  The door opened suddenly, and Mrs. Cunningham bustled in. “What is going on in here? I can’t imagine what could be taking so long.”

  “Nothing, Mother. Mr. Malloy is finished,” he added with a note of triumph. Frank wouldn’t dare browbeat him anymore in front of his mother.

  Frank rose to his feet. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Cunningham,” he said politely and gave Mrs. Cunningham a slight nod.

  “What will happen now?” Cunningham asked quickly, then glanced apprehensively at his mother. Plainly, he didn’t want Frank to say anything about Serafina in front of her.

  “I’ll keep looking for this Italian boy,” Frank said. “If I need your help again, I’ll let you know.”

  “What about . . . ?” He glanced at his mother again. “About that young lady you mentioned? Will she be all right?”

  “I’m sure she will be,” Frank said, taking perverse pleasure in torturing Cunningham.

  “If she needs anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?” This time he didn’t look at his mother.

  “Of course,” Frank said.

  “The girl will see you out,” Mrs. Cunningham said, putting an end to their cryptic conversation.

  The maid was waiting for him at the door, and she ushered him to the front door. As he left the room, he could hear Mrs. Cunningham saying, “I hope this young lady you spoke of isn’t taking advantage of you.”

  Frank smiled to himself as the maid escorted him out onto the front stoop, closing the door behind him with an air of finality.

  Alone again, Frank shook his head. The more he found out, the more it looked like Nicola was the only one who really could have killed Mrs. Gittings. He hoped Sarah was having better luck today than he was.

  SARAH AND HER MOTHER STARED AT MRS. BURKE IN stunned silence for a moment before Mrs. Burke recalled herself. “Oh, I didn’t mean that, not really,” she stammered. “I mean . . . no one really deserves to die. Well, perhaps some people do, but surely not Mrs. Gittings.”

  “I know you didn’t mean that, dear,” Mrs. Decker said, after a glance to see if Sarah was as shocked as she. “But I never would have dreamed she was such a terrible person. She seemed . . . I don’t know, nondescript at best.”

  “You didn’t know her as I did,” Mrs. Burke said, pursing her lips in distaste.

  “Obviously not. But now I understand why you seemed so anxious that day.”

  “Mrs. Burke, had Mrs. Gittings threatened you?” Sarah asked.

  She looked up in surprise. She’d probably forgotten Sarah was there. “Threatened me? What do you mean?”

  “Had she threatened to tell Mr. Burke about your visits to Madame Serafina? Or maybe she threatened that if you didn’t give her more money, she wouldn’t let you come back to see Madame Serafina again.”

  “She did both of those things,” Mrs. Burke said in despair. “I was at my wit’s end!”

  “And then Madame Serafina told you to sell the diamond brooch your mother had given you,” Sarah tried.

  Mrs. Burke’s eyes widened. “No, no, she did no such thing!”

  “But I heard her, at the séance I attended,” Sarah insisted.

  “Not Madame Serafina,” Mrs. Burke protested. “She didn’t tell me to do anything. It was the spirits! They told me to sell it, but I couldn’t! It was all I had left to remember my mother.”

  “But wasn’t it your mother’s spirit who told you to sell it?” Mrs. Decker recalled.

  “I know, but I still couldn’t bear to do it, and there was nothing left that Harry wouldn’t have noticed was missing. I didn’t know what to do.” She began to weep softly into her handkerchief.

  “Mrs. Burke,” Sarah said sharply.

  Mrs. Burke’s head snapped up, her moist eyes wide again and full of apprehension. “Yes?”

  “That day when Mrs. Gittings died, when did you notice something was wrong with her?”

  “Oh, dear,” she said with a delicate shudder. “I shall never forget feeling her falling against me. I d
ream about it and wake up screaming—”

  “Did you notice anything unusual before that?” Sarah said, jerking her attention back. “Did she make any sound? Or maybe she squeezed your hand or something.”

  “I was holding her wrist, so she couldn’t have squeezed my hand,” she reminded them both. “I think I felt her arm jerk a bit at one point, but I can’t be sure. People do move around during the séances, you know, even when nothing terrible is happening to them.”

  “Yes, of course,” Mrs. Decker agreed, nodding encouragingly. “But she didn’t make any noises?”

  “None that I noticed. I was listening to what Yellow Feather was saying, though, so I might not have heard.” She seemed to have recovered from her fit of weeping.

  “Did you sense anyone moving around in the room?” Sarah asked. “Maybe you thought it was a spirit.”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a worried frown. “Everyone was talking at once, and with that horrible screeching noise, I couldn’t understand anything.”

  Ah, yes, Nicola’s violin. “Mother, did you sense anyone moving around in the room?” Sarah suddenly thought to ask.

  Mrs. Decker thought for a moment. “I’m really not sure. If someone was very quiet, I don’t think anyone would have noticed them, with all that was going on.”

  “But who could have been moving around?” Mrs. Burke asked plaintively.

  “The person who killed Mrs. Gittings,” Mrs. Decker said.

  Mrs. Burke’s eyes widened again, and the little color left in her face drained away. “Oh, dear.”

  “Of course, we don’t know that anyone was walking around,” Mrs. Decker hastened to explain. “But the Professor seems to think the killer was a boy who worked at the house.”

  “He does?” Mrs. Burke asked, perking up a bit. “Why does he think that?”

  “Because they had an argument the night before, and Mrs. Gittings tried to fire him.”

  “She was a terrible woman,” Mrs. Burke reminded them. “But if they had an argument, why didn’t she fire him?”

  “Madame Serafina threatened to leave with him,” Sarah said.

  “Why would she do that?”

  “They were childhood friends,” Mrs. Decker quickly explained, giving Sarah a warning glance. It wouldn’t do to create doubts about Madame Serafina’s character.

  “She’d had an argument with the Professor, too,” Mrs. Burke said.

  Sarah and her mother looked at her in surprise. “Madame Serafina had a fight with the Professor?” Sarah asked.

  “Oh, no,” Mrs. Burke hastened to explain. “At least, not that I know of. I meant Mrs. Gittings had an argument with him.”

  “How do you know that?” Mrs. Decker asked.

  “Couldn’t you tell?” Mrs. Burke asked. “From the way they acted that day? Well, perhaps it wasn’t an argument, but they were both very angry. The look she gave him when he escorted me into the parlor that day could have burned a hole through him, and he returned it in kind.”

  “Oh, dear, I’m afraid I didn’t notice a thing,” Mrs. Decker said in dismay.

  “There’s no reason you should have,” Mrs. Burke assured her. “But I was the first to arrive that day, and of course I was anxious about seeing Mrs. Gittings. I didn’t know what terrible thing she might say to me about the money.”

  “I wonder if Madame Serafina knows what they argued about?” Sarah asked her mother.

  “She did say they had disagreed about something,” Mrs. Decker recalled.

  “When did you speak to Madame Serafina?” Mrs. Burke asked with interest.

  Mrs. Decker smiled. “She’s staying with Sarah until the killer is caught.”

  “How wonderful!” Mrs. Burke exclaimed. “Perhaps she could do a sitting for me. I’ve been afraid to go back to the house on Waverly and—”

  “Of course, if everyone was holding hands around the table,” Sarah said quickly, diverting her from this disturbing plan, “then no one could have gotten up without someone else knowing it.”

  “Which proves that the killer had to be someone else,” Mrs. Decker added.

  “Unless . . .” Sarah mused.

  “Unless what?” Mrs. Burke asked apprehensively, clutching her handkerchief to her breast.

  “Unless the killer was sitting right beside her.”

  Mrs. Burke stared at her for a long moment before giving a small cry and fainting dead away.

  13

  “DO YOU THINK SHE REALLY FAINTED?” SARAH ASKED her mother when they were alone in the carriage and heading back to Sarah’s house. After calling for Mrs. Burke’s maid to attend her, they’d felt obligated to leave rather than upset their reluctant hostess further.

  “It’s so difficult to really tell,” Mrs. Decker said with a sigh. “Properly bred young ladies cultivate the art of fainting from childhood just in case the need ever arises. One can never be certain of actually being able to faint at the precise moment it would be most advantageous, so learning how to pretend is essential.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Sarah said with disapproval. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

  “Exactly,” her mother said. “Most people never do, not really. But when you want to escape a difficult situation, nothing drives tormentors away more quickly than a well-timed swoon.”

  “As we just proved,” Sarah sighed. “Would a cold-blooded killer swoon, do you think?”

  “I have no idea,” Mrs. Decker said. “But she might very well pretend to, if someone was questioning her about it.”

  “So we’re back where we started. I hope Malloy has had more luck than we have today. So far, all we’ve learned is that Mrs. Burke is very upset by Mrs. Gittings’s murder and that talking about it makes her faint, or at least pretend to.”

  “We also learned that Mrs. Gittings and the Professor were angry with each other the day she died,” Mrs. Decker reminded her.

  “That’s very interesting but hardly helpful. He’s the one person we know couldn’t have been in that room.”

  “But if Nicola could have come in through the cabinet, why couldn’t the Professor have done the same thing?”

  “Because Nicola would have encountered him, either in the cabinet or in the space behind it. Besides, the Professor is a large man. I can’t imagine him getting through the false door in the back of the cabinet at all, and certainly not without Nicola knowing about it.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Mrs. Decker allowed. “So the argument between him and Mrs. Gittings is meaningless.”

  “Probably,” Sarah agreed. “But I don’t think we can rule out the possibility that Mrs. Burke is the killer. She did act strangely today.”

  “Yes, she did. I don’t suppose I can blame her for detesting Mrs. Gittings. In her place, I’m sure I would have felt the same.”

  “I hope you wouldn’t have murdered her, though,” Sarah said with a small smile.

  “I hope so, too,” Mrs. Decker said, completely serious. “Of course, I’ve never been in such a desperate situation.”

  “What would you have done if Serafina had started giving you messages from Maggie?” Sarah asked, matching her mother’s somber mood.

  Her mother looked sharply at Sarah, trying to judge if there was any underlying meaning to the question. “Do you mean would I have been willing to sell my jewelry in order to keep coming back to see her?”

  “Yes, since you put it that way. I can’t imagine Father cutting off your funds, but he might very well forbid you to go to another séance. That would force you at least to lie in order to conceal your actions from him. Would you do that?”

  Mrs. Decker gave her daughter a pitying glance. “I’ve often told your father what he wanted to hear instead of the truth, which he would not have found so pleasant.”

  “I’m sure you have, but have you actually lied to him? Outright lied by telling him you would be in one place when you were, in fact, in another?”

  Her mother had to give this some thought. “I don’t th
ink so, not outright lied. But if I were desperate . . .”

  “Then you think you could do it?”

  “If I thought it was important enough,” Mrs. Decker admitted.

  “Would hearing messages from Maggie have been important enough?”

  Her mother considered the question for a long moment. “If I truly believed they were from her, then yes, I would have lied without a trace of guilt.”

  “Would you have killed?” Sarah pressed her.

  Her mother shook her head in disapproval. “Be serious, Sarah.”

  “I am being serious. Someone cared enough about something to kill Mrs. Gittings. If we can figure out what it was, we’ll know who did it.”

  “Then if you insist, I would have to say no. I don’t think I could kill anyone, no matter the provocation.”

  “Then I suppose you’re not the person I should be asking.” Sarah said with another small smile.

  “But the others at the table are just like me, aren’t they? They’re all people of privilege whose only real worry in life is whether or not to carry an umbrella when they leave the house or whether they were invited to the most desirable parties.”

  “But they were much more . . . I’m not sure what to call it,” Sarah confessed.

  “Obsessed?” Mrs. Decker supplied.

  “Yes, that’s it. They were obsessed with speaking to the spirits of their loved ones.”

  “They were convinced Serafina could contact them.”

  Sarah considered this. “Do you think Serafina is really able to contact spirits?”

  This time Mrs. Decker smiled ruefully. “When I was sitting in that dark room, holding hands with strangers, it seemed very possible that she could. Certainly, the others believed it with all their hearts, and perhaps that was part of it. But now . . .”

  “Now?” Sarah prodded when she hesitated.

  “Now that I’ve seen Serafina sitting in your kitchen and looking for all the world like an ordinary girl, I’m no longer as sure.”

  Sarah felt an odd sense of relief.

  At Sarah’s house, Serafina greeted them at the door, her hope that they had found out something helpful from Mrs. Burke shining heartbreakingly bright on her young face. Sarah quickly shook her head and, in the moment before Catherine descended upon them, managed to say, “She didn’t tell us anything important.”