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 ade
quate 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.”
“The man who opened the restaurant was from Palermo,” Teo said.
“So he’s the one who taught the French how to cook,” Rosa said. “I knew it.”
They hailed a cab. “Rue l’Ancienne Comédie,” Arcangelo said.
Chapter 32: Café Procope
“We want the best table in the house,” Rosa said. “Someplace where we can talk without being disturbed.” She slipped the waiter some francs, and he smiled.
“This way, please. He led them up a narrow flight of stairs.
As they passed a tricorne displayed on a shelf, Loffredo pointed to it and said, “Napoleon dined here. That’s his hat.”
Arcangelo reached out to it.
“Not for touching,” the waiter said.
When they were seated, Serafina told them she had a bit of news and summarized a note Busacca sent to her stating that he’d been in contact with his lawyer. There was to be a reading of Elena’s will on May 16, one month after her death, but the lawyer told Busacca the terms.
“Elena changed her will, making his sister sole beneficiary.”
Rosa arched one brow and looked at Serafina. Serafina stared at Loffredo.
“I’m not surprised. I knew she was going to change it,” he said. “She cut off my allowance some time ago.” He didn’t show distress, seemed like he’d been expecting it. Serafina wondered how he’d manage to live in his villa close to Oltramari’s piazza without Elena’s money, on the meager stipend the state paid its medical examiners, but he didn’t seem worried.
In his note, Busacca also mentioned that Sophie had already applied to l’Assicurazioni Generali of Trieste requesting payment according to the terms of a life insurance policy that Elena had taken out some time ago.
Serafina told them she’d taken Busacca’s note to Valois.
Rosa straightened. “Arrest an old woman for fraud? I’d like to see Valois do that. In Sicily it wouldn’t happen.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Loffredo said. “If what Busacca says is true, l’Assicurazioni’s lawyers will swoop down and carry her to the gallows in their talons. And don’t think they won’t find her in Paris.”
“Valois asked if we’d found Elena.”
“And you told him?”
“Not yet.”
“So if we’re finished with lawyers and free spirits, let’s eat,” the madam said, wrapping a knife on her glass.
“This restaurant is almost two hundred years old,” Loffredo said. “Poets and kings have dined here.”
They studied the menu.
“I’m not that hungry,” Serafina said.
“You always say that. Where’s Carmela by the way?”
Serafina told her about Carmela’s plans to work for Busacca.
“Good for her,” Rosa said. “She has a love of color, a flair, a way of summing up. It all comes together, and Busacca needs help or the business his ancestors founded six hundred years ago will disappear. He could use a good accountant, too. Did you tell him about Vicenzu?”
“We need him to run the apothecary.” Leave it to the madam to understand Busacca. “You seem to know him well. Was he a customer?” Serafina asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous. He loves his wife. They don’t deserve what their daughter has become.”
“He blames himself.”
“He would. But his daughter is her own person,” Rosa said. “I’m lucky. I have the perfect daughter.”
Tessa blushed.
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br /> Loffredo looked happier now that the truth was out about Elena. He sat next to Serafina and studied her face, her hair.
“We’re here to dine, Loffredo, not to make love,” Rosa said.
Tessa’s blush deepened. Arcangelo looked at Teo, his eyes wide.
“We’re also here to plan,” Serafina said. “Last week Victorine gave Carmela the address of her studio. I have it here. We might pay a visit. It’s not far from here, one of the narrow streets near the Seine in the sixth arrondissement, I believe. She’s one of Elena’s friends, but alas, unreliable. Carmela’s gone to her studio several times and she hasn’t been in when she said she would be. But I think we should keep trying.”
“I’ve met her, I believe,” Loffredo said. “An artist, but like Elena, difficult to find. I hope we have better luck this afternoon.”
A waiter in vest and apron came to take their order.
Rosa studied the menu. “Just a snack you understand. We’ve missed the noon meal, but we want to have a full meal tonight. Your menu is so tempting, I don’t know what to choose.”
“Then I suggest some of our excellent pâté to start, and perhaps two bottles of wine, a Cabernet and a Medoc. You’ll want to try our dessert. Everything we serve is delicious, but we are renowned for our pastries.”
“You would be. Monsieur Procopio was born in Palermo,” the madam said and adjusted her hat.
The waiter nodded.
“I know what I want,” Loffredo said. “The coq au vin here is delicious.”
Arcangelo and Teo ordered the same. Tessa wanted to try the trout served with almonds and boiled potatoes, Serafina ordered salmon and a small salad, and Rosa ordered the gnocchi and sea bass.
“Any response to the advertisement?” Rosa asked as she watched the waiter bone her bass.
“What are you talking about?” Tessa asked.
Serafina told her about placing a notice in the papers, asking for information about Elena. Their food arrived, succulent and steaming. Serafina was amazed at the cuisine. She thought soon they’d have a meal not up to their high standards, but as yet that had not happened. She had to admire French cuisine. She straightened, wishing Gesuzza had not tightened her corset so much. Besides, small waists were no longer the style. She’d have a word with Rosa after the meal.
Murder On The Rue Cassette (A Serafina Florio Mystery) Page 22