Rosa nodded.

Serafina put an arm around her shoulders. Not the same sorrow for Rosa as Bella's death. "Beppe should be arriving any moment with Colonna."

"Thank you, both of you. Colonna, a useless goose, but we need him now." The rims of her eyes were red, and Serafina noticed dark circles beneath them. Rosa began to cry again. "My fault, I should have listened to her last night."

"Gusti?"

Rosa nodded.

"Tell me."

"Through with my bath-powdered, perfumed, trussed-when I heard a knock on my door. Gusti. And what did she say to me? Oh Madonna, I thought she was only talking."

"A rambler, Gusti. In the end she gave me some interesting information when I interviewed her the other evening, but I interrupt," Serafina said.

"'I know who did it,' she said. 'Are you sure?' I asked. Thought a moment, she did. 'Well, almost sure.' She wanted to talk to you. Said you told her to come to you if she had any information. Told her it could wait. Friday night, and all I could think of was-" Rosa began crying. "Told her to think it over while she worked, that her Friday clients were important. She agreed. Now she's dead. My poor girl, my poor dear girl. My fault."

Serafina reached into her pocket and handed Rosa a fresh handkerchief. "You got up early?"

"Middle of the night it was. I heard a sound, like a creature from the netherworld had me in chains, dragging me away. At first I thought I was having a bad dream. But, no, I wasn't sleeping. I got up, lit the lamp. The noise continued. Then I thought it must be a rowdy customer. The sound grew louder. Coming from inside? Outside? Couldn't tell. Awake by this time, I got that feeling again. Terrible." She blew her nose.

Serafina asked, "What feeling?"

"The spider crawling up my neck. Knew something bad had happened, I did. I thought, if I dress, the dream and the spider will go away. First light, fuzzy and still, the world. Opened the door, held up my lamp. Looked to the right, saw the creep of dawn. I reassured myself it was only a nightmare or a swallow of bad wine. Looked to the left, and, oh, Madonna, I saw her. I screamed. Arcangelo and Scarpo came running-"

"They were here?" Carlo asked.

"They heard me yell. I asked Arcangelo to get you." Rosa blew her nose. "Let's go to my office. I need food. My head throbs. Nothing I can do for her now, I could have last night, I could have saved her." She sobbed.

"Rosa, you didn't kill Gusti."

The madam closed her eyes, held up her palm. "Nothing more you can say."

"You go inside. Carlo and I want to look at the body."

The Fourth Victim.

The body lay in back of Rosa's house, a few meters from her office, in full view of the lawn and the rocks and the sea.

"Looks like asphyxiation," Carlo said. He and Serafina knelt by the victim. "Been dead for a while, six or seven hours at least."

Serafina rubbed one knee, then the other. "This killing, not the same as the others." The wind lifted her skirt, revealing a lace petticoat. "They died of a single stab wound to the heart. And there's no image carved into Gusti's forehead, either. Not the same killer."

Carlo said, "Don't know that for sure. Just like we don't know the cause of death, not for sure. Remember, I'm not the-"

"I know, you're not the doctor." She didn't want to argue with him. She didn't want to argue with anyone ever again. Four of Rosa's prostitutes murdered, one by one, in less than four months, and, gazing into the dead face of poor Gusti, Serafina's mind was numb. Despite her speech to Carlo a few minutes ago, she had no inkling of this killer's identity. Could it be the don? Bandits? If that were the case, what would she do? She'd prove it, but she'd need the help of Colonna's men. And more. She shivered.

Of all the women she'd interviewed, she had liked Gusti the most, and there she lay-well, not Gusti, exactly, but a grotesquery, as if some vengeful god created her effigy, then set about destroying it. What could any human have done to deserve a death like this?

The body lay on its side, head twisted and slightly upturned as if to view its startled audience. The face was swollen, mottled in caput mortuum. The eyes were bloodshot, wild with the knowledge of imminent death. Knotted around the neck, a scarf-probably the instrument used to strangle.

Gusti was clothed in a fringed evening gown with a matching bag. The straps on the dress were thinner than the legs of a spider. Stuffed into her mouth was a purple slipper; on her left foot, its mate.

No jewelry. Strange. Hadn't Gusti been wearing a cartload of gems the other night?-pearls, strands of gold, earrings, rings, bracelets.

Serafina opened the bag: one handkerchief and a twenty lire gold piece stamped with the king's likeness. "Vittorio Emanuele Due," she said, holding them in her fingers for Carlo to see. "Look at her hands. Anything?"

"The right one's clenched. Don't want to touch the body. Let Loffredo see it first. Might give him a better idea of the time of death. Won't he be the one to examine her?"

She nodded.

Carlo continued. "The left hand, let's see, looks like a clump of hair or material of some sort caught on one of her fingernails. Without touching the corpse, he tugged at the strands of caught hair. "Oops, broke the nail."

"Take it, take them both, the fingernail and the hair. Give them to me."

"I don't think-"

"Do it." She gave him half a smile.

He passed them over, not looking at her.

She examined the hair. Fair, she'd call it. Curled. Falco's? She laid the strand and the piece of fingernail on a blank page of her notebook. Serafina was about to close her bag when a glint of metal near Gusti's head caught her eye. She grabbed it.

"What?"

"An earring. Into my reticule it goes."

Carlo took another look at the body. "No other wounds that I can see. No other marks, except for facial bruising caused by the slipper being forced into the mouth." Carlo stood up and brushed dust from his pants and frock coat. A few black curls slipped over his forehead and he pushed them back with splayed fingers.

"Anything strike you as odd?" she asked as she rose.

"You're joking."

"No, well, I mean where's her coat or shawl or cape? If she met her killer outside, she'd be wearing one, no?" She faced him, held out her palms. "Let's take a peek in Gusti's room. We'd better hurry before the police come and traipse through Rosa's house, messing up the evidence."

He raised an eyebrow. "And far be it from you to leave anything behind for them to find."

"Except, of course, for the body."

"Oh, please."

"Four bodies in less than four months. No leads, no theories-"

"Not true. There's a theory, and you know what it is. Besides, the police have their hands full. Protests, bandits, prisoners being set free, wave after wave of cholera, the September uprising, the curfew. They're up to their eyeballs in work. And I must say, you're not very trusting."

"Not very trusting? Cautious, that's all. But as for trust, I trust my family and Rosa."

"Carmela too?"

She swiveled from him, looked beyond the rocks to a ragged sky, and spoke into the wind, "I'll catch this killer. I swear I will." She held a hand over her mouth and blinked her eyes dry before turning back to him. "I think Gusti was killed inside this house, right under everyone's noses and her body dumped here. And what's more, I think whoever killed Gusti knows who killed the other three. Tessa stays with us until we catch him."

Rosa had a large tray on her desk with cups, plates, napkins, utensils, two pots of fresh tea and steaming milk. She motioned for them to sit and pulled the cord.

"In Gusti's bag," Serafina said, handing her the two gold coins.

The domestic entered holding another tray with a large cassata. "Cook made your favorite torta," she said.

"Formusa knows how to cheer me up." Looking at her guests, she said, "Eat. You'll feel better." Rosa cut pieces of cake for Serafina and Carlo. He began eating his portion, forking down large mouthfuls and asking for seconds while Rosa beamed. Serafina declined the cake but drank her tea and asked for more. "This time with more milk."

"Appetites your Carlo has, and we can fill them, am I right, Mr. Carlo? Salute to you."

Carlo reddened and wiped the corners of his mouth.

Serafina rolled her eyes. "First, we need to look in Gusti's room. It won't take long."

Rosa said, "Follow me, but, shhh, the others still sleep. They know nothing yet."

Serafina looked at her watch pin. "Shouldn't some of them be up?"

"Saturday morning, and they worked hard last night. Noon or one before they'll rise," she said.

"We'll need to wake them before that," Serafina said. "I want to interview all the women who were here last night."

Rosa shrugged and led them to Gusti's room. She climbed the three flights without breathing, it seemed to Serafina.

Rosa turned the key, and the three of them entered.

"Gusti not make the bed? Not like her. Neat as a pin, that one," Rosa said. Twisted bedclothes lay in a heap on the floor, the mattress at angles to the posts. Dresser drawers were open, as were the two cabinet doors, their contents jumbled together and strewn over the floor.

"Signs of a fight," Serafina said.

"Shhh!" Rosa put a finger to her lips.

"Let's get on with this. We're wasting time."

Carlo said, "No bickering, you two. And show some respect for the dead."

"Respect the living first. The dead are dead. They need nothing," Rosa said, making the sign of the cross.

They looked through Gusti's clothes, on the floor of the cabinet, behind it, underneath the bed, in all the dresser drawers. They found nothing except clothes: no jewelry, no money, no letters, no clues.

They were about to leave when Serafina noticed an etching of the Duomo askew on the wall. She looked behind it and saw a hole covered by an ill-fitting piece of plaster.

"We need light," Carlo whispered. He found some matchsticks next to the lamp on the nightstand, lit the wick, and held the lamp up to the hole.

Serafina peered inside. "I see something over there." She reached in and retrieved a leather case. Locked. She shook the case. "Sounds like jewels to me."

Rosa nodded.

They untangled the bed clothes and looked through them.

Serafina ran her hand over the surface of the mattress. "Turn it over."

Carlo frowned, but heaved the mattress up and over, Rosa and Serafina catching it before it hit the springs.

Serafina found a small square of rough stitching. Carlo cut around them with his pocket knife, reached into the opening. He pulled out a key and some paper-documents or letters.

Serafina held her hand out for the key. "Necklaces and bracelets, gobs of them." She bit into one. "Gold."

"I wonder what she did for this strand?" Rosa's eyes sparked in the dim light.

"Give the jewels and key to Rosa. Put the papers in your pocket. No time to read them now," Serafina said. "Let's clean up this mess and get out."

While Serafina and Rosa folded the sheets, Carlo refitted the piece of plaster and picture. He looked at the documents and thrust them into his pocket. When he thought Serafina wasn't looking, he whispered something in Rosa's ear.

"Inside job, Rosa," Serafina said.

Rosa's eyes were like spoiled fruit. "None of my girls did this. None. Properly screened, or they don't get in. Gusti's killer must be a customer. My fault, all my fault." She shook her head. "Business not so good, especially around Li Morti. Too soft I was. Let some salty characters into the house."

"Falco?" Serafina asked.

Rosa's eyes moistened.

Serafina hugged her. "No more blame."

"Besides, we don't have the time," Carlo added.

Serafina turned to him. "She was strangled in here. The killer was looking for something."

"But left the jewels?" Carlo held up both hands.

"Not any of my girls-"

"Not looking for money or jewels," Serafina said. "Admit it, Rosa. The killer had to have knowledge that only an insider could give him. We'll find out when we talk to the women."

"If she was strangled here, how would the killer get rid of the body?" Carlo asked.