Rosa said, "Couldn't carry Gusti down the main staircase, not past the guards."

"Even after midnight?" Serafina asked.

"Since Gemma's murder, there's a guard at the door, always. Another makes the rounds. Guards, easy to find after the war-all the leftovers."

"Leftovers?" Serafina asked.

"Redshirts. Scarpo hired them to work the off-hour shifts. Turi used them to ride behind the carriage. Don't you remember seeing them on our trip to Palermo?"

Serafina nodded.

The madam continued. "Scarpo himself watched during our peak hours. Or Arcangelo." She brushed the air with both hands and shook her head. "An inside job?-impossible! Murdered outside, Gusti."

"Then why wasn't she wearing a cape?"

Rosa chewed on her thumbnail. "Dragged her body down the back stairs, then. But there's a bolt on the outside. Always fastened."

"Must've had the key, or something wrong with the lock. Let's find out."

"This way." Rosa turned to Carlo. "Take that lamp." She looked at Serafina and put a forefinger to her lips. "And you, shhh, like an aging strega, the pitch of your voice."

Rosa led them down the hall to a door and opened it.

Carlo held his lamp high. They saw freshly-made footprints in the layer of dust on the top landing, too many to count, and a dust-free path down the middle of the stairs.

"Dragged the body," Carlo said. "Dead weight too heavy for the killer."

As he led the way, the lantern cast globes of dim light on walls and ceiling. Dark, winding, cavernous, the staircase, with air that smelled like the exhalation of old ghosts.

Halfway down, Rosa pointed to something glinting.

Carlo picked it up.

"The other earring," Serafina said.

"Other?" Rosa asked.

"Found one outside, near the body."

"Let's see what Colonna does with it," Rosa said, turning up one corner of her mouth.

"He won't find it. I took it."

At the bottom, Carlo opened the door with ease, a few meters from where Scarpo stood next to Gusti's body.

Scarpo said, "You took the key, Signura?"

"Unlocked," Carlo said.

Serafina looked at the bolt. "No lock. Gone. No sign of force."

"The spider crawls up my neck again."

Serafina swiveled to Rosa. "Gusti's killer had inside help, face it."

"Or Don Tigro. His men work magic, guards or no guards," Carlo added.

Serafina said, "His men would have taken Gusti's jewels. If not her jewels, then for sure her twenty lire gold piece."

They were back in Rosa's office by nine.

"Killed in her own room, Gusti. Murderer dragged her body down the back stairs. Who'd know about that staircase, or have the key to the outside lock?" Serafina asked.

The madam sat at her desk, about to say something when they heard the crunch of wooden wheels on stone, the low tones of male whispers. One voice had an unmistakable pitch, like the fingernails of a strega sliding down a wall: Colonna.

Serafina said, "We'd better go out there."

Carlo looked at Rosa. "My trusting Mama."

Rosa rocked her head back and forth, eyes closed. Both forefingers ticked in the air like a pendulum. "Watch Colonna operate: you'll get a big lesson on how to do nothing."

Colonna wore a long overcoat and fedora hat. He moved from side to side.

"Hello, Inspector," Serafina said.

He looked at Serafina with narrowed eyes. "You again?"

"I sent for her, Inspector," Rosa said. She managed a smile.

Taking his arm, Rosa said, "Forgive me, distraught I was, but now I feel better, now that you're here." She pressed her front into his forearm. "But you see, you and your men, you've been so busy, so much violence, so many crimes. Oh Madonna, I say to myself, that Inspector, how does he do it? So I asked my friend, Fina, here, to help me." She patted his hand.

Smiling, he tipped his hat. "Hard for you, Signura, I know, and you keep such a, such a clean and distinguished establishment." He couldn't help himself. His eyes roamed over Rosa's bosomy immenseness.

The madam smiled and looked into his eyes. "Too kind, Pirricu."

"And your friend-Fina, you say?" He looked at Serafina. "Found out what, so far?"

Serafina interrupted. "And we sent for you, as soon as we heard. We didn't know if you'd be here or in Catania. We're told there's been another uprising. The peasants are-"

"Well, I'm here but leaving shortly. Troops sent to Catania, most of my men with them. Only Colonna here!" He thumped his chest "Two others to help me keep the peace." He gestured to the two uniformed men who followed him.

They nodded.

Colonna continued. "But we'll manage. Loffredo should arrive any minute." He turned to his men. "Get the artist."

"Already sketching the body," someone said.

"When he finishes, and Loffredo finishes," Colonna said, gesturing to indicate the meaning of 'finishes,' "take the body away." Another flourish. "In the meantime, La Signura and I will be in her office."

Serafina saw the artist kneeling by the body. Several meters away, two hospital workers in black cassocks bearing a stretcher stood in silence, their eyes cast to the ground, hoods donned, waiting alongside a draped cart and mule in mourning headgear. They reminded her of that Sunday in October and a death so different. How Rosa had grieved, still does, for Bella. She must find this killer.

Serafina smelled Loffredo's pomade and heard his distinctive step but continued talking to her son, feeling her cheeks burn despite the sea wind.

Dr. Loffredo removed his gloves and kissed Serafina's hand. "Upsetting for you. And poor Rosa, a fourth victim."

"Otto, you remember my son, Carlo. He goes to University. Home for Li Morti."

"Doubt I would have recognized you. A man now, and the last time we met, you were a child. Hear good things about you from Professor Libertate. 'Excellent doctor he'll make,' he tells me. Said you're an exacting dissector." He paused, looking closer at Carlo's face. "You have your mother's looks, her gift of persistence, your father's scholarly bent, and your parents' intelligence. If you're not busy Monday morning, would you be so kind as to assist in the examination at the morgue? What I do here is preliminary."

"I'll be there, but I'd like to take a train Monday afternoon. Exam Tuesday morning."

"Understood. Meet you at, say, nine o'clock?"

Breaking Free.

"Pirricu, is it?" Serafina lifted an eyebrow. She sat across the desk from Rosa.

"Good riddance to that insolent goose of an inspector. One small look at the body, two big glasses of grappa, and in three minutes he's gone."

"Loffredo is here now, doing the preliminary examination with Carlo. They'll continue in the morgue Monday morning. Strangled with her own scarf."

Rosa shuddered. "Marsala?"

"Too early for me, but I could use another cup of tea or a caffe."

Rosa pulled the cord. In a few minutes, the domestic came in with a tray and two cups of espresso.

"Too old for this business."

Serafina said nothing. She took a cup and drank. In the past when she'd suggested that Rosa close the house, the idea was met with a sudden storm.

"I miss Tessa. Arcangelo picks her up this evening," Rosa said, downing her espresso.

"Don't you think Tessa should stay with us, in light of Gusti's murder, just until we find the killer?"

Rosa opened her mouth to protest.

Serafina held up her hand. "Think about it. And after Loffredo leaves, you must wake the women. Need to talk to them."

Rosa opened her mouth again.

"We interview the women, you and I together, in this room. Today. The killer has an accomplice, someone who knows the house well, the ins and outs, the front, the back, the comings, the goings. Is there a customer who knows the layout of this house so well? Consider the question before you answer," Serafina said.

Rosa shook her head. "Then it has to be someone in the house, one of the girls. Unless it's Falco or a maid."

"Any record of his being here? Would Scarpo or the guards know? Any of his usual women?"

Rosa bowed her head and ran a finger back and forth on the desk. "Run of the house, Falco."

"All the more reason to speak to the women. Gioconda will tell me. Proud of being one of Falco's favorites. But what about the guards. Could it be one of them?"

Rosa threw her hands up. "Don't be silly. Guards don't know the inside of the house. Never inside, the guards."

"So it's one of your women, Falco, Scarpo or Turi."

"Turi, no. Scarpo, never!"

"And I'm sure Gusti knew the accomplice, perhaps even the identity of the killer. Anyway, she knew too much. She had to be killed."

"Should have given her more time last night. Oh, if I could only take it back!"

"And Gusti fought her killer," Serafina said. "One of her nails broke. And I found, clutched in Gusti's hand, a strand or two of hair, probably from the scalp of her killer. While we talk to the women, we'll look for a scar somewhere on the face or neck. Maybe behind the ear."

"I'll wake them one by one. Who first?"

Serafina reached for her notebook and put it on the desk. "Her friends. They'll be able to give us the most information about her."

Rosa's eyes were wet. "An outsider, Gusti. And the only friend she had-" She stared at Serafina and shifted in her seat.

"I'm listening, Rosa. And the only friend she had was?"

Rosa's slowness must be the result of shock. Either her shock or her disbelief. Why is it so hard to pull information from her? Serafina tried to be gentle, but her patience was wearing thin.

"Not here."

"What do you mean, 'not here?'"

Rosa's cheeks looked like jammed mule packs. "Carmela."

Serafina slid her cup onto the tray. It teetered with a metallic sound, like the distant clang of swords.

"Did you hear what I said?" Rosa asked.

Serafina lost her patience. She spit out words like bullets in a gunfight. In an effort to summarize, she couldn't help running her thoughts together. "We went to Palermo, interviewed the father. He's innocent. We know that, still need to interview Bella's business partner, she might have information about this monk of Bella's. That haughty countess, in Paris when we need her. Why? Then there's Falco. Now he's a real possibility and, come to remember, I saw a monk's habit hanging in his workshop. But, even more damning, he stands the most to gain from Bella's death, and he has yet to account for his whereabouts on the evening she disappeared. Oh, a little excuse of a fitting, but not to cover the whole evening, especially since I hear he has the run of the house." Serafina glared at Rosa.

"Changing the subject, slippery like the wet skin of a snake you are. Now you listen to me. You are Carmela's mother. Her mother. Hear me?-issued from your womb. When she hears the word 'Mama,' a face flashes in her mind. Your face. She can't help it, poor girl, she's got no choice. She may think she hates you, but she cannot. She loves you with a love deeper than all the oceans piled one on top of the other. She must."