Death Of A Sad Face (A Serafina Florio Mystery) by Susan Russo Anderson Page B

the difficulty her children had in accepting the newcomers. Maria, especially. Perhaps Serafina should have sent Teo and his brother to the orphanage like her friends advised, but after the horror they’d witnessed and her involvement in the case, she couldn’t abandon those two boys, just couldn’t do it. Her older children had welcomed them. Vicenzu, the son who now ran the family pharmacy, saw another pair of willing hands. No, it was Maria, her youngest daughter, who’d not welcomed the pair. Come to think of it, ever since Serafina had begun her sleuthing, she’d felt the heft of Maria’s spirits. Vicenzu said she was imagining trouble—the household would settle of its own accord soon enough—but she doubted it. She must spend more time with them, but how could she? The family needed the extra stipend her sleuthing fetched, and detecting required time away from home, lots of it, whole swaths of days when her mind did nothing but ruminate. And so, when she was home, she wasn’t there for her children, not really. Oh, it was all too much of a muddle.
    After swallowing the last of her caffè, she scooped up the paper again and stared at the words flickering in the candlelight while the memory of the children’s raised voices last night played about her mind.
    The door opened, letting in a howl of air. Boots clomped down the hall.
    “Back so soon?” she asked.
    Vicenzu shrugged off his cape. “Why are you up so early? It’s not yet first light.”
    “The wind woke me, whipping against the shutters, making a sound like a wild specter.”
    “Go on about the specter.” He grinned. “Grate’s cold.” He limped over to the hearth and began poking about the charred logs. Soon she heard the crackle of the fire and felt warmth creep into her toes.
    Over his shoulder, he asked, “Where’s Teo? He was supposed to meet me at the pharmacy this morning.”
    “I thought we agreed he was not to work in the store on school days. His teacher says he’s not made many friends, and I’m worried about him. He’s had a terrible time of it.”
    “Haven’t we all! But I need him to help me with a new delivery this morning. If Teo were grateful, he’d have started a fire for you and gotten to the shop before me.”
    “He’s not a servant. He’s a guest, a boy bewildered by the sudden loss of both parents. Give him time to find his way.”
    “Too much of a mope, Teo.”
    She shook her head. “I remember how you were after your accident.”
    “That’s different. I was physically hurt and couldn’t walk.”
    She might as well stop arguing—Vicenzu was born with endless answers. Serafina consulted her watch pin. “Let him sleep. I’ll help as soon as I finish reading.” She rattled her paper. “In the meantime, sit, have some caffè.”
    He threw up his hands and pulled out a chair.
    “So, my ornery dog, anyone talking about the murder?” Serafina pointed to the picture of a smirking Colonna.
    He shrugged. “Your friend?”
    “The inspector? Hardly.”
    “No, I mean it happened at Villa Lanza. Isn’t the baroness one of your clients?”
    “And her baby’s due any moment! I must pay her a visit this morning.”
    “Which means you can’t help me, and I’d better wake Teo.” Vicenzu started for the stairs.
    “Eat first, then wake him. He’s a child and needs his rest.”
    “I’ll help,” Carmela said, entering the room. “I used to work for Papa before your accident, don’t you remember?”
    Vicenzu shook his head. “If you say so.”
    “Besides, I need to get out of this house.” She rolled her eyes in Vicenzu’s direction, sat, and turned to Serafina. “Don’t forget the circus tonight. The children are looking forward to it, especially Tessa and Totò—even Maria.”
    The domestic padded over with a loaf of warm bread and bowls of biancomangiare . She poured coffee and departed.
    Carmela continued. “We’re taking two carriages. It’s all arranged. That look on your face tells me you