Free No More Brothers (A Serafina Florio Mystery) by Susan Russo Anderson

I…”
    “Take your time. It’s important.”
    “Well, yes, now that I think on it. Yes, by the snakes, I seen them together, the shoemaker and Ugo. Same flat face, I remember laughing to myself and thinking I was seeing double pretty early in the day. A rare sight, I might add—the brothers weren’t friends, but everyone knows that.”
    “Why the bad blood between them?”
    “Well, what I’ve heard…” He leaned forward and breathed vinegar near her face. “The shoemaker wrested the shop out from under Ugo’s nose. That’s what they say.”
    She nodded. “Were the brothers here for the whole evening?”
    He shrugged. “Long enough to have a drink, but you see it was—when was it—end of last week? Weather warming, as I recall.” He paused long enough to smack his gums. “Not crowded. Had to have been recent.”
    Although she felt her temples throb, Serafina kept very still. “Can you recall what day of the week it was?”
    He cocked his head. “Let me think on it a while.” He quieted for a long time until he nodded. Imperceptible at first, his movement grew distinct, a definite nod. “Saturday, Saturday a week. Definite, that.” He pointed to his head and grinned. “Yep, that’s a definite. Saturday a week. First the shoemaker came in.”
    “Alone?”
    He shook his head. “No, he came in with someone. Now let me think, hold on, he came in with a queer bloke, a faded soldier, as you might say. Might have seen that one before, but after a while, they all look alike.”
    Serafina brought out her notebook and wrote. “A faded soldier. Can you describe him?”
    “Not short, not tall. Thick. Kept a rusty rifle by his side, like all the rest.”
    “Did they spend the evening here?”
    “Hold on now.” Boffo scratched his head. “Not so’s I recall. First the soldier comes in, then the shoemaker. Must have planned to meet here, you see. They sat at a table in the corner away from the bar behind the pillar, although they had their pick of seats. Not crowded, that’s how I remember it. Then a throng comes in. Lost track of the pair, you might say. Later on, Ugo rolls in, seats himself at the brother’s table. But I think, yes, I think the soldier had left by then. Or maybe not. By that time, quite a crowd. Yes, definitely this past Saturday. A rollicky gal, this bar, and she still draws a mob on Saturdays.”
    “So you don’t know how long they stayed, but they were together, first the shoemaker and the soldier and after the soldier left, Ugo came in and drank with his brother.”
    Boffo’s cheeks puffed in and out. “That’s about it.”
    Serafina waited a bit, then stuffed the notebook into her reticule. “Did the brothers leave together?”
    “Don’t remember. Just remember the handshakes. And later, that same evening must have been, Rodolfo has a bottle with him. Wants me to fill it with the house wine. I did. Said I could add it to his bill. Old customer, you know.”
    “And now he has a high tab?”
    He shook his head. “Nope. Yesterday, he paid up.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Chasing a Dream
    S erafina sat in her mother’s room on the third floor and wrote down what she’d remembered of her failed meeting with Abatti, her conversations with Rodolfo and his wife, weighing their words and mood, mentally sifting through and jotting down the physical evidence found at the scene of the crime and in Ugo’s kitchen.
    She wrestled her mind into the straightjacket of logic and fact, only to give up and let it graze freely on possibilities and failed stratagems. Thumbing through her notes, she considered what she’d learned so far—precious little for all the time she’d spent, certainly not enough to nail Rodolfo to his brother’s murder.
    She chewed on the inside of her cheek, realizing she was not as objective as she liked to think: she had begun the investigation of the shoemaker with her mind already convinced of his guilt. Closing her eyes and leaning back, she emptied her head,