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

Ugo’s body will be buried before the week’s out. I mustn’t let that happen.”
    “Ugo’s body has told you all it needs to tell, a tale of treachery and revenge, of hatred between brothers, a lust for gold that blights our land. Trust yourself, but think in different ways. You need new eyes.”
    Serafina crossed her arms and stomped a foot on the floor as her mother disappeared. “Oh, you are impossible! Impossible! Why won’t you help?” But as she asked the question, Serafina snapped her fingers and ran down the stairs, her doubt dissipated.
    •  •  •
    She called for her factotum.
    Beppe appeared, panting.
    “Remember the body on the beach?”
    He nodded.
    “I want you and Arcangelo to follow some people for me who may be involved in his death.”
    The pointed toes of Beppe’s shoes shuffled back and forth.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “You’ve captured the killer.”
    “I did, but… I’ll explain later. First take this note to Rosa asking for Arcangelo’s help. Then meet me back here.”
    In a few minutes, both boys stood before her.
    “Carry these for me, won’t you?” Serafina handed each young man several pairs of worn and scuffed shoes. They need mending, another excuse to visit Rodolfo.
    As they walked across the piazza, Serafina explained the shoemaker’s involvement in his brother’s death. “That’s why I want you to follow him, his wife, and his son. You know them?”
    They nodded.
    “I doubt that Graziella leaves the home. She’s just given birth. But if she does and if she walks with her husband, you both can follow together. If they go their separate ways, you’ll have to split up.”
    Arcangelo pulled at his sleeves. “What if the three of them go out separately?”
    “I don’t think that will happen, but if it does, follow the shoemaker and his wife. They live above the shop. There’s a back door and an alleyway, but I think they’ll take the side path to the street in front.”
    She continued. “This is hard work. Under no circumstances are you to let them see you. Remember exactly where they go, to whom they speak. Use your head. If they enter a building with more than one door, wait for them to exit. But if they don’t come out in an hour or so, report back to me.”
    “And if they take the train or a public cart?”
    She dug into her reticule and handed each boy some coins. “If they take a cab, follow if you can. But don’t take the train. Come back and tell me.”
    When they were a few doors from the store, she took the shoes. “I’ll go in and have them mended. Cross the street and hide behind those—”
    “We know how, Donna Fina.” Arcangelo winked. “We stalked the monk, remember? And we know how to cover more than one exit.”
    She smiled, recalling the part both had played in helping her catch the Ambrosi murderer. Beppe and Arcangelo disappeared. But as she mounted the shoemaker’s stairs, the ghost of something lurked in her mind.
    The shop was nearly empty of shoes, except for a few battered specimens in the corner. Teo greeted her wearing a leather apron that almost scraped the floor. “Papa said I could be in charge of the shop this afternoon.” He wrote up the order and gave her a receipt. “Ready on Monday morning.”
    “So soon?”
    “For you, Donna Fina.”
    She smiled, remembering their last conversation about the gypsy queen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Sweet Shop
    C ocoa, almonds, orange: Serafina breathed in the smell of the heavens as she entered the sweet shop next door to the shoemaker. Bending over the glass display, she ran a finger back and forth, looking at all the delicacies. Soon she saw a head of black hair rising up from a stool behind the counter.
    “You’re Renata’s mother,” the girl said.
    “And you must be the owner of this delicious-smelling store.”
    She shook her curls. “The daughter. How can I help?”
    “I thought I might get something special for supper tonight. Don’t mind me while I look. Renata’s