Free Death In Bagheria (A Serafina Florio Mystery) by Susan Russo Anderson

baron’s smile whenever he regarded the madam and was grateful for her presence. She’d speak to Rosa later about him, her best chance for determining the man’s true feelings.
    “After the meal, I’d like to meet the cook and afterward, spend some time in Lady Caterina’s bedroom, and if she had other favorite rooms—a boudoir, for instance, or the conservatory—I’d like to visit those as well.”
    “Then by all means, you must. I’ll have Umbrello see to it.”
    “And I may have more questions for you. Do we have your permission to interview all the servants who were in your employ during her illness?”
    All at once his exasperation peaked. “Of course, I’ve told you—free reign. Search wherever you wish, the servants’ quarters, my bedroom—a small chamber next to Caterina’s on the third floor; I’ve given instructions that it is to be unlocked during the day. Interview everyone if you must. Talk to them all, once, twice, as many times as you’d like and Umbrello will arrange it, but why these interviews? Do you understand, we have over fifty servants, most of them in our employ during my poor wife’s illness. They adored her, wouldn’t dream of doing her ill, were devastated at her loss. What do you hope to find?”
    She hated herself for upsetting the man obviously still in mourning, but she gazed into his mottled face and said, “The truth.”

A Tour
    A fter they’d finished eating, the baron excused himself, saying he had a meeting with an associate, and the butler appeared, opening the dining room doors leading to the main staircase and domed atrium. He introduced Rosa and Serafina to Doucette, the housekeeper, who had been waiting for them next to a potted palm.
    Just then, della Trabia arrived, a little the worse for wear and smelling like horses. He pulled the butler aside, and the two spoke. It was not an argument, not by any stretch, more like a pointed conversation, their animosity held in check by their proximity to the dining room, the baron’s study, and his guests, but she felt their mutual dislike. The housekeeper, who stepped back to the plant, kept her eyes fixed ahead, her stance a study in tranquility.
    “A slight change. I’ve arranged with della Trabia to take you on a tour of the grounds,” the butler said. Turning to Doucette, he dismissed her—and rather stiffly, too, Serafina thought. “Perhaps you’d be so … good as to wait below stairs for our guests?”
    The housekeeper raised her nose and regarded the butler. “Send a footman when you are ready for me. I shall be in my sitting room.” She lifted her skirts and was about to leave when Serafina tapped her on the shoulder and smiled. “Won’t you excuse us, please?”
    For his part, della Trabia stood, at ease with himself and with the world, smiling first at the butler, then at Doucette, who regarded the gabelloto with as much disdain as she had reserved for the butler.
    Doucette turned to Serafina, her back straight. “But of course, Madame.”
    At the edge of her vision, Serafina saw movement behind a potted palm. She focused, saw the tip of a wooden sword disappear behind a frond. Two eyes below golden curls stared out at Serafina, the small figure solemn until an arm in black wool shot out and gripped Adriana by the collar. “Got you!” the governess said. “To your room, my lovely,” and vanished up the staircase with her charge, who turned around to stare at Serafina.
    Before leaving, the housekeeper cast her eyes once more in the butler’s direction, and sweeping up her skirts, she departed.
    Rosa poked Serafina in the elbow as they followed della Trabia outside. “Interesting,” the madam said.
    “One of them missed an order, and they’re covering up, or some such nonsense.” Serafina said.
    “Oh, it’s more than that. Della Trabia disturbs the schedule, for what reason, I’ve no idea, but it was deliberate. The three don’t like one another, that’s plain. The butler has no love