Read Online Murder On The Rue Cassette (A Serafina Florio Mystery) by Susan Russo Anderson - Free Book Online

her voice louder, her speech
slower.
    “What difference does it make?”
    “My friend asks an important
question,” Serafina said. She felt no need to explain.
    Sophie stopped and considered.
Her eyes flicked to the side. “I saw ... the right side of the face. The head
was placed so that the left side of her face was hidden. Dreadful experience,
I’d love to forget it, but I cannot do so now, since you remind me.” She
removed a lace handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “The inspector
wouldn’t let me send a servant. No, I had to go myself.”
    “No one went with you?”
    She didn’t answer the question
but was silent for a time, keeping company with her thoughts. “The stench.
Paris morgue, you know. Public gawping at dead bodies. Disgusting. I’d heard
about it, but believe me, the place is worse than I’d imagined. I had to get
Elena’s body out of there.”
    “How did the police know to call
you?”
    Sophie de Masson eyed Serafina
as if she were a dullard. “She had identification in her reticule.”
    “And you’re positive it was the
body of your niece?”
    Again she shot her a look. “Of
course. Even in death she managed to look like a trollop. Such a horror that a
member of our family could do so much to tarnish our name. It was one thing not
to want to assume her role in our business. She had brains, but no time for
them. Like my oldest, I’m afraid. We could have made inroads into ready wear.
For all his laziness, Beniamino has some interesting ideas on that score. He
tells me we need to play a greater role in the middle classes, must have a
presence in the grand department stores. Ever since that man and his peasant
wife opened Le
Bon Marché , it
is the thing to do, and I fear for the name of Busacca in fifty years. Yet I am
hesitant, but he begs me to be a part of it. He says we should sell in Le Bon Marché , La Samaritaine , show in les grands magazins du Louvre . But you see I’m old; I have neither
the time nor the energy to become involved. And I worry. Such a decision to
make by myself.”
    “But there’s your brother.”
    “What does he know of French
taste? If we were to sell in these large stores, perhaps it would cheapen the
name. I have such fears for the way Beniamino wants to give up our stores, but
at least he is interested enough to pose the question. Now, as to Elena. I was
delighted to receive her when she arrived. I had expectations, you know, and
such plans. You must admit she attracts a crowd. But right away she made
friends with the artists, the poets. Beyond the falling out over business, her
life, such as it was, left me no choice but to have nothing to do with her. She
was a horror. Spoiled, as a child. Had everything given to her. So you see, we
never had much in common. When she arrived, I didn’t quite know what to say to
her, and she’d disappear for months at a time. Her life was an abomination. She
disgraced the family. And her death is not much better, such a brutal affair.
But she deserved it.”
    Serafina felt the blood in her
veins turn to ice, and she stole a glance at Rosa. The madam was pale.
    “But I need to find out exactly
what happened to her,” Serafina said.
    Sophie straightened in her
chair.
    “Have you been in contact with
her husband?” Serafina asked.
    “Never. I have nothing to do
with him.”
    They were silent, the three of
them, for a moment.
    “If you will excuse me,” Sophie
rang the bell.
    “I think we’ve heard enough for
now, except for one more question. What convinced you that the body you saw was
indeed that of your niece?”
    “Her purse of course with
various papers of identity. There was a card with her husband’s photo and one
of my brother. Not a good likeness, but, well, unmistakable. I knew, therefore,
that the body I stared at could only be Elena’s. The shape of her body was
roughly the same, although the dead do have such a foreignness about them.”
    “No other marks that would
identify her?