happened.”
“Where was he then?” Frank was genuinely curious. O’Toole and his men had searched the house, but they hadn’t found Nicola, yet Frank knew he’d been here.
“He was out,” Madame said before he could answer. “He always leaves the house when we have a sitting.”
“A sitting?” Frank asked.
“That’s what we call it, when people come for a seance.”
“He was hiding.”
The three of them looked up in surprise at the Professor. They’d forgotten he was there. He was staring at Nicola with open dislike.
“I was not hiding!” Nicola protested.
“He killed her,” the Professor said. “It had to be him.”
“I didn’t kill anybody!” Nicola insisted. “Why would I?”
“Because she wanted to send you away,” the Professor said, his voice oddly flat, as if he were trying desperately to hold himself together.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Madame Serafina said, hurrying to his side. “You’re just upset. Nicola would never kill her. Please, sit down, Professor. Nicola, get him some brandy.”
Nicola started for the door, but Frank grabbed his arm, stopping him dead. “Nobody’s going anywhere. Why would Mrs. Gittings want to send you away?” he asked the boy.
His eyes widened in fright, and he glanced at Madame as if for guidance on how to answer.
The Professor answered for him. “He was a distraction. He’s in love with Madame and wants her to run away with him.”
“She was mine long before you ever saw her,” Nicola replied angrily.
“Nicola, please,” Madame cautioned with a hint of desperation. “You’re both upset. Don’t say something you’ll regret,” she added with a meaningful glance at Frank.
“I won’t regret telling the police he killed her,” the Professor said.
None of this was making any sense. “What does Mrs. Gittings have to do with any of you?” Frank asked.
All three of them froze, staring back at him like cornered rats. Suddenly, Frank realized he’d been wasting his time talking to the others, who’d known nothing useful at all. These three knew who Mrs. Gittings was and probably why she’d been killed.
“You,” he said to one of the cops in the hallway. “Take this one back upstairs and keep him there until I send for him.” He shoved Nicola into the cop’s arms. Nicola made a few attempts at resistance until the cop cuffed him a good one, and then he went along quietly.
Frank noticed that Madame winced when Nicola got slugged, but she made no attempt to intervene. She just stood where she was, wringing her hands and glancing apprehensively at the Professor.
“You,” Frank said to the Professor. “Come with me.”
The man followed him obediently to the dining room and took the chair Frank indicated. “What’s your name?” Frank asked, taking out his notebook.
“Professor Ralph Rogers.” The Professor was a man of middle years who’d undoubtedly worked hard to make his way in the world. His hands were clean and well manicured but bore the marks of manual labor performed in the distant past. He’d probably been considered plain in his youth, but the years had added some interesting character to his face. His hair was well barbered and neatly combed. He carried himself well and his voice was cultured. Frank thought he looked like an actor playing the role of a butler. Maybe he was.
“Where do you teach, Professor?” Frank asked idly.
Rogers blinked, but he didn’t back down. “It’s a courtesy title.”
Frank let that pass. “What’s your job here?”
“I serve Madame.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever she requires.”
Frank didn’t let his irritation show. “Like bringing smelling salts?”
“If that’s what she requires.”
This was getting him nowhere. “Tell me what happened here today.”
“We were having a sitting,” he said.
“Yeah, all those people were in the room, holding hands in the dark, talking to the spirits,” Frank said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “What were you doing?”
“I was waiting in the kitchen.”
“That’s what you do when there’s a sitting?”
“Yes. My job is to greet the clients and make sure they’re comfortable. Then I stay close by during the sitting, in case I’m needed.”
“How do you know if you’re needed?”
“Madame calls for me.”
“Where were you when she called for you today?”
“In the kitchen, as always.”
“Why didn’t you come then?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “I came!”
“Nobody saw you,” Frank said, stretching the truth a bit. Nobody remembered seeing him, at least.
“I came immediately,” he insisted, a bit defensive.
“And what did you see?”
“I saw…” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed audibly. “I saw her on the floor.”
“What did you think when you saw her?”
He made a visible effort to control himself. “I thought she’d fainted. That’s what Madame said. She wanted smelling salts because someone had fainted.”
“When did you know she’d been stabbed?”
“I… Someone said it, I think. Then I saw the… I saw it. And she wasn’t moving.”
“What did you do then?”
“Everybody started running out of the room. The gentlemen were getting the ladies out. I… I went to see if… if I could help.”
“You tried to help Mrs. Gittings?”
“Yes, I went to her, but… Well, I could see it was too late. Her eyes…” His voice caught, and he closed his eyes.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he said in a near whisper. “It’s just… The shock.”
“How did you know she was dead?” Frank prodded mercilessly.
“Her eyes,” he said raggedly. “They were open.”
“What did you do then?”
His eyes flew open and he stared at Frank as if just remembering he was still there. “I went out to find a policeman.”
“Why did you do that?” It was a reasonable question, considering that Madame Serafina would most likely not want any scandal associated with her business, certainly not with her wealthy clients there, and involving the police was the surest way to cause a scandal.
The Professor’s expression hardened. “Because I wanted to be sure that whoever killed her was caught.”
“And you think Nicola killed her?”
“He’s the only one who had a reason.”
“And what is that reason?”
“I told you, she wanted to send him away.”
Frank was confused again. “Mrs. Gittings wanted to send Nicola away?”
“That’s right.”
“Because he was a distraction,” Frank remembered.
“Yes.”
