Murder On Waverly Place

“What were you doing while she did this?”

He looked startled by the question. “Nothing. I was just sitting there.”

“That’s not what Mrs. Decker said.”

Cunningham looked confused. “What did she say?”

“She said you started coughing and then you let go of her hand. She said you didn’t take hold of it again until the room was dark and Madame Serafina had returned to the table.”

“I don’t remember,” he lied. “But if she said so, I guess it must be true.”

“Why were you coughing?” Frank asked.

“What do you mean?” he asked indignantly. “How should I know why I was coughing?”

“Do you cough a lot? I haven’t heard you cough since I’ve been here.”

“No, I don’t cough a lot. What does it matter if I coughed or not?”

“It matters because you let go of Mrs. Decker’s hand, or rather, you made her let go of your wrist until the lights were out and she couldn’t see whose wrist she was holding.”

“What are you trying to say?” Cunningham demanded.

“I’m trying to say that you could have put your hands in your lap after the room was dark and let Mrs. Decker take Madame Serafina’s wrist, thinking it was yours. Then you could have waited until everyone was busy trying to talk to the spirits and gotten out of your chair and stabbed Mrs. Gittings with no one the wiser.”

“That’s ridiculous!” he cried, outraged. “Why would I want to kill her?”

“Because if she was dead, you wouldn’t have to pay her any money to get Madame Serafina to become your mistress.”

He exploded out of his chair again, but that was a mistake. He sank back down, clutching it with both hands again. “Damn you!” he whispered savagely. “I didn’t kill that bitch!”

Frank let that pass. “When did you first realize something was wrong with Mrs. Gittings?”

He glared at Frank through narrowed eyes, suspicious again. “When Mrs. Burke started screaming.”

“You were the first one to notice she’d been stabbed, weren’t you?”

“I don’t know. Everything happened so fast. I just remember seeing the knife handle sticking out of her back.”

“Did you notice anyone else in the room except the people sitting around the table?”

“Anyone else? You mean another person?”

“Yes, another person.”

“No, of course not,” he snapped.

“What about the Professor? Didn’t he come in when Madame Serafina called him?”

He frowned, trying to remember. “I guess so. He was by the door when we all started out.”

“And you never saw the Italian boy?”

“I’ve never seen an Italian boy at the house at all,” he said crossly. “Where did he come from?”

“He’s a friend of Madame Serafina’s,” Frank said with just a slight emphasis on friend.

“What does that mean?”

“That means that they’ve known each other for a long time.”

“Then he must be the one who killed Mrs. Gittings.” He seemed relieved by the thought.

“That’s what the Professor thinks.”

“He should know, then. All I know is that no one at the seance could have done it.”

The door opened suddenly, and Mrs. Cunningham bustled in. “What is going on in here? I can’t imagine what could be taking so long.”

“Nothing, Mother. Mr. Malloy is finished,” he added with a note of triumph. Frank wouldn’t dare browbeat him anymore in front of his mother.

Frank rose to his feet. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Cunningham,” he said politely and gave Mrs. Cunningham a slight nod.

“What will happen now?” Cunningham asked quickly, then glanced apprehensively at his mother. Plainly, he didn’t want Frank to say anything about Serafina in front of her.

“I’ll keep looking for this Italian boy,” Frank said. “If I need your help again, I’ll let you know.”

“What about…?” He glanced at his mother again. “About that young lady you mentioned? Will she be all right?”

“I’m sure she will be,” Frank said, taking perverse pleasure in torturing Cunningham.

“If she needs anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?” This time he didn’t look at his mother.

“Of course,” Frank said.

“The girl will see you out,” Mrs. Cunningham said, putting an end to their cryptic conversation.

The maid was waiting for him at the door, and she ushered him to the front door. As he left the room, he could hear Mrs. Cunningham saying, “I hope this young lady you spoke of isn’t taking advantage of you.”

Frank smiled to himself as the maid escorted him out onto the front stoop, closing the door behind him with an air of finality.

Alone again, Frank shook his head. The more he found out, the more it looked like Nicola was the only one who really could have killed Mrs. Gittings. He hoped Sarah was having better luck today than he was.

SARAH AND HER MOTHER STARED AT MRS. BURKE IN stunned silence for a moment before Mrs. Burke recalled herself. “Oh, I didn’t mean that, not really,” she stammered. “I mean… no one really deserves to die. Well, perhaps some people do, but surely not Mrs. Gittings.”

“I know you didn’t mean that, dear,” Mrs. Decker said, after a glance to see if Sarah was as shocked as she. “But I never would have dreamed she was such a terrible person. She seemed… I don’t know, nondescript at best.”

“You didn’t know her as I did,” Mrs. Burke said, pursing her lips in distaste.

“Obviously not. But now I understand why you seemed so anxious that day.”

“Mrs. Burke, had Mrs. Gittings threatened you?” Sarah asked.

She looked up in surprise. She’d probably forgotten Sarah was there. “Threatened me? What do you mean?”

“Had she threatened to tell Mr. Burke about your visits to Madame Serafina? Or maybe she threatened that if you didn’t give her more money, she wouldn’t let you come back to see Madame Serafina again.”

“She did both of those things,” Mrs. Burke said in despair. “I was at my wit’s end!”

“And then Madame Serafina told you to sell the diamond brooch your mother had given you,” Sarah tried.

Mrs. Burke’s eyes widened. “No, no, she did no such thing!”

“But I heard her, at the seance I attended,” Sarah insisted.

“Not Madame Serafina,” Mrs. Burke protested. “She didn’t tell me to do anything. It was the spirits! They told me to sell it, but I couldn’t! It was all I had left to remember my mother.”

“But wasn’t it your mother’s spirit who told you to sell it?” Mrs. Decker recalled.

“I know, but I still couldn’t bear to do it, and there was nothing left that Harry wouldn’t have noticed was missing. I didn’t know what to do.” She began to weep softly into her handkerchief.

“Mrs. Burke,” Sarah said sharply.

Mrs. Burke’s head snapped up, her moist eyes wide again and full of apprehension. “Yes?”

“That day when Mrs. Gittings died, when did you notice something was wrong with her?”

“Oh, dear,” she said with a delicate shudder. “I shall never forget feeling her falling against me. I dream about it and wake up screaming-”

“Did you notice anything unusual before that?” Sarah said, jerking her attention back. “Did she make any sound? Or maybe she squeezed your hand or something.”

“I was holding her wrist, so she couldn’t have squeezed my hand,” she reminded them both. “I think I felt her arm jerk a bit at one point, but I can’t be sure. People do move around during the seances, you know, even when nothing terrible is happening to them.”

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Decker agreed, nodding encouragingly. “But she didn’t make any noises?”

“None that I noticed. I was listening to what Yellow Feather was saying, though, so I might not have heard.”