thought to ask. “If Mrs. Brandt is in the City Directory, he could have found her as easily as you did.”
“He… Well, he… That is…” Sharpe stammered. He really was a terrible liar, Sarah observed.
“What business was it you needed to discuss with Madame Serafina?” Sarah asked to save him from further embarrassment.
Sharpe frowned. “It’s private.”
Then Serafina made a small sound, closed her eyes, and held out her hand until her palm rested lightly on Sharpe’s chest. “You have come to make me an offer. It was very difficult for you to forget your pride and ask again when I had refused you before, but you must follow your heart, as your wife told you to do.”
“Yes, yes,” Sharpe said in happy amazement.
“But you did something you did not want to do, something you are ashamed to tell me,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“No, I wouldn’t…” he tried, but she ignored his protest.
“The Professor, he wanted money,” she said. Then she gasped, as if surprised by her own revelation and her eyes flew open. “Did you give him money?” she asked in alarm.
Sharpe looked around again, as if trying to judge if he needed to be concerned about the opinion of anyone present. Apparently, he decided he didn’t. “Only a little,” he finally admitted.
“That is not true,” Serafina informed him imperiously.
Sharpe actually quailed under her rebuke. “I only gave him a small amount, just what I was carrying with me.”
“He would not betray me for a small amount.” Her certainty was absolute, and Sarah wondered how she could be so sure of the Professor’s loyalty.
Sharpe proved to be no match for her will. “I had to promise him more before he would tell me where you were.”
“I would have told you for nothing,” Frank informed him.
Sharpe glared at him and would have responded, but Serafina cut him off. “You must not give him any more money. He will run away, and we cannot let him run away.”
“Why not?” Sarah asked, stepping forward, intrigued by Serafina’s performance and wanting to see how far she would go with it.
“He knows who killed Mrs. Gittings.”
“How do you know?” Malloy demanded.
“I feel it.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me when I questioned him?” Malloy asked with a trace of irritation.
“He may not realize that he knows,” Serafina said.
“You should go see him,” Maeve said, surprising everyone, who turned to where she stood with Catherine in the doorway. “Maybe you can help him remember.”
Serafina dropped the hand she’d been holding to Sharpe’s chest and turned to Sarah. “She is right. We must go back to that house. The answer is there.”
14
DEAD SILENCE GREETED SERAFINA’S SUGGESTION. AS THE technical hostess to this motley group, however unwilling she may have been in the role, Sarah felt obligated to break the awkward silence.
“What do you think will happen if you go back to the house?”
Serafina turned her remarkable eyes on Sarah, and once again Sarah marveled at the charismatic power the girl possessed and her seeming ability to turn it off and on at will. “We will find out who killed Mrs. Gittings.”
“How will you do that?” Sarah asked.
Serafina raised her chin. “The spirits will tell me.” She turned the force of her gaze back to Sharpe. “You will return with me, will you not?”
He didn’t look as if the idea appealed to him very much. “Is that really necessary?” he tried. “I thought the Italian boy killed her.”
The girl’s eyes blazed with fury. “No, he did not.” She turned to Malloy. “I will prove he did not, but I must return to the place where it happened, so the spirits can speak to me.”
“Couldn’t you speak to them here, dear?” Mrs. Decker asked, obviously trying to be helpful. No one wanted to go back to that house on Waverly Place.
“They will not be able to find me here,” Serafina declared.
“I don’t know why not,” Malloy murmured for Sarah’s ears only. “You’re in the City Directory.”
Startled into a laugh, Sarah had to cough to cover it. Serafina gave her a disapproving glance, then turned her attention back to Sharpe. “We must reenact the seance,” she was saying. “Everyone must be in their exact places.”
“I can’t imagine the others will want to do that,” Mrs. Decker protested in alarm. “Mrs. Burke has taken to her bed from the shock. She couldn’t possibly go out.”
“I could take her place,” Maeve offered.
Serafina shook her head. “Mrs. Burke will come,” she said confidently. “Mrs. Decker will come, will you not?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “And Mr. Cunningham will also come, if I ask him. Only the real killer would refuse. Am I not right, Mr. Sharpe?”
Sharpe had to swallow before replying. “Yes, of course, my dear,” he agreed, but he still looked as if he’d bitten into something unpleasant.
“We must send them word,” Serafina said. “We will arrange it for tomorrow morning.” She turned back to Maeve and said, “You will sit in for Mrs. Gittings.”
Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but Malloy grabbed her arm, startling her into silence and giving Maeve the opportunity to reply.
“I’d be happy to,” she said with obvious satisfaction.
“It is settled. You will be there at ten o’clock?” she asked Sharpe.
“If you’re sure this is the right thing to do,” he hedged.
“It is. You will be there, and when it is over, I will give you my answer to your offer.” She graced him with a dazzling smile that promised he would not be disappointed.
Sharpe could not possibly resist. “Yes, I’ll be there.”
“What about the Professor?” Mrs. Decker asked suddenly. “Shouldn’t you tell him we’re coming?”
“I will send him a message that we are coming and to be ready,” Serafina said. “He will expect Mr. Sharpe to bring him money, so he will be there. But you will not give him money,” she added to Sharpe. “If you do, he will leave, and he must be there during the seance.”
“Yes, yes, whatever you wish,” Sharpe assured her.
Serafina nodded, satisfied she had his support. “I am sorry, but I must be alone now to prepare for tomorrow. Until then,” she said and gave Sharpe her hand again. He took it in both of his and for an instant Sarah thought he might kiss it, but he simply bowed over it, and stepped back when she withdrew her hand again.
She turned and moved past Sarah and Frank and silently ascended the stairs, moving so gracefully that her feet might not have even been touching the floor.
When she was gone, Mrs. Decker said, “Well,” breaking the second awkward silence. “This should be very interesting.”
“Do you really think Mrs. Burke is too ill to attend?” Sharpe asked with a frown.
“I don’t know,” she said with a meaningful glance at Sarah, who recalled her mother’s theory that Mrs. Burke was simply pretending to be sick. “I’ll take her the message personally, though, so she’ll understand the urgency. Perhaps that will persuade her to make the effort.”
“I can go see Cunningham,” Sharpe said. “He’ll do anything Madame Serafina asks of him, I’m sure,” he added with obvious disdain.
“Try to get to him before he goes out for the evening,” Malloy suggested. “Otherwise, he’ll be too hung over to
