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

around the landing, Serafina peered down into the vast atrium, marveling at this view of the main staircase and all the servants helping to settle the house after the arrival of guests—plumping the pillows, polishing the brass, dusting the woodwork, the lamps, the chandeliers, sweeping the carpets; performing each task, it seemed to Serafina, with concentration and vigor. She looked around, saw no groups whispering behind curtains, no evidence of shirking work or of backbiting. On the surface and from this height , the servants seemed content, and this she attributed to the successful run ning of the house, even after the mistress’s death. She wondered who or what was responsible. The housekeeper? The butler? Fat wages? She didn’t think it was because the baron was a benign, caring, and thoughtful overseer, not from her introduction to him, and not from Rosa’s words about him yesterday morning.
    After Doucette unlocked the baroness’s room, Serafina paced its length to a row of floor-to-ceiling windows fronting the sea. “Stuffy in here,” she said, so the housekeeper helped Serafina open all the windows and shutters. Soon the sea air made Serafina exhausted, and she felt like lying down, but knew she must not. So far she had nothing, no leads, held no interviews except for this one with Doucette, and so far, it was turning out poorly. At this rate, her stay would have to be extended.
    The room was enormous and decidedly feminine. She and the baron must have kept separate bedrooms, not unusual for the upper classes. Taking up one wing of the third floor, it faced the carriage drive and fountain in the front, running the length of the house with a view of lawn and buildings in back. The walls were washed in pale ochre, and the bed linen and drapes were made of damask in a delicate lemon and lavender print. A brass vase held dried roses. Two fireplaces heated the room, and an Aubusson carpet hung above each mantel. In the corner close to the front windows was a desk and, next to it, a reading chair, so Serafina sat at the desk and placed her notebook on top.
    “I shall wait for you in my sitting room, dear lady.”
    “Don’t go quite yet.” Serafina patted the overstuffed cushion on one side of the desk, inviting the housekeeper to sit. “Unless you have pressing duties elsewhere, I have some questions, if you don’t mind.”
    Doucette sat on the edge of the seat, her hands carefully folded in her lap.
    “I’m intrigued. Tell me how you came to meet the baroness.”
    “In Paris, about ten years ago, that’s where we met. Lady Caterina had come to our city with her aunt, you see, to avoid the troubles here. And of course, my city has always attracted the upper classes, and yet, I thought at the time, so strange of the baroness to choose Paris f or escape.”
    “How so?”
    “Our life in Paris was difficult in those years, you understand, but first I want to tell you that, despite our hardships, I love it there, too, and long to see it again, even though the baroness was so kind to me.”
    Doucette’s accent grew more noticeable as she became more animated, but Serafina sharpened her ears and forgot her fatigue, drawn into the woman’s story.
    “It was at the opera that she met me. I was one of the company’s hairdressers, you see.” She hesitated and, if possible, sat even straighter. “We met quite by chance, through some mutual acquaintances, when, as it happened one day, the hairdresser at the house where the baroness stayed did such a horrible job with her coiffure, and she needed some help.” Doucette paused, a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. “I almost laughed when I saw it, I still remember the sight. In a few moments, I dressed her hair, and the baroness was most pleased. After that, I went to her every morning to do her toilet, sometimes in the evenings as well. When it was time for her departure, she asked if I’d like employment with her. She told me that when her land is at peace,