Death of a Serpent Read Online Free Page A

large cabinets stood on the far wall, both of them unlocked. One held Bella’s personal wardrobe, each item covered in muslin. Serafina leafed through these, one or two day dresses, several gowns, many a little too revealing. She smiled to herself, remembering how her children described her taste—what was the word Renata used?—’ burgisi ,’ that was it. She held out a dress, examined the stitching. Although not a seamstress herself, Serafina knew expert finishing when she saw it. Again she pulled out a frock, looked at it. She examined another and another. She began to recognize Bella’s strong gift, a sense of costume, a unique flair. And then she felt Bella’s presence. The dead woman hung between her frocks, a specter not yet departed.
    Below the garments in neat rows were pairs of shoes crafted in fine leather, polished, buffed, and arranged below the matching garment. Serafina made a mental note to visit the shoemaker. Bella may have been his customer, a frequent one, unless she had them fitted in Palermo. Perhaps he saw her recently. Merchants often knew a lot about their customers, when they were flush and when not, the company they kept.
    In the second cabinet she found a shelf holding hats, a few of them wide-brimmed with feathers and pins, some straw hats, wool hats, no doubt all made by Bella, one or two like the brown velvet she found on the beach; shelves with bolts of fabric, watered silks in all shades, a few garish colors, wools in gabardine, bombazine, cloth in a variety of textures, some finely woven, others thick, nubby, boiled. The bottom shelf held a basket stuffed with spools of thread, needles, jars of beads. Next to it was a stack of Godey’s Lady’s Books . She knew this name: Godey’s . Giulia waited for it each month, disappointed when publication stopped during the war in America.
    Serafina grabbed a few of the magazines and flipped through them, pausing at some of the colored plates.
    She looked at her watch and felt pinched. How did she get herself into this? She wanted to continue helping Rosa, she must, but she must be home when her children returned from school for the noon meal and siesta.
    Dust flew up her nose. She sneezed, stopped at a page with a creased corner, and peered through watery eyes at an article with drawings of Italian beadwork, embroidery, and church vestments. In a prostitute’s bedroom, of all places. What were those swirling things carved in wood, etched onto a chalice, or embroidered onto vestments? One snake-like creature wound itself around a holy book of some sort. Another drawing showed it slithering around a cross. She tried to read the words, but the article was written in English. No matter, she’d get Giulia or Vicenzu to translate.
    She blew her nose and sat. Her ballooning skirt forced more dust into her face, and she coughed, wishing she had known Bella in life. She was someone who would rather have worked with her hands and mind than with her body. The woman could have been a designer of high fashion, a creator of unique lines, expensive gowns for the nobility. Did all of Rosa’s women have dreams like Bella’s? She decided to take another look around. She’d be home just in time if she left by 11:30. That gave her forty more minutes.
    She opened the second cabinet again, feeling around in the dim light for something she may have missed. Wedged between the Godey’s and the back of the cabinet were letters neatly tied into two packets. She scooped them up, stuffed them into her pockets, and stopped. If she were Bella, where would she hide valuables?
    She looked behind the mirror. No holes. No patching. She walked the floor looking for loose boards: none. Of course, the bed. Why didn’t she think of it before? After feeling underneath for a box or hole in the boards, she yanked off the linen, ran her hand over the top and sides of the mattress, but found nothing. Wait until Rosa saw the mess she was making of ‘our sweet Bella’s