Murder on Waverly Place Read Online Free Page B

will ask her if it would be all right for my daughter to join the sitting today as well,” Mrs. Decker said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I have included an additional fee for my daughter,” she added, starting to hand the Professor an envelope but stopping just short of actually doing so. “But if my daughter is not welcome, I will have to leave with her.”
    The poor man was caught between following what were obviously his instructions to admit only invited guests and the prospect of losing Mrs. Felix Decker as a client. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mrs. Decker,” he said, instantly contrite. “I’ll speak with Madame Serafina. These matters are very sensitive, you know. Madame Serafina must maintain a delicate balance.”
    “We will most certainly be guided by her wishes,” Mrs. Decker said, although her tone implied that Madame Serafina’s wishes would doubtless coincide with Mrs. Decker’s. She allowed the Professor to have the envelope.
    Professor Rogers—Sarah wondered just what kind of a professor he was—guided them inside, took their wraps, and escorted them into the parlor before disappearing, presumably to ask Madame Serafina’s permission for Sarah to attend the séance. A large silver tray had been set on a low table in the middle of the modestly furnished room. On it were a tea service and an assortment of small cakes. Two people had already arrived. A woman sat on the sofa and a man stood on the other side of the room, staring out a window.
    “Elizabeth,” the woman said, nearly upsetting her teacup in her haste to put it down and rise from where she was sitting. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.” The woman hurried over and took Mrs. Decker’s hands in her own, as if to reassure her.
    “Kathy, you’ll remember my daughter, Sarah Brandt,” Mrs. Decker said. “Sarah, Mrs. Burke.”
    “So nice to see you again, Mrs. Burke,” Sarah said politely. Mrs. Burke looked vaguely familiar, although Sarah probably wouldn’t have recognized her under other circumstances. Her clothes marked her as a member of the wealthier members of society, and she had the well-tended look of a hothouse flower. Is that how her mother appeared to others? Sarah wondered fleetingly before Mrs. Burke returned her greeting.
    “So nice to see you again,” she said. Her tone was too hearty, and now that Sarah had an opportunity to look into her eyes, she saw a strange anxiety reflected there. What did Mrs. Burke have to be anxious about? She’d already made contact with her dead sister and made up their quarrel.
    “I’m glad I was able to come,” Sarah replied noncommittally.
    Mrs. Burke turned back to Mrs. Decker. “I didn’t know you were bringing someone else.” Now the strain in her voice was unmistakable.
    “I only decided last night,” Mrs. Decker replied with a frown. “The gentleman who answered the door seemed to think it would be all right.”
    “He did?” she replied uncertainly, with a nervous glance toward the doorway. “Then perhaps it is. Mr. Sharpe, do you know how Madame feels about unexpected visitors?” She turned slightly toward the older gentleman who had been standing by one of the long windows that overlooked the street. He must have been listening to their conversation, because he looked up and came forward as if on cue.
    “I’m afraid I can’t speak for Madame Serafina,” he said to Mrs. Burke. “Perhaps Mrs. Gittings can tell you.”
    Mrs. Burke glanced uncertainly at the doorway again, as if expecting the answer to her question to appear there, before remembering her manners. “Oh, may I present Mr. John Sharpe?” she asked Mrs. Decker.
    He was impeccably dressed, and his clothes fit without the slightest wrinkle, as only a skilled tailor could manage. His hand, when he took Sarah’s, was smooth, but his eyes were razor sharp.
    “I believe I’ve met your husband, Mrs. Decker,” he said when he’d greeted them both.
    Sarah saw a