A Job for Lawyers

Etna smoldering. Photo credit: gnuckx (Flickr)

from Death in Bagheria

March 21, 1867

“Your mother died some time ago,” Serafina said, rummaging in her pocket for her notebook. “Why wait until now to investigate her death?”

Sister Genoveffa ran a hand down her beads and held the crucifix like a revolver. “I understand your investigation will be more difficult because of the delay, but … I had to be sure in my own mind that her death was not accidental before I asked for your help. It took me long enough to realize that she’d been murdered. Should have discovered it before she died. If I had, she’d still be alive.” The nun slammed the cross into her thigh.

Serafina’s heart jumped.

“If you can’t take my word, if you need to exhume her body to prove poisoning, by all means, do so,” Genoveffa said. “Doubtless my grandfather will give his permission.”

As she wrote, Serafina could hear footsteps in the sacristy. “Why do you suggest exhumation? To quell my disbelief? Or perhaps you still harbor a vestige of doubt.”

Serafina saw emotions cross the nun’s face like fast-moving clouds—anger, exasperation, regret, sorrow. Tears welled in her eyes. This woman, she thought, is so alone, no shoulder to cry on, no one to share her pent-up feelings. Locked in a dungeon of her own making. She reached out and squeezed Genoveffa’s hand and was rewarded with a smile. “I believe you. My task is to find the killer. Digging up the dead is a job for lawyers.”