Elizabeth Street Part 35

Domenico stood at the open door and nodded his head in the direction of the vestry, meaning the crook was inside collecting the payoff. Giovanna went outside to the alley entrance while Domenico stayed at his post. At least two minutes pa.s.sed. Was there another exit? She was beginning to panic when she saw Domenico nod, indicating the man was coming. There was an alley on either side of the church. If the Blackhander came her way, she could easily pull him in. If he went in the other direction, she would have to run to reach him before he pa.s.sed the alley. Domenico nodded again, this time to the left, indicating he was exiting on the side opposite Giovanna. His nod gave her the precious few seconds she needed.

A foot before the alley entrance she flung out her arm, grabbed the man's neck from behind, and dragged him into the alley. She held him so tight he was choking. He tried to pry her arm from his neck until she drew the blade to his chin. His hands dropped, and for a moment Giovanna was unnerved when she looked into his face and realized it was the "cripple" from Washington Square.

"Be quiet. Say nothing or I'll slit your chicken neck," Giovanna hissed.

Everything about the man quieted except his eyes, which he desperately tried to roll backward in an attempt to see his attacker. Giovanna's enormous belly was pressed so tightly against his back that she knew he must feel the baby kicking. He was so short that his head was pulled back onto her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Listen, clown, I know who you are and I know who your boss is. You tell him this. You tell him that there are three sealed envelopes waiting to go to the police, the mayor, and the newspaper with details about the killing of Mario Palermo and the bombing of Bank Pati. If anything, anything anything, happens to my daughter, to me, or to anyone in my family, someone has been instructed to deliver these letters. The evidence will hang you all. Do you understand, cafone?"

The man tried to nod but couldn't move his head in Giovanna's death grip. "If you understand, stomp your foot."

His foot stomped.

Giovanna slowly let go, and by the time he jerked around to face her she had her gun pointed at him. "Go. Take the money. And take the message."

The man was frozen.

"Go, you phony cripple, go!" Giovanna commanded, knocking him in the head with the gun before he fled. "Va al diavolo!"

After tucking the knife and gun back into her waistband, she repinned her hair, took a few deep breaths, and exited the alley, practically falling to the steps of the church. No sooner had she got there than she realized Domenico was gone. "I knew it! I should not have trusted him!" her voice screamed in her head.

The recessional hymn sounded on the organ; the priest was the first to exit the church. "Signora! Are you alright?" He hurried to Giovanna on the steps.

"S, Father. It's difficult with the baby, that's all."

"Zia!" Frances and Mary came running.

"Girls, you shouldn't leave your mother."

Giovanna defended them. "No, no, Father, I didn't want them to miss ma.s.s."

"G.o.d would forgive them. Children, take your mother home to bed."

"Clement's not here. He went with Papa to the cafe," greeted Frances from the stove, where she was frying meatb.a.l.l.s, as Domenico walked into the apartment.

Giovanna slumped in relief. Her wait for Domenico had been interminable.

"Zia almost fainted in church, Domenico," announced Mary.

"Girls, go ask Zia Teresa if we can eat together at her house. I'm too exhausted to have the meal here."

"Mary can go, Zia. I'll finish this."

"No. I don't want her walking alone. Go."

"Va bene." Frances reluctantly grabbed Mary's hand, and they left.

Giovanna said nothing. She waited for her nephew to speak.

"I followed him."

"I told you not to do that."

"You told me many things, Zia. I listened to most."

Giovanna sighed. Zia. Only Aunt. There was no one to call her "Mamma." Even her stepchildren called her Zia. She looked at Domenico with the loss that she felt and said, "You could have been killed."

"Zia, that man was too scared to wipe his a.s.s, let alone kill someone! Where did you learn to talk like that? I I was frightened listening to you!" was frightened listening to you!"

Giovanna smiled but turned serious again. "Where did he go, Domenico?"

"I'm a failure as a detective." Domenico's voice cracked. "I was so close to him leading me right to her. Then I lost him. I lost him, Zia."

"They are experienced in knowing how not to be followed. You can't blame yourself."

Although his aunt's words were kind, Domenico heard the disappointment in her voice. "Zia, I only know that he went to Brooklyn. Where in Brooklyn, I don't know, because that's where I lost him."

"That's more than we knew yesterday."

Domenico's head was bowed dejectedly. He looked like a little boy.

"Did he see you?" asked Giovanna gently.

"No, I don't think so. And I don't think he knew someone was following him, which makes my losing him all the worse."

"No, Domenico, we did good today. Angelina is safer tonight, I think."

After a few moments of silence, Giovanna asked, "Domenico, how did the schifoso get into the vestry? Did he jimmy the lock?"

"No, it was open."

"Open? Who was the last usher out? Describe him."

"Thick, shiny black hair. The fish seller."

"Molfetti?"

"I think that's his name."

THIRTY-NINE.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1909.

Triumphantly, Giovanna noticed that there were no drawings of dripping knives or misshapen guns on the letter.

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FRIDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1909.

How do I know my daughter is alive? Ask her what she did on her birthday and give me the answer. If you give me this word, I will give you more money.

Giovanna took out the poison tincture and with an eyedropper carefully edged the paper and the envelope with little drops. Hours later when it was dry, she put on her gloves and, wrapping herself in her shawls, headed toward Saint Anthony's church.

SAt.u.r.dAY, OCTOBER 30, 1909.

Molfetti's fish store was crowded. Jostling her way to the front, Giovanna's eyes fixed on Molfetti's hands filleting a flounder. They looked red.

"Signora, what are you doing down here?" asked a woman next to her.

Giovanna had delivered the woman's baby but couldn't remember her name. It amazed her that if you went an extra few blocks in the neighborhood to buy something, people noticed.

"It's my stepson's birthday. I wanted to get a nice piece of fish."

"He does have good fish," agreed the woman, sounding privileged that this was her local fish store.

As if to explain the redness, Molfetti thrust his hands into a tub of ice water and, on closer inspection, Giovanna could see there was no rash.

"Good luck to you, signora," said the woman upon leaving.

"Good luck?" replied Giovanna, preoccupied.

"S, with the baby!" nodded the woman, smiling at her stomach.

"Signore Molfetti," greeted Giovanna at the counter.

"I'm sorry, signora, I seem to have forgotten your name," replied Molfetti.

"Oh, you probably don't know it," said Giovanna cheerily. "I'll have that piece of flounder," she indicated, pointing.

As Molfetti wrapped the fish, she continued, "It's just that I recognize you from church; you're an usher, yes?"

"Yes, of course, that's where I've seen you," commented Molfetti, handing her change.

"Signore, you should make a point of locking the vestry door," whispered Giovanna emphatically as she turned and left.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1909.

"Can I dress up tonight?" asked Mary.

Giovanna was making the morning espresso. "We'll see."

"Sometimes they give you a penny instead of a treat."

"Then I suppose your father would consider it work." The priest's sermon came to mind. "And G.o.d will forgive us."

Mary had wanted to be an Indian during the Hudson-Fulton celebration, and Halloween gave her a second chance. She borrowed a costume, and before setting out, Giovanna braided Mary's hair and put rouge from Aunt Teresa in stripes on her face. At Prince Street, Mary headed west.

"Where are you going?" questioned Giovanna. "We know more people the other way."

"But they have more money in these neighborhoods."

Giovanna smiled at her stepdaughter.

"Stay on the street when I go in the store, Zia."

It took Giovanna a few stops to get what Mary was up to. She heard Mary's loud "Trick or treat!" and when someone presented her with a candy she politely shook her head and pointed inside her mouth to a phantom rotted tooth. Giovanna would see Mary's feathers nod thanks when she was instead offered a penny.

An hour later, Mary shook her little burlap bag. "Not bad, Zia, and there's a bunch more blocks we can go."

"Except next time, you take the candy. You deserve it." Giovanna bent down, hugged Mary, and got a stripe of lipstick on her shoulder. Her only thought had been how this trauma would affect Angelina, but now she was reminded that, to a lesser degree, everyone in the family would have scars.

At nine thirty, Giovanna had to convince Mary it was time to go home. They met Rocco and Clement on the stoop returning from selling sweet potatoes to the chilled trick-or-treaters.