Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [111]
“The fruit seller may be stubborn, but Tommaso’s stupid. You’re sure they have the money, yes?”
“Twice she’s received big payments, and she has more coming. It’s a settlement from the gas company Brooklyn Union,” answered Inzerillo, continuing his war on the flies.
“She got money from them? She’s smarter than us. We’re up here knee-deep in cow shit, and she sits home and gets fat checks from the Americans for nothing.”
Lupo stormed around the barn while Inzerillo fanned himself with hay. There was a look of resolve on Lupo’s pug face. “I’m going to give this one to Leo.”
SEPTEMBER 8, 1909
“Commissioner Baker, it was an extremely successful mission,” Lieutenant Vachris and Sergeant Crowley reported, standing at attention in the new police commissioner’s office.
They had just returned from nearly three months in Italy. The Italian government was embarrassed by Lieutenant Petrosino’s murder and had fully cooperated in collecting the penal records that Petrosino had uncovered. Lieutenant Vachris’s eyes roamed the room. All traces of Commissioner Bingham, who had been replaced during their trip, were gone. The new commissioner didn’t invite them to take a seat.
“I’m glad to see you two men home alive. We couldn’t afford another screw-up over there.”
Vachris was pretty sure he didn’t like this man. “We were advised not to go into Sicily. They felt sure we would be killed. But with the Italian police, we were able to secure the records of seven hundred criminals. Seven hundred! Just about everyone from Lieutenant Petrosino’s list and more.”
Crowley jumped in. “Commissioner, if we could get more help on the Italian Squad, we can have most of these criminals deported within the year. The Italian colony would be free of crime.”
“It’s the best way to avenge Lieutenant Petrosino’s death,” added Vachris.
“I don’t think we’re ready to move that quick, men.”
“But, sir, if the crooks are here three years, we can’t get rid of them! Some of them will pass the three-year mark in just a few months.” Thinking he’d made his argument clear based on the commissioner’s silence, Lieutenant Vachris continued, “Detective Crowley and I figured out a plan to round them up…”
“I don’t think you heard me, Lieutenant. I said we’re not ready to move on this yet.”
“But, Commissioner, look!” exclaimed Vachris, leafing through the papers in his hand. “In two months, these men will reach three years: Vincenzo Sapio, Tommaso the Bull, Alfonso…”
“We can pick them up right now,” Detective Crowley interrupted before the commissioner could.
“There’s more to policing in this city than the Italian Squad. This is one neighborhood, gentlemen! In fact, I need you both elsewhere, and I’ve arranged for your transfers to other departments.”
“You can’t…”
“I am the police commissioner, and I can. I suggest you take your transfers gratefully. I order you to not breathe a word of your mission or these records, which I will take for safekeeping. When we’re ready, we’ll deal with them.”
“Will we be ready after the election, Commissioner?” sneered Vachris. Flipping through the records, he added, “Is it their votes or their fists that the alderman requires?”
“Vachris, I’ll let that go with a two-week suspension, because I am sure you’re tired from your trip. However, if I find out you have discussed this mission or its results with anyone, you’ll be discharged from the force. Am I understood?”
Scilla, Italy, August 1978
I had been in Italy a month and was getting frustrated. No matter how many frescoes, bronzes, and cathedrals I saw, I wasn’t satisfied. It took me a while to realize that I was looking for something I would never find in the splendor of the northern cities. I was trying to find Nonno’s Italy. I needed to see where he fished for swordfish. I wanted to connect all those stories that he told me as a child with places that weren’t imaginary.
“Nanny, I’m in Italy.” An international call was a backpacking extravagance, but I was confused.
“What? I thought you were still in school in London.”
“The term is