Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [117]
“Get her in the room,” the short guy growled to one of the women, still angry and embarrassed by Leo’s rebuke.
The men and older boys were out searching the streets. Before they left, Rocco’s last words were, “Talk to no one, and if anyone goes to the police, I’ll kill you with my own hands.”
Giovanna had already tried to get into Limonata’s apartment via the fire escape, but the window was locked and so dirty she couldn’t see anything inside. Finally, she heard the sound of the super opening his door, and she flew down the steps.
“Limonata borrowed my beer pitcher. She’s not home. Can you open the door?”
“You know I don’t like to do that. Can’t you wait?”
“How am I supposed to get beer for this crowd?”
“Alright, I’ll be up in a minute.”
Giovanna paced in front of Limonata’s door until she heard the super’s heavy footsteps and keys jangling on his way up the stairs.
“I’ll wait here,” mumbled the super at the threshold to the apartment.
Giovanna was trying extremely hard to act as if nothing was wrong as she walked into Limonata’s apartment. But even in the late afternoon light she could sense that something was not right. Limonata had little in her two rooms, but now there was even less. Giovanna glanced around the kitchen. The shelves were empty, there was no cloth on the table, and the pot was missing. But it was the bedroom that confirmed her worst fears—the clothes rack was empty. She had been breathing deeply to calm herself, and her breath turned into an inhaled scream.
The super came in and looked around. “Puttana!” He kicked the table and turned to Giovanna. “You’re screaming because she took your beer pitcher! I have to tell the big man she left without paying last month’s rent!”
The woman led Angelina into a small room with a little window. Quickly, she pulled a thick piece of dark muslin over it, blocking the view of the brick office across the street.
“Why did he take me here?” Angelina openly sobbed now that she was out of sight of the men.
“I know nothing. But you listen to them and stop your crying. I’ll get you something to eat.”
“I can eat at home. Here, see, I stopped crying. He said if I didn’t cry I would go home,” asserted Angelina, pushing past the woman to the door. The woman grabbed Angelina’s arm, flung her back in the room, and quickly closed the door behind her. Angelina heard the lock click as she lunged for the doorknob.
The sound of Rocco and the men returning reached the kitchen before they did. Giovanna knew they hadn’t found Angelina and not only because their trudging footsteps told her so.
“She’s gone. Limonata’s gone, Rocco!” The door was not even fully opened when Giovanna began shouting. “Nothing is left in the apartment. I know what this means. Did they come to you again, Rocco? Did they? Did you not tell me? Did you not pay them?”
“Giovanna, stop it. People will hear!”
“What people, Rocco? My brother? Your children? You’re a fool, Rocco! A stupid, stubborn fool! You should have paid them the money!”
“Be quiet!”
“I will not be quiet! They have my daughter!” shouted Giovanna, collapsing into a chair and desperately trying to get her breath.
“Send one of the boys for Lucrezia,” instructed Teresa.
“No! No, don’t get her. Don’t get anyone. We’ll take care of this!” growled Rocco. “Listen to me. I want everyone in this room now,” he commanded with a ferocity even his children hadn’t seen before. The children in the other rooms squeezed into the kitchen. “Angelina is fine. She has gone visiting. Do you hear me? She is visiting. That is all you know. And if anyone,” he looked straight at Teresa, “says anything different to anyone outside of this room, they will have blood on their hands. Now, go home and remember—Angelina is visiting relatives!”
THIRTY-FOUR
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1909
Hollow-eyed and silent, Giovanna and Rocco sat at the kitchen table. Neither had changed nor slept. Rocco had spent most of the night walking the streets looking for the square-headed man who had come to his cart. The children, bleary-eyed themselves,