Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [120]
“Why, of course, signora.” Inzerillo motioned someone into the back room, which was quickly emptied of four men holding cards.
Closing the door behind them, he asked, “What can I do for you, signora?”
“Signore, I need to communicate with some men who I do not know. I need these people to understand a few important things.” Giovanna paused, trying to gauge whether his expression registered any recognition of what she was saying. But he was either clueless or playing it smart.
“Go on, signora.”
“I need these men to understand three things. First, they must know that I do not believe you can ever work with the police. Second, they should know that there is no money under my mattress, but I will get what I can. And third, signore, they must understand that if anything ever happened to anyone in my family, I would hunt them down and slit their throats.”
“Signora, I assure you that I have no knowledge of what would prompt you to deliver such a message. But without putting anyone at risk, I will do my best to find these men and communicate this information.”
“One of the men might be large with a squarish head. Another, short with a mustache. And perhaps one is tall and skinny with a lidded eye.”
“Don’t worry, signora, I will find them,” assured Inzerillo.
It had taken every bit of Giovanna’s strength to say her piece without breaking down. She felt her facade crumbling, and she wanted to collapse into this man’s arms, who she knew was a murderer. With her last ounce of fortitude, she said, “Grazie, signore,” and got up quickly to make her exit.
“Signora,” Inzerillo called. Giovanna stopped but did not turn, not trusting that she could control her tears. “Signora, you did the right thing by coming to me. I will see that your message is delivered.”
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1909
Giovanna started the day by buying the paper, for while Rocco’s weapon and solace was work, Giovanna’s was information.
After scanning every headline for anything relevant, Giovanna went back to page one. PEARY GETS TO NORTH POLE. Giovanna bristled with resentment at the irony. Some man had managed to find the end of the earth, and she couldn’t find her daughter.
Picking up a pencil, she copied the note she had written to the kidnappers for the fifth time, making sure it was perfect.
In this envelope is $507. This is all the money that we have in the world. You are mistaken if you think we have more. Please take it and return our daughter and we will never speak of this. She is only a little girl, please.
She would deliver the note tonight. With Angelina’s birthday dress in her lap, she prayed that all would go well and this would be over. She had picked up the dress yesterday and hadn’t put it down since. Initially, she held it to her face, searching for a scent of her daughter—the sweet smell of her skin after her bath or the soft whisper of her breath. There was no vestige of Angelina to be found.
At supper she didn’t eat a thing and picked up the plates from the table before the others finished. Rocco and Clement rose to put on their boots.
“Why are you getting dressed?” Giovanna’s blue eyes narrowed.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going there alone.”
“We spoke of this! We can’t frighten them!”
“They’ll only see you. But Clement and I will be near in case you need us.”
“If this is what you wanted, you should have told me earlier! What makes you think they’re not watching! If they see you leave they’ll think you’re meeting the police.”
Rocco wondered where his wife had learned to think this way. “Okay, Clement and I will go to the roof and leave from another building,” he said, continuing to put on his shoes.
“If I wanted to watch the front door of a building, I would watch it from the roof.”
“What do you want?” Rocco shouted in exasperation.
“To do this as we planned. I’m in no danger. There’s no money for them without me.”
Rocco knew she spoke the truth, but he couldn’t let her leave without protection. He went into the bedroom and called Giovanna to join him.