Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [131]
“It’s like losing the elephants at the circus! You can get up if you want. Your heart rate is normal now.”
Giovanna swung her legs over the bed. “Lucrezia, I’m fine, really.”
“Giovanna, I would hope after all our time together that if you had anything to tell me you would feel free to do so.”
“Sì, sì…” Giovanna couldn’t look Lucrezia in the face. “I’ll walk out with you. I was on my way to get things for dinner.”
When they parted, Giovanna felt far worse than she had before. Her anxiety had lessened, but it was replaced with a heavy, broken heart.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1909
Hands over her eyes, Angelina tried to imagine the sights and sounds from the Ferris wheel. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…” The room was pitch dark and her lids were shut tight and covered, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pretend. Something crawled up her skin. Trembling and shaking, she tried again. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…”
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1909
“I heard something!” Teresa entered the apartment nearly breathless and handed over a baby each to Mary and Frances.
Giovanna jumped up and closed the door. “Sit, Teresa.”
“Don’t get excited…”
“Just tell,” beseeched Giovanna.
“I overheard these drunken men talking about all the new greenhorns Il Lupo had working for him. They said that they were the ones who bombed the Bank Pati where the teller was killed.”
“And?” asked Rocco.
“That’s it. That’s what I heard,” replied Teresa.
“Are you crazy? You get us all excited, and you tell us nothing!” Rocco shouted.
“Rocco! Stop! Do you think we will just happen to hear where she is? Teresa was right to come. This could be helpful,” said Giovanna.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1909
An early light snow was falling, the first of the season. Giovanna was nearly oblivious to it, sitting at the window looking for signs or signals. Everyone was at work, including Mary, who had insisted on going with Frances.
It was two weeks to the day and she had not received instructions. No crude drawings and misspelled words. No sign of Leo or the phony cripple. Every few days she dropped into Inzerillo’s cafe to beg him to persuade the kidnappers not to harm Angelina and to let him know they were working hard to get the money. She assumed that once again word would come via Rocco because it was fairly easy to drop a piece of paper unseen into his cart, and so she hoped and half expected to see Rocco hurrying toward their building.
Instead, a moment later, her heart leapt when she saw Lieutenant Petrosino. Clutching her chest, she didn’t move her eyes off him and quickly debated whether to tell her old friend. For nearly ten seconds she was certain Petrosino was alive and his death had been staged. But when he came closer she could see that all this man and Petrosino shared was their stature and a derby. His face held none of the determination of the little lieutenant.
When Giovanna calmed down, she poured herself a glass of wine and went back to her position at the window. She remembered the first time she saw Petrosino in Saulino’s restaurant. He looked so depressed, and the lawyer DeCegli said it was because a little boy who had been kidnapped was found dead.
Maybe her dead friend was trying to tell her something, because the memory ignited a spark, and seconds later she was off her chair, wrapping herself in a thick shawl, and out the door. The kidnappers were right. It was not enough to know who they were. She needed to know their secrets.
Giovanna went to the library, and the same librarian who had helped her and Domenico find articles about Nunzio’s accident directed her to articles about kidnapping in the Italian language news papers. She left the library with a name and address in Brooklyn.
It was a dress shop. Giovanna hesitated before the door, and when she saw someone from inside looking at her suspiciously, she brushed the snow from her shawl and entered.
“Is Signora Palermo here?”
“Why? I can help you,” answered a small, stooped woman standing behind the counter.
“I wanted