Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [142]
FORTY-ONE
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1909
“Congratulations, signora. I hear you have a son,” greeted Inzerillo, ushering her into the back room.
How bizarre these meetings were, thought Giovanna. It was like they were two leashed dogs that, if untethered, would tear each other apart.
“Thank you, signore. His name is Anthony.” Giovanna wondered if this godless creature would understand the significance of her son’s name.
“Sit, please, signora,” directed Inzerillo.
“I heard that Lupo is in jail. I must admit, I thought he was behind my troubles, but now with him in jail it’s clear that’s not true,” fished Giovanna.
Inzerillo tried to hide his surprise and interest in what Giovanna was saying. “You’re right to assume I know Lupo, signora. And you’re also right to assume that he knows nothing of your troubles. He’s a good man.”
“In a way, I wish he was involved, signore. I get the feeling that he’s a reasonable man and would understand that we have no more money.”
“Signora, I was told that these men were going to ask for a final payment. Surely, knowing that this is the last payment will inspire you to get the money.”
“Listen, signore. We do not have this money. I will find a way to get it if you can promise that there will be no more demands and my entire family will be together and safe.”
“Signora, you forget that I am only a messenger, but I promise to use all my influence to make this so. You have acted honorably and so must these thieves.”
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1909
For the first time in a long time, Giovanna sat down and told Rocco what was going on. She avoided the details and focused on the contents of the last letter.
“How do we know this will really be it?” Rocco asked.
“We don’t.”
Rocco looked at his wife out of the corner of his eye, realizing she was holding something back, but he was too debilitated by this process to ask questions. “But we don’t have the money. Lorenzo’s given us everything he has,” said Rocco, frustrated. “And no matter how much we work between now and then, we couldn’t earn it.”
“Maybe my parents have money left from what I sent them,” offered Giovanna.
“Even if they did, it would never get here in time.”
“I could ask Lucrezia.” Giovanna couldn’t believe she suggested it, but she meant it.
“Are you crazy? If she went to the police now, all this would be for nothing. If we ask someone outside the family, it has got to be someone who won’t be suspicious of why we need the money.”
Impressed with Rocco’s thinking, Giovanna said, “That rules out Signore DeCegli.” In her mind she was going through the possibilities. Were she to ask Mariano again, it would raise suspicions or questions.
“I’ll get the money,” resolved Rocco. “I’ll get it.”
Rocco saw in his wife’s eyes how grateful she was, but for the first time, he also thought he saw love.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1909
“Some of the guys at the station said you kept asking for me down here,” greeted Detective Fiaschetti, throwing a ball at Domenico.
“Detective! You came!” Domenico hadn’t spent so much time playing ball since he was a little boy.
“Why did you want me to come? There’s other guys around,” commented Fiaschetti, pointing to the handful of cops who were playing with the kids.
“Well, you’re Italian. There’s not many Italians and, besides, you knew the great Petrosino!”
“Your name is Domenico, right?”
“That’s right, detective. I was hoping you could tell me stories about Lupo.”
“Why do you want to know about him?” Fiaschetti asked suspiciously.
“He’s a famous crook. And didn’t Petrosino want to catch him, and now you have him in jail?”
Fiaschetti looked hard at Domenico. “You’re the one who wants to be the detective, right?”
“That’s me,” answered Domenico.
“Come on, sit down over here,” directed Fiaschetti. They leaned against the gym wall. “Lupo is being brought to court on Monday for blackhanding a shopkeeper named Manzella. If you’re so interested, why don’t you come?”
“I will!”
“Domenico, I have a few questions for you.