Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [76]
“What does this story have to do with me, Lieutenant?”
“Signora, this fear is laying ruin to our people! A man denies his own son? Look, I know you are a strong woman, a brave woman. You would have to be to sue a big American company.”
Giovanna’s head snapped in his direction, her eyes flashing both anger and fear.
“Of course I know about it, signora. I’m a detective after all. But please, don’t fool yourself into thinking no one else knows. It is probably one of the reasons you are being blackmailed.”
Petrosino felt terrible when he saw the look of betrayal and bewilderment in Giovanna’s face. “I’m sorry, signora, for upsetting you. Please don’t blame anyone you know. It could have happened a hundred ways. Think about it. The payment went to a bank, didn’t it? One of the clerks could have whispered something to someone. And besides, do you think it would have gone unnoticed that an immigrant won a case like this?”
From Giovanna’s expression, Petrosino realized that he should end the conversation, but he also saw that he had got her thinking.
The next time Rocco saw the moled man and his fat accomplice, they were standing across the street from his store before dawn. He rode up in his cart laden with fruit. These were not the type of men to wake early. Rocco stopped the horse, jumped from his cart, and instead of running into his store, he grabbed a piece of wood and ran across the street toward them. Rocco swung at the tall moled one first.
“He’s crazy! Pazzo!” shouted one to the other.
As the tall one ducked and attempted to throw a punch, out of the corner of his eye Rocco saw the fat one check his pocket watch. He dropped the board and ran toward his store. He was twenty feet from the entrance when the window blew.
Giovanna was stirring polenta when she heard the explosion. Not stopping to put on her coat, she ran down the steps to the street and was nearly run over by the No. 9 hook and ladder leaving the garage across the street. The smoke was exactly where she feared it would be. Most people were running away from the scene in shock and horror; she ran against the current of the crowd. The buildings opposite the store had had their windows blown out. For one brief moment she thought they had escaped being the target, but running forward, she saw policemen disappear into a cloud of smoke in front of their store.
Tripping over barrels, glass, and what she thought was a piece of their awning, she tried to make her way through the black smoke. She ran into a policeman who attempted to pull her back, but Giovanna broke away. Covering her face with her apron, she stumbled upon two policemen crouched over a man.
“He’s alive,” shouted one cop to the other. “Let’s get him out of the smoke.”
Giovanna followed them, and by the time they reached the opposite side of the street, she could see it was Rocco.
“Is the ambulance coming?” asked one cop of the other.
“Yeah. I’m going in to check the rest of the building. It shouldn’t collapse because it blew out—probably not dynamite—but I want to make sure.”
Looking up they saw Giovanna. “You his wife?”
Giovanna stooped over Rocco, examining him. He was unconscious. She checked his pulse, surprised to find it strong, and inspected his cuts. He was covered in blood, but the wounds appeared superficial.
“Dell’acqua, per favore. Acqua,” implored Giovanna to the remaining cop.
“Lady, the ambulance is coming.”
“Acqua.”
“Could somebody bring water? I think she wants water.”
A fireman came over with a bucket. Giovanna dipped her dress into the water and wiped the blood from Rocco’s face. She then dripped water into his mouth; Rocco coughed.
“Aiutami,