Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [77]
A car pulled up. “Jesus Christ, that’s Commissioner Bingham,” the cop mumbled to himself. Turning to Giovanna, he said, “Lady, I’ll make sure the ambulance gets here. Just wait. Okay?”
Giovanna nodded and watched him run off to join the other policemen gathering around the black car. At the same time, she saw Lorenzo galloping toward her.
“What happened? Giovanna, is he alright?” Not waiting for an answer, he said, “Madonna! I had a feeling this was going on. Let me get help.”
Lorenzo returned with an Italian-speaking police detective. By now Rocco was conscious and even was trying to stand. Giovanna forced him back down.
“I saw them. I fought them,” he stammered.
“You saw who?” asked the cop.
Turning to the unfamiliar voice and realizing it was a policeman, he stopped. “Nothing. I saw nothing.”
“It is not a good time to talk to my husband. I want to get him to a doctor.”
“Of course, signora.”
On the other side of the block, Commissioner Bingham strode up to Lieutenant Petrosino exclaiming, “Jesus, Joe, what happened?”
“They wouldn’t pay the protection money, and they wouldn’t let us help. They’re new store owners.” Petrosino nodded toward Giovanna and Rocco.
“So it wasn’t an attack on the precinct in any way?”
“I don’t think so, Commissioner. I think it was a mistake. A little too much explosive.”
Bingham lowered his voice. “Well, let’s not tell anyone else that. We’ll get more support if people think they tried to go after us. Any idea who did it?”
“I don’t think it’s Lupo. Too inexperienced.”
Giovanna sat at Rocco’s side in the hospital, and Clement paced the room. Rocco insisted that he could go home after having his cuts and bruises tended to, but he also had broken ribs, and Lucrezia and Giovanna forced him to stay. The harried doctors didn’t look like they cared if the poor Italian stayed or went.
As devastated as Rocco was, he was grateful that Giovanna had not left his side and was ministering to him with devotion.
“Is there anything left?” Rocco asked his son.
“Nothing. Papa, why didn’t you tell me? I would have left my job and worked with you!”
“Why, so you could lie here, or worse?”
They stopped talking at the sound of people approaching. Two men walked into the room. While not in uniform, they were clearly detectives. Lieutenant Petrosino followed a moment later. Having not told Rocco of her encounters with him, Giovanna tensed. Petrosino sensed her discomfort and ignored her.
“Signore Siena, you are a lucky man. It may not seem that way at the moment, but you are. I am Lieutenant Petrosino, and this is Sergeant Crowley and Detective Fiaschetti.”
He was greeted with silence.
“The explosion in your store not only destroyed your business, it rocked our police headquarters. The commissioner is most anxious to know what happened. So are the newspaper reporters. What should I tell them, signore?”
Rocco shrugged. When Petrosino continued to wait for an answer, Rocco mumbled, “It blew up.”
Gripping the bed rail to contain his anger, Petrosino blurted, “I was hoping for once someone would get so mad they wouldn’t be afraid!”
Taking a minute to compose himself, but not hiding his exasperation, Petrosino continued. “Va bene. I know you are frightened, but it is not as if you remained safe without the police involved. Signore Siena, had you entered your store, you would have been blown to bits.”
Petrosino, seeing the fear on everyone’s faces, softened his tone. “Every time you say nothing, you make them stronger. Rotten scum like this makes us all look bad. With your cooperation, we can put them in jail and honest, hardworking people like yourselves will not have to live in terror. Please, tell us what you know, signore.”
Rocco turned his face to the wall.
The lieutenant waited and then spoke. “Okay, I will tell you what I know.” Petrosino leaned on the iron bars of the bed. “At approximately five twenty this morning, a bomb was set in the front of your