Elizabeth Street - Laurie Fabiano [79]
“Sit, sit, signora,” Petrosino said, still chuckling and motioning to a chair in front of his desk.
“What does all this say?” Giovanna asked, pointing to the card’s back.
“It’s the Bertillon measurements; it’s how we identify the criminals. Although now there’s a new method. You put black ink on fingers and make prints. Each one is unique—like a little map.”
Giovanna remembered the black-ink handprint on one of the letters and silently cursed Rocco for destroying them. Pointing at the titles on the card, she asked, “But here, what do these words say?”
“Height, weight, head length, outer arms, trunk, forearm…”
“Are you arresting them or making them new suits?”
Once again, the lieutenant chuckled.
“Who’s that ugly one?” asked Giovanna, pointing to a photo pinned to Petrosino’s wall.
“That is ‘Il Lupo.’ In English, ‘The Wolf.’”
“He looks more like that kind of dog without a snout. What is that?”
“A bulldog! Yes, you’re right! We’ve arrested Lupo many times but have never been able to keep him in jail.”
“I think my stepson saw him in the Star of Italy.”
“I’m sure he did. It’s one of his haunts. My affair with Lupo began in 1902. He murdered a man, but we didn’t get the evidence we needed. Then in 1903, I had proof he was involved in the barrel murder I told you about, but he was mysteriously cleared by the jury. Later that year, he was arrested for kidnapping, and again they let him go.”
“How does this happen?”
“Influence and fear. He pays people in high places, and if the case makes it to a jury, he frightens them. They think he will have them killed or curse their entire family with the evil eye. He’s worked hard on creating a reputation as someone with powers. His newest trick is he is pretending to be a respectable businessman with a grocery store on Mott Street. Not unlike your neighbor Pietro Inzerillo.”
“Do this Lupo and Inzerillo work together?”
“Sì. Inzerillo was arrested for the barrel murder with Lupo, and they’re often together. Now that you’ve seen his picture, I wouldn’t be surprised if you notice Lupo in Inzerillo’s cafe.”
Giovanna gagged on the thought that she had come close to engaging a murderer to protect her store, but she forged on. “So why do you think that Lupo wasn’t involved in the blackmail of my store?”
“I didn’t say that exactly. I doubted Lupo was involved, based on the sloppy explosion. But even if he was, I have nothing to go after Lupo with. You didn’t exchange money with Inzerillo, and he presented his offer with no threats. I could never prove blackmail.”
“So the only thing to do is find the moled man and fat bug?”
“Yes, signora, many crimes lead to Lupo. But hundreds more do not. There are thousands of Italian criminals in New York. There are so many of them that shopkeepers are being blackhanded by three different crooks or gangs at the same time.”
“But why so many?”
“When criminals get out of jail in Italy, the police make their life miserable, so they bribe their way onto ships. Usually they arrive in New York with the name of another criminal in their pocket. That thief gives him food and shelter in exchange for swindling shopkeepers since no one will know the newcomer’s face. When the job is done, if we are investigating, they just go to another city.”
“And the Americans can’t stop them getting in?”
“We’re trying, signora. The American laws are loose, and only now is the Italian government starting to cooperate with us.”
A noticeable change took place in the lieutenant’s demeanor. He had been speaking forcefully, and with this last question he looked defeated, so Giovanna changed the topic.
“Ah, there is a pretty face!” exclaimed Giovanna, pointing to a picture of a woman on his desk.
Giovanna swore she saw Petrosino blush. “This is my wife.” He turned the picture toward Giovanna. “My Adelina.”
Giovanna could tell he had more to say. “Any children?”
“In November we will have our first,” he said with both embarrassment and pride.
“Bravo!” Spying