Elizabeth Street Part 30

"And don't you let the bambini play with her! They could tell someone!"

"Who would they tell? You won't let us out!"

Angelina heard another whack and then crying. She drew her knees to her chest and slid as far as possible into the corner.

Looking down from her window, Giovanna saw three women from the building talking outside the front door. Their building had no stoop, making it difficult to congregate, so conversations didn't last long. She quickly grabbed her basket and headed downstairs.

"Buon giorno," greeted Giovanna, opening the door.

"Buon giorno," answered the women, who, because of Gio vanna's midwife status, treated her respectfully.

Not one to stop and chat, Giovanna used her own pregnancy as an excuse. "Those stairs are getting difficult," she complained, rubbing her belly.

"Can't one of the children do the shopping?" the neighbor asked.

"Between work and school, they don't have the time. I was going to ask Limonata to help me," fished Giovanna.

"You know that she up and left without paying the rent?" exclaimed the other woman.

"I heard she was gone. Did anyone know she was going?" Giovanna asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"Who knows? I never liked her. No father to that child. She said he died, but with all those boyfriends, who could believe her!"

"Maybe she left with her boyfriend," offered up Giovanna. "Wasn't she seeing a man with red hair?"

"No, that was ages ago, signora. Her latest was dark with a lidded eye. He looked like a dead fis.h.!.+"

"Oh, I think I did see him. He was heavy, yes?"

"No, that must have been another one. This one was tall and bony. Like a mackerel. I heard her call him Leo."

"Well, if you see this Leo or Limonata, will you tell me? She left with my beer pitcher!"

"That puttana!" exclaimed one of the ladies. "I saw you give her food, signora, and she stole from you!"

Giovanna could feel her eyes welling up and her body quaking. "S, well if you hear...buon giorno," she stammered, rus.h.i.+ng off to her nonexistent errands.

Giovanna saw that Inzerillo took notice when she entered his Cafe Pasticceria. Pretending to look at the pastries, she waited until there was no one else near the counter.

"Signore, I was wondering if I could get your advice."

"Why, of course, signora." Inzerillo motioned someone into the back room, which was quickly emptied of four men holding cards.

Closing the door behind them, he asked, "What can I do for you, signora?"

"Signore, I need to communicate with some men who I do not know. I need these people to understand a few important things." Giovanna paused, trying to gauge whether his expression registered any recognition of what she was saying. But he was either clueless or playing it smart.

"Go on, signora."

"I need these men to understand three things. First, they must know that I do not believe you can ever work with the police. Second, they should know that there is no money under my mattress, but I will get what I can. And third, signore, they must understand that if anything ever happened to anyone in my family, I would hunt them down and slit their throats."

"Signora, I a.s.sure you that I have no knowledge of what would prompt you to deliver such a message. But without putting anyone at risk, I will do my best to find these men and communicate this information."

"One of the men might be large with a squarish head. Another, short with a mustache. And perhaps one is tall and skinny with a lidded eye."

"Don't worry, signora, I will find them," a.s.sured Inzerillo.

It had taken every bit of Giovanna's strength to say her piece without breaking down. She felt her facade crumbling, and she wanted to collapse into this man's arms, who she knew was a murderer. With her last ounce of fort.i.tude, she said, "Grazie, signore," and got up quickly to make her exit.

"Signora," Inzerillo called. Giovanna stopped but did not turn, not trusting that she could control her tears. "Signora, you did the right thing by coming to me. I will see that your message is delivered."

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1909.

Giovanna started the day by buying the paper, for while Rocco's weapon and solace was work, Giovanna's was information.

After scanning every headline for anything relevant, Giovanna went back to page one. PEARY GETS TO NORTH POLE PEARY GETS TO NORTH POLE. Giovanna bristled with resentment at the irony. Some man had managed to find the end of the earth, and she couldn't find her daughter.

Picking up a pencil, she copied the note she had written to the kidnappers for the fifth time, making sure it was perfect.

In this envelope is $507. This is all the money that we have in the world. You are mistaken if you think we have more. Please take it and return our daughter and we will never speak of this. She is only a little girl, please.

She would deliver the note tonight. With Angelina's birthday dress in her lap, she prayed that all would go well and this would be over. She had picked up the dress yesterday and hadn't put it down since. Initially, she held it to her face, searching for a scent of her daughter-the sweet smell of her skin after her bath or the soft whisper of her breath. There was no vestige of Angelina to be found.

At supper she didn't eat a thing and picked up the plates from the table before the others finished. Rocco and Clement rose to put on their boots.

"Why are you getting dressed?" Giovanna's blue eyes narrowed.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not going there alone."

"We spoke of this! We can't frighten them!"

"They'll only see you. But Clement and I will be near in case you need us."

"If this is what you wanted, you should have told me earlier! What makes you think they're not watching! If they see you leave they'll think you're meeting the police."

Rocco wondered where his wife had learned to think this way. "Okay, Clement and I will go to the roof and leave from another building," he said, continuing to put on his shoes.

"If I wanted to watch the front door of a building, I would watch it from the roof."

"What do you want?" Rocco shouted in exasperation.

"To do this as we planned. I'm in no danger. There's no money for them without me."

Rocco knew she spoke the truth, but he couldn't let her leave without protection. He went into the bedroom and called Giovanna to join him. Closing the door behind her, he went to the bottom drawer of their one bureau, where his two extra s.h.i.+rts were stored, and from beneath the s.h.i.+rts drew out a pistol.

Giovanna stifled a gasp.

"After they threw the rock, I got it from Clement's friend. It cost practically nothing."

Staring at the gun in disbelief and confusion, she quickly became practical. "How does it work?"

"You c.o.c.k it here and pull the trigger. There are three bullets."

"I won't need this, Rocco, but thank you." Giovanna took the gun from his hand and floundered for somewhere to put it. Rocco lifted her blouse and tucked it into her waistband. "It won't show; the baby will hide it."

"You're right," replied Giovanna, looking down at herself. "I should go."

"Giovanna, I love you." The words hung in the air. Rocco had never said it before. Giovanna was taken aback. Despite the emotion of the moment, she believed he meant it.

She stroked his face as affectionately as she could manage. "Thank you, Rocco."

They opened the door, and the children who had been leaning against it eavesdropping jumped back. All three studied Giovanna's waistline in awe.

Giovanna took her red shawl, wrapped it around her shoulders, and said, "Do not follow me. If I am not home by ten o'clock you can come looking for me."

Mary was crying, and Giovanna hugged her at the door. "I am perfectly safe, and we will get your sister back."

By the time she had walked three blocks north, her body heat had warmed the metal of the gun, and the envelope had settled into position within her corset. Heading toward Was.h.i.+ngton Square, she planned her route to avoid the streets near Lucrezia's apartment. They hadn't seen each other since the kidnapping, and there was no way she would get past her without revealing something.

Checking the time, she saw that she still had half an hour and only a few blocks to go. She was east of the park on Broadway and Bond. She slowed down, wanting to time her arrival to a few minutes before eight, and said a prayer of thanks that the moon was nearly full. Her hope was to get a good look at the man so she could find him again and trail him.

As she approached the park, she saw Garibaldi's back, hand to the hilt of his sword, at the ready to unsheathe his weapon. She allowed herself the fantasy of Garibaldi springing to life and slicing up the kidnapper, scaring him into bringing her to Angelina. At that moment it occurred to her that she could put Rocco's gun to the man's head and demand to be taken to her daughter. Adrenaline pumped through her body thinking about it, but when she played the scenario out in her head, her initial euphoria was dampened by the thought that there would surely be other gang members among the trees, or that the bagman wouldn't even know where Angelina was hidden. The kidnapper's rules would have to prevail.

Reaching the statue, she leaned back on the base. She didn't see anyone waiting or suspiciously idle. She was looking down, pretending to tend to her swollen feet, when a legless beggar rolled toward her.

"Scusi, signora, you have something for me?"

"Vai, go, go." Giovanna brushed him away with her hand.

"I believe you have something for me. An envelope."

Giovanna was so stunned that she stared down wordlessly at the crippled man who was atop a piece of wood with wheels attached.

"Signora, in two seconds I will be gone."

Giovanna bent toward the man and swiftly took the envelope from her blouse. The second she placed the envelope in his hands, the cripple put his knuckles to the paving stones and launched his body away.

"Wait!! I must talk to you!" Giovanna called after him fruitlessly. He sped around a group of people strolling through the park, and in seconds the beggar bagman was nowhere in sight. She walked aimlessly through the park, looking around trees and bushes, hoping against hope to see Angelina. Instead, there was emptiness. There was no sign of her daughter, no money clutched to her bosom, and no one to follow. Giovanna felt consumed by her own naivete and terror.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1909.

The front door slammed, and Angelina waited anxiously for her own door to open. When it didn't happen quickly enough, Angelina moaned through the door, "Signora, please, please, the men are gone. I'll be good."

"Stop your begging." The door opened abruptly. "Okay, out." Angelina moved around the older woman's skirts. Halfway out the door, she grabbed her. "Get your chamber pot. No reason you can't empty it yourself. I'm not your slave."

"S, signora." Angelina headed back into the room for the bucket that was her toilet. "Where do I empty it, signora?"

"So, the principessa principessa has never emptied a chamber pot?" has never emptied a chamber pot?"

"No, signora, we have a toilet."

"Yes, of course, you're a principessa. It's only pee. Throw it out the back door."

Angelina opened the back door and squinted; she couldn't see. Her first glimpse of sunlight blinded her. Before her eyes could adjust, the other woman pulled her back in by the shoulder and shut the door. "What are you doing?"

"The signora told me to empty the pot."

"Are you crazy?" The woman turned to the other. "You'll be beaten again if she goes outside."

"They are such big shots! But who has to feed her and take care of her? And where is this fortune? Where?"

Angelina cowered against the wall. She feared the anger would spill over to her. The woman who was yelling looked older, although they were nearly identical.

The four children said little. They would often just sit and stare or become amused by the simplest of things. During the first few days they would poke her, giggle, and run away. As dismal as the company was, it was much better than being locked alone in the room, so Angelina did everything she could to please the women. She didn't cry. She barely made a noise, and she helped with the two littlest children.

After her outburst, the woman calmed down and went about her ch.o.r.es. The oldest child, a boy nearly her age, was drawing on the kitchen wall with a charred piece of wood. The first day, when she had asked the child's name, the younger woman smacked Angelina's face, so she knew to tug on a sleeve to get attention. Not wanting to share, the boy pointed to another piece of wood, and Angelina settled herself next to him and began writing her letters. His curiosity got the best of him, and when he asked what they were, Angelina was thrilled with the opportunity to play teacher. For the next hour she forgot her fear, hunger, and sadness.