BELLA MAFIA (44 page)

That afternoon the two men also took photographs of the olive groves, the vineyards, and the tile factory, then drove to the headquarters of the Corleone family in the mountains, where the photos, still wet from the processing, were displayed to illustrate that the Luciano family was back in business. The question was, Who was injecting the cash to get things started again?

Luka was wearing a robe over a shirt that Rosa had left out for him. He watched as Graziella slowly entered the room, smiling and carrying a tray.

"I have been baking fresh bread. Can you smell it?"

She put the tray down and drew up a chair for him. She gestured for him to eat. "Now you are
my
guest, so eat, build up your strength."

Luka found it disconcerting to eat with Graziella watching his every mouthful, but her warmth and smile eventually helped him relax while she chattered. "Teresa said that she would see to your meals, but they are out all day." She pointed to the apple pie. "That was my son's favorite," she said, then folded her hands in her lap.

He said in Sicilian, "It is delicious, very good."

"You are not Sicilian?"

"No, American, but I have often been to Sicily."

"You speak it well. What work do you do?"

"Engineering. I was just traveling around."

"You are wearing my son's shirt."

"Do you mind?"

"No, I like it. . . . Will you explain something to me if I ask you?"

"Sure."

"Teresa is going to sell space, you know, in our warehouses, our storage bays. Do you think that is good business?"

"Depends if it is needed. If there is already enough space to go around, enough storage, then people won't buy. If there isn't, they'll most certainly go for it. Supply and demand are really all the selling knowledge you need."

She leaned forward and patted his knee. "You sound like my husband. . . . Eat, eat . . ."

As Teresa opened the front door, she heard Graziella on the stairs and looked up. Alarmed, she called, "Mama, what are you doing?"

Graziella gave Luka a mischievous smile and hurried down to Teresa. "I've been having a rest. Now I am coming downstairs. Is that all right?"

Teresa tossed her coat onto a hall chair. "The sign is up; it looks wonderful."

Rosa bounded in and caught her grandmother in her arms. "You would be so proud, Grandma; it's in bright red and gold letters,'Luciano Export Company.' "

Throughout dinner Teresa talked to Sophia about how they should dress for their "sales pitch." She wanted the Luciano women to wear the most elegant and expensive clothes. Sophia was sure that she could get dresses for them from her warehouses, and besides, a trip to Rome would do them all good.

Teresa pursed her lips. "I don't think we all can go, but you could take our sizes and bring everything back, couldn't you? I trust your taste."

Rosa pouted. "Oh, come on, Mama, we all could go just for one day. It'd be fun."

Sophia was running her fork along the tablecloth, leaving small tracks. She had hardly touched her food. "What about accessories? Do we have enough money for those, too, Teresa? Shoes, handbags . . . where will the money come from to buy them?"

Teresa caught the edge in her voice. "Oh, come on, Sophia, you can't kid us that you are that broke. Can't you get some of your contacts to give us things for free?"

"I have about a twenty-thousand-dollar overdraft, Teresa. On my business account I am close to three hundred thousand in the red. Yes, sure, I can run to a few thousand more to dress us all. Why not? I was just wondering if there was any cash in the house. Perhaps you have some we could use."

Coldly Teresa tilted her head toward Graziella as an indication to Sophia to stay quiet. Graziella cleared the dishes and carried them into the kitchen. As soon as she had left the

room, the atmosphere, already tense, became icy.

Teresa pushed back her chair, threw her napkin down. "In the future watch what you say in front of Mama, and for goodness' sake, stop running that damned fork up and down; it's getting on my nerves."

Carefully Sophia laid the fork down. Rosa glanced at her mother, then asked, "Where's all the cash coming from to pay the workers?"

Teresa snapped, "We have not had to pay a single lira to a single person. They're giving us their time for nothing."

Sophia joined in. "Teresa, why don't you tell us where it's really coming from, clear the air? We're not stupid, we've all seen the cash going out, and it's a lot. So where did it come from, Teresa?"

With a glare at Sophia, Teresa replied bitterly that she knew damned well where it came from.

"Yes," said Sophia, "I know, but why don't you tell your daughter?"

Teresa shrugged. "All right ... I took the money from the safe at the club. I had to get things started."

Rosa stared at her mother, shaking her head. "What money? What are you talking about?"

Sophia waited, but Teresa said nothing. "Tell her! Okay, I'll tell her. The money, Rosa, came from Enrico Dante's safe. The night we went to find our contracts, we found the safe open, and it was stacked with money."

Rosa looked at Teresa, back to Sophia. "How much?"

Teresa sighed. "Let's just say it was a lot. You can see where it all went. It's not as if I took it for myself. I did it for all of us."

"Fine, but we pay off Moreno tonight and get him out of here," said Sophia, pursing her lips. "Agreed? Do you agree?"

"I have no intention of paying off Mr. Moreno. He should count himself lucky we saved his life."

Sophia picked up her fork again. "What are you going to do with him?"

"Nobody knows he's here, so he is not likely to start calling the police, is he?"

Sophia banged the fork down. "Teresa, for God's sake, tell Rosa about the gun."

"What gun?" Rosa demanded of Sophia. "The one from under his pillow?"

"No, the other one. Tell her, Teresa, and stop treating her like a child."

"She is a child."

"Mama, what is going on between you two?"

Sophia looked ready to explode. "Teresa, Rosa has a right to know! She's working alongside us; she is part of the whole setup. Now either you tell her everything or I will."

"Mama?"

While Rosa looked expectantly at her mother, Sophia got up and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Teresa sighed, then, without looking at Rosa, said quickly, "I didn't tell you everything, I wanted to protect you, but in the bag I brought back from Dante's club, the one belonging to Moreno, was another weapon, like a walking cane. It fires a single bullet, Rosa."

Just then Sophia walked back into the dining room and placed the three parts of the cane on the table. "Pirelli said that they believed Paul Carolla was killed by a specialist gun, possibly disguised as a walking cane. Well, what's this?"

"Holy shit!" Rosa's comment drew a frown from Teresa. "Why haven't you said anything about this before?"

Sophia slotted the horse's head into position. "Because your mother didn't want me to. But now Moreno is well enough to leave, and I want to get rid of him, pay him off."

"We can't. I spent the last of the cash today."

Sophia was sweating. She ran her hands through her hair. "Well, then, we have no alternative, do we, Teresa? We have only his word that the gun is not his, only his word that he shot Dante in self-defense. If we go to Pirelli, explain the circumstances—"

Teresa interrupted. "Sophia, you leave Mr. Moreno to me. You go to Rome."

Sophia walked to the door. "Fine, I'll go, but don't expect me to come back."

Teresa's eyes narrowed. "That's what this is really all about, isn't it, Sophia? You want out? Well, it's your decision. You do exactly what you want, just so long as we can trust you. Can we trust you, Sophia?"

Sophia felt sick. Her voice was hardly audible as she said, "You can trust me, Teresa. I hope for your sake you can also trust Signor Moreno."

As Sophia left the room, Teresa turned to see her daughter staring at her. She caught Rosa's hand, gripped it tightly. "Everything I am doing is for you, Rosa."

"Are you, Mama? It doesn't look that way."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You've changed."

"Go to bed, Rosa, before you say something you'll be sorry for. I loved your father, and I miss him every waking hour; but life goes on. I intend to make it go on the best way I know how."

"And you don't care how or what you do, is that it?"

"If you want to side with Sophia, we'd better get the air cleared now. What do you want, Rosa? You want to go to the police?"

"I don't know. . . . Good night, Mama."

Left alone, Teresa remained sitting in Don Roberto's chair at the head of the table. Her hands caressed the carved wooden lions on the arms. Then, slowly, she rose and walked from the dining room into the marble hallway.

Graziella was in the hall, carrying a hot drink for herself.

"Can I speak to you, Mama?" Teresa said.

They went into the study. Teresa chose her words carefully. "You said that we could have your jewelry if we needed it. I'm afraid, Mama, I do. We are almost ready to sell, and we've run out of cash. I want to do the job properly, and—"

Graziella opened the safe, took out a large leather-bound box, and unlocked the lid. Together they examined the splendid jewels: the diamond pin worn by Luciano, the brooches, the rings. . . . Teresa picked out the long strand of perfect pearls. Graziella relocked the case carefully and put it back in the safe.

"All you have to do is ask me, everything I have is yours— well, Rosa's. Perhaps this is not the time, but her future must be discussed. We must find a suitable man for her to marry; she is an attractive girl."

"As you say, Mama. But are these real? How much do you think they are worth?"

She held the pearls under the desk lamp. They were large and appeared perfectly matched. Graziella flushed, not liking to see her pearls inspected like that.

"My husband paid twenty-five thousand dollars for them in 1950. They must be worth considerably more now."

Teresa felt the barbed sweetness and had the grace to blush. "Thank you, Mama, they will be put to good use. I'm sorry I had to ask."

"That is perfectly all right. I doubt if I would have the occasion to wear them, unless for Rosa's wedding. The family needs an heir, a man."

Teresa received a light kiss, but she could not rid herself of the feeling she always had: She was not good enough, and never had been, for the Lucianos.

Teresa knocked softly and waited. Luka opened the door, then stepped aside.

Unsure how to begin, she sat in the chair he offered her. Then: "Tomorrow we will be going to Rome, returning in the evening. I would like you to have left by the time we return; that is twenty-four hours before we deliver the guns to Commissario Pirelli."

This was the woman Luka didn't like. He felt as if she were staring into his head with her hard, unfeeling eyes.

"What about my money? We had a deal?"

"Sophia believes you killed Paul Carolla. She wants us to hand you over to the carabinieri."

"I have never met this Paul Carolla. You tell me you have my bag, a gun, but that is my word against yours. I went to Dante's club, he tried to kill me, and I shot him in self-defense."

She hesitated for a moment, then said, "You speak fluent Sicilian, and to judge from your clothes, you are not a student. Did someone hire you to kill Dante?" She fetched the Bible from the dressing table and held it out. "Swear on the Holy Bible that what you say to me is the truth."

He placed his hand over the gold cross etched into the black leather cover. "I swear. I was to give Dante a packet of heroin. He was to pay me three million. He received the heroin, but when it was time to pay me, he tried to kill me."

Teresa put the Bible down and took from her pocket a slim leather case. "The pearls are worth more than we owe you or what I took from the safe. You can have them now and leave by morning or wait until I get back from Rome with the cash. Here, look at them. . . . They belong to my mother-in-law."

Luka took the double row of large pearls in his hands. He had not the slightest knowledge of their worth. He handed them back. "I want the cash."

"When you leave this house, I don't want ever to see you or hear from you again, is that clear? You'll have your money, all right?"

Sophia could not sleep. She tossed and turned, got up, and searched for her pills. The bottle was empty, so she threw it away and searched her bedside drawer for Valium. There were only a few tablets left; she could feel herself breaking into a cold sweat; the more she thought about it, the more desperate she became.