Elizabeth Street (30 page)

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 cock 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 Washington 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 naïveté 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.”

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

“So, the
principessa
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 chores. 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.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1909

Giovanna had spent all day Thursday pacing the small apartment waiting for word. The second she heard a sound in the hall, she would throw open the door, only to startle a neighbor. At the call of the iceman, she ran to the window and asked if he had anything for her.

“I have a big block of ice.”

“No, I mean an envelope.”

“Signora, I am the iceman, not the postman.”

Today, Rocco had left the house at dawn, only to return minutes later. Handing the letter to Giovanna, he said, “It was in my empty cart.”

Giovanna shook and wept. Rocco tried to comfort his wife, his large hands patting her shoulders.

“What about going to that lawyer and getting the rest of the money?” asked Rocco.

“I tried, yesterday. Signore DeCegli became suspicious. He showed me in the contract where it said that the money can only be paid on the dates in the agreement.”

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1909

Padre Luongo exited Our Lady of Loreto and was surrounded by a gang of children tugging at his vestments. Mary noticed the group from afar and watched them come toward her. One little boy was shouting, “Padre, Padre, it’s my birthday!” The priest stopped, dug into his robes, and produced a gleaming nickel, which he placed in the boy’s hand. The children surrounded him and then ran off together in the opposite direction.

The priest, now alone, passed Mary. She ran a couple of feet to catch up.

“Padre, you give all children a nickel on their birthday?”

“If they ask.”

“It’s my birthday, Padre.”

“Well then, here’s a nickel for you. Happy birthday, my child.”

Mary made the sign of the cross. The priest smiled at what he thought was her piety.

“Please, God, forgive me, but I know you’ll understand,” Mary muttered.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1909

Giovanna cleared the dinner table and retreated to her bedroom. She dropped to her knees before the shrine she had created of candles flanked by statues of the blessed mother and Saint Rocco. Balanced on the top of the largest candle was a prayer card depicting Saint Anthony, patron saint of the lost. From the moment Giovanna knew Angelina had been kidnapped, not an hour went by that she didn’t beseech Saint Anthony for the safe return of her daughter.

A knock at the door interrupted her prayers. She heard Rocco tell her upstairs neighbor she was resting. Giovanna remembered that this was one of the women on the stoop.

“No, no, I’m awake,” declared Giovanna, coming out of the bedroom.

She brushed past Rocco and into the hall with her neighbor. “Excuse me, signora, we just ate and the kitchen is a mess,” apologized Giovanna, closing the door to the apartment.

“See, you’re a good, proud woman, not like that puttana, Limonata. That’s why I stopped by. I saw that boyfriend of hers, Leo!”

“Did you see Limonata?” Giovanna blurted.

The neighbor’s gossipy tone and expression changed at Giovanna’s outburst. “No, signora levatrice…”

“Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that…we’re finding she took more than the beer pitcher.”

“Really! Well, he claims that he doesn’t know where she is. He acted like he didn’t even know her. He was going into an apartment, so I waited and asked someone if he was living there with a woman and a young girl. But they said he was a boarder in the building.”

“Where was this apartment?”

“Sixty-six Hester Street. But don’t bother, signora. She’s not there, and that Leo is a mean one. He scared me. The only reason I stayed to ask questions is our super offered a few dollars if we got him Limonata’s address.”

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1909

Giovanna waited on the east end of Hester at Mulberry Street and Rocco at the west end at Baxter. They arrived before sunrise, and with the dawn came rain.

After an hour, Rocco ran through the rain toward Giovanna, shielding his head with his coat. Reaching her, he grumbled, “We don’t even know if he has anything to do with this. I should just go and knock on his door. I’ll beat him if he doesn’t talk.”

Giovanna answered with little patience. “If he’s involved he may say nothing, and then we’ll never know where she is! If you follow him, he can lead you to her, Rocco. Just do what we planned!”

As Rocco walked back in frustration, Giovanna wiped her eyes. It was going to be extremely difficult to spot this Leo in the rain. Another hour passed. She could see Rocco pacing.

The first man to exit the building was stocky. It was the fourth man who’d left the building that matched the description. He was using a piece of cardboard as an umbrella, so Giovanna couldn’t see his eye, but he was tall, skinny, and dark. Rocco noticed him, too, and took pursuit. Giovanna swept into the building, shaking herself off in the vestibule.

At the apartment on the right, she listened at the door. It sounded like a family was eating breakfast. At the apartment on the left, she heard nothing but knocked, calling, “Limonata!” She did the same thing on the second floor, and an apartment door opened.

“Signora, can I help you?” asked a woman.

Flustered, Giovanna quickly composed herself. “Oh, yes, I’m a midwife.”

The woman glanced at her stomach, confused.

Giovanna forced a little laugh. “Sometimes even midwives have babies.”

The woman smiled.

“No, I seem to be getting forgetful with this pregnancy, and I’ve lost the address of a woman I was attending to on this block. I thought this was the house.”

“There’s no Limonata in this building, signora. It can’t be this house.”

“Oh, grazie. You know, I just saw a man exit that looked like the father. Tall, lidded eye?”

“No, that must have been Leo. He’s a boarder who lives on four.”

“Now I’m not only forgetful, I can’t see so well!”

“You’re wet. Do you need a cup of tea?” offered the woman.

“Thank you, signora. But I really must find her.”

Giovanna sat at their apartment window waiting and watching for Rocco. In the distance she saw a man running through the rain. He crossed the street in the middle and headed straight for their building. Giovanna’s heart pounded. Surely this meant news. Had Rocco found Angelina? Was Rocco dead? She paced in front of her door and opened it before the man reached her landing. Breathing deeply, she tried not to let her anxiety show. She recognized him, but from where? When his entire face lifted, she knew the dramatic mustache and hazel eyes.

“Signora! The photos have been ready but you haven’t picked them up,” exclaimed the photographer, taking a package from inside his jacket and handing it to Giovanna. “After all, they are paid for and I wanted you to have them.”

Giovanna stared at the package.

“Signora, are you going to take them?” The man was still holding out his hand.

She gingerly took the photographs wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

“Don’t you want to see them?” asked the man with a hint of pride.

Trying to control her tears, Giovanna stammered, “I’ll open them with my daughter. She’s out with her father. Thank you. Thank you for delivering them.” The photographer was left standing outside the door.

Two hours later, Rocco arrived home. He looked away from his wife’s pained face and mumbled, “I lost him.”