Elizabeth Street (32 page)

Giovanna also started to cry. “You, the American Madonna! Men build machines to fly around your head! Find her! Please, I beg of you, find her…”

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1909

“Pietro, you said this woman was going to behave. This crazy lady is following me. I had to move yesterday!”

“Leo, I said she wouldn’t go to the police.” Pietro Inzerillo played with the brim of his hat. He hated coming out to Brooklyn. He hated Leo. And he hated that he had to be involved in this when there was more pressing and potentially more lucrative business going on upstate.

“Tell Lupo we should kill the kid and forget it,” Leo pronounced.

“Lupo said if we keep getting money to keep her alive.”

“Since when does Lupo care about a couple hundred bucks?”

“Sometimes it takes money to make money,” answered Inzerillo cryptically.

“What are you talking about?” Leo was agitated.

“Nothing, Leo. Calm down.”

“That
strega
needs to just come up with the money.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have it,” commented Inzerillo, who was beginning to believe Giovanna.

“Are you kidding? Lupo said she sent a grand to Italy. And besides, everyone knows how cheap and stubborn her husband is. Those other guys had to blow up his store. They have it.”

“Well then, Leo, I’m sure you’ll get it,” commented Inzerillo, getting up.

“Make sure that crazy strega knows that if she follows me again, I’ll kill her and the kid.”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1909

The festivities of the Hudson-Fulton celebration had made it to the Lower East Side.

“Zia, I need another pin here,” instructed Mary.

“Mary, let me finish with Frances first,” said Giovanna, wrapping the skirt around her stepdaughter’s waist. “There.”

Frances swung around, swirling the skirt. “Is this really what Italian girls wear?”

“I would wear skirts and blouses like this, but only for special holidays.”

“Zia, I need a pin!”

“Mary, patience!”

“The teacher said we had to meet in front of the school on Mott Street at noon.”

“That’s nearly an hour away. Patience.”

Giovanna had spent the entire morning making the girls costumes and replaying her conversation with Inzerillo in her head. By reprimanding her for following Leo, Inzerillo had confirmed that Leo was one of the culprits.

“If Clement was still in school, he could have played the slide trombone,” moaned Mary.

“Is Papa coming?” asked Frances.

“You heard your father say he’d be there.”

“I know it’s early, Zia, but can we go?”

Nodding her head, Giovanna watched the girls descend the stairs, trying to conceal their excitement. How strange this was, seeing her stepdaughters off to a parade. All of New York, including her own family, was celebrating as if nothing was wrong, as if Angelina wasn’t being held captive by criminals in this festooned city.

At one o’clock Giovanna headed for Mulberry Bend Park. Already the streets were jammed, and she could hear instruments being tuned in the distance. In the center of the park was a small stage decorated with flags surrounded by empty, roped-off benches.

Regiment after regiment of schoolchildren arrived until the park and benches were packed. Each child carried a little furled flag. A bugle sounded. The children fell silent. At the second blast from the bugle, all the children whipped American flags over their heads, converting the park into a waving sea of patriotism that was greeted by thunderous cheers. At a third signal, the youngsters recited the “Pledge of Allegiance” and then, accompanied by the school bands, they sang “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

With this homage to their adopted homeland complete, the performances began. The first featured a Jewish girl dressed as an Indian doing a dance to attract the attention of an Indian buck, played by an Italian boy. Giovanna was certain he was Italian by his appearance, and she knew the girl was Jewish when she stopped midperformance to shake her fist at the bandmaster and scold him in Yiddish.

After the Indians came the Dutch. As each school finished, a file of policemen escorted the children, giddy with pride, home.

Last on the program, Italian girls dressed in costumes from southern Italy mounted the platform. The crowd had thinned, and Giovanna was able to maneuver to a bench with a perfect view of Frances and Mary. The boys on trombone struck up a tune, and the dance started.

Giovanna was clapping when a woman handed her an envelope. “Signora, your husband said to give this to you. He had to leave.”

Giovanna recognized the paper at once. But Rocco would never give this letter to someone else to deliver.

“Where was my husband?” Giovanna quizzed the woman.

“Over there,” she said, pointing. “I don’t see him now.”

“What did he look like?”

“Signora, you don’t know what your own husband looks like?” chided the woman.

“It wasn’t my…” Giovanna stopped. “Yes, of course,” she said, jumping up and quickly surveying the crowd.

Every face looked familiar, but none familiar enough.

“Have you lost something, signora?” asked a man whom she had seen seated with the dignitaries.

Until that moment Giovanna didn’t realize how frantic she appeared.

“Oh, I’m trying to find my daughter.”

“Was she in the program?”

“Sì.”

“Signora, you have no need to worry. She was escorted back to her school.”

“Giovanna, is something wrong?” Rocco appeared by her side.

She slipped the envelope into her skirt pocket.

“No, no, this kind gentleman was telling me that the children were walked back to school.”

Giovanna read Rocco the letter in the bedroom.

Rocco left to see what Lorenzo could contribute. He returned with $40 and with what they had earned over the last two weeks; it only totaled $159. Knowing this wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the kidnappers, Giovanna grabbed her shawl and left the apartment.

Circling the block, she looked at her neighborhood in a new way—as a thief. She tried to figure out how to reach into cash boxes or pockets but could think of nothing that wouldn’t get her seen or arrested. Desperation mounting, she was about to go to Lucrezia when she remembered Pretty Boy’s pledge to help her family whenever she needed him. It took two hours to find Nunzio’s former co-worker, but when she did, Mariano handed over $130 without question.

Standing at the designated corner, Giovanna held the envelope to her chest. It held $289.

Rocco and the children insisted on going with Giovanna, but she was able to persuade them to remain at a safe distance and not be seen. They stood on the east side of Fifth Avenue near Thirteenth Street.

“I think it’s coming,” said Mary, jumping out into the street.

“Don’t do that again, Mary!” shouted her father. “You stay in the crowd!”

Clement tried to catch sight of his stepmother on the southwest corner of Fourteenth Street. “She’s still there, Papa,” he reported.

The first of the electric floats passed. They held elaborate scenes of heroes and fantastic creatures. Marchers holding colored flames walked at the edge of the floats.

“I don’t get this,” commented Clement with one eye on a float and the other on his stepmother.

“A girl at work said it was a German parade about myths and legends,” offered Frances.

Sure enough, a band marched by, playing what Rocco called “oompah” music. It was followed by another float covered in thousands of colored lights that illuminated the smoke from the torches. The clouds of colored smoke made it nearly impossible to see Giovanna. Clement strained to see through the haze. He was not only checking on his stepmother, but he was there with strict instructions from Domenico to get a description of the person who took the envelope. Lorenzo had forbidden Domenico to go with them after Rocco had come by earlier in the day to ask for more money. It broke Lorenzo’s heart that he had already given all the money he could spare and some he could not.

A break in the floats cleared the air, and clowns came stumbling down the street. One clown clutched a “North Pole” that was captioned
I GOT IT
. Another clown played a stringless violin, while yet another rode a bicycle with no tires. They were flanked by a line of clowns on either side who jostled the crowd, tilting hats and honking noses. The line of clowns blocked Rocco’s view of Giovanna, and soon the clowns were in front of them, one tugging at Clement’s suspender. Ripples of laughter flowed through the crowd as various people were picked on. When the clowns passed, Rocco looked to Giovanna. It was Clement who noticed first.

“She’s not there. Zia’s gone.”

A policeman stopped them from crossing the street. They ran behind the crowd on the sidewalk heading south, assuming Giovanna had followed the flow of the parade. At Tenth Street, Clement spotted her running through the crowd on the opposite side of the street, as they were doing. At every block, they attempted to cross the street, but each time a policeman caught them and sent them back.

The parade ended at Washington Square Park, and it was here that they were finally able to catch up with Giovanna.

“It was one of the clowns. He took the envelope,” Giovanna sputtered breathlessly.

“Zia, come, we must find a place to sit,” said Frances, alarmed at her stepmother’s breathing.

Rocco and Clement escorted Giovanna to a bench. They were silent; the only sound was Giovanna’s breath slowly returning to normal.

“Every clown was dressed the same. What made you think you would find him running like that! Besides, you risk her life if you follow them!” Rocco was both angry and worried.

“It wasn’t Leo. The clown was too short. But he could have led us to her…”

They sat in silence for a long time. “Let’s go home,” Rocco said, lifting Giovanna to her feet.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1909

Giovanna knew they wouldn’t be satisfied with what she had given them, but even though she expected the threat, it didn’t make it any less terrifying. The only positive sign was that they were once again given two weeks to get the money, but that meant two more weeks that Angelina was in their filthy hands.

Her heart was palpitating, and it set the baby to kicking. Everything was outside of her control, even the movements within her own body. Panic rose in her chest, and she bolted from her chair with nowhere to go. The walls of the tenement were closing in on her, and she had an inexplicable urge to get to the roof. She needed air; she needed the freedom her daughter and unborn baby didn’t have.

Opening the door to the hallway, she nearly knocked over Lucrezia.

“Giovanna! Where have you been? I came to check on you.”

Giovanna stared into Lucrezia’s face. Every muscle in her body wanted to relax, weeping into her arms. She wanted Lucrezia to hold her head, stroke it, and tell her what to do.

“Giovanna? Is something the matter?”

Giovanna froze.

“Let’s go inside your apartment. Come on, dear.”

The movement back inside and loss of eye contact with Lucrezia helped Giovanna to compose herself.

“I’m fine, Lucrezia. Just a little dizzy.”

“Lie down. I wonder if it’s your sugar.” Lucrezia went to her bag and withdrew all sorts of instruments and elixirs. Listening to Giovanna’s heart, she looked around and asked, “Where’s Angelina?”

Caught off guard, Giovanna answered, “I sent her to her grandparents.” Seeing Lucrezia’s perplexed face, she added, “I’ve been exhausted with this pregnancy.”

“But, Giovanna, so soon after the earthquake? There’s disease.”

“No, no. It’s nearly a year. They say it’s fine.”

Giovanna could tell that Lucrezia was skeptical either of the soundness of her decision or of her truthfulness.

“Your blood pressure is way up. Giovanna, why didn’t you call me? You’re not well.”

“It’s just a bad day, Lucrezia. Really. I overdid it watching these American festivities.”

“Lie back down.”

Giovanna obeyed, and Lucrezia propped pillows beneath her head. She then went to remove Giovanna’s shoes.

“No…” protested Giovanna, but it was too late. Lucrezia had seen her raw feet.

“Did you march in the parades? What on earth have you been doing? Giovanna, really, you know better! I don’t understand this at all.”

“It’s nothing. Stop fussing.”

“I’m surprised you’re so interested in all this nonsense.”

Giovanna remained silent.

“My husband says this Hudson-Fulton celebration is a ploy to get all the new immigrants interested in voting before the elections.”

“I doubt it. It would have been cheaper to pay everyone double what they normally do for voting. They even dressed the horses.”

Lucrezia laughed, relieved at a sign of her friend’s humor. “I didn’t see it, but I read in the paper that during the naval parade, Hudson’s boat, the
Half Moon
, rammed into Fulton’s
Clermont
.”

“On purpose?”

“They say it was an accident, but if you ask me, it was the ghosts of these two men’s egos at work. And they say women are jealous!”

Giovanna laughed a real laugh, and Lucrezia continued, encouraged.

“And did you hear what happened in Brooklyn?”

“No,” answered Giovanna, not at all surprised that Lucrezia had all this information.

“They lost thirty-five of the fifty-four floats that were supposed to be in the parade.”

“That’s not possible!”

“It’s like losing the elephants at the circus! You can get up if you want. Your heart rate is normal now.”

Giovanna swung her legs over the bed. “Lucrezia, I’m fine, really.”

“Giovanna, I would hope after all our time together that if you had anything to tell me you would feel free to do so.”

“Sì, sì…” Giovanna couldn’t look Lucrezia in the face. “I’ll walk out with you. I was on my way to get things for dinner.”

When they parted, Giovanna felt far worse than she had before. Her anxiety had lessened, but it was replaced with a heavy, broken heart.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1909

Hands over her eyes, Angelina tried to imagine the sights and sounds from the Ferris wheel. “
Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…
” The room was pitch dark and her lids were shut tight and covered, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pretend. Something crawled up her skin. Trembling and shaking, she tried again. “
Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you…”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1909

“I heard something!” Teresa entered the apartment nearly breathless and handed over a baby each to Mary and Frances.

Giovanna jumped up and closed the door. “Sit, Teresa.”

“Don’t get excited…”

“Just tell,” beseeched Giovanna.

“I overheard these drunken men talking about all the new greenhorns Il Lupo had working for him. They said that they were the ones who bombed the Bank Pati where the teller was killed.”

“And?” asked Rocco.

“That’s it. That’s what I heard,” replied Teresa.

“Are you crazy? You get us all excited, and you tell us nothing!” Rocco shouted.

“Rocco! Stop! Do you think we will just happen to hear where she is? Teresa was right to come. This could be helpful,” said Giovanna.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1909

An early light snow was falling, the first of the season. Giovanna was nearly oblivious to it, sitting at the window looking for signs or signals. Everyone was at work, including Mary, who had insisted on going with Frances.

It was two weeks to the day and she had not received instructions. No crude drawings and misspelled words. No sign of Leo or the phony cripple. Every few days she dropped into Inzerillo’s cafe to beg him to persuade the kidnappers not to harm Angelina and to let him know they were working hard to get the money. She assumed that once again word would come via Rocco because it was fairly easy to drop a piece of paper unseen into his cart, and so she hoped and half expected to see Rocco hurrying toward their building.

Instead, a moment later, her heart leapt when she saw Lieutenant Petrosino. Clutching her chest, she didn’t move her eyes off him and quickly debated whether to tell her old friend. For nearly ten seconds she was certain Petrosino was alive and his death had been staged. But when he came closer she could see that all this man and Petrosino shared was their stature and a derby. His face held none of the determination of the little lieutenant.

When Giovanna calmed down, she poured herself a glass of wine and went back to her position at the window. She remembered the first time she saw Petrosino in Saulino’s restaurant. He looked so depressed, and the lawyer DeCegli said it was because a little boy who had been kidnapped was found dead.

Maybe her dead friend was trying to tell her something, because the memory ignited a spark, and seconds later she was off her chair, wrapping herself in a thick shawl, and out the door. The kidnappers were right. It was not enough to know who they were. She needed to know their secrets.

Giovanna went to the library, and the same librarian who had helped her and Domenico find articles about Nunzio’s accident directed her to articles about kidnapping in the Italian language news papers. She left the library with a name and address in Brooklyn.

It was a dress shop. Giovanna hesitated before the door, and when she saw someone from inside looking at her suspiciously, she brushed the snow from her shawl and entered.

“Is Signora Palermo here?”

“Why? I can help you,” answered a small, stooped woman standing behind the counter.

“I wanted to speak with the signora.”

“What about?”

“I prefer to speak directly to her.”

“I would need to know why.”

Giovanna noticed the sorrow around the woman’s eyes and decided to speak frankly.

“It’s a private matter. But I believe the tragedy in the signora’s life can help me avoid a similar fate.”

The woman wordlessly retreated to a back room. The door opened, a young woman exited, and the stooped woman from behind the counter beckoned to Giovanna. “Follow me,” she instructed.

Giovanna found herself in a storeroom lined with dress racks, and she was invited to take a seat at a small desk. The woman seated herself and moved a dress form out of the way. “I am Signora Palermo.”

“Yes, I thought so. Thank you for speaking with me.”

“I am not speaking with you yet, signora.”

“No, but I hope you will. No one knows what I am going to tell you, but you will have no reason to talk to me unless you hear the truth, and even then, I can only appeal to your sympathy.”

It was obvious even to a stranger that this burst of emotional honesty was out of character for this woman, who the signora realized was pregnant. Glancing at Giovanna’s feet, the woman slid a crate beneath them. “Talk, signora.”

“My daughter has been kidnapped.”

The woman’s eyes closed momentarily, and she inhaled deeply. “Do the police know?”

“No!” Giovanna reacted like the woman had made a suggestion, and she only relaxed when Signora Palermo replied, “Thank God.”

“I do not understand why you are coming to me. My Mario is gone. We could not get him back.” Tears welled in her eyes even before she said her dead son’s name, and in seconds she was trying to stifle deep sobs. Giovanna reached for the woman’s hand. Seeing Signora Palermo’s grief triggered the emotion that Giovanna was suppressing, and the strangers ended up crying in each other’s arms.

It was a long time before Giovanna said anything. But eventually she asked, “Signora, do you know who kidnapped your son?” Seeing the fear on the woman’s face, Giovanna added, “I swear on my daughter’s head, no one will know, no one, what you tell me.”

“Why do you want to know then?”

“Because, signora, the only hope I have of finding my daughter is to know their crimes. I must make her safe return more valuable than ransom.”

Signora Palermo stared a long time at Giovanna and then began. “Even my husband does not know my suspicions, because if he did he would try to kill them himself, and I would lose a son
and
a husband.”

“I understand, signora. Please, I promise you. No one will know we’ve spoken, not even your husband.”

“There was a man. He kept coming and asking for money. My husband was proud and sent him away, week after week. Then a different man started coming—a large brute. I think I heard another man call him ‘The Bull’ once. This man, too, even though he was frightening, was sent away by my husband. The next time he came he was with a tall, thin man with a droopy eye. I saw the
cafone
look at my Mario, and I pleaded with my husband to pay, but he refused. Two days after their visit, Mario was gone.”

The signora was crying so hard she fought to catch her breath. Knowing it was the same kidnappers, and that they were truly capable of killing, paralyzed Giovanna.

“They sent us letters and asked for a lot of money. We didn’t have that much money. We were supposed to look for a man with a red handkerchief, but we didn’t go because we had only a few dollars. Instead, my husband went to the police; it was all we could do, signora! Two days later they found my Mario’s body.”

Giovanna, consumed by fear, held and rocked the woman, wiping her face with her sleeve. “Did you ever see these men again?”

“No, but another man came to the funeral. He told my husband if we spoke to the police again he would kill us.” Stopping and looking at Giovanna, she wailed, “Signora, Mario was my only son! So I decided to tell the police about the man who defiled my son’s wake. We spoke with the dead policeman, you know, the famous one, and he said only a wolf with no fear would come to my boy’s funeral.”

The trip home from Brooklyn felt like the longest Giovanna had ever taken. Time seemed to expand as it did on the boat to America. She was now certain that Il Lupo was behind Angelina’s kidnapping and that his accomplice Leo had murdered at least one kidnapped child. She revisited every word of her conversations with Inzerillo, knowing that her messages were indeed going straight to the source.

Her thoughts churned. Inzerillo had children! Yes, that was it! She would kidnap one of his children and return the child in exchange for Angelina. It took only a few stops on the El to find the flaws in this plan. Giovanna had learned that kidnapping was a crime of mind games and strategy. If she took Inzerillo’s child, for the plan to be effective, they would have to believe that she was capable of killing the child. Additionally, it would prompt all-out war, and none of her stepchildren, nieces, or nephews would be safe.

Giovanna climbed the stairs to her apartment, not knowing her next move. She was relieved to see Frances and Mary already preparing supper and said a prayer of thanks for her stepdaughters, even though at the moment they were acting awkward. Rocco was also home and making their tenement even smaller by pacing its perimeter. Needing to put her feet up, Giovanna decided to take a few minutes to lie down and think about the conversation with Signora Palermo. Teresa’s information about Il Lupo’s gang and the bombing at the bank was also ringing in her ears.