“I didn’t know that,” he said. “You never told me.”
“We was gonna get married,” she continued, “only Miss Italy got herself knocked up, an’ forced him to dump me. So don’t go off on me if I’m mad.”
“You shoulda told me about you an’ my dad. I shoulda known.”
“Aw—shit, it’s old news. Anyway, don’t start feelin’ sorry for me. I did a lot better than Vinny Castellino.”
This new information was confusing. Mamie and his dad. A couple. It didn’t seem possible, and yet she wouldn’t make it up.
“Uh . . . Mrs. G., you shouldn’t talk about my mom that way,” he ventured.
“Why not?” she said defiantly. “It’s the goddam truth. You didn’t know her, Mikey, but believe me, she was a tramp. She tricked Vinny into marryin’ her.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Everyone knows about the way she carried on behind Vinny’s back,” Mamie said, her eyes narrowing vindictively. “The story goes that she set up the robbery with a boyfriend she had on the side, an’ it backfired on her. So here’s the truth—she’s the one responsible for Vinny bein’ in a wheelchair. Y’can blame her.”
“I . . . I can’t believe that.”
“Well, it’s true. Beats me why your dad didn’t fill you in.”
“I gotta go,” he said restlessly, trying to keep a check on his emotions. Mamie seemed so secure in her knowledge, and yet Vinny hadn’t told him shit about any of it.
“Sorry I hadda be the one t’ tell you the truth,” Mamie said, reaching up to touch his cheek with her long, painted nails. “Y’know, I’m very fond of you, Mikey, an’ I hate to see you hurt, only it’s better you know, isn’t it?”
Why? he wanted to yell. Why would I want to know that my mom was a tramp who set my dad up?
But he didn’t say a word. Instead he turned and walked off down the street, leaving Mamie standing there.
He couldn’t go back inside. As far as he was concerned, the funeral was now over.
Dani—1964
Dani was right about never seeing Emily again. They searched for months, failing to come up with any leads. Sam even took a trip out to the ranch to find out if Dashell had abducted her. Dani wanted to go with him, only Sam didn’t think it was a wise idea, and rightly so, because what he discovered when he got there shocked him. The ranch was abandoned, everyone gone, the place in complete disarray as if they’d left in a mighty big hurry. Even the horses were gone.
“What do you think happened?” Dani asked when he got back and told her what he’d found.
He was as puzzled as she was. “Dunno,” he said. “All I can say is it was dead creepy out there. I’m glad you weren’t with me.”
“Should we tell the police?” she ventured, her active mind imagining all kinds of terrible things.
“Tell ’em what?” he said irritably. “They’re not interested in findin’ out shit. Emily’s just another missing person to them.”
And as usual, he turned to the bottle—his one solace since Emily’s disappearance.
Dani couldn’t stop him from drinking, although she tried. He refused to listen to her, preferring to wallow in his own misery. The problem was that he seemed content to stay there, which meant that she had to spend all her spare time looking after him, making sure he got to his job on time, cooking him meals, cleaning his apartment, and washing his clothes. He wasn’t an abusive drunk—he merely became maudlin, talking about Emily nonstop.
Eventually he got fired from his job, and after that his drinking really escalated. Dani didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, she still had her job, and since she was rarely at her small apartment, she gave it up—saving on the rent because now she had to support both of them. She slept on the couch at Sam’s place, while he stayed in the bedroom. She didn’t mind. Sam had saved her from a life of purgatory, and now it was her turn to save him.
One day she decided it was time to go through Emily’s things, pack them up, and get them out of Sam’s sight. She’d noticed that at night he kept on picking up one of Emily’s sweaters or her old robe, holding it close to his face and rocking back and forth. It simply wasn’t healthy, so after work she purchased a large traveling bag, brought it back to the apartment, and began filling it with Emily’s things.
“What’re you doing?” he demanded, attempting to stop her.
“Emily’s not coming back,” she said, determinedly shoving him away as she continued packing.
“Yes, she is. I know she is,” he argued. “She wouldn’t leave me like this. Not my Emily.”
Dani shook her head. “I don’t think she’s coming back, Sam.” His miserable expression forced her to add, “But you know what? We’ll keep her stuff. I’ll put everything in the bag and store it in a closet. How’s that?”
“Do whatever you want,” he said, giving up and reaching for the bottle.
In the bottom bureau drawer, hidden under a pile of underclothes, she discovered a journal. Scrawled across the front of the book were the words PRIVATE—DO NOT OPEN.
Her heart started pounding. Could this book contain a clue to Emily’s disappearance?
She agonized over whether she should read it or not. Was it right to read someone else’s journal? Yes, if that person was your missing sister, it certainly was.
The following day she took the journal to work. She didn’t tell Sam, in case there was something in it he shouldn’t see.
On her break she sat in the tiny dinette where the maids spent their time off, and began reading. She soon discovered that the journal was not about days and weeks and months, it was a rambling continuation of random thoughts. Mostly Emily wrote about Sam—how much she loved him, how good he was to her, and how happy she was that he’d rescued her and Dani from the ranch.
Dani turned to the most recent entry, hoping for a clue.
Dani will be sixteen tomorrow, and I’m so proud of her. She works hard and still finds time to study. One day she’ll make something of herself. On her birthday I’ve decided to tell her the truth, it’s only fair she knows Olive is not her mom, that her real mom, Lucy, died giving birth to her. Dashell was a heartless bastard, he buried Lucy in the back garden. No service, nothing. When Dani hears the truth, I think she’ll want to go back to the ranch and search for her mom’s grave. If it was me, I’d want to give my mom a proper burial. Trouble is I’m frightened to go there, I’m sure Dani will be too. Got to go now and do the shopping for tomorrow so I can cook little sis her favorite meal. Sam and Dani are my life. I love them both so much. I’d do anything for them.
Emily’s words ended there.
Dani closed the journal, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was full of mixed feelings. It wasn’t as if Olive had ever been a true mother to her, but to suddenly discover that her real mom had died giving her life was a terrible shock.
When she got home that evening, Sam was huddled in his favorite chair, gazing at a picture of Emily he kept in a tarnished silver frame.
She decided not to tell him what she’d found out; the important thing was to get him sober.
She went over to him and put her arm around his shoulder. “You’ve got to stop doing this,” she said quietly.
“Stop doing what?” he responded belligerently.
“Stop mourning Emily. She’s gone, and we have to start afresh.”
“How d’you suggest we do that?” he asked, slurring his words.
“First we’ve got to get you better,” she said. “There’s an organization I found out about at work called Alcoholics Anonymous. If you’ll go to a meeting, I’m sure they’ll be able to help you.”
“Why would I go?” he said blankly. “I’ve nothing to live for.”
“You’ve got me, haven’t you?” she answered softly.
“You? You’re just a kid.”
“I’m sixteen,” she said earnestly. “I’ve been working for the last three years, so I’m certainly not a kid.”
“Yes you are,” he mumbl
ed.
“Please,” she begged. “Do it for me. And if not for me, for Emily. She loved you so much, and seeing you like this would break her heart.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll think about it,” he said reluctantly.
She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Excuse me!” Dani gasped, blushing a bright red.
It wasn’t the first time she’d walked in on a hotel guest in the buff. But this was different, this was two women making out in the shower of penthouse number one, a suite reserved for the hotel’s directors and high rollers when they were in town.
“I’m s-so s-sorry,” she stammered, hurriedly backing out of the bathroom, quite shocked.
It wasn’t her fault she’d interrupted them. There’d been no DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door. If people wanted privacy they should at least activate the security lock.
“Wait!” one of the women called out.
Dani paused outside the bathroom door, wondering if she was about to get fired.
After a few moments the woman emerged, wrapped in a fluffy white towel. She was in her forties, with dyed blond hair and trampy features. The towel ended at the top of her thighs, and her legs were sturdy and pale. She didn’t seem at all embarrassed.
“You!” she said to Dani. “You didn’t see nothin’, right?”
“N-no, ma’am,” Dani replied, still stammering.
“’Course you didn’t,” the woman said, picking up her alligator purse from a table beside the large double bed. “Nothin’ you would ever wanna repeat to anyone, right?”
“Absolutely not,” Dani assured her, attempting to recover her composure, although she was still quite shocked. Two women together. It wasn’t normal.
“Here,” the woman said, fishing three ten-dollar bills from her wallet and thrusting them at her. “Thirty bucks for you.”
“It’s . . . it’s not necessary,” she said, refusing to accept the money.
“Yeah, it is,” the woman said, pressing the bills into her hand. “I’m here for a week, an’ I require personal maid service, so, honey—you’re it.”
“I am?” she gulped.
“Yeah. I’ll call the hotel manager an’ fix it. My husband does business with this hotel, so they’re inclined to give me anythin’ I ask for. An’ personal maid service is the order of the day.” A ribald chuckle. “Only, don’t get no fancy ideas. My old man arrives tomorra, an’ just ’cause I indulge myself, don’t mean he can. So keep your pretty little paws to yourself, your mouth tightly closed, an’ everythin’ will be hunky-dory.”
Dani was speechless.
“We’re in business,” the woman said, hitching up her towel, which was in danger of falling. “I got two suitcases need unpacking. Get everythin’ pressed, an’ book me a hairdresser to come up to the suite. Oh yeah—an’ have room service deliver ice, two bottles of their best champagne, an’ a tray of goodies to snack on.” She clapped her hands. “Get goin’, sweetie. I need my blue silk dress ready to wear tonight, an’ make sure there’s not a crease in sight.”
“I have other rooms to clean,” Dani said, completely awed by this forceful woman.
“Are you listenin’ t’ me?” the woman said, her voice rising. “One phone call an’ you’re all mine. I’m makin’ that call now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Call me Mrs. Giovanni. I don’t dig that ‘ma’am’ crap.”
“Yes, Mrs. Giovanni.”
Mamie grinned. “That’s more like it.”
Mrs. Giovanni did as she promised, called the hotel management and arranged for Dani to work as her personal maid now and whenever she was in residence.
Soon Dani began looking forward to her visits; it was certainly better than having to clean a series of anonymous hotel rooms while fending off various male guests’ advances.
Mrs. Giovanni was quite a woman. Loudmouthed and demanding, she drank a lot and spent money like it was going out of style. Her female lovers came and went, a new one every trip.
“Our secret,” she informed Dani after several vodkas and a lengthy session with a zaftig Latina singer. “You keep your mouth shut, an’ one of these days I might do somethin’ nice for you.”
A couple of months and three visits later she took a long, appraising look at Dani and said, “Y’know what, cutie? You’re too pretty to be a maid. How about I get you into the chorus of the show downstairs?”
“Excuse me?” Dani said, busy unpacking a shopping bag full of cashmere sweaters that Mamie had recently purchased.
“You’re wasted here, even I gotta admit that.”
“I am?”
“Dunno why I’m helpin’ you when I should be locking you away in a room so my old man don’t get a peep at you. Not that he can get it up anymore. I’m gonna introduce you to Lou, the guy who runs the show downstairs. Do you dance?”
“Uh . . . no.”
“That’s okay, you’ll learn.”
“I’m not sure I can, Mrs. Giovanni.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mamie snapped. “We’re talkin’ opportunity here. I’m givin’ you a chance, so for crissakes, take it. That’s unless you’d prefer slavin’ away as a maid all your life?”
“I . . . I’d be happy trying something new,” Dani said hesitantly.
“You got a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Who’s that kid I see picking you up in the back?”
“That’s Sam, my sister’s husband.”
“Uh-huh. Well, okay, I’ll call Lou—get you in to see him tomorrow.”
Lou had taken one look at her and told her that if she could dance, he’d hire her.
“I can’t,” she admitted.
“Then take a class,” he said, thinking that with looks like hers, who needed talent?
Willing to learn, she threw herself into dance class and soon excelled. When she came back to see Lou, he was duly impressed. “You’re hired, honey,” he told her. “A coupla weeks rehearsal an’ you’re out there.”
Sam was not happy about her joining the chorus line at the Estradido Hotel. “You was better off doin’ your other job,” he complained.
“I’m making more money now,” she reasoned. “That’s good for both of us, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” he conceded, still not pleased.
He’d been going to AA meetings for several months, and the meetings seemed to be helping him. He’d quit drinking, and after a few months of sobriety he’d even managed to get his old job back.
The two of them lived like brother and sister, with only Emily in common. They talked about her often, both determined they would never forget her.
But Emily was all they had in common, and Dani knew that soon she would have to think about moving on.
Tuesday, July 10, 2001
The heat in the restaurant was becoming intense. Madison could feel trickles of sweat making their way down her back. She was concerned for the man who’d been shot. As far as she could see he wasn’t moving, merely lying across the restaurant in a pool of his own blood.
What if he was dead? She shuddered at the thought.
Hunched on the floor, her arm firmly around Natalie’s shoulder, she glanced at Cole, who was over by the kitchen with the other men. The thug with the Uzi had separated them—men on one side, women on the other.
Although there were three bandits altogether, Madison kept her eye on the ringleader—he was the one to watch, he was the one who made all the decisions and told everyone to shut up, including his two cohorts.
The negotiator’s voice on the loudspeaker had made a couple of more requests for them to come out quietly.
Yeah, as if they would.
Finally, the phone rang. She sighed with relief, because hopefully, proper negotiations would now start and soon they’d all be free.
Bandit number one—as she’d christened him in her mind—walked over to the ringing phone and snatched it up. “Nobody’s comin’ out,” he yelled into the receiver, the Uzi s
winging from one hand. “Nobody. An’ we got plenty hostages here. So get your fuckin’ shit tight, an’ start listenin’.”
She couldn’t hear the negotiator’s reply, but it obviously didn’t please bandit number one, who slammed the phone down, screaming, “Fuck you!” He whirled around and faced the female hostages, glaring at them, his eyes narrow slits through his ski mask.
“Screaming won’t do you any good,” Madison said, speaking up and surprising herself.
“What did ya say?” he shouted, eyeballing her.
“I said screaming isn’t going to do any good,” she repeated, keeping her tone low and even, as if talking to a recalcitrant child. “If you want action, then you must negotiate properly, tell them exactly what your requests are.”
“Lady,” he said harshly, “you sure got a lotta balls.”
“Why?” she said boldly. “Because I’m trying to tell you the best way to get out of this mess?”
“What’re you,” he spat in disgust, “a lawyer or somethin’?”
“No,” she answered calmly, “I’m a journalist. And . . . if you’d like, I could write your story. I’m certain you’ve got an excellent reason for doing this.”
“Shut the fuck up along with the rest of ’em,” he said, continuing to glare at her.
“You’re the man with the gun,” she said, “which puts you in charge. I suggest that when they call again, you tell them what you want, and that you’ll release the hostages when you get it.”
He didn’t say anything. Instead he summoned his two accomplices and huddled in a corner, conferring with them.
Three dumb boys, Madison thought. Three dumb boys who’ve screwed up a robbery and don’t know what to do next.
Across the room, Cole shook his head at her as if to say, What the hell are you interfering for? Do as he says and keep quiet.
She’d had enough of being quiet, she was entitled to speak. As far as she could remember, forging some kind of a bond with hostage takers was the right move. What was the worst he could do? Shoot her?
“How’re you doing?” she whispered to Natalie.
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