“Can we go home now?” Teresa asked. “I’m so cold.”
“Let’s watch just a little longer from the burying ground,” Innie said. “Now we know all the doors and windows are locked. Let’s see if somebody comes and breaks in.”
She had barely finished her sentence when a faint glow appeared from one of the basement windows. Teresa yanked on Innie’s hand, and the girls ran across the street, back behind the thick stone wall of Copp’s Hill.
“No—nobody had time to break in so fast, Innie,” Teresa stammered. “So there is a ghost in there. It’s shining at us.”
“A mazik,” Matela whispered. “We proved it.”
“I want to go home right now,” Teresa moaned.
Innie frowned. “I don’t think it’s a ghost or a mazik. Look—the light isn’t moving around. I think somebody just turned on the switch. A real person.”
“But what person?” Matela asked.
“I think—” Innie said, catching her breath and swallowing hard, “I think we’ve been here long enough. Let’s go home. Right away.”
Suddenly, their feet couldn’t move fast enough. The girls skimmed down the alleys behind Salem Street all the way to Stillman, where they waited until Matela had sneaked back into her flat. Running now, Innie and Teresa headed back up the hill to their tenement, stopping only when they reached the fire escape.
“Walk me up, Innie. Please.”
“Sure.”
As quiet as a pair of mice, the cousins slipped up the metal steps. At the top, they both heaved on the window slowly, so it wouldn’t squeak. But just as Teresa was easing one leg over the sill, Carmela’s voice hissed out at them from the darkness of the room.
“Where have you two been? Innocenza Moretti, what in the name of heaven have you gotten my sister into this time?”
Carmela glared at Innie for the rest of the week. Innie glared right back. The only good thing was that Teresa had somehow convinced her sister not to tell on them, so only Carmela knew how wicked they had been. Innie shuddered to think what Zio Giovanni might do if he knew they’d sneaked out in the dark.
As the cousins talked about the night in the burying ground, Teresa insisted their spying had proved that the troublemaker was a ghost or a mazik, and she didn’t much care which. She just wanted to stay out of its way.
Innie had her doubts, though, and she kept chewing on them like a piece of hard salami. Something didn’t fit. In her mind she went over and over everything she knew. It wasn’t until late Saturday afternoon as she and Teresa were walking home from Zio Giovanni’s vegetable stall that Innie could fit the pieces together in a way that made sense.
“The thief is no ghost or mazik, Teresa,” Innie began. “The ladies are right—it’s a girl. Probably from one of the library clubs.”
“You’re crazy, Innie.”
Innie kicked a stone on the sidewalk. “Just listen, all right? I’ve been thinking about this ever since Thursday night. Nothing else makes sense.”
Teresa shook her head and walked faster.
Innie pulled Teresa toward a tenement with wide steps and sat down. Teresa stayed standing.
Innie counted out her reasons on her fingers. “Look, first the ladies thought it might be a man stealing, a regular thief, right? But some things didn’t stay stolen. Sure, sure, I know the teapot’s still missing, but the food got eaten, right there at the settlement house. Remember all the crumbs and walnut shells? And I found the Margaret mug.”
“So?” Teresa scowled.
“A real thief would have sold the whole pottery set. Plus there’s the missing shawl. What man wants a shawl? And the book that got moved—it was a girl’s book.”
“Don’t start with that book again, Innie. It doesn’t mean anything. We gotta go home—supper’s soon. We got chores.”
“Just listen, please. What I think is, some girl is staying at the settlement house at night. When she gets hungry, she takes food—first from the ladies’ crate, then from the kitchen. One night she gets cold, so she helps herself to that shawl. And she’s there at night with nothing to do, so why not read a book? Every single thing makes sense. Even the lights going on in the basement after the Thursday night club meeting make sense.”
“So how does she get in, huh? All the doors and windows were locked. You figure that out, Innie, and maybe I’ll believe you. Otherwise, it’s a ghost.” Teresa folded her arms across her chest.
“I already figured it out,” Innie said. “If she goes to one of the clubs, she just stays in the basement after.”
“And that Miss Brown doesn’t catch her? She’s got good eyes and ears—she caught you.”
That stopped Innie for a minute. “The girl could hide. In the basement someplace.” As she said those words, the last piece of the puzzle slipped into place, and she knew she was right. “Remember that funny old door?”
“What, the little door in the kiln room? It looks like it hasn’t been opened in a hundred years, Innie.”
“I bet it gets opened every night. I bet there’s a little room there, like a root cellar or a closet. The girl hides there until the house gets quiet. Then she comes out and turns on the lights. I’m sure of it.”
“A girl wouldn’t stay in the basement,” Teresa said. “You haven’t proved anything.”
“But I will,” Innie said. “On Monday I’m going to the settlement house. I’m going down in the basement to find out what’s behind that door.”
“Innocenza Moretti! You’ll get yourself in more trouble. Is that what you want?”
“I want to find the thief,” Innie said. “And I want you to help.”
“Not this time, Innie. Carmela’s watching me every minute. You’re not getting me in trouble again.” Teresa spun around and marched up the street.
Innie sat on the steps as if she’d been planted there. “Fine!” she shouted to her cousin’s stiff back. “You won’t come, I’ll go by myself!”
CHAPTER 9
BEHIND THE DOOR
That evening Innie and Nonna hurried to serve the lodgers supper, then went straight upstairs without even washing the dishes. Zia Rachela had invited them up for coffee and special pastry, but she wouldn’t tell them the reason. When Innie and Nonna walked into Zia Rachela’s kitchen, they found the whole family gathered at the table, where a platter overflowed with napoleons and cannoli. Everyone greeted them happily, and Zia Rachela poured cups of coffee.
“What, is this a feast day? Am I so old I have forgotten one of the saints?” Nonna spoke loudly as she surveyed the table.
“A feast day for the Moretti family, Mama,” said Zio Giovanni. His smile was so big that his white teeth showed under his bushy black mustache. “We got important news. Sit down and listen good.”
Zia Rachela passed the pastries, and even after everybody had helped themselves, there were still sweets left. Must be some news, thought Innie.
“I have found a building to buy on Salem Street,” Zio Giovanni announced. “The price is good, and I have saved all the money. Tomorrow I go talk to the owner and make an offer on the building. Soon I will have my own grocery store.”
Wow, thought Innie. That is news!
“Where? How big?” The cousins asked questions faster than Zio Giovanni could answer. Then Nonna’s firm voice cut through the others. “This building is brick?”
“Sì, Mama. Good, solid brick. Three floors, with an iron fire escape. Let me tell you all about it. On the first floor, a nice big shop at the front. Behind the shop, a storage room, and behind that, three rooms for you and Innocenza. Your own place.”
“My own place?”
“A kitchen, two sleeping rooms.”
“No more lodgers?”
Innie felt a smile come over her face. No more lodgers! She remembered the kitchen sink downstairs, piled high and waiting for her. No more stacks of dirty dishes to wash. And her own sleeping room.
“You worked hard, Mama. All these years, you cooked and washed for the men and save
d up the money. Now you live like a queen, in your own place.”
A queen. Innie smiled at the notion. She knew Nonna would be in that shop helping every day.
“What’s upstairs, Papà?” Carmela asked.
“Second floor, five rooms. One for Mama and me, one for the boys, one for the girls, a kitchen, and a sitting-in room. Also, on each floor, a sink with running water in the kitchen. A clean white sink. A year or two, we save up, we’ll put in a running-water bathtub and one of those flushing toilets.”
Innie listened carefully as Zio Giovanni explained his plans. Benito and Mario, her two oldest boy cousins, would take over Zio Giovanni’s vegetable stall while her aunt and uncle ran the new grocery. Two businesses instead of just one. And they would rent out the third-floor flat, making more money, until one of her cousins got married and started a family.
Every part of her uncle’s plan sounded wonderful to Innie, but her mind kept running back to that clean white sink and a real bathtub. And a flushing toilet—no more nasty privy in the basement. Their house would be like the settlement house. She was so busy imagining how the new flat might look, she missed part of what her uncle was saying.
“So, what do you think? ‘Moretti and Sons’? Or just ‘Moretti’s’? Carmela, my pottery decorator, you will paint the sign, no?”
“Yes, Papà. I’ll paint the sign. However you say.”
“I say ‘Moretti and Sons,’” Antonio announced.
Innie looked at the faces around the table, from Antonio to Teresa. Her gaze stopped at Carmela. “You shouldn’t paint that sign,” Innie said. “‘Moretti’s,’ yes, but not ‘Moretti and Sons.’”
“And why not?” Antonio demanded.
Innie frowned at him. “The Moretti family has girls too, that’s why not. We’ll work in the shop. We’ll help a lot.”
“Hush, you, Innie,” Nonna scolded. “You’re just a child, a girl. You must stay out of men’s business.”
“But this is America,” Innie protested.
“Ha, Innocenza,” Antonio jeered. “I guess you think Carmela should paint ‘Moretti and Daughters,’ then? Some sign that would be. The only one like it in all of Boston. Maybe in all of America.”
As laughter rose around the table, Innie felt her cheeks grow warm. I didn’t say she should paint “Daughters” on the sign, just “Moretti’s.” For the whole family. But what do I care? I’m not even a daughter, just a niece.
Sure, sure, she was a Moretti. She went to Mass with the women of the family and shared in Sunday dinners. And even when she and Teresa got mad at each other like today, they were still best friends.
But no matter what Carmela painted, Innie and Nonna would still live apart, and Teresa’s family would still belong to Teresa. Innie would never be anybody’s daughter. Painted signs and nice white sinks and running-water bathtubs wouldn’t fix that.
Some things you can fix and some you can’t, Innie decided later that night. So I’ll fix what I can.
She spent Sunday laying plans to go back to the settlement house and open that old door. She collected what she needed—her library book, and a screwdriver that her uncle used to pry open vegetable crates. Hoping he wouldn’t miss it, she tied it in two handkerchiefs and hid it in her coat pocket. She even got Teresa to promise that she’d tell Nonna their teacher was making Innie stay after school on Monday for missing too much homework. It wasn’t true. Innie mostly did her homework, but Nonna would believe the fib.
On Monday after school, Teresa went home alone as planned. Innie headed for the settlement house, sneaking along back alleys and side streets. Once she reached Hull Street, she sorted through her schoolbooks, pulled out her library book, and set it on top of the stack. Now if somebody saw her, she had a reason to be here.
She slipped in the front door with the Monday girls. As they made their way upstairs to the meeting room, she hurried past them through the hall toward the basement door. She thought she heard Miss Guerrier’s voice coming from the second floor. That was good. Now if she could just sneak by Miss Brown.
Hugging her books to her chest, Innie opened the basement door and crept downstairs, one step at a time. At the bottom, she paused to look around. Nobody in sight. She tiptoed to the kiln room at the front of the basement and peeked in. It was shadowy and silent. Innie hurried to the nearest shelf and set down her books.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the screwdriver and untied the handkerchiefs. Her fingers trembled. It was one thing to brag to Teresa about opening that old door, but now that she was here alone, it didn’t seem so easy. What if Miss Brown came downstairs and caught her? What if the thief was hiding on the other side of that door right now?
Don’t be a sissy, she scolded herself. If you sit around here and worry, Miss Brown will catch you for sure.
Innie walked to the old door. She put out her hand and tried the knob. As before, the knob turned, but the door stuck fast. She pushed at the top of the little door and at the bottom. The top moved slightly, so Innie figured that whatever was holding the door shut must be at the bottom. She knelt and poked Zio Giovanni’s screwdriver under the door.
It slid in easily. She ran the blade of the screwdriver from one side of the door to the other. At the far end, beneath the knob, she felt something solid. She pulled out the screwdriver and poked it in again, hard, until she felt the object on the other side give way.
Innie stood and curled her fingers around the knob. “Quiet now,” she whispered to the door. “Don’t make noise when I open you, or I’m in big trouble.”
She turned the doorknob and pushed gingerly. Slowly, the small door opened. A terrible, dank smell hit her nose. Cautiously, Innie peered inside. All she could see was darkness. The only sound she could hear was her own rapid breathing. She ducked her head under the doorway and took a step forward into the darkness. The smell was so bad she could barely breathe.
Innie took another step into the inky blackness. She put out her hand and felt a solid dirt wall on her left—crumbly, cold, and damp. She reached her right hand out to the side and brushed against another dirt wall. She took a step forward, and then another. She didn’t bump anything, but the smell got worse, moldy and old and rotting. She reached up. The ceiling of this place, whatever it was, was only inches from her head. She took three more steps and stopped.
Teresa was right, she thought. Nobody had been in this room in a hundred years. Who could hide in this terrible dark hole, with that awful, rotting smell?
Innie turned to leave. Her left foot bumped into something on the floor and it rattled like old bones. Did she dare touch it? She bent and fumbled along the damp, sandy floor.
Near the wall, her hand brushed against something rounded and cold. She moved her fingers along its smooth, circular rim. In the center she found what felt like small wooden balls. Bumpy ones. In the darkness, she picked one up and turned it in her fingers.
Why, those were walnut shells, whole and uncracked nuts. Innie ran her hand around the outside of the container. It felt like a small dish. The Margaret bowl—it had to be! Innie’s heart thumped. I was right after all, she thought. The thief has been here.
Innie reached for the bowl, then pulled her hand back. She wouldn’t let that Miss Brown catch her with another piece of missing pottery. But she wanted proof to show Teresa and Matela. She snatched up a walnut and stuck it into her pocket.
On her way out, she stumbled on a small, hard lump. Quickly she picked it up. It felt like a chunk of wood—probably what had been wedged under the door to keep it shut. Innie shoved the wood into her pocket too.
As she shut the door behind her, Innie glanced around the kiln room. It seemed positively brilliant after the foul darkness. She took breath after breath of clean air. Then she tidied herself as best she could, gathered her school-books, and crept up the basement stairs.
When she reached the hall, she spotted Miss Guerrier coming down the stairs from the second floor. The lady saw her too. Innie swallowed hard.
Miss Guerrier walked straight toward her with a serious look in her gray eyes. “Innie? You’re here on a Monday? I don’t understand.”
“I came to return my book,” Innie said, hoping she didn’t stink from that awful room or have smudges of dirt on her face. She held up the library book. “I wanted to borrow another. I really like that Miss Alcott’s stories.”
“Very well. Be quick about it. The Monday girls are singing now, but one of my helpers is still in the meeting room putting returned books back on the shelves. She’ll help you sign out a new book.”
“Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss.” Innie raced upstairs before Miss Guerrier could say another word. On the way back down, she felt like turning cartwheels. She’d done it! She’d opened the old door, found the thief’s hiding place, and not gotten caught. She couldn’t wait to tell Teresa and Matela. Finding the secret room brought them a step closer to catching the thief, she thought. And the sooner they could do that, the sooner Innie would be out of trouble.
Innie fully intended to go right home. But when she reached the tenement, her feet kept going. Matela, she realized. I’ve got to tell Matela first. So she can get permission to come snooping tomorrow. Besides, if Innie could talk Matela into coming, then Teresa would probably come too.
Innie hurried to Stillman Street. During the daytime, Matela’s building looked friendlier, just another redbrick tenement with windows along the front and people out on the sidewalk gossiping and bustling here and there. Innie realized that the people were speaking a language she didn’t know. And all the women wore scarves over their heads.
She studied a sign in the doorway of Matela’s building, but the words were written in curling letters she couldn’t read. She tried the door and it was open, so she stepped inside. The hallway was so familiar, Innie felt as if she’d walked into her own tenement. The wooden stairs were steep and narrow, and there appeared to be one flat on each floor. But here, the smell of cabbage filled the hall, instead of the smells of garlic and sausage.
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