1 Murder Takes Time

by Giacomo Giammatteo

  Angie managed to catch a ride with some friends a few times. Her problem was more with her dad. If he found out she’d been to see me, it would have meant serious punishment. He didn’t like me before I went to jail, and now I was a pariah. Tony and Suit came twice, both times bringing Bugs and Chinski, but they didn’t like coming; I could tell. And they only stayed long enough to make it official. After the visits stopped, they said they’d write. At first, I didn’t open the letters.

  I was pissed that my friends didn’t come personally, but after a month of no visitors, each of those letters became little treasures, each word a hidden gem. Soon, even the letters stopped.

  Everything was changing. Seemed like what happened to Mick and me affected all of them. Tony planned on moving to New York. Doggs hooked him up with some people, and he was taking Suit with him. Bugs got a girl pregnant and asked her to marry him. Said he was going to move, maybe go to college. I said a silent prayer for Bugs, knowing how he dreaded the thought of marriage.

  My biggest surprise came near the end of the third month. It was a particularly tough day, and they told me I had a visitor. I was surprised because it was late, and when I walked into the visitor room, my heart jumped.

  “Angie.” I couldn’t run, but I walked as fast as the guards allowed. “God, it’s good to see you.”

  She hugged me. We kissed, then I just stared. “I can’t believe you’re here. Who brought you?”

  “Tony. He’s waiting for me, but he said I can’t stay long.”

  “He didn’t come in?”

  She shook her head. “He’s running some important errand for Doggs and said he has to hurry. He’s picking me up in twenty minutes.”

  “I can’t believe he didn’t come in. Isn’t he going to New York soon?”

  Angie got that look on her face, the one that told me not to worry about little things. “You know what an ass he’s been.”

  “Still doing drugs?”

  She nodded. “Dealing them too.”

  I couldn’t believe it—Tony dealing. But Angie was right. I had no time to worry about it. “Twenty minutes is fine. Even two minutes is okay.” We talked about everything. She caught me up on all the news I didn’t know, then we just stared at each other. I could see the pain on her face and in her eyes. I thought about the years that were left. What kind of life it would be for her to wait for me. Suddenly her pain became real.

  Angie started twirling her hair around one finger, and I felt her pain growing. It was that, more than anything, that made my decision. “You should stop coming.”

  She started to object, but I stopped her. “This isn’t right. I got five, six more years, even if they let me out early. You can’t wait.” I stared into those huge brown eyes. “I won’t let you wait.”

  She stood, kissed me on the lips. “You go to hell, Nicky Fusco. I’ll do what I want.” With that, she walked out.

  ANGIE LEFT THE PRISON more depressed than when she went in. It was bad enough to come all this way, but to see Nicky like that… She wished there was something she could do to make his time easier. As she paced the sidewalk, waiting for Tony to pick her up, she thought about what he said. She looked at her watch, checking. It was already dark and, not surprisingly, Tony was late. Ten minutes later, the sound of screeching tires alerted her. She jumped back just as Tony came to an abrupt halt at the curb. Two guys Angie didn’t know were in the car with Tony, one in the front and one in the back. Angie took one look at Tony and knew he was messed up. “You don’t need to be driving, Tony.” She didn’t intend to, but she probably put too much of Mamma Rosa in her admonishment.

  “Just get in.”

  “If you’re driving, I’ll find another way home.”

  “This is bullshit,” he said, but he got out, told the guy in the back to drive, then opened the back door and climbed in beside Angie.

  She looked at him through squinted eyes. “Have you been doing drugs?”

  “Shut up, Angie. For once, just shut the fuck up. You sound like my mother.”

  Angie smacked him. “Don’t talk to me that way. Your mother—”

  He grabbed her wrist and glared. “Yeah, well, my mother isn’t here to protect you. Neither is Nicky.”

  Tony continued drinking and snorting cocaine as they drove. Angie had never seen him this bad. “Let me off at the next light. I’ll get a ride home.”

  “And tell my mother how bad I treated you? No thanks.”

  Angie crossed her arms, riding in silence but keeping a keen eye on the road. Something didn’t feel right. She didn’t know the other two guys, and Tony was completely out of it. When they stopped at a traffic light, she tried to get out.

  Tony yanked her back in. She struggled, smacking him, but he hit her and pulled hard on her arm.

  “Stop it. You’re hurting me.”

  He pulled her close and pressed his lips to her mouth. “Why don’t you give me some of what Nicky’s been getting?”

  Angie punched him in the side of the head, repeatedly. She used her legs to shove against him and kick. Tony hit her hard, three times in the side of the head, pressing her down onto the seat. She fought, but couldn’t stop him from spreading her arms out. Then he punched her twice in the side.

  While she fought for breath, gasping, he ripped her pants off, spreading her legs at the same time. She screamed for help from the two in the front seat, but they ignored her.

  “Tony, don’t you dare!” she cried. “Don’t you goddamn dare.” He was too far gone to listen. He kept it up until he was done, then moved to the other side of the car, straightening his clothes. “You say anything about this, and I’ll kill you. Got that?”

  Angie pulled her pants up, slid all the way against the door and hugged herself. She didn’t cry. She wouldn’t give him that pleasure. She didn’t say a word until they got to her house.

  As she got out of the car, Tony pointed a finger at her. “Remember what I said.”

  She leaned forward, narrowed her eyes. “You remember this night, Tony Sannullo. One day you’ll pay for it.”

  Angie cried most of the night. She cried during each of the four baths she took; cried while she scrubbed the sins of Tony Sannullo from her body; and then cried more while she lay in bed wishing she were dead. When that failed to make her feel better, she decided to write to Nicky and tell him what happened.

  Dear Nicky:

  I hate to bring you news like this, but something terrible happened. When I came to see you last…

  Angie wrote for an hour, crumpled up three letters, and pressed so hard with the pen on two more that she had to throw them away. After two more attempts, she got up, paced, imagined what Nicky would do when he read it. She wanted him to kill Tony. But she knew that wouldn’t happen. So what would happen? What could he do?

  She tiptoed to the bathroom so she didn’t wake her father, then locked the door. Avoiding the mirror had been difficult when she took her four baths. Now, she purposefully stared into it. She was bruised by her ear, but she could cover that up by doing her hair differently. The last thing she wanted was her father seeing it. Her lower lip had been cut, and her side hurt bad from where Tony punched her. But that was nothing. The cuts, bruises, the aches—they would all disappear in days. What Tony did to her would not. She thought about his threat to kill her and scoffed; what he had done was far worse.

  But the question remained—if she told Nicky, what could he do?

  He could get angry, go crazy, hate the world, maybe take it out on a prisoner who looked at him the wrong way. He could do a lot of things, but nothing would help her, and worse, it would hurt him. She decided not to make Nicky suffer with her. Telling him would be giving him a death sentence.

  She looked at the mirror again. An angry, bitter person stared back at her. She tried telling herself to be strong, but it didn’t do any good. She wondered how she would get through the night, let alone the next day, and the endless ones that followed.

  Angie brushed her teeth,
combed her hair, unlocked the door, went to her room, and tore up the last version of the letter. She would not tell Nicky, or Mamma Rosa, or anyone else about this. She would have to trust in God to help her get through it. With the decision made, she folded her hands and prayed.

  CHAPTER 22

  BAD NEWS NEVER STOPS

  During the next three months, Angie didn’t make it to see me, but she wrote often. Her letters were more than treasures.

  When I got a visitor one Saturday, I got excited, thinking it might be her. It turned out to be Mamma Rosa, and she had Sister Thomas with her. I never expected to see her again.

  “What a surprise.”

  Rosa held my hands, rubbing across my fingers as if they were rosary beads. Her face looked sallow, her eyes full of worry. “Dominic is getting worse. I don’t know if I can get here for a while, Nicky.”

  I reversed the position of our hands, patting hers while I spoke. “Don’t worry about me. Stay home and take care of him.” For the first time she looked old. “How about Tony? Is he okay?”

  Rosa nodded. “He wanted to come help with Dominic, but his new job is keeping him busy. He said to say hi, though, and that he’d come see you soon.”

  I nodded, knowing it was a lie but not wanting to upset her. “You know how sorry I am, Mamma Rosa.”

  “I know.”

  Sadness had overtaken this woman I loved. I asked about Bugs and Paulie. She cheered up at that. Then I worked up the nerve and asked about Angie. I hadn’t seen her in so long.

  Mamma Rosa was silent.

  My stomach twisted. “What about Angie?”

  She reached into her purse and handed me a letter. I knew what it was. Wouldn’t touch it. Couldn’t.

  “Take it with you,” I said, and walked away.

  Sister Thomas called me back. “Niccolo Fusco.”

  I went back. Commands from nuns die hard.

  She stood with her hands on her hips. “Rosa came all this way to see you.”

  Rosa stood, shaking her head. “No, Sister, don’t—”

  “Sister Thomas is right. That was rude.”

  Rosa reached for me. “I have to go anyway, Nicky. You take care, and I’ll see you soon.”

  “Mamma, have you seen Angie? Is she okay?”

  She looked as if she would cry. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I haven’t seen her for weeks. She had a friend drop this letter off at the house.”

  Mamma put the letter on the table. I held back tears. “Thanks for bringing it, Mamma. I appreciate it.”

  I hugged Rosa, then she walked away. Sister Thomas stayed behind. “I’ll bring her by when I can.”

  “Thanks, Sister.” I turned my head. I still had a hard time looking her in the eyes.

  There was a long, awkward silence then, “Would you like me to bring Father Tom?”

  “No.”

  “You might feel better if—”

  “No.”

  “Fine, Niccolo.” She pressed the letter into my hand. “Only cowards walk away from things.”

  I took the letter, but I didn’t read it. Not that night.

  Not ever, I thought. Not ever.

  But by the end of that first week, my courage disappeared. Late one night I opened it, using contraband candles to read.

  Dear Nicky:

  By now you’re probably upset because I didn’t come see you, especially after my promise to visit you often. I’m sorry I upset you. Now, though, you’re going to be really upset, because what I have to tell you isn’t good.

  I won’t be coming to see you anymore. Not this week. Not ever again. There are a lot of reasons why. My father forbids it; I have no ride; people will talk. None of those matter, though. If it were only my father, I’d fight him. I would run away. I’d change my name. I’d do anything to be with you. But we both know I can’t be with you. Not now. Not for years.

  And if it were just you telling me to forget you, I could deal with that. But the problem, Nicky, is I know you. And I know me. If I waited for you, it would break your heart. Maybe make you more bitter. And if you grew bitter, it definitely would break my heart to see you that way. I don’t mind sacrificing. I’d sacrifice anything for you, but I won’t be a martyr and let myself be destroyed. We’d both lose.

  Now for the tough part. I know you already thought this was tough. It wasn’t. I’m going to have to go on with my life. I don’t know what each day will bring, let alone each month, or the seven long years you’ll be gone. I’ll be thinking of you every day. When I cook, I’ll pretend it’s for you. When I do the dishes, I’ll turn suddenly and splash suds at an imaginary person standing behind me. And when I go to sleep at night, I’ll dream of you lying with me, feeling your touch, and hearing your heartbeat. I’ll do this every day until you get out and come rescue me from whatever boring life I’m living, for it will surely be empty without you.

  You might never forgive me for this. I hope you do. And I hope that no matter what happens, you are happy in your life. Truly happy, the way Mamma Rosa is. But you have to promise me one thing.

  When you get out, and when your life is straightened out. When things are good in your life and you feel good about yourself, find me. Please? No matter where I am, Nicky, find me.

  Do you remember the first night you touched me? We both shivered with excitement. Can you ever forget the feeling of lying in each other’s arms afterwards? Can you ever forget the feeling? I want to feel that way again. And not just one day, or one time, but for the rest of my life. So, you find me, Niccolo Fusco. Damnit, you better.

  Ti amo con tutto il mio cuore,

  Angie

  Ti amo con tutto il mio cuore. I love you with all of my heart.

  The saying Mamma Rosa had taught us. Nothing pleased me more. It made her words more special.

  I went through periods of being pissed at her for her stance, and then proud of her. That was the Angie I knew and loved. What would I have done in her shoes? I tried telling myself that it didn’t matter, that I couldn’t put myself there, but I ran the options through my head anyway. On days when I felt good, I applauded her decision and used her words for inspiration; other days…were not so inspiring.

  TWO MORE WEEKS PASSED with no visitors. The only letters were from Rosa. Dominic had passed away. He had been sick so long that his death must have been a blessing and a curse for her. As all things were, it seemed. I hadn’t heard anything from Angie, but I hadn’t expected to.

  Another month passed. It was Friday, and they told me I had a visitor. My heart jumped. I damn near raced to the room. I hoped to see Angie, prayed I would, but I expected to see Mamma Rosa. As I turned the corner to the room, the familiar habit of the Benedictine nuns waited for me.

  Sister Thomas. What’s she doing here? I felt for sure I had pissed her off the last time. It didn’t matter; I was glad to see her. “Sister, what brings God’s best representative on earth to the prison today?”

  I expected the wonderful smile that only Sister Thomas could manage, the one that somehow lit up her entire face, even though it was mostly covered. Instead, I saw a grim expression that was foreign to me, at least from her—but it was too familiar on so many others. My gut wrenched. I started shaking my head before she said it.

  “Rosa Sannullo is dead, Nicky.” She grabbed me before I fell. Helped me to a chair.

  The guards had to rush over, because I was screaming. And crying. And crying.

  CHAPTER 23

  ANOTHER FUNERAL

  Rosa’s arrangements were handled by Jimmy Maldonaddo, same place Pops went. The prison guards got me there late, but they let me go in without cuffs. The only stipulation was that I couldn’t associate with anybody but Tony or his brothers.

  Bugs and Suit were in the next room. When I waved to them, Bugs stepped toward the front of the room. My heart stopped. Angie stood behind him, looking as if she were the angel sent by God to get Mamma Rosa. She smiled and waved at me, mouthing something I couldn’t make out. She tried to come see
me, but the guards stopped her. Suit said something to her, and she turned toward him. When she did, I noticed her stomach seemed swollen.

  Goddamn. She’s pregnant. It had been six months since I was in prison…She didn’t look that pregnant.

  I asked Tony but he didn’t know anything or, if he did, he wasn’t saying. I knew some women didn’t show much until near the end, but still…I buried the emotion and focused on Tony. Had to help him.

  It was a huge wake. I knew by the time the night was over there would be hundreds attending. Tony was proud. I was too. When it was my turn, I went to the casket, knelt and blessed myself. I said my prayers, then closed my eyes and prayed some more. This was a woman who deserved a path straight to heaven, and I wanted to make sure God knew that. Afterwards, I stood, leaned in and kissed her forehead. I took a picture of me and Angie from my pocket and placed it next to her. Then I laid her wooden spoon next to her left hand, half expecting her to reach out and grab it. With a final sign of the cross, I left, delivering myself to the guards, patiently waiting by the door.

  As I was leaving, Tony handed me an envelope. “This is from Mamma.”

  I tucked it into my pocket, then went out with the guards. They asked to check the envelope, but they didn’t open it, just felt for weapons before handing it back. As I left the funeral home, I wondered again about Angie. Was I nuts, or was she pregnant? I had to find out. And if she was pregnant, was the baby mine?

  It has to be. She wouldn’t be with anyone else.

  ONCE BACK IN MY cell, I pulled the letter out and started to read.

  Dear Nicky:

  My sweet ‘Little Nicky.’ How I will miss you now that I am gone. You were my sixth child. My baby. I know you are suffering where you are. And I know what you sacrificed for Tony and the other boys. I will never forget you for that. What hurts me the most is what happened with Angela. I loved Angela. If you were my sixth child, she was my seventh. I loved her like the daughter I never had.