While she was dressing, Lucy caught her own reflection in the mirror and could not help scrutinizing her body, wondering if, in Frankie’s eyes, she lacked something that Amie could offer. Helplessness, Lucy thought cynically. Men just couldn’t resist a delicate, worshipful female. She was grateful when Petrina dragged her away from the house, into the fresh air.
They walked in silence. Autumn made New Yorkers brisk, cheerful, and purposeful. But Lucy was still feeling fatalistic. Sal was the only one who’d had contact with Frankie, still in those cryptic messages.
“What if this whole nun thing is a red herring?” Lucy said finally.
“Phooey,” Petrina replied as they reached the building. “Would I steer you wrong?”
“Tell me,” Lucy said as she dodged around children on the sidewalk, some on bicycles, some skipping rope, “how much is this private detective costing us, eh?”
“Nothing,” Petrina said with a wink as they entered the apartment building.
“Nothing?” Lucy repeated. “How is that possible?”
“He’s in Filomena’s book,” Petrina explained. “He likes to bet on the horses. He hasn’t been picking them well lately. Filomena said she’d write off his debt if he did us this ‘favor.’”
“I hope he’s better at detecting criminals than he is at picking horses,” Lucy muttered.
“Oh, he is. He’s a retired police photographer. He’s been staking out Alonza’s house for a week, to see who comes and goes. Watch, you’ll see.”
Petrina knocked on the door of the topmost apartment. Gloria, who was a widow, looked happy to have their company. She laid out the beautiful lace collar that she’d carefully stitched and embroidered. Petrina cooed over it, put it around her own neck, and declared that Pippa would love it. Gloria stood by, blushing with modest pleasure. Petrina paid her for this, and the box of fine lace handkerchiefs she’d ordered, which would make great Christmas gifts.
Lucy fidgeted with unendurable suspense. Finally, when Gloria poured them tea and they sat down at her tiny kitchen table, Petrina reached into her purse.
“Would you take a look at these?” she said casually. “I think one of these women may be that nun you told us about.”
Lucy watched, fascinated, as Petrina, like a fortune-teller with tarot cards, dealt out a series of pictures that she’d gotten from the private detective. They were photos of various women, snapped on the fly, while the unsuspecting subjects were shopping or chasing a bus or pausing momentarily at a front door, a candy store, or a coffee shop.
Gloria adjusted her spectacles and studied each photograph. “Oh, goodness, not her,” she said, pointing to the picture of Alonza as she was standing in a dressing gown and speaking haughtily to a postman on the front stoop of her house.
Gloria peered at the next picture. “No,” she said, shaking her head. Each time she dismissed the next, and the next, Lucy’s heart sank, and she mentally chided herself for having any hope at all in this scheme. “That one,” Gloria said, suddenly and positively, pointing at a young woman photographed waiting at a train station. “That’s her. But what is she doing without her wimple on? I’ve never seen any nun bareheaded in public, have you?”
“You’re sure it’s her?” Lucy asked, stunned.
Gloria nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. You can’t tell here, but she had pretty green eyes.”
“Then, do us a favor,” Petrina said in a serious tone. “Don’t tell anyone that we’ve been here talking about this. It’s for your own safety. Also, never open the door to people you don’t know. And if you see anything suspicious or out of the ordinary, call me right away.”
Gloria looked frightened now. “What is it about?”
“This woman is not a nun. She was only pretending to be, because she got paid by very bad men to do so,” Petrina explained.
Gloria turned to Lucy with a tremulous look. “Is this what made your husband run away?” she asked. Lucy nodded. Gloria said, with unexpected mettle, “Frankie was a good boy. I’ve known him all his life. He would never do anything bad. He always looked out for me. I will help you as much as I can.”
Lucy wanted to kiss her. Petrina patted the lady’s hand. “We’ll be in touch,” she said. “But remember what I said. Keep your eyes open and your door locked. Stay away from strangers. Just for the next few weeks, if you need any shopping done, or need to go anywhere, don’t go alone. Call us, and we will send someone to go with you.”
“Lordy, I thought you were about to put her in some safe house in Coney Island,” Lucy said after they left. “Maybe we should hide her somewhere.”
“She’ll be all right,” Petrina said. “She sleeps with a gun under her bed. She was married to a mortician, so, believe me, she’s had all kinds of people come to ask her husband for a favor, and she used to tell him which ones to trust. I heard that her husband was once ordered to bury two corpses in one casket: one in a secret drawer beneath the legit one.”
“Saints preserve us!” Lucy shuddered. “But who’s the girl in the photograph?”
“Alonza’s hairdresser,” Petrina said triumphantly. “Our detective thinks she’s the girlfriend of one of the Pericolo boys, because she visits them. Our man followed her from Alonza’s house to the train station. She bought a ticket for Ossining—where the Sing Sing prison is, where the Pericolo boys are! The P.I. thinks this girl is ferrying messages between Alonza and her sons. Now we find out Little Miss Hairdresser was here, just before the cops busted into Frankie’s office!”
Lucy said indignantly, “Okay. Let’s go have another little chat with Fred.”
They found the janitor in the basement, fiddling with the furnace to prepare it for the coming cold weather. When they asked him to go upstairs to Frankie’s office, he wiped his hands on a rag and followed them obediently with the key.
“Fred, have you ever seen this woman before?” Lucy asked gently as Petrina laid the photo on Frankie’s desk. Fred leaned forward, then picked up the photo to get a closer look.
“She looks like that nun who came here collecting for the war orphans,” he said finally, sounding surprised. “But she ain’t got her veil on. Is she a sister of the Sister or something?”
“She wasn’t really a nun,” Petrina said. “This woman dressed up as one, to fool you.”
“Why would she do that?” Fred asked, bewildered.
“Fred, darlin’, did you see her the day the police raided Frankie’s office?” Lucy asked. “We heard she was hanging around in the yard earlier that same day.”
Fred scratched his head. “Yeah, it could have been. Sure. That’s right! It was around lunchtime. Because the cops busted in that night.”
“Did you speak to her?” Petrina asked breathlessly.
“Yeah. She knocked at the office door, looking for Frankie,” Fred said. “Said she knew him to be ‘generous’ with the church. I’d been making phone calls and was about to lock up. She asked if she could use the phone to call her convent. So I said, ‘Sure, Sister.’ She gave me a medal of the Virgin Mary, said it was blessed. Said I could give it to my wife. I told her my wife was dead, and she said she’d pray for her soul.” Fred grew a little misty eyed.
Lucy said, “Did you stay in the office while she made her phone call?”
Fred shook his head, embarrassed. “Nope. I stepped out to give her privacy.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police about her when they came here?” Lucy asked.
Fred looked shocked. “I didn’t even think of it! She’s a nun.” He saw them exchange a look with each other and then said, “I thought she was. Are you sure she ain’t?”
“Yes,” Petrina said firmly. Lucy explained that the woman was likely a friend of the very men who had “fingered” Frankie and caused the police to come searching that night.
“Oh, holy cow! Holy cow!” Fred said in anguish, over and over. “Please don’t tell Frankie’s brothers that I screwed up!”
“But you didn’t screw up,” Petrina said. “
Because you’re going to keep absolutely quiet about this, until we need you. And then you’re going to tell the police exactly what you told us today. And then Frankie will be able to come back and thank you in person.” She repeated the same warnings that she’d given the seamstress.
Fred assured them he’d do whatever they asked.
When they went back outside, Lucy felt strangely energized. She was determined now that nobody—not Alonza, nor the police, nor Amie—was going to take her husband away from her. She demanded, “Why don’t we just cart our two witnesses to the police right now, so they can make a statement, before Alonza gets to them and they change their tune?”
“If we go to the police, somebody at the station might tip off someone to warn the Pericolos. You never know,” Petrina said. “I’ll ask Domenico to handle it from here. He’ll get our witnesses scheduled properly to make depositions and go before a judge, so they don’t waste their breath just talking to cops who might bury it.”
Lucy still looked worried, until Petrina said, “We’ll have Sal and some of his men watch this place and protect our witnesses. They’ll stand by us. They’re loyal, you saw that. They love Frankie, and my family’s name still carries weight around here. Don’t forget, Lucy—it’s your family, too.”
27
Autumn 1944
One Saturday, Petrina was at the jewelry shop helping Filomena, when Johnny unexpectedly telephoned and asked to speak to Petrina.
“Donna said I’d find you there. Kid, you gotta bust me out,” Johnny said. “I’ve had it with the mountains. I want to see the sea. I want to see my boys.”
Petrina said cautiously, “Don’t you want to discuss this with Amie?”
“Nah. That’s exactly what we’d end up doing, ‘discussing’ it. She hasn’t been up here to see me in a while. Is she all right?”
“Just a touch of flu,” Petrina fibbed. “She didn’t want you to catch it.”
“Oh. Well, anyway, I called you because I need some muscle.”
“Johnny, did the doctors say it was okay for you to leave?” she asked.
“To hell with the doctors. They can’t keep me here against my will. You’re my ‘kin,’ so you can help sign me out. But come alone. Got that? Don’t bring Lucy, she’ll tell me to listen to the doctors. Amie worries too much, I don’t want her clucking over me and making me rest. I’ve had enough ‘rest’ for the rest of my life, and I’ve read every book in this joint, twice. Get me out now, or I swear I’ll jump out the window.”
“Okay, okay, wait for me!” Petrina said hurriedly. She didn’t think her brother would kill himself, but he might try to run away on his own. She told Filomena about Johnny’s plan.
“Look, I’ve got to go up there and help him get out,” she concluded.
“What are you going to do with him?” Filomena asked worriedly. “Amie’s not showing enough for the twins to notice, but Johnny might, if he gets close to her.”
“I told him that she has the flu. He said he wants to ‘see the sea’ so I’ll take Johnny to stay at my house in Mamaroneck, until Amie is ‘feeling better,’” Petrina said. “Tell her that this is the last time I’ll lie to Johnny for her. This will gave Amie a chance to figure out how to tell him about the baby. But she’d better decide soon!”
On the drive to Westchester, Johnny, still pale and thin, gazed out the car window as if seeing the world for the first time and finding all of it beautiful. He enthused about the stunning colors of the autumn trees all along the highway. When they reached Mamaroneck, they followed a long, quiet road that snaked down a narrow peninsula and ended at a security gate for the little enclave of four beach houses that the family owned.
Petrina said, “They were built in the 1920s as summer homes. My house didn’t need much work, so it’s done. Once we’ve renovated these other three houses, we can rent out or resell them. We’ve also bought some houses in nearby villages as an investment. And an apartment building in town—it was beautifully built in the 1890s but needs upgrading.”
Petrina wanted to settle him into her guest bedroom, but Johnny insisted on looking at all four houses. He was quick to assess which things needed replacing and which were of value and worth fixing. He admired the hardwood floors and generous porches, the mature fruit trees in the gardens, the view of the sea.
“Don’t sell this house,” Johnny said instantly, selecting the last one at the far end. Its generous lawn offered a tranquil, meditative spot with a panoramic view of the sea lapping at a sandy cove below. “This is the home I want for me and Amie and the boys,” he said, looking excited. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me about this real-estate deal. I want Vinnie and Paulie to go to a good school up here. I don’t want them knocking around the streets of New York where I grew up.”
“Fine. Fix it up and it’s yours,” Petrina said gently as they returned to her house.
“I can help you with the renovations on the other properties, too,” Johnny offered. “You have to be careful with contractors and repairmen. They start a job, then they leave you in the lurch. You need a man like me to kick ass around here.”
Petrina smiled tenderly. Johnny looked like a scarecrow, but even scarecrows could keep the scavengers away. “Thanks, brother dear,” she said as they went inside. “But the deal is, you’re staying put in my house. You sleep when I tell you, and eat when I tell you. Got that? Otherwise I’ll throw you in the trunk of my car and drive you straight back to the sanitarium.”
“Okay, boss.” Johnny set down his suitcase and paused in the hallway before a framed abstract painting, done in splashes of vivid colors. Petrina loved the new modern art, which Richard called her “shaggy stray dogs.” This painting was by an artist who’d been in FDR’s Federal Art Project and clearly showed the influence of Pablo Picasso and Diego Rivera. It had given her great joy to buy it.
Johnny looked baffled, but all he said was, “Amie says you’re getting a divorce.”
Petrina winced. The utter devastation of being unwanted by Richard, a man who’d pledged to love her forever, had now subsided into a dull ache, like a bad tooth. And all the legal wrangling was acting like a dentist’s sedative, she supposed. “Yes, the deal is, Richard gets to keep most of his money; I get Pippa—and this painting, which he absolutely loathes.”
She paused, expecting Johnny to pass judgment on her. But he said simply, “You want me to beat up Richard? I’d do it with my two bare hands. It would be a pleasure.”
“No,” Petrina said. “He’s not worth it. Let Richard die a slow, torturous death. I know that woman he’s marrying will make him suffer far more than we can.”
Johnny smiled. “Okay. Just do me one more favor. Get the twins to come up here over the weekend. And Amie, if she’s up to it. I haven’t seen them in a long while. I want the boys to see how beautiful this place is, before all the autumn leaves are gone.”
“Sure,” Petrina said. “Pippa can take your kids to a hot-dog stand that everybody around here loves.”
“Amie, Petrina phoned. Johnny’s left the sanitarium,” Lucy announced. “She took him to Mamaroneck. He said he wants his sons to come up for the weekend, and you, too, if you’re feeling well enough from your ‘flu,’” Lucy added sarcastically.
Amie, who had been dealing with morning sickness and was now sitting on the sofa cautiously sipping tea, said fretfully, “Oh, why did Petrina go and get him? Who told him he could come home? Is he cured enough for this?”
“It seems that Johnny has taken matters into his own hands,” Lucy said grimly. “You can’t put this off forever. So you and I have to make some decisions, right now.”
Amie gazed at Lucy, whose expression was still unforgiving. Lucy persisted ruthlessly, “Look. I think you’re right about two things: Johnny’s in a fragile state, and he’s not exactly going to be thrilled to find out you’ve got a baby coming.”
“Johnny’s tougher than you think,” Amie said defensively. “He can take it.” Privately she though
t, But he might just shoot Frankie, if Frankie ever comes back.
Lucy found herself considering everything quite coldly, and she continued, “But it’s not his child. It’s Frankie’s. You said before that you were willing to give the baby up to me. So, that’s what I want you and Johnny to do. I don’t see any other way to handle it. I’ll tell you one thing, Amie. I am not going to just sit by and have you raising Frankie’s son right under his—and my—nose. I swear I’ll kill the both of you.”
Amie stared at her in horror. She was a little afraid of Lucy these days. Amie hadn’t realized how much she’d depended on Lucy’s kindness all these years, but now she missed it terribly, and seeing that serpentlike flame behind Lucy’s gaze, Amie wondered how she’d ever get back that closeness, which had been so vital to her.
“All right, Lucy,” she whispered. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”
“Yes,” Lucy said bitterly. “That’s what I want. Furthermore, you have to go and tell Johnny this weekend. I don’t care how sick you feel. You march yourself right up there to that house, with your twins, and tell Johnny exactly what we agreed on. And you’d better stick to our deal, Amie. If Johnny gives you any guff, you just tell him to come and see me about it.”
* * *
Vinnie and Paulie went running across the lawn to greet their father, who was bundled up on a sunbed admiring the soft blue Long Island Sound in the backyard of the house he’d chosen for himself. Amie didn’t come into the yard with them; the twins said that Mama was in the house making dinner with Petrina and would call them all when it was ready.
But then the two boys stopped short and studied their father’s gaunt face. They looked uncertain, wary, as if they’d been tricked, and this skinny man had put on their father’s clothes and was trying to pass for the robust, healthy papa they’d grown up with.
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