“What does that mean?”
Mrs. Cassidi shrugged. “People do not ask, because she is so anxious for us to ask. She is very . . . I do not know the word.” She made a prim face that almost made Sarah laugh out loud until she remembered they were still in church.
“Smug?” she guessed.
“Sì, smug. But when people do not ask, she gives hints. She makes us know her husband gave her a diamond.”
“A diamond?” That didn’t sound right. “A diamond ring perhaps?”
She shrugged again. “Something with a diamond. Or diamonds. So if she is ever in need, she can sell the diamond. If he gave this thing to this puttana, that would be very bad.”
“And Mrs. Esposito would be very angry, especially when she found out the woman had left him and taken it with her.”
“And now her husband is dead, so she needs it.”
Sarah sensed someone had come close, and she looked up to find a priest frowning down at them and looking very menacing in his black robes.
He said something in Italian, probably chastening them for lingering in the sanctuary to talk. Sarah rose and smiled and nodded politely. Mrs. Cassidi murmured something back to him that sent him scurrying away.
“What did you say to him?” Sarah asked as they made their way out of the church.
“I told him we were giving Olympia Esposito the evil eye.”
* * *
* * *
I’ve got to find out more about this evil eye,” Maeve said when Sarah had told all of them about her visit to Our Lady of Mount Carmel after they’d eaten Sunday dinner and sent the children off to play.
“I’m sure my mother would be happy to explain it to you,” Gino said, “but you’d need to learn Italian first.”
“I’m sure Enzo would be willing to translate for me,” she replied sweetly.
“You shouldn’t joke about the evil eye,” Mother Malloy said.
“Don’t tell me the Irish believe in it, too,” Maeve marveled.
“The Irish believe in every way disaster can befall you,” Malloy said.
His mother gave him a look that an Italian might have thought was an evil eye. “Not that kind of superstition, but you still shouldn’t make fun. The devil is always listening.”
Sarah had an urge to cross herself. This was getting out of hand. “At any rate, I think we now know that Mrs. Esposito was at the flat the night her husband was murdered and that she had a very good reason for killing him.”
“But she was right,” Mother Malloy said. “If she kills her husband, what will become of her?”
“Maybe he left her a lot of money,” Maeve said.
“Do you think men like Esposito put their money in banks and have their lawyers draw up a last will and testament to provide for their families?” Malloy scoffed.
“When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound very likely,” Sarah admitted. “But she probably wasn’t thinking about that. Maybe she was just furious that he’d been taken in by some female who managed to get something really valuable from him—well, actually from her, if the diamond thing was supposed to be hers—and then disappeared. If she was angry enough—and that would have made her pretty angry—she might grab a knife and stab him on impulse.”
“I can understand that,” Maeve said. “She might be sorry later, and maybe she didn’t even intend to kill him, but he’s dead all the same.”
“I saw things like that all the time when I was a cop,” Gino said. “People get mad and lash out. They cool down later, but that doesn’t change what happened.”
“And she admitted she was there. That’s more than Cassidi or McWilliam did,” Malloy said.
“Or Balducci,” Gino added with a smirk. “How are we going to find out where he was that night?”
“We could ask him,” Malloy said.
“Do you have any idea how to do that?” Gino asked.
“Maybe you could corner him in church,” Maeve suggested with a smirk.
“I can’t believe none of you have thought of the most logical person,” Mother Malloy said.
They all turned to her in surprise. “Who are you thinking of?” Sarah asked.
“The mistress. She got the diamond or whatever it is. Maybe she had to kill him to get it.”
“But she’d left that morning,” Malloy argued. “Everybody saw her go.”
“Maybe she came back.”
They took a minute to consider this. Sarah could see how it made sense. “She’d left that morning, but maybe she got to thinking that she should have taken the diamond as well and went back for it.”
“I see,” Maeve said, brightening. “Maybe she didn’t expect Esposito to be there either.”
“But he was,” Gino continued, “and he wouldn’t let her take it, so she had to kill him.”
“Was this before or after Mrs. Esposito killed him?” Malloy asked, deadpan.
“Before,” Maeve replied smugly. “But after Balducci killed him.”
“We really need to talk to Balducci,” Gino said. “I wish we hadn’t been so rude to him.”
“Maybe you could offer him a ride in your motor to make up for it,” Sarah said slyly.
“Or maybe you could just offer him your motor,” Maeve added.
“Why don’t you just ask that Italian policeman to talk to him?” Mother Malloy said, not even looking up from her knitting, so she didn’t see them all gaping at her.
* * *
* * *
Frank and Gino—wearing his disguise for safety—left early on Monday morning, heading for Little Italy and Petrosino’s not-so-secret office. He wasn’t there, so they spent some time looking for him. Fortunately, the people in Little Italy were helpful and knowledgeable, and they finally tracked him down. He’d been walking the streets in search of a man suspected of breaking into a store a few days earlier. So far, he hadn’t had much luck.
Frank introduced Gino by his new name, and Petrosino never blinked. “He’s helping me with the Esposito case because I don’t speak Italian,” Frank added.
Petrosino nodded. “Do I know you, Mr. Pizzuto? You seem familiar.”
“I have family in Little Italy. You may have seen me.”
“Yes,” Petrosino said thoughtfully. “I think their name might be Donatelli.”
Gino grinned and shook his head. “I hoped to fool you.”
“You are with Malloy. That helped,” Petrosino demurred. “But I wouldn’t hang around Little Italy too long. Other people might catch on, too.”
“We just needed to speak to you about Esposito’s murder,” Frank said.
“I haven’t heard anything new.”
“I didn’t expect you would, but we need your help. It seems Balducci has taken over Esposito’s Black Hand group, and it’s possible he’s the one who killed Esposito.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”
“I want to question Balducci, but there’s some bad blood there, so I can’t just go see him.”
Petrosino grinned at that. “I heard how you left him standing and drove away.”
Frank winced. If the news had spread all the way down here, he’d never get near Balducci. “Yeah, well, I know now that was a mistake.”
“Men have been killed for far less,” Petrosino said, his grin disappearing. “I’m guessing you know that, which is why you’re here.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to solve Esposito’s murder if I’m dead,” Frank said without irony. “So I was hoping you might intercede for me.”
“What is it you want me to do?”
“I need to know if there’s any chance Balducci or one of his men killed Esposito.”
“There’s always a chance,” Petrosino pointed out. “But usually, when something like that happens, there are rumors, both before
and after.”
“What kind of rumors?”
“Of trouble. Somebody is mad or Esposito isn’t treating his men fairly or they’re being told to do things they don’t like.”
“And you didn’t hear anything like that about Esposito?”
“No. In fact, his men were very satisfied and loyal. Esposito knew how to handle them, and he never got too greedy. He also never took so much from the businessmen that they went out of business, so the community tolerated him. I know they were kidnapping women and children, but the victims were always returned, so he wasn’t asking his men to kill innocent people. That would have caused hard feelings.”
“I’m sure, and as much as I want Balducci or one of his men to be guilty, I’m more afraid that they’ll decide Gino is and try to take revenge.”
“Ah yes, vendetta. They are already angry with you, so this would be easy for them, too.”
Gino sighed dramatically. “I’m right here, remember.”
Petrosino spared him a sympathetic glance. “I can remind them that Donatelli had no reason to kill Esposito.”
“He also didn’t show up at the flat until Esposito had been dead for hours. We heard that Esposito always had a bodyguard with him. Where was he when Esposito was killed?”
“I will ask. In the meantime, you should get out of Little Italy, Gino.”
* * *
* * *
Sarah heard Maeve come in, returning from escorting Catherine to school. Mother Malloy and Brian had left long ago and wouldn’t be back until the end of their school day. Maeve found her in the parlor.
“I need to do something,” Maeve said, sitting down beside her on the sofa.
Sarah laid aside the book she had been reading. “What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not helping anyone just sitting around here or practicing my typing at the office.”
Sarah only stared at her for a long moment, not believing for a minute that Maeve didn’t have a plan.
“All right,” Maeve relented. “I was thinking I could volunteer at the settlement house.”
This was a surprise, and Sarah didn’t bother to hide her reaction. “Are you serious?”
“I can’t help thinking that we need to talk to the people there and find out what they know. So far our best information has come from gossip, and Teo can’t be everywhere.”
“The people in that neighborhood aren’t going to confide in you.”
“I know, but they might confide in the residents. That’s what they’re called, isn’t it? The ones who volunteer to live there?”
“Yes, residents. I suppose they could have heard something, but I’m sure they have some sort of process by which they select volunteers, and I think someone said they have all graduated from college.”
“I can lie and say I went to college.”
Sarah wasn’t sure she should encourage such a deception. “You don’t look old enough.”
“I’ll fool them. Please, Mrs. Malloy. If I do this, you’ll need to take Catherine to school and fetch her home, but it will probably only be for a few days, and even if it goes on longer, school will be out soon.” The school year ended in time for the July fourth holiday.
Sarah could see Maeve’s frustration, and she could also see that Maeve might be right about this being a good way to get information they couldn’t get any other way. “I don’t mind fetching Catherine, but you have no guarantee that Mr. McWilliam will accept you as a volunteer. Why should he?”
“Because he wants to find out who killed Esposito.”
“Are you sure?”
That stopped her. She frowned. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“Why would he? If Esposito kidnapped Jane Harding, he’s probably glad the man is dead.”
“Oh, I see. And if Jane killed him, he wouldn’t want me to find that out.”
“I don’t suppose he would, but Malloy thinks McWilliam knows more about it than he’s telling and there’s always a chance that he himself is the killer, so that’s another reason he might not want you around.”
“Can’t I just go to the settlement house and ask them if I can volunteer and see what happens? Teo will vouch for me.”
“I don’t see any harm in asking,” Sarah said. “The worst that can happen is that they say no. I’ll be here today if you aren’t back in time to get Catherine from school.”
Maeve rewarded her with a big smile, but before she could say anything else, the telephone’s shrill bell cut through the peaceful morning.
Sarah jumped up to answer it.
“Mrs. Malloy, is that you?” a voice asked.
“Yes, this is Mrs. Malloy.”
“This is Lisa Prince. I got your note this morning.”
Sarah’s nerves tingled with anticipation. “I’m glad you telephoned. Was there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, there is. I was wondering if you could call on me.”
Did she sound desperate? Perhaps that was too strong a word. She certainly sounded a bit harried. Sarah glanced at Maeve, who had followed her out into the front hall. “I’ll need to get my daughter from Miss Spence’s School this afternoon, and that’s not too far from you. Could I call on you after lunch today?”
Her sigh was audible. “That would be wonderful, Mrs. Malloy.”
“Who was that?” Maeve asked when Sarah had hung up the earpiece.
“Lisa Prince, Jane Harding’s cousin. She would like me to visit her this afternoon.”
“How long has Jane been there now?”
“She got there on Thursday, and today is Monday, so . . .”
“So long enough to drive Mrs. Prince to ask for help,” Maeve said with a grin.
IX
In the end, Frank convinced Petrosino to take him along when he went to see Balducci, even though Petrosino was sure Frank would just be inviting Balducci to hate him even more.
They found him in Esposito’s saloon. If the dead man really had owned the saloon, Frank couldn’t help wondering who owned it now. Mrs. Esposito, maybe. Somehow, Frank couldn’t imagine an Italian matron sitting in Esposito’s office and ordering kegs of beer and kidnappings, the way her husband certainly had. Balducci seemed more than comfortable doing so, however. He didn’t even bother to stand up when Frank and Petrosino were escorted in.
“They didn’t tell me Malloy was with you,” he said, giving Frank a look that could curdle milk. Frank couldn’t help thinking of the evil eye.
Petrosino said something to him in Italian that seemed to placate him, however, and Balducci turned his attention to Petrosino.
“What do you want?”
“First of all, I want to apologize,” Frank said, even though Balducci hadn’t addressed him, figuring this wasn’t going to cost him anything and might even win him a little grace. “Donatelli and I didn’t have to be so rude to you the other day.”
Balducci snorted. “You need to learn some respect.”
Frank saw no reason to reply to that, so he just waited, letting Petrosino take the lead.
“I want to talk to you about Esposito’s murder,” Petrosino said in English, making it clear that’s the language they should use.
“What about it?”
“Do you have any idea who killed him?”
Balducci gave them an evil grin. “I thought it was Donatelli. Wasn’t that why the police arrested him?”
“You know he didn’t do it,” Frank said. “By the time he got there, Esposito was cold.”
Balducci shrugged. “How would I know that?”
Ah, finally, a way to get to him. Flattery was always effective on men with little self-confidence, and Balducci must still be feeling a bit insecure in his bid to take over the Black Hand. “Because you’re the boss now, and you know everything that goes on. What I can’t figure out is h
ow somebody was able to get to Esposito in the first place. Didn’t he always have a bodyguard with him?”
Balducci barked something in Italian to Petrosino, who replied, “He’s helping me. Answer his question.”
Balducci growled but then bared his teeth in the parody of a smile. “Nunzio was a fool over that new woman of his. He told Dante to go home that night. He didn’t want Dante looking at the woman.”
“He wasn’t worried that somebody might try to kill him?” Frank asked, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
Balducci shrugged. “No one ever tried it before.”
“Who knew this Dante wasn’t guarding him that night?”
“Dante and Nunzio. Maybe the woman.”
“But she wasn’t there, was she?”
“How do I know? Nunzio expected her to be or he would not have been there himself.”
That made sense. Esposito had spent the previous two nights with his mistress at the flat. He might have been surprised that she wasn’t there, but he’d probably have expected her to return soon. Maybe she did or maybe she was already there. And maybe the woman didn’t like knowing that a strange man was outside, hearing heaven knew what. “I see, but that doesn’t explain how you knew Esposito was dead the next morning.”
Color flooded Balducci’s homely face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Gino Donatelli came here that morning, looking for Esposito. Somebody—not you, but probably one of your men—told him Esposito would be at the flat on Pleasant Avenue. As soon as Gino walked into the flat and found Esposito’s body, a cop shows up and arrests him. The cop didn’t go there by accident. Somebody sent him so he’d find Gino with the body.”
Balducci just glared, but Petrosino gave Frank an appreciative glance. “So how did you know Esposito was dead?” he asked Balducci.
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