Princes of the Lower East Side: A 1920s Mafia Thriller (A Scalisi Family Novel)

by Meredith Allison

  “Connie, they just got in,” Uncle Joe said gently. “Tell them happy stories, not the bad ones.”

  “Of course,” Aunt Connie replied, flustered. “Are you hungry? There’s coffee in the back, and pastries.”

  Gloria glanced at Mia, who nodded. “Yes, please, Aunt Connie. Emilia, would you like some cookies?”

  As Aunt Connie led Gloria and Emilia away, Mia turned back to Uncle Joe and Mr. Masseria. “I noticed some young men earlier. They didn’t look like neighborhood men. In suits. Nice ones. They seemed to be making themselves right at home here.”

  Uncle Joe nodded. “They’re the peddlers.”

  Mia looked at Mr. Masseria. “And you have a plan to tidy things up?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I know who they work for. I’ll talk to him, tell him to stop letting them deal here.”

  “Who is it?”

  He studied her. “No one you know, I’m sure,” he patronized.

  “Have you been affected directly, Uncle Joe?” Mia asked.

  “Yes,” Uncle Joe said sadly. “A couple months ago, there was a robbery. They held me up with guns, took all the money from the register, destroyed some shelves and some product. But luckily for us, Don Masseria helped us rebuild, gave us the money that was stolen from us.”

  Lucky for you, or lucky for him? Mia glanced at Mr. Masseria, who smiled at her, a bit smugly. “That was very kind of you, Don Masseria. I am grateful and indebted to you, on behalf of my family.”

  “Uncle Joe!” Emilia shouted imperiously, sticking her head out of the back room. “Aunt Connie says you got a quarter for me!”

  Uncle Joe grinned at the child, then turned to Mia and Mr. Masseria. “Excuse me, please.”

  Mr. Masseria gestured toward Emilia. “There is nothing more urgent than the needs and desires of our children.”

  When they were alone, Mia turned toward him. “So, this business with heroin dealers in the neighborhood is true?”

  Mr. Masseria nodded. “You saw what you saw.”

  “And they don’t work for you?”

  If he was surprised by her candor and her borderline disrespect, he didn’t show it. “They are not mine. I conduct my heroin operation elsewhere.”

  “Who is, then? And don’t tell me he’s no one I know. I don’t know plenty of people, but if I need to, I make it my business to introduce myself.”

  This time, Mr. Masseria indicated his surprise with a slight lift of his eyebrows. “Is that so? Well. He calls himself Gems.”

  “Gems,” she repeated. “Second time today I’ve heard that name.”

  “A reference to the strength of his balls or perhaps the jewelry he wears, I do not know. I’ve heard both stories.” He smirked. “He’s new in town. From Jersey, but has been all over. He was in Chicago before, I believe, but after you left. Now, he’s here to make a better life for himself, like so many of our people from the old country. He’s a young, impressionable fellow. I will speak with him.”

  “I would consider that favor,” Mia said. “For me, and my family.”

  His brows lifted higher. “Since you seem to want to be taken seriously as your brother was, I will be frank with you. It is a favor, yes, but one your uncle hardly deserves.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “As your uncle stated, I helped him quite generously after his misfortune. Yet his protection payments have waned ever since your brother died. I did not raise the matter out of respect, but it’s been over a year now since Domenico’s death.” Mr. Masseria’s voice took on a sharp tone, and his gaze was steady and hard.

  Aha, Mia thought. So we come to the heart of the matter. Out of the corner of her eye, Paolo—whom she still had not introduced—took a step in their direction at the tone of Mr. Masseria’s voice. Mia subtly held out a hand to stop him.

  “I’ll resume the protection payments,” she said. “And I’ll double what you were getting paid before if you give me your word this store will not be bothered again.”

  “Double?” He looked impressed and amused. “A lot of money for a young lady.”

  “I’m involved in some lucrative endeavors.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  She didn’t like the way he said that.

  “Well.” Mr. Masseria bowed his head. “Fine. You will pay me double protection payments, and I will see to it your family’s store is not bothered by the young hoodlums in the neighborhood.”

  “And that you’ll make this Gems fellow stop his business dealings in this neighborhood.”

  His brow lowered. “Do you ask me, or do you tell me, Signorina Scalisi?”

  Mia opened her pocketbook and deliberately peeled off five twenty-dollar bills from the roll she carried. “For the first month in advance, consider it another favor.” She swallowed. “Please.”

  He blinked slowly, then took the money, folded the bills, and tucked them into his suit coat pocket. For a long moment, he studied her. “You remind me very much of your brother. I see you are as smart as he was, but you have a cooler temper, a more reasonable head. But I hear you are as ruthless.”

  She said nothing and waited.

  “You would be surprised to know how quickly news in Chicago finds its way here,” he said. “But I say this in admiration of you. Of the vengeance you took for your blood.”

  “Vengeance is only finished when all involved are dead,” she said. Hymie Weiss still breathed, and as long as he did, Nick remained unavenged.

  “In time, in time.” Mr. Masseria tilted his head, observing her. “You are quite young.”

  “Indeed,” she said. “However, I learned from my brother that age is but a number.”

  He chuckled, apparently pleased by that. “I hear you are working for the Jew, Hyman Goldberg.”

  “I am headlining his new nightclub.”

  “Ah. That will keep you very busy. Luckily all your partners are doing such a fine job with the liquor.”

  Again, the way he spoke made her hackles rise. It was as though he knew something she did not. And she did not want him to know that she did not know everything.

  Her gaze flicked to his breast pocket where he’d hidden the money. “Do I have your word, Don Masseria?”

  Mr. Masseria patted his chest. “You have my word that I will impress upon this young fellow that it is not in his interest to conduct his business here.”

  She released a breath. “Thank you.”

  He touched the brim of his hat. “I have enjoyed doing business with you, Signorina Scalisi. Consider the little neighborhood problem solved. I wish you well.”

  She watched him stride out of the shop. She’d been home for hardly a full day and had already made a dangerous friend.

  Dangerous, because she wasn’t sure if—or when—he’d become an enemy.

  Chapter Three

  They remained at the grocery for another hour before Mia stated it was time to leave. She needed to visit her shop, and would have gladly left Gloria and Emilia with Uncle Joe and Aunt Connie, but with a determined gleam in her eye, Gloria insisted on accompanying her.

  After Aunt Connie made them promise to come for Mass and then Sunday dinner, Paolo drove them to Midtown and stopped in front of the elegant storefront of the shop Hyman Goldberg had unceremoniously dumped in her lap over a year ago.

  The shop was open, which meant there was one person inside to tend to customers.

  With a real smile of pleasure, Mia walked through the door, immediately finding the young, pretty, redheaded woman, standing on a short stepladder and neatly arranging a selection of ladies’ gloves on a shelf behind the counter.

  At the sound of the tinkling bell, Trudy called over her shoulder, “I’ll be right with you.”

  “Take your time,” Mia replied.

  Trudy whirled, nearly toppling off the stepladder. Her blue eyes widened, lips parting to emit a surprised gasp. “Miss Scalisi!” She scurried off the ladder and rushed into Mia’s open arms.

  “It’s wonderful
to see you,” Mia said, hugging her tightly. She pulled back, surprised to see tears gleaming in Trudy’s eyes. “How have you been? You look very well.”

  Trudy’s fashionable chiffon and lace bell-sleeved dress was a beautiful pale green that brought out the rosiness in her creamy skin. Her makeup was light and artfully applied, down to the deep rose lip rouge she wore.

  “You cut you hair.” Mia ran a hand over the short, deep-red bob.

  “Oh,” Trudy said, patting her hair and flushing. “No, it’s a faux bob. My hair’s pinned up.”

  “Well, it’s beautiful, and so are you.”

  “Thank you,” Trudy said. “Well, Mr. Goldberg says the girls who run the shop should be presentable for the clientele.”

  Mia cocked an ear. Trudy’s musical Irish brogue sounded less pronounced than she remembered. Her rs were more fluid and less hard, and her words more enunciated. Have I been gone so long? “You’re certainly that. You even sound a little different.”

  Trudy’s cheeks turned a darker shade of pink and she glanced at the floor. “Mr. Goldberg also said I should take measures to not sound like a common Irish immigrant.”

  One of Mia’s eyebrows arched slowly. “He told you that you sound common?”

  “I’ve been listening to the radio and going to the theater to learn how to speak properly.”

  “You speak however you’d like to,” Mia said stubbornly. “This is my shop, and I’m back, and I say you don’t have to change how you talk. You don’t have to change anything you don’t want to.”

  Trudy swallowed. “But Mr. Goldberg—”

  “You let me worry about Mr. Goldberg.” Mia glanced over her shoulder at Gloria. “Can we have a moment?”

  “Certainly.” Gloria took Emilia’s hand and led her toward a corner of the shop to look at hand-painted compact mirrors.

  Mia turned back to Trudy. “Do you know where Mr. Goldberg is this afternoon?”

  “I believe he was to be having a meeting,” Trudy said, and Mia was happy to hear her brogue again. “At the penthouse.”

  “A meeting with who?”

  “Mr. Schapiro, Mr. Lazzari, and a new gentleman I haven’t met. There’s to be a delivery tonight.”

  Mia wrinkled her brow. “Have you been involved in those?”

  Trudy shook her head. “I only know the days they’re happening to make sure any inventory for the store is moved well out of the way. Some of those deliverymen can be rather ungentle, you see. We lost a crate of French perfume not long ago because of them.”

  “I never intended for you to get mixed up with all that,” Mia said.

  “Well, I’m no bootlegger,” Trudy said slowly, lowering her voice as her eyes slid to Gloria, “but if you recall, I did launder blood out of Mr. Scalisi’s shirts a time or two.”

  It was Mia’s turn to flush. A time or two—more like dozens of times. She’d been so adept at getting the stains out Nick never wanted anyone else to do his laundering. And Trudy had never said a word to either of them—or anyone else, to Mia’s knowledge—about it.

  “How have you been?” Trudy asked. “It’s a wonderful surprise to see you. I hadn’t heard from you for a couple of months and had no idea you’d be returning now. Did you enjoy your time with your family?”

  “I did, thank you,” Mia said. “It was wonderful to live with them for the past year. And I apologize about not writing sooner. I didn’t intend to give anyone here any warning about my return.”

  Trudy nodded slowly, a look of comprehension that surprised Mia stealing across her delicate, symmetrical features. “Then I reckon it’s best I don’t telephone Mr. Goldberg and let him know you’re on your way.” A tiny, sly smile perked up the corners of her mouth.

  Mia gave her an appreciative nod.

  Behind her, Gloria cleared her throat. “I’m Gloria,” she said to Trudy. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met, actually. I’m Mia’s sister-in-law.”

  Trudy gave her hand a gentle shake. “How do you do. I’ve heard much of you, Mrs. Scalisi, as well as your darling babe.” She bent down slightly to smile at Emilia, holding her mother’s hand. “Aren’t you a beauty? What is your name, little lamb?”

  “Emilia,” Mia’s niece murmured.

  “What a pretty name for a pretty girl!”

  “What do you say?” Gloria prompted gently.

  “Thank you,” Emilia whispered gravely, staring at Trudy with round eyes.

  Trudy fished a sweet from the pocket of her dress. “If it’s all right with you, ma’am?”

  Gloria smiled down at Emilia. “Emmy, look. A sweet for you from the kind lady.”

  “Thank you!” Emilia said with a great deal more enthusiasm as she took the candy.

  Trudy straightened and smiled at Mia. “A wee precious thing, she is.”

  Mia put her hand on Trudy’s arm. “You’ve done a wonderful job of taking care of this shop while I was gone. Thank you, Trudy.”

  “Oh, it was my pleasure, Miss Scalisi. I suppose I found it rather fun and liberating to come to work each day.”

  “How is your family in Brooklyn?”

  “They are all well,” Trudy said. “I’ve been able to spend lots of time with them and with my little sister. She’s nearly finished with high school. She’s a proper young woman now.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  Trudy shifted her weight. “I suppose I’ll be taking on a new endeavor, now you’re back. I’ve made you a list of clientele and their personal preferences, when they like to shop and what they usually buy. I’ve kept careful inventory logs and when each item should be ordered and how long it takes to arrive. I—”

  “Trudy.” Mia smiled. “How could I possibly follow in your footsteps? You know this place better than I do. I’d like you to be the general manager. If you enjoy it and want it. It comes with a raise, of course.”

  “Truly?”

  “If you want it,” Mia repeated.

  “Oh.” Trudy’s face brightened. “Well, I’d certainly love the opportunity, Miss Scalisi.”

  “Then it’s yours.” She glanced around. “What happened to the other woman who worked here?”

  “She moved out west six months ago.”

  “Well, let me know if you’d like more help around the place.”

  “Well, another girl for evenings and some weekend help would be nice.”

  “Then you’ll have it.”

  Trudy beamed. “You’re far too kind, Miss Scalisi.”

  Mia squeezed her hand. “I appreciate your loyalty.”

  They visited for a little longer, and Mia discreetly checked the time. She didn’t want to miss out on the meeting Trudy had told her about. She hadn’t been invited, but she intended to be punctual. After Trudy gave her a spare key to the shop, Mia bid her goodbye.

  Outside the shop, Mia turned to Paolo. “After you drop me at Mr. Goldberg’s, please take Gloria and Emilia—”

  Paolo shook his head firmly.

  “What?” Mia said, exasperated.

  He pointed at her, then himself, then mimed driving. Then he folded his arms.

  “Paolo, if we all taxi to the hotel, and then you and I go back to Mr. Goldberg’s, it’ll take too long,” she said impatiently.

  “It’s fine,” Gloria said. “Emilia and I will take our own cab. Apparently, you have something very important to do, don’t you?”

  Mia sighed. Gloria didn’t look particularly happy. “It is important.”

  “That’s clear.” She took Emilia’s hand. “Could I trouble you for a little cash to get home?”

  “It’s no trouble.” Mia opened her pocketbook, but Paolo beat her to it, handing over some bills from his pocket.

  Mia waited on the sidewalk until the cab showed up. Gloria helped Emilia inside, then glanced at Mia over her shoulder. “I suppose you’ll be late?”

  “It’s not even four o’clock, Glo.”

  “Never can tell.”

  “I’ll be back in time for supper,” Mia said. />
  Gloria nodded, then gave her another long, sweeping glance. A ghost of her old smile appeared. “Keep them in line. I know you will in that dress.” She climbed into the taxi and shut the door.

  Mia glanced down at her new, cap-sleeved cream chiffon dress. She’d had a number of new dresses made while she’d been in Sicily, and this had been one of her favorites. The bottom of the dress was covered in a beautiful black, red, and green floral embroidery, with small black embroidered flowers covering the bodice front and back. A pair of black-velvet-trimmed white gloves and black T-strap heels completed the look.

  She’d once said nothing was impossible; all a girl needed was the right dress. Though she felt a lifetime from the girl who’d said that, perhaps there was still some truth to it. She wasn’t looking to do the impossible. Just find out what the men she’d trusted had been up to while she’d been away.

  And find out if she still could trust them.

  They arrived at Hyman Goldberg’s Midtown penthouse five minutes later. Paolo stopped her from getting out of the car with a touch to the forearm. He jogged around to her side and opened the door. His deference never failed to surprise her. It seemed to go beyond basic gentlemanly chivalry or even common courtesy.

  The driver leaned across the seat. “You want I should wait?”

  Before she could respond, Paolo pointed at him and nodded. Then he walked ahead of her to open the set of thick, glass-plated doors.

  As they walked across the lobby to the elevator bank, Mia glanced around. Nothing had changed since the last time she’d been here. It was familiar, almost normal. However, she’d never dropped in on Hyman unannounced, and her stomach did a little quivering dance of nerves before she steeled herself.

  Paolo called the elevator for her, and when it arrived, he swept her inside ahead of him.

  “Paolo,” she said quietly as they rode to the top. “Thank you for coming with me. I don’t just mean here. I mean to America.”

  He nodded.

  “Do you miss it? Sicily, I mean.”

  The older man stared straight ahead, swallowing several times and blinking rapidly. Then he gave a slight shake of his head. He patted his chest, wincing.