Ruocco didn’t bat an eye. “I am sure this is all a terrible mistake. In fact, I will be happy to pay you a reward for your efforts if you will straighten out this misunderstanding.”
The offer was a reasonable one, and Ruocco would have every reason to expect Frank to accept it. Everyone knew the police did what they were paid to do, and they certainly weren’t paid very much to uphold the law of the land.
Who would care if one more poor Irish girl died, after all?
And what good would come of bringing her killer to justice? A respectable family would suffer a lot of misery, and the girl would still be dead.
Frank had once believed he had no choice but to follow this logic and live by these unwritten rules. He knew better now, and he wanted to tell Ruocco what he could do with his offer of a bribe. He couldn’t though, at least not yet.
Sarah was still in the building, and Frank would be no good to her or to anyone else if Ruocco told his henchmen to slit his throat for showing disrespect.
“They already took the girl’s body to the morgue,” Frank said. “It’s out of my hands now.”
Irritation flickered across Ruocco’s broad face. He turned back to Mrs. Ruocco and demanded something in Italian.
She straightened defiantly and replied, mentioning Lorenzo.
“Lorenzo?” he scoffed, dismissing his nephew with a wave of his hand.
“We didn’t have any choice, Uncle,” Joe hastily explained.
“Nainsi’s mother ran out into the street screaming for the police when she found out the girl was dead.”
Before Ruocco could react, the kitchen door swung open, and Sarah came into the dining room, apparently unaware of what was going on. She glanced at the newcomers and then dismissed them as unimportant, going straight to Mrs.
Ruocco.
“Maria is going to need some help learning how to prepare the baby’s bottles and take care of him,” she said, as if nothing else was more important. “I’d be happy to help her, but if you’d prefer, I can suggest someone else to—”
“Who is this?” Ruocco demanded.
Sarah looked at him in surprise, and Frank noticed she managed to let Ruocco know his behavior was rude.
“She is the midwife, Uncle,” Joe hastily explained.
“And she was just leaving,” Frank said. “Mrs. Brandt, get your things.”
“Brandt,” Ruocco echoed thoughtfully, looking her up and down. “You are not German,” he added, referring to her name.
“No, I’m not,” she replied, offering nothing else. And making no move to leave, either, Frank noted impatiently.
Ruocco stared hard at her, annoyed that he could not classify her. An ordinary midwife he could deal with, but he could see Sarah Brandt wasn’t ordinary. Even though she moved among the working classes, she would always carry with her the evidence that she had been born to wealth and privilege, the daughter of one of the oldest families in the city. Ugo didn’t know all that, but a man as perceptive as he was, who depended on his ability to judge others in order to retain his power, would sense it.
“Who are you?” Ruocco asked, meaning much more than her name.
“I am the midwife,” Sarah said stubbornly. To her, that was the only correct or necessary answer.
Sensing she was somehow getting the upper hand, he changed tactics. “Do you think my nephew’s wife was murdered?”
Frank caught his breath, silently begging her not to answer that question.
“I don’t know why she died,” she said without even looking at Frank for guidance. “I never saw anything like it before.”
Ruocco’s eyes widened innocently. “Why do you want to ruin this family, Mrs. Brandt?” he asked, his voice suddenly silky with charm as he rose to his feet. “The girl lied to my nephew to give her bastard a name. She deserved to die.”
“I think God should make those decisions,” Sarah informed him. “I just want to know for certain how she died so I’ll know if it was my fault or if I could have done something to prevent it.”
“What if it was your fault? What if you killed her yourself?” he challenged, obviously enjoying the verbal duel.
“Then I will take the blame for it and try to learn from my mistake,” Sarah replied. “I always want to do my job better. Lives depend on it. I’m sure you can appreciate that, Mr. Ruocco.”
Frank wanted to shake her. Didn’t she know who she was talking to? This was no upper-class gentleman who would treat her with respect. Ugo Ruocco killed people who dis-pleased him.
But Ruocco seemed more amused than angered by her defiance. “Lives depend on it,” he echoed with a small smile.
“Patrizia, I do not know why you send for me,” he told his sister-in-law.
“To make the police go away and leave us alone,” Mrs.
Ruocco snapped, glaring at Frank.
This also seemed to amuse Ruocco. “Will you go away?”
he politely asked Frank, stroking his mustache again.
“I’m finished here,” Frank said, not wanting anyone to think he was leaving because Ruocco wanted him to. “I was waiting to escort Mrs. Brandt.”
“Are you finished, too, Mrs. Brandt?” Ruocco asked with exaggerated civility.
“Yes, she is,” Frank informed her. “Get your things, Mrs.
Brandt, and I’ll see that you get home.”
He saw the flicker of rebellion on her face, but she must have realized he was only concerned for her safety. She turned to Mrs. Ruocco again. “Please send for me if Maria has any problems with the baby. I’ll be happy to help in any way I can. I’m very sorry about Nainsi . . . about everything.”
Mrs. Ruocco betrayed only anger, although it didn’t seem to be directed at Sarah in particular. She nodded her head once in acknowledgment of Sarah’s words of condo-lence. “Giuseppe, get Mrs. Brandt’s coat.”
Joe looked around helplessly as Sarah went and fetched it herself from the chair where she had laid it. He went to help her with it before Frank could move.
As Sarah buttoned her cape, Ruocco asked of no one in particular, “Why does Maria take care of the baby?”
“Maria is going to keep the baby,” Joe hastily explained.
Ugo’s dark eyes narrowed, and he fixed his gaze on Joe.
“You are going to keep the whore’s baby?”
Joe blanched. “Maria is barren. She . . . she wants a baby,”
he stammered.
“The mother was a lying whore,” Ugo repeated.
“Will you tell Maria she cannot have a baby?” Mrs.
Ruocco challenged Ugo with a glare of her own.
“The baby can’t help who his parents are,” Sarah added, making Frank want to shake her again.
This time Ugo didn’t look amused. “You will go home now, Mrs. Brandt.”
Frank saw the flicker of rebellion again, but he hurried over and took her by the arm before she could offend Ruocco any more.
“Come on,” he said, picking up her medical bag.
For once she did as she was told. No one spoke as they left the restaurant. The crowd outside had retreated a respectful distance, in deference to Ugo Ruocco, but they still lingered in small groups. If something interesting happened, no one wanted to miss it. Still holding Sarah’s arm, Frank hustled her along the sidewalk until she finally shook loose of his grip and forced him to stop.
“Slow down. We don’t have to run away,” she snapped.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea, though,” he replied. “Do you know who Ugo Ruocco is?”
