After what seemed like an hour, the older man returned and motioned for them to follow him. Gino led the way. The thugs closed in a bit as they passed, letting Frank and Gino feel their presence without actually making any threatening moves. Frank figured ordinary citizens would be terrified.
Although the saloon itself looked exactly like every other saloon in the city—its furnishings plain, functional, and worn with hard usage—the back room was clearly the office of an important man. Velvet drapes hung at the windows and a handwoven carpet covered the floor. Gilt-framed pictures of European landscapes hung on the wallpapered walls, and Ugo Ruocco sat at a large round table with a bottle of wine and a half-empty glass before him.
Their escort held the door for them and then closed it behind him, standing with his back to it to observe their meeting and prevent interruption.
“Gino,” Ruocco said with apparent good cheer. “What brings you here? And who have you brought with you?”
Gino whipped off his hat and nodded slightly in greeting. “Good afternoon, Padrone,” he said with more respect that Frank would have shown. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“How could I turn you away? I would never know why you came, and I am very interested to know that. Please, sit down,” he said, waving magnanimously at the empty chairs at the table. “You, too, Detective,” he added less enthusiastically.
Gino exchanged a glance with Frank before taking one of the offered chairs. Frank took the one beside him. Frank sized up Ruocco across the expanse of tablecloth that separated them. He was a man supremely confident in his place in the world and the power he wielded. Someplace else, he might not be so confident, but here he was in total control of everything and everyone. Frank and Gino were suppli-cants come to beg a favor of the great man. The knowledge burned like gall in Frank’s mouth, but he knew better than to betray it.
“Padrone, Detective Sergeant Malloy has come because he has something important to discuss with you,” Gino said.
“I am sure it is about my family,” Ruocco said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You probably know by now that Tammany is behind the riots,” Frank said.
Ruocco nodded once, his eyes hard and suspicious. “I have heard this, yes.”
“They want to show everybody that they can keep the Italians in their place.”
Ruocco’s smile disappeared. “Have you come only to tell me what I already know?”
“No, I came to ask you to put an end to the trouble.”
“I have men guarding the restaurant,” Ruocco reminded him impatiently. “They could not stop it.”
“Tammany Hall wants Nainsi’s mother to have the baby.
If that happens, the riots will stop.”
Ugo considered this for a moment. “One small baby to cause so much trouble,” he mused. “But we cannot trust them. They also say my family killed Nainsi to get the baby.
They will want the murderer, and they will not stop until they get him.”
“The police would like the murderer,” Gino said, completely violating his agreement with Frank to keep his mouth shut during this discussion.
“If we found the killer,” Frank clarified quickly, “then Tammany wouldn’t have any reason at all to cause more trouble.”
“Tammany will always cause trouble,” Ruocco corrected him bitterly.
“But they’d cause it for someone else’s family,” Frank said.
Ruocco saw the logic in this, but he was unmoved. “Poor Maria, I told her to give the baby to that woman, but she would not. If I take the boy now, her heart will break.”
Frank didn’t think Ruocco cared a whit for Maria’s broken heart. “The only other way to get them to call off their dogs is to punish the killer, then,” he said, knowing Ruocco would never agree to that.
“Yes,” Ruocco said wisely. “That is what we must do.”
Frank didn’t bother to hide his surprise, and Gino’s jaw actually dropped before he caught himself and snapped it shut again. Frank recovered first. “Are you telling us you know who killed Nainsi?”
Ruocco smiled. It wasn’t a pretty sight. “I will tell you what I know. I know my brother’s wife hated the girl. She made Antonio a fool. He married a whore and gave his name to her bastard child. The girl hurt one of Patrizia’s children, and Patrizia will do anything to protect her children.”
“Most women will,” Frank noted.
“Will most women kill? Patrizia killed my brother to protect her children,” he said, and the loathing in his eyes chilled Frank.
“Are you saying she murdered her husband?” Frank asked in disbelief.
“She sent him back to Italy to die alone so her children could stay here,” Ruocco said. “It is the same thing.”
Not exactly, at least to Frank’s way of thinking. This sounded more likely than outright murder, and it certainly didn’t make Patrizia Ruocco a killer. “Did Mrs. Ruocco kill Nainsi?” Frank asked.
“I am telling you what I know,” Ruocco reminded him sharply. “Do you think the boys do something without Patrizia knowing? Do you think Maria or Valentina can kill like that? No, only one in that house can kill. Patrizia, she is the one.”
10
“Do you really think Mrs. Ruocco killed the girl?” Gino asked as he and Frank made their way back to Headquarters.
“Ugo wants us to think so. What was he talking about when he said she sent her husband back to Italy to die?”
“I don’t know. She’s been a widow as long as I’ve known her.”
Frank reviewed what Ruocco had told them. Frank had considered Mrs. Ruocco a suspect, of course. She had a good reason to want Nainsi dead, the same reason everyone else in the house had. What Ruocco said about the boys was probably true, too. They’d do only what she told them, unless some irresistible passion drove them. If any of them was capable of an irresistible passion, Frank hadn’t seen any evidence of it yet.
“You can’t believe Mrs. Ruocco did it,” Gino was saying.
“She’s a woman.”
“Women can kill,” Frank assured him. “They do it for different reasons than men, but they do it just the same.”
“Whores do,” Gino argued. “But not respectable women like Mrs. Ruocco.”
Frank sighed at his naivete, but he let it go. “Do you know anybody who’d remember the story about what happened to her husband?”
“My mother might. Do you want me to ask her?”
“Yeah, I do. How soon can you talk to her?”
“Right now, if you want. I’m off duty.”
Frank looked at him in surprise, pleased at his dedication to pursue this case on his own time. “Good. Find out everything you can, then come and tell me. I’ll be at Headquarters doing some reports.”
Gino gave him a mock salute and headed off at a sprint.
Frank sighed, wondering if he’d ever been that young and eager. He reached the corner and glanced down the street toward Mama’s Restaurant. Everything seemed peaceful enough in the waning evening light. A movement in the shadows caught his eye, and a uniformed patrolman stepped forward.
“ ’Evening, Detective Sergeant,” he said.
“ ’Evening, Officer. Keeping an eye on things?”
“Yes, sir. Commissioner Roosevelt, he ordered that we station a couple of men down here in case there’s more trouble. He wants to be sure we get officers down here quicker than we did last time . . .”
“I doubt you’ll see another mob so soon,” Frank assured him. “Most of the troublemakers from last night are still recovering. But if anything does happen, anything at all, let me know. I’ll be at Headquarters.”
“You’ll be the first to hear about it then,” the officer promised with a grin.
In the silent, deserted room where the detectives had their desks, Frank was feeling sorry for himself. Grumbling about the paperwork, he was wishing he’d gone home to have supper with his son
