when Gino found him. He’d changed out of his uniform into casual clothes and a soft cap, and as usual, he looked much too excited.
He set a paper sack down on the desk in front of Frank.
“My mother sent you some supper.”
Frank’s stomach growled in response to the aroma of garlic and fresh-baked bread. He tried not to look as grateful as he felt as he pulled open the sack to peer inside.
“What did you find out?” Frank asked. Inside the sack were two thick slices of bread covered with tomato sauce and melted cheese. Frank pulled one out and took an enor-mous bite. It tasted even better than it smelled.
“I found out that Patrizia and Ugo hate each other.”
Frank swallowed. “We already knew that,” he reminded Gino grimly.
“Yeah, but now I know why they hate each other.”
“The protection money,” Frank guessed.
“Oh, no, it’s about her husband. A story I never heard before.”
Frank sighed. “I’m betting it’s a long story.”
“Not real long,” Gino said with far too much glee, pulling up a chair next to Frank’s desk. “You see, Ugo came over from Italy first, about twenty years ago. Back then, a lot of men came over to work for a few years and send money home. When they saved up enough to buy some land there, they’d go back to Italy. Most of them never intended to stay here very long.”
Frank couldn’t understand why somebody would prefer a foreign country to America, but there was no figuring out Italians. “Let me guess, Ugo decided to stay.”
“Yeah, he found out he could be a big man over here. He was nothing in Italy and never would be, but here people listened to him. He made lots of friends and lots of money.”
“So he brought over the rest of his family.” Frank reached into the bag for the other piece of bread.
“No, not all of them, only his brother. At least that was the plan. He was going to bring Ernesto over to work for a while, too. Then they would send for their families. But it didn’t work out that way.”
“Why not?” Frank asked between bites.
“Because Patrizia Ruocco refused to stay in Italy. By then Ugo’s wife had been left alone for almost five years.
Patrizia didn’t think Ugo was going to send for his wife at all. Some men did that. They’d get here and forget all about their wives back home. Sometimes they’d even get married to another woman. The wives back in Italy, they called them white widows. Patrizia wasn’t going to be a white widow.”
“So she came along with her husband?”
“She convinced Ernesto not to come without the whole family, even Ugo’s wife. Ugo was plenty mad, but in the end he gave in because he wanted his brother here. Like I told you before, family is very important to Italians, and he needed somebody he could trust to help him in his business.”
“And Ugo never forgave Patrizia for making him bring over his fat, ugly wife?” Frank guessed.
“No, he never forgave her because when they got here, Ernesto couldn’t get in. Turns out he had consumption. He was dying, so they sent him back to Italy.”
Now Ugo’s accusation against Patrizia made sense. “Patrizia sent him back alone?”
“That’s right. Ugo thought she should go home with him, to take care of him, but she wouldn’t. She wanted her children to live in America, and she wouldn’t leave them here with Ugo. Ernesto asked Ugo to take care of them all, so he did. But Ugo never forgave Patrizia because Ernesto died alone back in Italy just a few months later.”
Frank considered this information. “So Ugo would have a good reason for trying to get Patrizia in trouble.”
“We call it a vendetta,” Gino explained. “When you carry a grudge against somebody until you figure out a way to get revenge.”
“Fifteen years is a long time to wait,” Frank observed.
“Not for an Italian,” Gino assured him with a grin. “Ugo might see this as his big chance to punish Patrizia by blaming her for Nainsi’s death.”
Frank licked the last of the sauce off his fingers thoughtfully. “Or maybe she did kill Nainsi, and he sees this as his big chance to turn her in for it.”
Gino scratched his head. “Even if she did, we still have the same problem. How can we prove it? Ugo’s word isn’t enough. He wasn’t even in the house, so he can’t know for sure or have any proof. Her children aren’t going to tell us anything about her, and all she has to do is keep her mouth shut.”
“We won’t get anything out of any of them as long as they’re holed up in their house together. We need to separate them, get the boys away from Mama. If we can scare them, maybe—”
“Detective Sergeant Malloy,” a voice called. Frank looked up to see the officer he’d spoken with earlier on the street near Mama’s Restaurant. “Wanted you to know, I saw two men leaving the Ruocco house a little while ago.”
“Two men? Customers, you mean?” Frank asked.
“No, sir. There was hardly any customers tonight. Nor at noon either. Guess folks are scared there might be trouble.
They’d already closed up for the night, turned out the lights down in the restaurant, and then two men come out.”
“Who was it?”
“Couldn’t see for sure, but it must’ve been two of the boys.”
Gino muttered a curse. “They’d leave their mother alone and unprotected after what happened last night?” he said in outrage. “What kind of men are they?”
“Stupid and selfish ones,” Frank supplied. “Did you see where they went?” he asked the officer.
“Yeah, O’Malley followed them. They went to some dance house on Broadway.”
Frank looked over at Gino. “Like Antonio said he used to do with Lorenzo. That’s how he met Nainsi. Now’s our chance to catch them away from their mama.”
The Dance House was above a saloon. Decent girls wouldn’t dare enter the saloon, but the room above presumably provided respectable entertainment, so they could go up there. A band played dance music for short periods of time, during which the men in attendance would select a partner. Then the music would stop, and the men would have a long interval during which to ply their partners with drinks from the bar. This was the only type of establishment in the city where unescorted females could meet men without being labeled prostitutes.
Shop girls and factory girls would pay the nickel or dime admission fee for the chance to have a few hours of fun, some free drinks, and perhaps find a man to marry so they could escape their hopeless lives.
Once the dance houses had sprung up all over the city, however, many men quickly learned that the girls were desperate for more than a good time. Their meager wages barely covered the cost of food and shelter, leaving little for clothing and nothing for the occasional luxury, like a new hat or piece of jewelry. Many of the girls, who were usually younger than sixteen, would willingly trade sexual favors for the gift of an article of clothing or some geegaw. Frank wondered what the man who had impregnated Nainsi had given her for the privilege.
When they arrived at the crowded, overheated, and smoke-filled upstairs room, a musical number was just ending, and all the dancers were making their way to the bar for some refreshment. The man at the door tried to collect an admission fee from Frank and Gino, but Frank flashed his badge.
“We ain’t doing nothing illegal here,” the man cried, holding up both hands in silent surrender. “You got no call to raid us.”
“This isn’t a raid,” Frank said, already scanning the room for sign of the Ruocco brothers. “We’re just looking for somebody.”
“I don’t want no trouble,” the man whined. “It’s bad for business!”
“When we find him, we’ll take him out real quiet,”
Frank promised. “Do you see them?” he asked Gino.
Gino shook his head. The mass of bodies at the bar was four or five deep, but Frank would’ve thought they could see the Ruoccos’ heads above the crowd because of their height.
