Seeing Giovanna's expression, he realized he had once again made her feel guilty. "Signora, it has been a privilege to bring you this good news. I am sincerely happy that your family has survived. But, as I know, it is not so easy in this circ.u.mstance to be among the living. I will pray for your family as I pray for mine."

Clement spoke for the first time. "Signore, are you related to my mother, Angelina Bellantoni?"

"A third cousin, yes."

"Did anyone from my mother's family die in the terremoto?"

"Most everyone."

These were distant relatives that the children had little knowledge of, but the news brought the disaster closer to home for her stepchildren, who had never even seen Scilla. Giovanna thought about how tragedies knitted themselves into your soul when there was a connection-no matter how tenuous. If you walked down a street where a murder had occurred, or studied a country where there was a famine, all of a sudden the horror became your own. She watched ownership of this earthquake creep over her stepchildren's faces.

Giovanna went to her bedroom and took two palm fronds that had been braided into crosses off the wall. "These are from Scilla's Feast of Saint Rocco this past August. Please take one and give the other one to Dr. Bellantoni."

TWENTY-SEVEN.

FEBRUARY 1, 1909.

The thousand-dollar payment from Nunzio's settlement did not arrive on January 1. In fact, Signore DeCegli had to remind the attorney to send it. They had never seen the first check; it had gone directly to the bank to pay for the store. Giovanna stared at the check with three zeros and tried to figure out the safest way to get it to Scilla. With Lieutenant Petrosino's warnings ringing in her ears, she decided to ask Signore DeCegli's advice. Signore DeCegli a.s.sured her that Bank Stabile on Mulberry Street would transmit it safely, and he accompanied her there. She was not the first Italian to be sending money home, but Giovanna couldn't help but notice the clerk's expression when he saw the amount.

"I do not want to send this unless you can tell me that it will go directly to my family," stated Giovanna.

"I a.s.sure you, signora, we can do that. We have already sent a great deal of money to Messina and Reggio."

"But this isn't going to Messina and Reggio; it's a small village."

"I understand, signora, and we will get it there safely."

Signore DeCegli stepped in. "I suggest that we prepay a reply for her family. This is my card. Certainly, if it does not arrive in due time, I could be called for a.s.sistance."

Taking the card, the banker said in an offended tone, "Sir, we are a reputable inst.i.tution."

At the door, Giovanna thanked Signore DeCegli.

"I a.s.sume you will no longer be moving, signora."

"No. We'll have to wait." Giovanna's voice carried with it the conviction she felt. When she buried the swordfish mustasole at Nunzio's grave, she promised to watch over all that Nunzio loved in Scilla. The earthquake left Nunzio's mother and his sister's family without homes and in need of medicine. Now Nunzio would provide for them. While her plans to move her family to a safer place were scuttled for now, tonight she would go to sleep knowing that her family in Italy would have shelter and food.

Feeling at peace for the first time in a long while, Giovanna headed home. At the corner of Prince and Elizabeth streets, she nearly careened into Lieutenant Petrosino.

"Lieutenant!"

"Good day, signora. How fortunate! I wanted to speak to you. But not here. Can you come to my office?"

When they had settled into chairs at his desk, Petrosino said, "I heard the good news about your family!"

"How is it that you know everything?"

"When will you understand that this is my job!" chided Petrosino good-naturedly. "In all seriousness, signora, I am so happy your family survived."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. But that isn't why you asked me here, is it?"

"No. I have a question. Do you know Manzella's store, two doors from you?"

"Of course. He just closed his shop."

"He filed for bankruptcy. I was suspicious and questioned him. It turns out that for three years Lupo had been extorting money from him."

"But Lupo's gone! Do you believe Manzella?"

"I believe him, because this was something he had no intention of telling. What it means is that Lupo left town with a lot of money-Manzella's cash and his creditor's money."

"Does this make you think Lupo was behind the bombing of our store?"

"No, no, I didn't say that. It might. It might not. But this is your block, signora, so I want you to keep an eye out for the bulldog-faced wolf and watch Inzerillo."

"What of Manzella?"

"He's looking for work. If we ever find Lupo, we'll prosecute him."

It was clear that Petrosino was preoccupied and didn't want to take this conversation further. As he walked her down the stairs, Giovanna asked, "And your little girl, how is she?"

"Oh, signora, she is beautiful! She's two months old today. And when she sees her papa, it's all smiles!"

"And your wife, is she well?"

"S, thank you for asking."

At the door, Giovanna commented, "I saw in the papers that you now have a secret service to fight the Black Hand."

"Yes, signora. Even though the Board of Aldermen wouldn't fund it, Commissioner Bingham got it funded privately. We also have the Italian government's cooperation. We can begin deporting all the criminals who have taken haven here."

"Should I begin working on our case again, Lieutenant?"

"Well...yes, yes, of course, signora. You come see me. If I am not here, be sure you work with Lieutenant Vachris. There are new photos for you to review."

"I'll do that, Lieutenant. Arrivederci Arrivederci."

Giovanna watched the little man turn back up the stairs into his headquarters at 19 Elizabeth Street.

FEBRUARY 7, 1909.

Clement was between jobs and helping his father. It was difficult to find construction work in the winter.

Rocco took advantage of their time together and lectured Clement incessantly. "When you're my age, you won't push a cart, or even build someone else's building. You will have your own business. Your own house. You can't have another man own you. Work every day and save your money for these things. You hear me, Clement?"

"Yes, Pop."

"Pop? What's Pop?"

Clement smiled. "Papa." Clement's Italian had become Americanized.

"See that, you speak good English. You need to speak English. In fact, from now on you only speak to me in English."

"Papa, you don't speak English."

"Don't you worry about me. I understand."

"Okay, if that's what you want. I'll speak English."

"Che?"

Clement smiled and switched back to Italian. "Papa, don't you worry. I'll become a rich American."

"Va bene. You see that stronzo across the street with the brown coat? No, no, don't be so obvious!"

Turning his head back to the cart, Clement muttered, "I see him."

"He's been watching us. He's another Blackhander."

"What would they want with us? We have nothing left."

"I heard they even hara.s.s pushcart sellers."

"Let me get him first," seethed Clement.

"No! Clement, I want to cut these rats to their knees, but I don't want you or your sisters hurt. I've heard too many stories from your stepmother about how they get you back. We will watch him, as he watches us."

"But what will we do?"

"Your stepmother says the lieutenant has a secret service that will send them all back to Italy soon. For now, we will try to be invisible."

Lieutenant Petrosino, his expression dour, was uncharacteristically slumped in the chair opposite Commissioner Bingham's desk.

"Joe, I'm sorry it has to be you, but there really isn't anyone else qualified to do this job. Who else could work the system and the informants to get these records?" cajoled Commissioner Bingham.

"I understand, Commissioner; it's just that my little girl will grow so much in the three months I'm away." Lieutenant Petrosino lowered his face to hide his emotion.

"You're a good man, Joe, and a good father. That little girl will have much to be proud of. Let's go over the details."

Bingham settled into his chair. "We have promises from the Italian government to hand over the criminal records. And we have promises from our own government to deport the thugs when we have their records in our hands." He took out a steamer ticket from a leather portfolio on his desk. "You sail the day after tomorrow on the Duca di Genova Duca di Genova-first cla.s.s, I might add. You'll travel as a Jewish businessman with the ident.i.ty of Simone Velletri. In this folder I have letters of introduction for the Italian Minister of the Interior and the head of Italy's police forces, Francesco Leonardi."

While Petrosino inspected the letters, Bingham joked, "Joe, I know how much you love that watch," pointing to the gold chain across Petrosino's pocket. "But I don't think a gift from the Italian government thanking you for arresting criminals would be a good thing to carry."

Petrosino managed a little laugh. "Yes, I think I'll leave it at home."

"I want you to stay home with Adelina and the baby tomorrow. We'll spread the rumor that you've had a relapse of pneumonia and on doctor's orders you are leaving town to convalesce. Only members of the Italian Squad will know your whereabouts."

"And my Adelina, of course."

"Of course. We'll take good care of her, Joe. Now, do you have your list in order?"

"Yes, Commissioner. And it starts with Lupo."

"Lupo's been here more than three years, Joe."

"I know, Commissioner, but my brother works at Ellis Island, and we found proof that he traveled to Italy last year under an alias."

"You are clever! How many names do you have on that list anyway?"

"It's up to seven hundred, sir."

"Joe, you'll need an army to dig up that many records."

"Imagine, Commissioner, if we could deport them all."

Commissioner Bingham stood. "Imagine, indeed. We'll be heroes, Joe."

FEBRUARY 12, 1909.

Giovanna stared at her mother's writing on the envelope. At last, the proof that she needed. Tears welled in her eyes as she slit the letter open.

Dearest Giovanna,We received your generous cable with 1,000 US dollars.