Sarah didn’t comment on her feelings about Mrs.
Ellsworth’s superstitions, but she briefly told her what had happened to Nainsi. “Last night when I was coming home, the newsboys were shouting about how she’d been kidnapped by the Ruoccos and had her throat cut because they wanted her baby.”
Mrs. Ellsworth made a rude noise. She’d had personal experience with the way the newspapers distorted the facts to make a story more sensational. “Let’s see what new lies they’re telling today. Hand me one of those papers.”
The two women spent the next few minutes scanning the stories.
“Says here Roosevelt himself had a press conference about it,” Mrs. Ellsworth reported.
“This paper says that, too,” Sarah noted. “I can’t understand why he’d take such a personal interest in the death of one poor Irish girl.”
“Maybe you should ask him,” Mrs. Ellsworth suggested with a sly grin. The Roosevelts had been friends with Sarah’s family for generations.
“Maybe I will.” They both read on for a minute or two.
“Oh, my, does yours talk about the riot down at Mrs.
Ruocco’s restaurant?”
“Yes. Says they arrested more than twenty men, too. Must have been a real . . . what is it the Irish call a big fight?”
“Donnybrook,” Sarah supplied. “The Irish and the Italians hate each other under the best of circumstances. They hardly need an excuse to start fighting.”
“Looks like they found one, though. I wonder if Mr. Malloy was down there making the arrests.” Mrs. Ellsworth was especially fond of Frank Malloy.
“I don’t think he does that kind of thing,” Sarah said, wondering what Malloy had thought when he heard about the riot. They’d both been so sure no one would care about Nainsi’s death. Then she noticed something particularly disturbing at the end of the news story. “Theodore promises that the killer will be caught,” she said in amazement.
“A good thing, too,” Mrs. Ellsworth said.
“More like a miracle, and even less likely to happen.
They’re Ugo Ruocco’s family.”
“Who’s Ugo Ruocco?”
“He’s the leader of the Black Hand.”
“Heavens! You mean those horrible people who blow things up?”
“They’re more likely to beat people up,” Sarah said. “They only use bombs if they can’t persuade you some other way.”
“Persuade you to do what?”
“To pay them money to protect your place of business.
The irony is that you’re paying them to protect your business from them. If you pay, you’re safe. If you don’t pay, they destroy you.”
“How awful!” Mrs. Ellsworth exclaimed in outrage. “Why don’t the police do something about it?”
Sarah gave her a sad smile and a moment to figure it out for herself.
“Oh,” the older woman said. “I suppose the Black Hand pays for protection from the police.”
“Or else the police are afraid of them, too.” Sarah sighed.
There was so much evil in the world.
Before she could sink into complete despair, she heard small feet running through the house.
“I think Aggie got tired of waiting for her cooking lesson,” Sarah said, turning to catch the child in a hug. Maeve was close behind her. The four of them spent the next hour preparing the pudding and putting it on the stove to steam.
Sarah was trying to clean Aggie’s hands when they heard the doorbell ring.
As usual, Aggie pouted, and Sarah went resignedly to answer it. She recognized the silhouette through the frosted glass, and she was smiling when she opened the door.
“Malloy,” she said.
He didn’t smile back, which told her he wasn’t happy to be here. Which meant he was here on business.
Aggie came running and flung herself at him before he could even remove his hat. Maeve and Mrs. Ellsworth followed at a more dignified pace, but they greeted him just as happily.
“Something smells good,” he observed when he’d set Aggie back on her feet.
“Mrs. Ellsworth showed us how to make a pudding,”
Maeve reported.
“We’d invite you to stay and try some, but it won’t be done for another three hours,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “I don’t suppose you planned to stay that long.”
“I’m afraid not. I’m working on a case. I just need to ask Mrs. Brandt a few questions, and then I have to go.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Ellsworth said, nodding wisely. “The Ruocco case, I suppose. We were reading about it in the newspapers this morning.”
“Did Roosevelt put you in charge of it?” Sarah asked.
“Yes,” was all he said, but his look told her that he held her personally responsible for getting him into this mess.
She tried to look apologetic, but he seemed unmoved.
“I’ll take the girls upstairs while you two talk,” Mrs.
Ellsworth said generously. Sarah knew she’d cut off her arm to be allowed to sit in on the conversation, but she’d have to be content to hear about it second hand. “So nice to see you, Mr. Malloy. Maybe you’ll bring Brian back this evening for some pudding,” she added, referring to his son.
“We’ll see,” he said politely.
Sarah and Malloy waited until the three of them had disappeared up the stairs.
“Would you like some coffee?” Sarah asked as Malloy removed his coat and hat and hung them up in the hallway.
“I could use some,” he said, and followed her into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, Malloy,” Sarah said as she took cups down from the cabinet. “I never imagined anything like this would happen.”
He took a seat at the table. “Did you hear about the riot?”
he asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
“It was in the papers this morning. Was anyone seriously hurt?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again. I imagine Ugo Ruocco’s got some of his thugs posted down there now, and they’ll do some real damage if anybody starts another fight.”
Sarah filled the cups and set them on the table. “At least Theodore managed to get the real story into the news today.”
“Yeah, but the penny press is still talking about kidnapping and stolen babies,” he said. “They don’t care about the truth. They just want to sell newspapers.”
“And now Theodore has promised everyone you’ll solve the case,” she said sympathetically, taking a seat opposite him at the table. “What can I do to help?”
“You can’t do anything, so don’t even think about getting involved in this investigation,” he warned.
“Of course not,” she said innocently. “Why would I?”
She didn’t fool him. “I mean it, Sarah. Ugo Ruocco would kill his own mother if she got in his way, and he sure wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”
“I’m not in his way,” she pointed out. “And I’m not likely to be. Now tell me why you’re here. You said you had some questions for me.”
He sighed with resignation. “I want you to tell me everything that happened from the time you got to the Ruocco house until you left the night Nainsi was killed.”
She’d already told him everything yesterday, but that had been under far different circumstances. She went through the entire sequence of events again, trying to remember every detail.
“You’re sure Antonio wasn’t the baby’s father?” he asked.
“It doesn’t seem possible. He didn’t even know Nainsi when the baby would have been conceived.”
“Wasn’t she scared of what they’d do to her when they found out?”
“That was so odd. I thought she would be. I was afraid for her, especially when her mother said she couldn’t take her and the baby in if the Ruoccos threw her out, but Nainsi wasn’t even worried. She told her mother they’d let her stay.
She seemed almost . . .” She searched for the right word.
“Smug. That�
��s it. She was very confident that Mrs. Ruocco wouldn’t throw her out.”
“She was stupid then,” Malloy observed.
Sarah had to agree. “Someone in the family must have killed her,” she pointed out. “But I just can’t see why any of them would.”
“Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious. She felt a small sense of pride that he valued her opinion.
“Well, because killing someone is so dangerous. What if you get caught? And they didn’t need to kill Nainsi to get rid of her. Mrs. Ruocco had already said she’d throw her out as soon as I said it was safe for her to leave.”
“But she was married to Antonio in the church,” Malloy argued. “He’d never be able to divorce her.”
“Antonio is a big baby. I can’t imagine he was that interested in getting married in the first place. He might even be glad for an excuse to avoid that responsibility for the rest of his life.”
“So you don’t think he was outraged enough to have killed her for tricking him?” Malloy asked.
“He wasn’t even very angry. He just seemed embarrassed.
Besides, he and Joe went out and got drunk that night. They weren’t even in the house when she was killed.”
“We don’t know that for sure yet. We don’t really know when they got home or exactly when she died. What about the rest of the family?”
Sarah pictured them in her mind. “Let’s see, Mrs. Ruocco had already decided what she was going to do. Why would she change her mind and murder the girl instead?”
“You’re right. It doesn’t seem likely. What about the others?”
“Joe, Lorenzo, Maria, and Valentina. Why would Joe or Lorenzo or Valentina care that much? And Maria was the only one in the house who was kind to Nainsi. They might have been angry at what Nainsi had done, but why take the chance of killing her? I can’t imagine any of them being outraged enough on Antonio’s behalf to hold a pillow over Nainsi’s face while she fought them with all her strength for however long it took her to die.”
“I can’t picture it either,” he admitted.
“But it had to be someone in the family, didn’t it?”
“Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean? It was the middle of the night.
Who else could’ve been in the house?”
“Anybody. There’s a back staircase that goes right up to the floor where she was killed. That’s how they took her body out yesterday.”
“Wasn’t the door locked?” Sarah asked.
“Wouldn’t matter if it was. Even Aggie could’ve jimmied it.”
“But why would someone outside the family want to kill her? Surely, her death had something to do with the baby and the fact that it wasn’t Antonio’s. Who else would care anything about her?”
“Ugo Ruocco might care.”
“Did he even know?” Sarah asked in surprise.
“From what he said yesterday, Joe and Antonio must’ve gone straight to him that night. He knew the baby wasn’t Antonio’s, and he didn’t seem too upset that the girl was dead, did he?”
“He wouldn’t have killed her himself, would he?”
“Not a chance, but he has plenty of men who’d do it for him.”
“That would be more understandable if it was someone outside the family,” Sarah said.
“But even harder to prove. Nobody in Ruocco’s crew is going to say a word, and the family wouldn’t tell, even if they knew about it, which they probably didn’t. Ruocco wouldn’t trust them with a secret like that.”
They sipped their coffee in silence for a few moments, each considering various possibilities.
“If one of Ruocco’s men could have gone up those stairs, anyone could have,” Sarah mused.
“Yeah, but who else even knew she’d had the baby, much less that they’d figured out Antonio wasn’t the father?”
“Nainsi’s mother, but she wouldn’t have killed her.” A memory stirred. “Wait a minute, one of Nainsi’s friends knew, too,” Sarah recalled. “Or at least she told her mother to deliver a message to her. What was her name? Brigit, I think.”
“Brigit who?”
“She didn’t say, but Mrs. O’Hara would know. Nainsi wanted all of her friends to hear the news, too, and I guess this Brigit would tell them.”
Malloy considered. “I wonder if one of her ‘friends’ was the baby’s father.”
“Do you really think . . . ?”
“Right now, I only hope,” Malloy admitted. “Maybe the father is married. Maybe Mrs. O’Hara told this Brigit what the Ruoccos suspected. Maybe he didn’t want Nainsi to tell anybody who he was.”
“That’s a good story, but do you think it’s likely?”
“No,” Malloy admitted, “but it would be a lot more convenient if the killer isn’t related to Ugo Ruocco.”
When Malloy left, Sarah joined Mrs. Ellsworth and the girls upstairs while they waited for the pudding to steam. They were starting to think about lunch when the doorbell rang again. This time she found Lorenzo Ruocco on her doorstep.
He looked as if he’d rather be standing in front of a speeding train, but he whipped off his cap politely. “Mrs.
Brandt, I’m sorry to bother, but Maria, she asks that you come.”
Although Sarah was surprised, she couldn’t help feeling a little stir of excitement at the prospect of going back to the Ruoccos’ house. “What’s wrong?”
“The baby, he cried all night. Mama says she will give him to that Irish woman if he doesn’t stop, and Maria . . .
Mrs. Brandt, you must come. Maria will go crazy if she loses the baby!” He looked positively desperate.
“Of course I’ll come,” Sarah said. Malloy had warned her about getting involved with the case, but she wouldn’t really be investigating. They wanted her there in her profes-sional capacity. If she happened to find out something useful that led to Nainsi’s killer, even Malloy couldn’t complain.
As quickly as she could, she gathered her things and bid the girls good-bye. When she came back into the front room, she found Mrs. Ellsworth comforting Lorenzo.
“They say that a baby who cries long will live long,” she was saying. He nodded politely and solemnly, although he didn’t look comforted.
“Aggie, you be good for Maeve and Mrs. Ellsworth,”
Sarah told the child. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Aggie pretended to pout again, but Sarah tickled her and made her smile and gave her a parting kiss.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “We’ll even save you some of the pudding.”
Still, Sarah felt the same regret she always felt over leaving Aggie.
Lorenzo was more considerate than his brother had been and slowed his pace to match hers. Sarah had no trouble keeping up with him, even though he was just as anxious to get back as Joe had been to get her there the other day to deliver Nainsi’s baby.
“I can understand why your mother would be so upset. A baby’s cry is the most disturbing sound in the world,” Sarah said conversationally. She wasn’t sure what she could find out from Lorenzo, but she’d try to get him talking anyway.
“That’s so people won’t be able to ignore it and will do whatever they can to make the baby stop.”
Lorenzo almost smiled. “We couldn’t ignore him last night.”
“I’m sure he kept everyone awake.”
“Maria took him downstairs so they could sleep,” he said.
“But you didn’t sleep,” she guessed. The shadows under his eyes betrayed him.
He shrugged, embarrassed. “She . . . she needed help.”
“Not many men would sit up with a screaming baby,”
Sarah observed, meaning it as a compliment.
He did smile this time, sheepishly, and made a small, helpless gesture.
Sarah smiled back. Lorenzo wasn’t the first grown man to be captivated by an infant. He hardly seemed the type, but as Malloy had said, Italians were very fond of children.
“Co
uld he be sick? The baby, I mean,” he asked, growing solemn again.
“Maybe it’s the milk. I warned Maria that some babies don’t do well when they’re fed from a bottle.”
“He cannot die,” Lorenzo said gravely. “Maria would. . . .
Just tell me what you need, and I will do it, but he cannot die.”
Sarah had no answer for that. She could make no promises, and she didn’t think Lorenzo’s efforts would make much difference. A wet nurse would be the best solution, of course, but even if they could find one and could afford her services, would Mrs. Ruocco allow it? Surely not for a baby she despised.
When they reached the restaurant, they found it doing bustling business with people coming in for their noon meals.
Lorenzo took her around to the alley and up the rear staircase to avoid the crowd. This was the staircase Malloy had told her about, the one they had used to carry Nainsi’s body out. The wooden steps had been enclosed so they were protected from the weather. An intruder could have climbed them without worrying about being seen, either going or coming. Malloy was right, anyone could have gotten into the house.
Halfway up the stairs, she could hear the baby crying.
Poor little thing.
Maria must have heard them coming. She was waiting for them in the hallway when Lorenzo opened the door.
“Mrs. Brandt, you must help,” she cried over the baby’s screams. She held him in both arms and was swinging him back and forth in a futile attempt to calm him.
Sarah could see Maria was on the verge of hysteria. Her eyes were bloodshot and so shadowed they looked bruised.
Sarah started crooning meaningless phrases of reassurance to her while she quickly set down her medical bag, shed her cape and thrust it at Lorenzo. Then she took the baby from Maria’s arms.
The sudden shift startled him into silence for a moment, and he looked up at her in surprise. “There, now,” she said softly. “You must be tired of crying.”
He whimpered but didn’t start screaming again. Sarah knew that sometimes just being held by someone calm could quiet a hysterical infant.
“Have you tried feeding him?” Sarah asked.
Murder in Little Italy gm-8 Page 8
