“I don’t care! I hate that baby! We should throw it out there and let them have it so they’ll leave us alone!”
Something thudded against the front window, and Valentina screamed. Joe came out of the kitchen, his brothers close behind him.
“Turn off the rest of the lights,” Mrs. Ruocco shouted as glass shattered on the doorstep.
Valentina screamed again and this time she didn’t stop.
Mrs. Ruocco strode over to her, lifted a hand, and slapped her soundly across the face, silencing her instantly. Frank winced, but he was too glad to have her quiet to worry much about it.
“Mama,” Joe said, throwing an arm around Valentina and pulling her close. “We need to get out of here.”
“We cannot leave our home!” Mrs. Ruocco replied, outraged.
“Joe’s right, Mrs. Ruocco,” Frank said. “They might set the place on fire.”
Valentina made a sound like she was going to scream again, but Joe tightened his grip, silencing her.
“Maria and the children should leave,” Lorenzo said sensibly. “Maria, you take Valentina and the baby out the back and over to Mrs. Pizzuto’s.”
“I will not leave,” Mrs. Ruocco informed him.
“Did I say you should go?” he countered. “Come on, Maria. Hurry before somebody thinks about going around to the back.”
“Mama?” Maria asked uncertainly.
“Go,” Mrs. Ruocco said. “You cannot help here.”
Valentina was already hurrying toward the kitchen, and Maria followed her with obvious reluctance.
“One of you men, go with them and make sure they get there safely,” Frank added. Lorenzo went after them.
“You are police,” Mrs. Ruocco reminded him with a scornful glance. “Why you no do something?”
“I sent Officer Donatelli to Police Headquarters. They’ll be here soon.”
She snorted in disgust.
“Come away from the windows, Mama,” Joe said, taking her arm and trying to get her to move.
She shook him off. “I tell you turn off lights!”
Joe and Antonio finished the task, and soon they stood in shadowy darkness, relieved only by the flickering reflections from the torches outside.
“Mama, you should leave, too,” Antonio said, the fear thick in his voice. “Come on, I’ll take you.”
“Go, if you are afraid,” she said. “I will stay.”
“We should’ve let that Irish woman take the baby,”
Antonio said, looking toward the front of the restaurant where the shadows of the men outside danced across the shaded window. “Do you know what they’re saying about us in the newspapers?”
“I no care what they say,” Mrs. Ruocco cried. “Do you have no pride?”
“I have pride for my family, but that baby is not our family,” Antonio argued, his voice quivering with terror. “Why should we die for somebody else’s bastard?”
“Shut up, Antonio,” Joe said. “We aren’t going to die.”
“He said they’d set the place on fire!” Antonio cried, gesturing toward Frank.
“Then run away with the other baby,” Joe said in disgust.
“This is all your fault!” Antonio was shouting now. “You were the one who said I should marry that bitch!”
“You tell him that?” Mrs. Ruocco demanded in surprise.
“The baby!” Joe threw up his hands in frustration. “What else could he do?”
“He could do nothing!” Mrs. Ruocco informed him. “He is boy!”
“I’m not a boy, Mama!” Antonio protested. “I’m a man!”
Something struck the front door, shaking it in its frame and startling Mrs. Ruocco into crying out.
“Mama, Antonio is right. You must get out of here,” Joe said, moving toward her.
Frank had already stepped between her and the door. He picked up a chair, ready to swing it as a greeting to intruders. “Take your mother out the back,” he shouted at Joe.
They heard a door slam behind them and the sound of running feet. Someone burst through the door from the kitchen.
“Maria is safe,” Lorenzo reported. “What’s happening?”
“Take Mama away,” Joe said as the front door shook again under the assault of someone trying very hard to break it down. “Quick!”
“No!” Mrs. Ruocco cried, slapping away Joe’s hands when he tried to push her toward his brother. “I stay!”
“Get her under a table then!” Frank shouted as the front door shuddered one last time before bursting open. He didn’t see what happened to her because he was too busy swinging the chair at the first body through the door. It landed with a satisfactory thud, driving the fellow backward into the bodies behind him. Since the mob kept surging forward, no one could retreat or even stop, and the bodies pouring through the doorway all started falling over each other like dominoes.
Frank raised the chair and brought it down again on the first man to struggle to his feet. It shattered in his hands, so he shook loose one of the legs and started swinging. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep the rioters at bay with a chair leg, but fortunately, he finally heard the blast of a police whistle outside, followed by a chorus of echoing bleats that signaled the arrival of the cops.
“Get out of here before I lock you all up!” Frank shouted to the writhing mass of men lodged in the restaurant doorway. He could hear the satisfying sound of locust clubs striking flesh and bone and the howls of pain from the rioters in the street. Someone else had picked up another piece of the broken chair and was helping him beat back the in-vaders. For what seemed a long time, none of them were able to move because the crowd outside was blocking their escape. But suddenly, as if a cork had been pulled from a bottle, the mob fell away and those stuck in the doorway scrambled or dove or crawled outside to the relative safety of the street. Frank followed, still swinging his club to encourage them on their way. The street was already clearing except for those lying senseless on the cobblestones or being thrown into the paddy wagons.
Gino came running over to Frank. “Is everybody all right?”
“I think so,” Frank said, a little winded from his exer-tions. “Maria took Valentina and the baby to a neighbor’s.
The old woman wouldn’t leave, and the boys are still inside, but nobody got any farther than the front door.”
“We are all fine,” Lorenzo reported, coming up beside him, still holding his chair leg. So he’d been the one who rushed to help. Frank had expected Joe.
Behind them they could hear Patrizia Ruocco shouting in rapid Italian. Her tone spoke of outrage over the attack on her property and her family. Joe was trying to calm her without much success.
Gino went back to helping his fellow officers clear the streets by throwing every rioter too injured to run into a wagon for transport back to the station. In a surprisingly short time, the Black Marias rumbled away, leaving only the discarded clubs and broken beer bottles as evidence of what had transpired. The sergeant had come over to get Frank’s version of what happened. When he was finished, the last of the police officers drifted away, leaving only Frank and Gino Donatelli.
“Lorenzo,” Mrs. Ruocco snapped. “Help Giuseppe fix door.” She was carrying a broom and a dust pan and had begun sweeping up the broken glass around her doorstep.
“I should go get Maria and let her know it’s safe to come home,” Lorenzo said.
“I send Antonio already,” his mother said.
Lorenzo headed back into the restaurant.
“Mrs. Ruocco, if you like, I can get some police officers to guard your house tonight,” Frank offered.
She made a disparaging sound. “Police no good. We take care ourselves. You, go home. Leave us alone.”
Frank was only too happy to oblige.
“Should I stay?” Gino asked in a whisper.
“If you want to, but I doubt anybody will bother them again tonight. Those fellows will be nursing sore heads for a day or two. They might want to come back when th
ey feel better, but not real soon.”
“Gino,” Mrs. Ruocco called. “Go home to you mama. We no need you help.”
“Come on, Gino,” Frank said, slapping the young fellow on the back. “It’s been a long day.”
The next morning Sarah woke to the sound of someone banging on her back door. Only her neighbors used the back door, so Sarah hurried to answer it, hoping no one was sick. She saw Mrs. Ellsworth’s silhouette on the glass and threw the door open.
“Have you seen the newspapers?” Mrs. Ellsworth demanded, holding one up. “Oh, I don’t suppose you have,”
she added, noticing Sarah was in her nightclothes. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but when I saw this article—”
“Come in, come in,” Sarah urged, closing the door behind her. “What is it?”
“Another riot at the Ruoccos’ restaurant last night,”
she said, holding up the paper again. “I heard the newsboy shouting about it when I was on my way to the market.
I bought it and came right here to show you. It’s bad luck to go back, you know, but since I wasn’t going to my own house, I don’t think that counts, does it?”
Sarah had no idea. She took the newspaper Mrs. Ellsworth handed her and scanned the story.
Supposedly, the Irish lads who had been arrested claimed they were only trying to rescue the baby the Italians had kidnapped. According to the report, none of the Ruoccos were injured, although Sarah knew that newspaper reports were notoriously inaccurate. Did she dare go down to Little Italy to check on the family? She knew what Malloy would say, but she really was worried about Maria and the rest of them, too. Maria was already under a strain with Nainsi’s murder and caring for the baby. Now she must be terrified as well, knowing a mob had wanted to take the boy from her.
“I should go down there,” Sarah said. “Make sure everyone is all right.”
“Oh, dear, I don’t think that’s wise,” Mrs. Ellsworth said with a frown. “Who knows who might be lurking around.
Besides, the family might not appreciate visitors right now, after what they went through last night.”
“I guess you’re right,” Sarah said, knowing she was. “I suppose if they need me, they’ll send for me.”
“Of course they will, dear. And if you simply can’t stay away, you might consider a visit to the mission a little later on. Surely, someone there can tell you everything you’d want to know,” she added with a wink.
Frank wasn’t surprised at the summons to Roosevelt’s office when he arrived at Headquarters the next morning. Old Teeth and Spectacles was in early this morning, and Frank had a feeling he probably hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. When he saw him, he was sure of it.
“Mr. Malloy, we can’t have the Irish and the Italians rioting in the street,” he said before Frank had even closed the door behind him.
“No, sir, we can’t.”
“Have you made any progress on the Irish girl’s murder yet?”
“No, sir. I was at the Ruoccos’ last night, questioning the family, when the riot started.”
“Do you still think one of them is the murderer?”
“That’s the most logical solution, but it’s hard to figure out why they would kill her. The boy she was married to had the best reason, but I’m almost certain he didn’t do it.
By all accounts, he was passed out drunk that night anyway, and I don’t think he’d even realized yet what all this meant for him.”
Roosevelt removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I had a visit from Tammany Hall last night,” he said grimly. “And Commissioner Parker.” Tammany Hall was where the Democratic politicians held court. He meant that someone in power there had accompanied Parker.
Although Roosevelt liked people to think he was in charge of the department, he was only one of four police commissioners. Parker was another of the four, and as a loyal Tammany soldier, he was the bane of Roosevelt’s existence.
“They came to my home,” Roosevelt added with quiet outrage. “They want this matter settled, and they want the girl’s mother—what’s her name?”
“Mrs. O’Hara.”
“Mrs. O’Hara. They want Mrs. O’Hara to have the child.”
Frank managed not to wince. “But the law says—”
“I know what the law says. I also know that this O’Hara woman has been raising Cain down at Tammany Hall, and the penny press has got everybody in an uproar. When we questioned the rioters we arrested last night, we found out they’d been organized by the Ward Heelers!” The Heelers were the political hacks assigned to organizing voters and making sure they made it to the polls to vote for the proper—that is, Democratic—candidates, as well as per-forming whatever other duties might be required of them.
Frank hadn’t realized that starting riots was one of those duties.
“Are you saying Tammany Hall is behind all the trouble?
Why would they care about one baby?”
“I think they want to demonstrate to their constituency that they have the power to control even me,” Roosevelt admitted. Frank could see how much this infuriated him.
“The trouble is, I can see the justice in this woman’s claim.
If someone in that house killed the baby’s mother, then they’ve got no right to the child.”
Frank had to agree with that, too. “We don’t know if one of the Ruoccos killed her, though.”
“Do you have other suspects?”
“Not any good ones.” Frank thought of the foreman at the sweatshop where Nainsi had worked.
“I don’t know how long Tammany will wait before they organize another riot, and the next time the Ruoccos might not be so lucky. Would it be possible to convince them to give the child to Mrs. O’Hara?”
Frank remembered Maria Ruocco holding the baby in her arms. She wouldn’t give the boy up willingly, but she wasn’t the power in that household. “Maybe,” Frank said,
“but they wouldn’t listen to me.”
“What about Officer Donatelli?”
“They don’t trust the police, even when the cop is Italian.
They don’t trust anybody else with authority, either. According to Donatelli, they only trust their own blood relatives.”
“But there must be someone else they’d listen to,” Roosevelt argued. “Or at least someone who could reason with them. It could save their lives!”
Frank gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t say her name. He wouldn’t even think it, not even to save every last one of the Ruoccos. “Maybe Donatelli knows somebody,” he offered.
“Somebody Italian who could influence them.”
“Dee-lightful,” Roosevelt declared. “The boy is upstairs in the dormitory. The desk sergeant told me they didn’t get finished with the prisoners until early this morning, so he stayed here.” He hurried to the door and ordered Miss Kelly to send for him.
While they waited, Frank filled Roosevelt in on everything he’d learned so far in the case. Hearing how little it was discouraged even him. He’d said before that all the Ruoccos had to do was keep quiet, and they’d never find Nainsi’s killer. He’d gotten them to talk, at least a little, but he was still no closer to the truth.
Donatelli appeared a few minutes later, looking as if he’d only had a few hours of sleep—which he had. His uniform, Frank noticed, looked a little less crisp than usual, but not too bad under the circumstances. Roosevelt quickly explained why they’d summoned him.
“Oh, yes, sir,” Donatelli said, his voice still thick from sleep. “I know who could talk to them—Mrs. Brandt.”
Frank almost choked.
Roosevelt pulled off his spectacles again. “Mrs. Brandt?”
he echoed with an accusing glance at Frank that caught him mid-wince. “Mrs. Sarah Brandt?”
“I don’t know her given name, sir,” Donatelli said, “but she’s the midwife who delivered the baby.”
“You didn’t mention Mrs. Brandt was involved in this case, Mr. Malloy,” Roose
velt said, less than pleased.
“She isn’t involved,” Frank lied. “She just delivered the baby.”
“But she also—” Donatelli began but caught himself when Frank glared at him.
“What did she also do?” Roosevelt asked Frank in a tone that brooked no evasion.
“She helped the Ruocco woman take care of the baby after the mother died,” Frank admitted reluctantly.
“They’d trust her, then?”
Frank doubted it. “I don’t know,” he said instead. “And I’m not even sure Mrs. Brandt would be willing to ask them to give up the baby. The Ruocco woman is pretty fond of it, I understand.”
“But Sarah would see the wisdom of it,” Roosevelt argued, using her first name to remind Frank he’d known her all his life. “She’d understand that it’s to protect the family and for the good of the whole city.”
Frank suspected Sarah would choose the good of one baby over the good of a whole city any day of the week, but he refrained from saying so. “Mrs. O’Hara doesn’t really have the means to take care of a baby,” he argued.
“Tammany is going to give her some kind of a pension, I’m told. They want this badly, Malloy. They aren’t going to let the matter rest, and if they don’t, I imagine Ugo Ruocco will make sure they have a fight on their hands. We can’t have these two factions rioting in the streets every night.”
Frank thought Roosevelt was right about Ugo putting up a fight. He wouldn’t sit by and see his family attacked, but he certainly had no loyalty to the bastard child of a woman who had lied to his nephew. He’d help put pressure on the family.
“I’m not sure it’s really safe for Mrs. Brandt to go down to Little Italy,” Frank tried, grasping at his last straw.
“Then you and Officer Donatelli will accompany her. Take as many officers as you think you’ll need to protect her, too.
We must get this settled, Mr. Malloy. Every night that passes gives Tammany another opportunity to stir up more trouble.”
“I’ll go see her this morning, sir,” Frank said, giving Donatelli a dirty look he didn’t understand.
“Dee-lightful. Please give her my regards and my personal thanks for her efforts,” Roosevelt said.
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