Ettore lowered his head and rubbed his chin as he thought. He turned to Vincent. “What do you say, Vince?”
“If we use the B and E, we not only get to know the return address but also the contents of the letters. They could be informative. I’m for that, Papa.”
Ettore nodded. “I like that too. What do you boys say?” The remainder of the family assented at once. “All right, Vito, turn your people loose. We’ll have to move fast, though. It won’t be long before schools open and court sessions begin, and hospitals start admitting sick people.” He grinned at Vito. “Besides running half of the world.”
“Grandpa,” said Bob. “I’m putting off returning to college until next semester.”
“Don’t you think you should discuss that with your mother and father first?” said Ettore.
“I did. Mom and Dad said it was up to me, and I elect to stay.”
Ettore looked questionably at Vito, who nodded. “Take another look at him, Papa,” he said. “Give him ten more pounds and no one in this room is going to move Bob from here to there without his consent.”
“Then why can’t I stay, Dad?” said the quiet, studious Bert. “I’m almost as big as Bob, and I can catch up in school. Or even transfer here for a semester.”
“Not yet, son,” said Vito softly. “I promise to call on you the moment we have need of you.”
Dominic drove Bonny to her meeting with the anthropological society in one of the conference rooms of the city museum. About forty other members attended. Dominic was surprised to find that most of them were young, well dressed, and as deliberate as an ocean tide. All the members knew Bonny from previous conferences and field trips, and were delighted at her transformation.
The monitor was a middle-aged, heavy set man, streaks of gray in his hair and beard. For an hour he showed slides, movies, and gave a talk on the customs of a tribe of Manyans inhabiting central Mindoro in the Philippines. Pictures disclosed them to be slim, handsome brown people, both sexes wearing potato sack clothes, their hair rolled up in buns, their mouths stained from chewing betel nuts. They resided in thatched huts on stilts, their diet consisting mainly of corn and of fish caught in a nearby river. The monitor said he had never smelled anything in his life as awful as when they smoked fish over small fires in the shacks. But the biggest surprise came when he tasted the fish - it was superb.
Dominic took an interest in their marriage customs. The suitor, explained the monitor, played a primitive flute outside his beloved’s hut for seven consecutive nights. If he wasn’t told to stop the noise and leave, he passed phase one. On the eighth night, he slipped through the window of the shack and lay down beside his beloved. They did not hold hands, or speak, or even acknowledge each other. Before dawn each day, the suitor climbed out of the window and went about his duties of hunting or fishing or farming.
One of the members asked what significance could be attached to that part of the courtship. “Restraint,” said the monitor promptly. “Due to the high mortality rate in such tribes, intercourse is primarily to procreate. I do not wish to imply that sex for pleasure is regarded as distasteful –” they all laughed, - “but its hedonistic importance in such a culture is considerably less than in affluent societies. Therefore, restraint is linked to virility.”
“Hasn’t the latest medical research disproved that theory?” asked one of the younger men.
“I’ve heard the length of virility depends greatly on when the male begins his activities,” said a woman about Dominic’s age. “That men who begin their sexual experiences at a mature age retain virility until late in life.”
“I don’t think the primitives regard virility the same as we do,” said an older man. “To them, sex late in life is a function of the body. Virility is the power to ejaculate strongly during the child bearing period. Therefore, I can agree with the implication that restraint in this culture is linked to virility and this is demanded of all young men.”
The monitor shut off the projector and cleared his voice. “There is still one very unusual part of the marriage ceremony. Being pagans, they merely hold hands while the headman chants wishes for good hunts and crops. Then the groom’s family pays to the bride’s family certain gifts, such as the carcass of a wild pig, or chickens, which strangely enough do not abound in that tribe, and a few coins, which they understand to have value. Some of these coins are given to trusted outsiders who pass by occasionally to buy items of necessity, such as knives, pots, pans. I spoke with a priest who came through once and sometimes twice a year for fifteen years. His total conversion consisted of two orphaned children. To continue, after the bride gifts are paid over, the bride and groom are seated on two swings, positioned about three feet apart and facing each other. The father of the groom stands behind the bride and the bride’s father is placed behind the groom. At a given signal, the bride lifts her dress and exposes her vulva. Directly afterwards the groom draws out his penis and brings it to an erection. At a second signal, the two fathers push the swings together, the bride sitting with open thighs and the groom with legs together. As the groom begins to enter his bride, the fathers carefully guide them to a full linkage. Should the first attempt fail, the couple is allowed two more tries. If penetration does not take place, perhaps due to the inability of the groom to have an erection, the ceremony is stopped, the presents are returned, and the young people go their separate ways.”
The group enjoyed this tremendously. One young man spoke up. “The meaning of that custom is certainly clear. The man must have the ability to do the job and the girl must be able to accept him.”
The monitor smiled. “Yes. But why in public? This is the only tribe I’ve encountered who perform a sex act in public.” His smile grew broader. “With due exception to the modern generation at music festivals.”
The discussion warmed as one stated it was done to prove their virility, since restraint had already been demonstrated. Another said it was to start them on the path of procreation. A third said it was to assure everyone that neither of them had a deformity. Other voices agreed and disagreed.
The monitor held up his hand to get their attention. “Miss Barbara Winston, Bonny to us all, has brought along a friend, a Mister Dominic DiStephano, who I understand has traveled extensively. Perhaps he would like to offer a suggestion.”
Dominic wasn’t the least bit abashed. His face remained serious and immobile as he stood up. “It’s quite evident why they do it. They are having fun.”
For a few seconds the group was taken back, then they laughed and began applauding. Dominic resumed his seat under the smiling eyes of his paramour.
The conference lasted four days. The third and fourth days were taken up with discussions about the project in Uruguay. Dominic accompanied Bonny, not only because he found the subject interesting, but because Bonny asked him to recount some of his experiences among the Charrúas. Financing of the project was quickly arranged. A nonprofit foundation in Virginia agreed to fund the $175,000 budgeted for the three month expedition, plus an additional $25,000 for professional photographers to accompany them. One half of the monies earned from the films would be distributed among the participants, the other half would go to the foundation. The older man, who had knowledge of sex life among primitive peoples, turned out to be Professor Hampton from a university in Arizona, with more degrees and credits than a British brigadier has decorations. He was elected to lead the expedition. Five other members, Bonny included, were selected to join him. Professor Hampton was to receive $4,000 per month salary, the others $2,000 per month. Plus expenses, of course.
Dominic gave his talk, about the time he was surveying the Rio Negro for an alternate crossing over the river and decided to see the countryside when he stumbled onto the Charrúas. There had been a short period of wondering whether he and his terrified guide would be cut into many small pieces as food for the caymans, but Dominic had cooled the tense situation by abruptly sitting down crossed legged and munching at a sandwich with such ca
sualness and disregard of the natives that no one in his right mind could have suspected him of being dangerous. After eating the sandwich, he had left his haversack containing other food open in full view, let fall a jungle knife in a sheath, then moved thirty or forty yards away and pretended to fall asleep beneath a eucalyptus tree. His guide almost had a heart attack to discover that Dominic had actually fallen asleep. He had spent two days with the natives, then gone back to civilization.
And why hadn’t he mentioned them to the Uruguayan authorities? The government there, he replied, is so screwed up with socialized this and socialized that, and so far into debt, that living a peaceful life hunting frogs and pato real is utopia. Then he scratched his head and said he must be nuts to have mentioned them here.
Bonny had noticed the strange carrying on occurring in the DiStephano household, such as conversations over the phone being held in guarded tones, the sudden meeting of family members behind closed doors, and the contrived conversations with Carol and/or Eleanor and/or Rose when the men had something to discuss. What had put the frosting on the cake, so to speak, was the frequent sounds of gunfire from the cellar. Dominic had explained that shooting was a family hobby. During the third day of her visit, he escorted her below to take a few pot shots with a rifle. She had fired rapidly three times at a target and Dominic had returned sheepishly with the card showing three center bulls.
She knew something was going on, but also knew it was none of her business. Her Italian mother had married a staid, Puritan-type Bostonian who regarded Daughters of The American Revolution as late comers to the Colonies, and although his Anglican beliefs were easily converted to the Catholic faith, there was still enough of the Puritan in him to insist, prior to his death, that his family keep their noses out of other people’s affairs. The murder of Maria, of course, was common knowledge to the somewhat numerous Donini clan and their aloof Winston relatives, although the Winstons, at the height of the publicity, did consider disclaiming even the remotest relationship to the DiStephanos. But they decided at the last moment to allow a “kissing cousin” relationship. After all, a billion dollars of power had made the Doninis acceptable to them, and Vito was actually the head of the combined families. Furthermore, everyone in Boston knew how hopelessly in love he was with Rose. But the death of Junior had remained a mystery, except for the clouded newspaper articles which stated he had been killed by accident, with a hint now and then that some dark, secretive, Italian curse had fallen on the heads of the DiStephanos and would, by association, stain those who were allied with them.
By the fourth day of her visit, however, Bonny knew something even more important - that she was falling head over heels in love with Dominic. She had had crushes now and then, but they were pale shadows of how she felt about him. He seemed to like her enormously, except one sensed there was a heavily insulated layer of emotion held far in reserve that must be tapped before he could truly love. He would be acceptable to the Winstons as the husband of Barbara, especially since he was already closely related to the Doninis, and he could certainly adjust to their way of life. Dominic could adjust to anything, she knew. What gave her a moment of pause was his working habits. In her world, regardless of the amount of money one has, the husbands go to an office each morning. It may be just to shuffle papers, or discuss with other similarly occupied husbands what the bond market is doing, but one does so. It’s as much a part of their manner of living as it is for the wives to wear the finest wool sweaters with holes at the elbows from long usage.
All that was quite nice, but one must catch the fish before dropping it on a grill. She decided on the spur of the moment to go away for a week or two to examine all this from long range. Too much had happened too fast. Bonny had a neat, orderly mind, able to grasp problems in mid-air and sort things out quickly and effectively. Until now she had controlled all the situations she encountered. But someone else played the fiddle and called the steps here, and the instant his hands were laid on her and he began to enter her with that huge throbbing organ, all she could do, and all she wanted to do, was dance to its tune.
She told him that night of her previously programmed plan to visit the foundation in Virginia, that she would be leaving the very next morning. Dominic did not seem to mind in the least. He said something to the effect that she must be on pins and needles to start off on the expedition to Uruguay, and to let him know where she was from time to time. For a second her entire world dropped into a hole a mile deep, then common sense took over. Dominic had never indicated that he was even remotely in love with her, and poor fool that she was, she had neglected to consider the fact that he might regard her only as a fine lay he stumbled upon while visiting his father’s house for a summer vacation. She responded with some inane remark that maybe they’d run upon each other in South America, but the words sounded garbled and exactly like one would say to a stranger.
It had been time for him to go back to his own bedroom when the conversation came up, so he kissed her soundly and slipped out of bed. He picked up his clothing and started for the door, then he stopped and came back. He leaned down and kissed her very tenderly.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m going to miss you something large.” A moment later, he was out of the room.
Bonny lay back in the bed and her entire world zoomed up from that mile deep hole to at least ten miles in the sky. “That rascal,” she said under her breath, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry. “I’ll make you pay, Dominic DiStephano, for scaring me half to death. Oh, you’ll pay - directly after we’re married and have our fourth child.”
It was fortunate that Dominic returned to his room when he did, for just minutes later Vito was shaking his shoulder. He lay shocked for a few seconds at the thought he had been caught in bed with Bonny, then he came fully alert.
“Yes, I’m awake. What’s up?”
“Come downstairs. We have news about Franko. Get Vince up when you come to.”
“I’m up,” said Vincent, who was a light sleeper. “What’s the word?”
“We’ve got a hot lead. Franko may be in Quebec.”
“Wonder what the devil he’s doing there,” said Dominic. He switched on the bed lamp as Vito left the room and looked at his watch. It was 4 a.m.
“A hell of a time to get messages,” he said to Vincent.
His brother was already out of bed and donning a robe. Dominic slipped on his own robe and they walked downstairs together. Ettore was waiting in the sitting room, perched on a chair with a map in his hands.
“Where’s Vito?” asked Vincent.
“He’s getting Mike and the boys,” said Ettore. As he spoke, the four walked into the room.
Vito picked up a pad on which he had written notes. “Ten minutes ago I received a call from my security man in Boston. Franko’s apartment was entered about eleven o’clock last night while his wife and daughters were visiting relatives. I’ve been assured that no evidence of entry has been left behind. Two letters were found there, both posted in Antwerp, Belgium. One written twelve days ago gave merely the news of short trips taken locally and restaurants he ate at. The second, written a week ago, said he would be leaving for Quebec in a few days and that he would phone her. As soon as the news was flashed to my security man, he had the investigation firm phone several of the hotels in Quebec asking for a Walter Franco and his wife. The clerk of one hotel, the Clarendon, said the only guest registered there with a similar name was an Edward Franko. My security man stopped all further inquiries and phoned me.”
Ettore nodded with satisfaction. “That man of yours is quite an efficient person. All right, Mike, Dom, get up there and look things over.”
“Grandpa,” said Bob. “How about a third?”
Ettore saw at once that Vito didn’t like the idea, even though he showed it only by a narrow squint of his eyes. “I may need you here, Bob. When Mike and Dom want help, I’m ready to reconsider.”
The squint disappeared from Vito’s eyes. “I’m having a fli
ght plan to Quebec laid on for the jet today, so you can leave whenever you want to.”
There wasn’t much sleep for the family that night. Bonny was surprised to find everyone down for breakfast at a normal hour for a change. She noted a certain excitement in the air, and thought perhaps it was due to Dominic telling the others she was leaving that day. When he cornered her to say he himself would be leaving later in the morning, it struck her with more certainty that the family had a deep secret which they weren’t about to share with outsiders, even though she was the niece of Vito. Her logical mind began placing pegs in round holes: two deaths of violence in the family; everyone just hanging around stifling Chicago when they would ordinarily be vacationing; no talk of going home, although there were young people to be schooled and professions to be followed. Add all this to the guarded talks, conferences behind closed doors, rifle range in the cellar, the almost besieged atmosphere in the house, it formed a picture of a family preparing to make a momentous decision or take a critically important action.
Bonny liked traveling by train rather than air, so she made reservations on the express going east in mid morning. Dominic said he had time to drive her to the station. After a goodbye to the others, with special thanks to Ettore for his hospitality, she got into the car with him.
“They are sort of sorry to see you go,” said Dominic. “Vito’s family are strangers to us here.”
She wasn’t about to mention her suspicions. Generations of conservatism had laid a foundation rock deep, and to start asking personal questions at this time of life would require a thorough rehabilitation process. There was one point of ground on which she felt more secure. “In a way I’m sorry about leaving, too. Especially you, Dom. I won’t pretend that an awful lot hasn’t happened to me during these past five days.”
I Contadini (The Peasants) Page 23
