Sofia's Tune

by Cindy Thomson

  Joey smiled sadly at her. “Do not worry, my sister. They won’t catch me. I was a greenhorn before, but I’ve learned.”

  He had grown tall and handsome, but when she looked at him she saw the little boy he used to be, the kid brother he still was in that smile of his. She wanted to believe him. Wanted assurance that Fredo and Frankie would know where to take their younger brother in order to protect him. If she could believe he would be all right, she could turn her focus to helping Mamma. But a gnawing in her stomach and an unexplainable crushing realization told her, it was possible she might never see her youngest brother again. She hugged him and he returned the embrace so tightly she thought he knew it, too.

  There was a disturbance on the street below and the brothers rushed out without any more discussion.

  Carla stood awkwardly on her injured ankle. “As a healer, I cannot help him. Cannot even help myself.” She paused at the door. “But your mamma? There is still time.” She sent Papà a pleading look. “The stranger who was asking after his dog yesterday. His name is Antonio Baggio. Your own Joseph was sent to influence him with his fists. To make him tell them what they want to know. But it did not work because this man, this stranger, he knows nothing. I tell you this from Signor Russo, even though it could cost me my life, Giuseppe Falcone! These same men murdered Signor Baggio’s father.”

  Sofia startled at the mention of Antonio’s name. She had hoped, had tried to believe, that Joey had been mistaken. Now it seemed Antonio really was involved. Carla said Antonio was innocent. Sofia prayed it was true.

  The healer jabbed a finger in Sofia’s father’s direction. “I do not know why, but I know God has put the two families together in order to put an end to this. Lose your pride, old man. Joseph is gone. Sofia is banished from the neighborhood. Do something before you lose your entire family! And start by getting your wife out of the hell hole she is in.” She slammed the door on the way out.

  Papà flung his hands in the air. Sofia looked at her sister. They were both in shock that the healer would speak to their father that way, but now was the time to push him.

  “Let’s go get Mamma, Papà. Right now.”

  Chapter 32

  Antonio had an unproductive Sunday searching for his dog. He had missed mass, and missed seeing Sofia, but he could only think about Lu. He had returned to his apartment in hopes the dog had found his way back, but there was no sign of him. Antonio glanced at the accordion lying in pieces on his kitchen table. That search had come up empty as well. No note inside. No clues.

  Evening shadows fell over his floorboards. A call to the abbey revealed that his dog was not in Little Italy. No one had seen him. Still Antonio looked, to no avail. He may have been run over by a trolley and tossed aside. Things like that happened in a big city.

  The note from the musician was still sitting on the piano. The excitement Antonio had felt over it yesterday had waned. He was cold, lonely, and helpless.

  Dragging the kitchen chair to the window so he could look out over the street, Antonio thought about what Sister Stefania had said over the telephone line. Because her nephew Joseph, the one who had accosted Antonio, was no longer working for the thugs, his life was in danger. She insisted Antonio could help because he too had been wronged by the padrone and his men. Living in a different neighborhood, being more American than Italian, and Northern Italian at that, he had no connection with those people. Sure, Nicco had said he and Ernesto had met some of them in a saloon, but that had been very long ago, a casual meeting of acquaintances. Was this the most the nun could do to help Antonio solve the mystery? He still did not know who wrote those notes. Perhaps Sister Stefania had put that young girl, Luisa, up to it, but for no good use.

  He rubbed his stubbly chin and sipped his coffee. Antonio would focus on his music, like his father had wanted, and become the best he could be, someone who could inspire audiences to rise to their feet. He still wished for Sofia to be in that audience, but he did not see how he could help her with her troubles.

  Antonio’s gaze fell on the empty dog bed. He was alone. So very alone.

  A slip of paper flew across the floor from under his door. A boy’s voice shouted, “Message!” Then Antonio heard the boy’s feet clatter down the stairs.

  When he picked it up, he recognized the handwriting. Thick, boxy letters and plenty of ink blots, just the way he signed his checks. Why on earth was Mac sending him a message?

  He tore open the envelope.

  Tony,

  Get on over to the Fourteenth as soon as you get this. Make haste, lad! Paderewski stopped by. He will soon be boarding the Oceanic for England. There’s something here ye’ll be interested in.

  Mac

  Well, there was nothing Antonio was interested in over at the theater. He didn’t even want work. Not today.

  ***

  Sofia paced the dark backstage of the theater where Antonio was employed. Performers squeezed past her. Women wearing headbands with large peacock feathers. Musicians carrying black instrument cases. A plump lady practicing squeaky vocal scales. The smell of roasted peanuts and salty popcorn made her think of street vendors. Being indoors, however, the smells mixed in an unappealing way.She received an occasional raised eyebrow look from those who realized she didn’t belong there. She would have left when the manager told her Antonio wasn’t there, but he was so insistent he would arrive shortly. It was impulsive, coming there, but after they checked Mamma out of the hospital and got her settled in, Sofia hadn’t wanted to delay a moment longer.

  The manager had said to wait. He had sent a messenger to Antonio’s apartment.

  She wrung her hands as she walked, wondering how she would explain this to Antonio, and yet she knew she had to. His father’s death troubled him. He had searched all over her neighborhood looking for clues. And the entire time her brother Joey had the answers.

  “Excuse me.” A curly brunette pushed a harp toward the stage.

  “Sorry.” Sofia stepped back and began her pacing a little farther from the curtain.

  She was miffed at her brother for this. And worried about his safety. Surely a job could not have been worth getting involved in such a viperous business. Others in the family had work. He had not needed to resort to working for savage criminals.

  A drum sounded from the stage, making her jump. If her nerves were not already electrically charged from the distressing news she’d learned, being backstage in a vaudeville theater would be enough to ensure she was a jumbled mess.

  She began a long, slow walk toward the business offices. If it weren’t for Sister Stefania they still might not know the whole story. She told the sad tale when Papà summoned her to join them on the trip to Ward’s Island. He had thought the presence of Mamma’s sister might calm her, and he had been correct. Together those two were more complete. They complemented each other. The two of them even completed each other’s sentences.

  Sofia rubbed her gooseflesh arms. Life might have been much easier for her if her twin had lived.

  “Why don’t ye come inside and sit down, lass? You’ll wear yourself out with all that marching back and forth. I’ll get ye some coffee.” The manager had asked her into his office earlier and she had been too uncomfortable to accept. She owed Antonio the explanation he had been searching for so she couldn’t leave. And if he could tell her what happened to that money? Well, maybe Joey could come back and the Parrella gang could go to prison, where they belonged.

  The ruddy-cheeked manager stuck his head out of his office again. “I will telephone his landlord and tell him it’s an emergency.”

  Sofia nodded and kept walking the hall. A performance had begun and the stage hushed. A few moments later, he brought her coffee. “Grazie. I mean thank you,” she whispered.

  “I know what you meant, lass. There’s no need to hide that you’re Italian from me. I’m in theater, don’t ye know? All sorts of folks here. Even Italians like yourself. A couple of Sicilians are about to go on now. Remarkable guitar pl
ayers, they are. Have a listen.” He pulled a chair toward an opening in the curtain and this time she sat.

  They were quite good. She had never been to a theater before. She observed a monkey act next and laughed so hard she cried. This must be why people came here. To get away from their sorrows, even for a little while. She turned when someone called her name.

  Antonio’s shadowy form came toward her, followed by someone. She pushed back her chair and met him halfway.

  “You are here. I thought Mac must have been mistaken. Are you all right? I was told there was an emergency of some type.” He looked worried. And tired.

  The man standing behind Antonio was a policeman. She was not sure whether that was appropriate or not. One never knew about the police. But when they invited her to go ahead of them back to the manager’s office, she realized she had seen this officer before. “Are you the man who helped me find my mother on the streets? She was very confused that night.”

  “Indeed, I believe I was. Sergeant McNulty,” he said, dipping his chin.

  Ah, yes. The man Aileen had referred to as wonderful. They admired him over at Hawkins House. “You were very kind.”

  “Doing my job.”

  “You work up here?” She could not imagine why he had come.

  “No. I encountered Antonio outside the theater. I was on my way home after visiting with my mother and her friend. They live a few blocks east. I was getting on the train when he got off.”

  She must have been staring at his uniform and he guessed her question.

  “Oh.” He dusted a hand across his brass buttons. “I just completed my shift. I haven’t been home yet. But when Antonio told me he had been summoned to the theater because of an emergency, I decided to come along in case I could be of help.”

  “That is good of you, sergeant.”

  “What is this about?” Antonio asked the manager when they were seated.

  “I will get to that later,” the man behind the desk said. “This lady came to talk with ye, Tony.”

  All eyes turned toward Sofia. She did not realize she would have an audience when she told Antonio that her brother had been involved in his father’s killing. She set her empty coffee cup down on the desk, folded her hands in her lap, and cleared her throat to begin. “I have learned something. Something my aunt was trying to tell us before, in her own way.”

  Antonio’s face darkened. “This is about my father?”

  “Sì, your father. It seems both he and my brother were wrapped up in Signor Parrella’s ill doings.”

  “Valentino Parrella? The padrone?” the policeman asked.

  Sofia turned toward him. “You know him?”

  “He’s not on our Wall of Shame yet, but he no doubt will be someday. Small time Italian boss that the department’s been keeping watch on. When I make detective, these are the kind of riffraff I’m going after.”

  Sofia stared at him, unable to decide whether this would be a good thing or not. This policeman surely was helpful in keeping the streets clear of pickpockets and finding lost people, like her mother. What could he know of the Italians’ business?

  Antonio put a hand on the arm of her chair. “Sofia, are you saying your aunt knew something about my father’s death? That it wasn’t an accident? That the Benevento men were involved in it?” He did not wait for an answer as thoughts seemed to come to him like a runaway trolley car. “My uncle mentioned this. I thought he was just a mixed up old man. But I still don’t understand how my father could have been involved. We aren’t from your village. We don’t live close to Mulberry Street.”

  She held up a hand. “Please. Let me explain.”

  He leaned back in his chair, breathless, as though he’d been running after something or someone and had now given up.

  “My brother, Joey, he is a good boy. He only wanted to earn money for la famiglia. But he was foolish. When he could not find work, he went to the padrone. There are plenty of Italian bosses who can help find employment, but he went to this one, a man who is especially brutal, giving all Southern Italians a bad image in the papers.” She didn’t know if she was making herself clear. Frustrated, she raised clinched fists in the air. If Joey were there she might have slugged him and made him face what he had done.

  “She is right,” Sergeant McNulty added. “Not all Italians are extortionists. Not all cheat and lie. They have a bad reputation because of a few. And this Valentino? He is growing into one of the worst.”

  Sofia squeezed her restless hands together in her lap. “Perhaps, Sergeant, Antonio and I can help you. And my brother Joey. Help you…to…get justice. For the people.”

  The policeman bobbed his head. “And put this man in jail? I’m at your service.”

  She glanced to the theater manager who sat with fat hands folded on top of his desk. “You are kind to open your office to us. But we should not keep you from your work, signore.”

  His brows shot up. “Oh, aye. I should go check on the next set. It’s starting in ten minutes.” He wove around his desk and between Antonio and the policeman. “Stay as long as you’d like, gentlemen.” He turned and saluted her with two fingers to his forehead. “And you, miss. Take yer time.”

  When the manager closed the door Antonio stared at her.

  “I…uh, you see, my family went to Ward’s Island today, to get my mother.”

  Antonio’s expression brightened. “Excellent. She is better?”

  “No, not better, but she will be now she is home.”

  “I am sure of it. That is not a pleasant place.”

  The policeman made no comment. In New York, there was plenty for the police to do and not enough of them to do it. Mrs. Hawkins had told her the night he had brought Sofia home that this man was most trustworthy. She believed Aileen was right, when she told Sofia that Mrs. Hawkins knew a lot of people in Manhattan.

  Sofia licked her lips, hoping she did not look as disheveled as she felt. “And my aunt, she came with us. I had not realized it before, but my aunt has the ability to calm my mother. My father is looking for someone to care for Mamma while he works, but for today Sister Stefania will stay with her.”

  “I hope she gets the treatment she needs, Sofia. I truly do. But what were you saying?”

  She inhaled deeply to give herself time to respond, taking in the smells of leather furniture and musty sheets of music. How did one tell someone such terrible things about one’s own brother?

  “Joey was there when your father was shot. He said he was not part of it and he did not know it would happen, but he did see it happen. He thought the gang would just go and get the money from your father before he met with the lawyer up at Cooper Union.”

  “Oh. Uncle Nicco.”

  She did not know what he meant.

  The telephone on the desk rang and the manager charged back into the room. Sofia thought he must have been standing right outside to get back so quickly. He talked rapidly into the shiny black receiver. “That so? No kidding? Aye, he’s here. I will tell him.” He hung up and slammed both of his large hands down on his desk. “Tony, they’ve found yer dog! He’s down at St. Anthony’s mission.”

  Chapter 33

  Antonio and Sofia exchanged glances. She clearly wanted to know what he would do next. After Mac assured him the janitor at the mission said Luigi was fine and the attendant would be there for a few more hours, Antonio relaxed.

  Sofia shifted in her chair. “The healer, I mean, Signora Russo mentioned you were asking about your dog. I did not understand that he was lost.”

  “Yes. I asked around in your neighborhood. We got separated in Little Italy a couple of days ago. He is usually so good about staying put. Someone must have distracted him.”

  “I am sorry, but glad he has been found. What caused you to be on Mulberry Street? Did you come to see my aunt again?”

  Owen McNulty stood. “Pardon my interruption. I really must be going but before I do, Miss Falcone, I would like to know if I…if the New York Police can do somethi
ng to help you.”

  Antonio thanked him and turned to her. “I would like to know, too. The thugs that assaulted me? They asked about money. Do you know what they want?”

  “Sì. I know. It is a long story, I am afraid.”

  Owen McNulty had his hand on the doorknob. He wished to leave and Antonio knew Sofia’s limited English prevented her from summing things up quickly.

  The sergeant nodded. “Why don’t you come around to the main station tomorrow? Ask for Detective Long. He can help you.”

  “But…I would like to tell it you, Sergeant. I…uh, Mrs. Hawkins said I can trust you.”

  “Of course you can. I will be there for a meeting tomorrow afternoon. I can meet you before it begins, say two o’clock?”

  “I, uh, I have to be at work.”

  Her eyes welled up, more out of frustration than fear or sadness, Antonio thought.

  Owen sat back down. “Now, now. I understand. Where do you work, Miss Falcone?”

  She gave him the address of the shoe factory.

  “I will come in the morning and ask your supervisor for permission to speak to you. Don’t worry. I won’t be wearing my uniform. I will tell him it is a personal matter because it truly is, yes?”

  “Grazie. Thank you.”

  Owen McNulty left.

  Antonio pressed down on his knee to keep from tapping his foot impatiently. “Tell me what you can, Sofia.” She turned liquid eyes toward him. This was painful for her. “Mac, give us a moment, would you please?”

  “Aye. I have to check on the stage lights, anyway.” He slapped Antonio’s shoulder on the way out. “There is a note for you on my desk. Do not leave without it, lad. I called ye here for that.”

  “Thank you.”

  When they were alone Sofia’s tears came freely. He handed her a clean handkerchief.

  “Joey did not know, Antonio. I know he made a bad impression on you. But I tell you he is not like what he pretends.”

  “It’s all right. I had a feeling about that. Go on.” He reached for her hand and was pleased when she did not pull away. He would have preferred to wrap his arms around her because he could see how distressed she was. He knew the pain of grief, the disappointment when life took turns you weren’t prepared for. “Has something happened to your brother?”