As Teo had said, the tenement was new, although it seemed to be already full. At the rate people were coming to the city, he supposed they could fill as many tenements as they could build. The streets were full of men going off to work and women visiting the many pushcarts in search of the food they’d feed their families that day. No one paid him any mind as he made his way along the sidewalk and into the building. The hallway was dark, since no natural light penetrated the stairwell except through a skylight six stories up. He gave his eyes a few minutes to adjust and then started up the stairs. According to the number, the flat Esposito had rented was on the second floor, in the front. This was a prime location, since it was above the dirt and noise of the street but with only one flight of stairs to climb. The people on the sixth floor had a quieter life but much farther to go.
The place smelled of garlic and onions and people, but not yet of filth and decay, like the older tenements in the city. He paused at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath to still his jangling nerves. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say to Esposito, but he knew he had to say something. Even a man like him would have a heart, wouldn’t he? How could he take children from their parents and lock them up for weeks? How could he betray his own people?
Drawing another breath, he forced himself to walk down the hall to the correct door, lift his hand, and knock. To his horror, the door moved at his first touch, opening a few inches, and he realized it hadn’t been latched. That seemed careless in the extreme. Even the leader of the Black Hand must be concerned that someone could break into his apartment. Gino stepped back, not wanting to be accused of forcing his way inside.
But no one came in response to his knock. He tried again, this time rapping on the door jamb since knocking on the door would only make it open farther. Still no one came, and Gino listened, stepping closer to the door and putting his ear to the opening. No sound at all. If Esposito was keeping a woman here, neither of them appeared to be home at the moment.
He started to step back again, and that was when he saw it, through the small opening, illuminated by a shaft of sunlight coming through the front window: a man’s foot. Or rather a shoe, just visible, but it was pointing up so it had to be on someone’s foot. Someone who was lying on the floor. Was he imagining it? He checked the hallway to see if anyone was watching. He saw no one, so he pushed the door open a little farther.
It was a man’s shoe and a man’s pant leg. The man attached to them wasn’t visible, but he was apparently lying on the floor of the front room, near the doorway into the kitchen, which was the room the front door opened into.
“Hello? Anybody home?” Gino called.
The shoe and the leg attached to it didn’t move. Emboldened, Gino pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside. The room was indeed the kitchen, although it seemed strangely empty of any signs it had yet been used for cooking or eating. Everything in it—furniture, dishes, pots, and pans—was brand-new and seemed oddly neat and orderly.
“Hello?” he called again, then walked over to the doorway that led to the front room. The man lying there did not move because, as Gino could now clearly see, he was dead. The handle of a large knife protruded from his stomach, and his dark suit and white shirtfront were saturated with blood.
The man was Nunzio Esposito.
Before Gino could even begin to make sense of this, he was distracted by the sound of men’s footsteps hurrying up the stairs in the hallway.
Someone said, “In there,” and before he could understand what was happening, a policeman came barging into the apartment. Gino could hear whoever else had been with him retreating back down the stairs. The policeman stopped for a moment, just inside the door, taking in the scene with one swift glance, and then he smiled an evil smile. “Caught you in the act, didn’t I, boyo?”
* * *
* * *
By the time Maeve arrived at the office—she’d had to walk Catherine to school in the morning before she could begin her duties—Frank had been pacing the floor for at least half an hour.
“Did Gino tell you where he was going this morning?” he asked her.
Maeve frowned and shook her head. “But Mrs. Malloy said he was out pretty late last night. Maybe he just slept in.”
“Maybe,” Frank said, although that wasn’t like Gino. Usually, he told Frank if he was going to be late. Gino’s parents weren’t on the telephone, though, so Gino would have no way of letting Frank know if he’d decided that after leaving the Malloy house last night. Frank chided himself for worrying over nothing, although somehow it didn’t feel like nothing.
Maeve settled in with her typing practice—maybe she was getting faster—and Frank went back to reading the morning newspapers. Since the settlement house case hadn’t really been a case someone had hired them to do, he didn’t have to write up a report.
The rest of the morning passed slowly and still no sign of Gino. Maeve had just asked Frank if he was ready for lunch when they heard someone running down the hallway outside. The office door flew open and Teo Donatelli burst in. She was gasping for breath, having obviously run much farther than just down the corridor, and was holding her side.
Maeve hurried to her and helped her into one of the wooden chairs they kept for clients. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
Teo nodded, still not able to speak, and Maeve went to fetch her a glass of water. By the time she returned, Teo had almost caught her breath, and she gulped down the water eagerly. When she was done, she looked up at them anxiously. “It’s Gino. He’s been arrested.”
“Arrested?” Frank and Maeve echoed in unison, exchanging a shocked glance.
“Why was he arrested?” Frank asked.
“For murder, we think. Nobody knows for sure, because the police wouldn’t say anything, but they took him away in a paddy wagon.”
“Why do you think they arrested him for murder?” Maeve asked, obviously horrified.
“Because Nunzio Esposito is dead.”
Frank just stared at her for a long moment, hardly able to comprehend what she was saying. “How did he die?”
Teo didn’t even blink. “I told you, they didn’t tell us anything, so all we have is rumors, but people are saying he was murdered. And Gino was there when the police came and—”
“Gino was where when the police came?” Frank interrupted her.
“At the flat I told him about, the one everyone says Esposito got for his lady friend.”
“What flat is that?” Maeve asked. No one had bothered to tell her what Gino had reported last night, since the case was closed.
“It’s in one of the new tenements on Pleasant Avenue,” Teo said. “He already has a house where his wife lives, so he didn’t need another place. Everyone said—”
“But nobody knows for sure,” Frank said quickly. “It’s all rumors.”
“But that’s where he was killed. Mr. Esposito, I mean. In that flat. They carried him out. Everybody saw that. He had blood all over him, and he was dead.”
Frank was sure there must be some mistake. “And you think Gino was in there with him?”
“He was. Everybody saw them bring him out, too, but he wasn’t hurt. He had those things on his wrists . . .” Teo wrapped the fingers of one hand around her other wrist to illustrate, but Frank already knew.
“Handcuffs.” So they really had arrested him. This was not good.
“Yes, the handcuffs.”
“Why would Gino have been in Esposito’s flat?” Frank asked.
No one had an answer for that, which made Frank want to swear, but with two ladies present, he had to restrain himself.
“Where would they have taken him?” Maeve asked.
“To their station, probably, but eventually to the Tombs. How long ago did this happen, Mrs. Donatelli?”
“I don’t know for sure. A few hours,
at least. I didn’t hear at first. I was at the settlement, and people started coming to tell me. I went to the building on Pleasant Avenue to find out more. The police were gone by then, but the people there, they told me what happened. Then I came straight here.”
“You did the right thing. We’ll take care of this.”
“How can you take care of it if they arrested Gino for murder?” Teo asked in apparent despair.
“Don’t worry. We’ve handled this kind of thing before.” And not so very long ago either. “Maeve—”
“I know. I’ll go find Attorney Nicholson,” she said, naming the well-known defense attorney who had assisted them the last time. “What are you going to do?”
“Go up to Italian Harlem. I’ll see Mrs. Donatelli home and try to find out as much as I can from the neighbors and then try to get the police there to talk to me.”
“Where shall we meet up?”
“If you can get Gino out of jail—”
Teo gave a startled yelp.
Frank smiled apologetically and continued. “If you can get Gino out of jail, take him to our house.”
She nodded, but Teo said, “I should go to Little Italy and tell the Donatellis what happened.”
“And get them all upset for nothing?” Frank scoffed. He hoped he sounded believable because he wasn’t at all sure it was nothing. “Better to wait until we’ve got him out on bail.”
“Can you do that?” Teo asked tremulously.
“A good lawyer can do anything,” Maeve promised rashly. “And Mr. Nicholson is a good lawyer.”
Or a bad one, depending on your point of view, considering how many criminals he got freed, but Frank didn’t point that out. He’d been one of the criminals who’d gotten freed, after all.
Maeve was already gathering her things and covering her typewriter. “I better telephone Mrs. Malloy and tell her what’s happening so she can get Catherine at school if I’m not back in time.”
“Do that, and tell her you’ll bring Gino back there.” Frank turned to Teo. “Mrs. Donatelli, if you’re ready, we’ll head back uptown.”
“Yes. I can take you to the building. The people there, not many speak English. I can help you.”
As much as he hated involving her, she was right. He’d need help, and with Gino in jail, his options were limited.
“Before we go, can I use the, uh . . .” She gestured to the hallway where the washroom was located.
“Of course.” In fact, he was glad for the chance to speak to Maeve alone for a minute.
As soon as Teo was gone, he went to Maeve’s desk and stopped her from picking up the telephone. He pretended not to notice her hand was shaking. “Do you think Gino could have done this?”
Maeve’s face paled visibly. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. Could he have killed Esposito?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” she admitted.
Frank didn’t know either. Obviously, Gino had gone to confront Esposito. He’d also been furious about what the Black Hand was doing to the Italian community. Anything could have happened if Gino got angry enough. “If he did or even if Esposito’s men just think he did, his life is in danger. That’s why I said to take him to our house. We’ll need to keep him hidden until we can figure this out.”
Maeve nodded, and Frank realized he’d truly frightened her. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Maeve actually frightened. But it wasn’t surprising. Frank was frightened, too.
V
Maeve couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Gino have gotten himself into a fix like this? And what on earth was he doing in East Harlem in the first place? The case was over. Or at least Miss Harding was safe, which was all they’d been asked to accomplish. Did Gino think he could scare Nunzio Esposito into . . . into what? Becoming an honest man?
The very thought made her want to laugh out loud, but the other people on the El would think she was crazy if she started laughing for no apparent reason. Besides, none of this was funny. Gino was in jail and probably charged with murder, which made her stomach roil in terror, because Gino was in far more trouble than the average murderer in New York City.
In New York City, they could simply figure out whom to bribe and get the charges dropped or simply lost, which was often done, even in cases of murder. But not in this case of murder. In this case, the real problem was convincing Esposito’s men not to kill Gino in revenge.
She hadn’t even thought of that until Mr. Malloy mentioned it, although it probably would have occurred to her eventually. The Italians were famous for their vendettas. Everybody knew that. Gino wouldn’t even be safe in jail. They needed to get him bailed out today and then taken someplace safe, or at least someplace safer.
And what if he actually had killed Esposito? There would be no place safe for him then.
Henry Nicholson’s office was across the street from the Tombs, which was what everyone called the New York City Halls of Justice and House of Detention because it had supposedly been built to resemble an Egyptian tomb. It had been built on the old Collect Pond, the original source of water for New York City, which had become too polluted to use anymore. The water had been drained, but the ground had remained swampy, so the building had begun to sink almost immediately, and the whole place reeked of the damp and rot that had been seeping into it for over sixty years.
She just hoped Nicholson was in his office.
Maeve had known Mr. Nicholson for years. As the last surviving member of a family of grifters, she had encountered the attorney professionally many times when he had assisted her various relations. Fortunately, she’d never needed his services herself, and now that she’d started a new life, she was fairly certain she never would.
Of course, she’d never expected Gino would need them either.
She got off the El at Canal Street and walked over to Nicholson’s office. The clerks knew her and greeted her warmly. She’d been here only a few months ago when Mr. Malloy was arrested and charged with a murder he hadn’t committed. She wasn’t sure what to tell Nicholson, since she had no idea if Gino was guilty or not, but luckily, defense attorneys didn’t worry about things like that. They simply considered all their clients to be innocent.
She explained what she wanted to one of the clerks, who informed her that Mr. Nicholson was in court but that he would probably return shortly. In the meantime, he would take down all of the information and try to find out where Gino was being held and when he would be arraigned. This took well over an hour and several telephone calls, but Nicholson’s people did this every day, so they were much more efficient and successful than she and Mr. Malloy would have been on their own.
Gino, it seemed, had been transferred to the Tombs, as they had expected, and Maeve was relieved to learn he was being arraigned that day. At least they would be able to get him out of the Tombs quickly, hopefully before the Black Hand was able to find him and take revenge.
As she waited, Maeve had time to think things through, and she realized that the Black Hand might want to kill Gino even if they already knew he was innocent, because one of them might be the real killer. With Gino dead, the police could pin Esposito’s murder on him and close the investigation.
By the time Henry Nicholson returned to his office, Maeve was a wreck.
* * *
* * *
Frank and Teo took the Third Avenue El up to East Harlem, getting off at 116th Street. They spoke little during the trip. Teo was probably too frightened to even think straight, and Frank was too busy trying to figure out what he could do about all this.
Getting Gino out of jail and to a safe place was important, and he knew Maeve could take care of that. Sarah would see to securing the bail money and delivering it as soon as she’d gotten Catherine home from school. But even more important was figuring out who had really killed Esposito so Gino would be safe again.
That is, unless Gino had killed him. But Frank wouldn’t think about that. Surely, Gino had more sense, even though he’d somehow decided that confronting Esposito alone was a good idea. Frank would certainly have a talk with Gino about going off alone on crazy errands.
Meanwhile, he’d find out what he could about Esposito’s murder. Teo took him to the tenement building where Esposito had been killed. The building was new enough that it still looked clean, and the curtains in the windows told him that people were living there. He shouldn’t have been surprised that it had filled up quickly.
A group of people—women and a few old men—were gathered on the sidewalk out front. Teo went right up to them and started conversing in Italian with much animation and hand gestures. Frank stood back, giving her a chance to find out what she could and thinking he’d been right to accept her offer of help. Even if he’d found people who spoke English well enough to converse with him, they would never have trusted a stranger enough to confide in him.
A few of the people glanced over at him occasionally, their suspicion obvious, but presumably, Teo had vouched for him because no one made any moves to send him on his way. Finally, after a long discussion, Teo returned to him.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll show you which flat it is and tell you what they said.”
Frank nodded, tipped his hat to the group, who just stared back at him in silence, and followed Teo into the building. They made their way up to the second floor. Frank had grown up in a tenement, but this place didn’t yet have the same odor of neglect. If anything, it was almost elegant in its newness. No wonder Esposito had claimed one of the flats for himself. Or for his woman, if that’s truly what it was for.
“This is it,” Teo said, stopping outside one of the doors.
Frank didn’t hesitate. He reached for the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, but the knob turned easily under his hand. Teo gasped in surprise.
“After you,” Frank said with a wave of his arm.
But Teo hesitated, her dark eyes wide with alarm. “Should we go in?”
Murder on Pleasant Avenue Page 8
