Bloodline (35 page)

• In Chicago, Al Capone was cheered by the crowd when he showed up for a baseball game at Cubs Park, later named Wrigley Field. He told reporters, “I only give people what they want.” Then he went back to his fortress apartment and decided he had had enough of Dion O’Banion, who headed the city’s Irish mob.

• On November 10, Frankie Yale, Albert Anselmi, and John Scalise entered O’Banion’s flower shop on North State Street, across from the cathedral where O’Banion had once been an altar boy, and when Yale shook O’Banion’s hand the other men shot him, twice in the chest, twice through the throat, then in the right side of the face and again in the left side of the face. Al Capone sent a wreath to the funeral.

• In New York, Luciano showed the story of O’Banion’s murder to his latest girlfriend, Russian showgirl Gay Orlova. “Capone is an asshole,” he said. “He just can’t learn to get along.”

• Luciano was prophetic. In Chicago, the Irish mob declared war on Capone. Five hundred gangsters would die in the next four years. Capone retreated behind a phalanx of bodyguards and stayed away from Cubs Park.

• In New York, Luciano went to Mass at Mount Carmel Church and heard Father Mario Falcone deliver the homily on how in this new land of America all people of all backgrounds were now Americans and had to learn to live and work together. When he was finished preaching in English, he repeated the sermon in Italian.

• At the Manhattan courthouse, as it did before every election, Tammany Hall had arranged for the mass swearing-in of thousands of new naturalized citizens. They stood by the hundreds in drafty courtrooms, raised their hands, and were pronounced by a judge to be citizens of the United States. Hidden on the list of names was that of Danilo Sesta, late of Castellammare del Golfo, Sicily. The citizenship papers were dated three months earlier. Nilo was in The Tombs, awaiting trial for murder, and did not attend the happy ceremony.

• King Tut was America’s newest fad. No girl considered herself fully dressed unless she was wearing a scarab ring or a turquoise Tut bracelet. The hot new dresses had hieroglyphics printed on them. Newborn children were named Tutter or Tuttie.

• George Gershwin’s
Rhapsody in Blue
debuted at New York’s Aeolian Hall. The critics were lukewarm.

PART TWO

Tommy

CHAPTER
6

Fall and Winter 1924–1925

Wretchedly sick, Sofia Mangini bent over the toilet bowl and vomited her breakfast. Then she sat down on the floor and held her stomach.

It’ll pass. In a few hours, I’ll feel fine.

But then … tomorrow morning … all over again.

“Sofia, Sofia, where are you? Are you all right?”

“In here, Mama. In the bathroom.”

She had been living at home. If she had ever entertained any idea of living again with the Falcones, that had become impossible when she said that she had spent the day of the child’s murder with Nilo, in bed with him in his apartment.

They were all on different sides now. Tommy and his father were policemen, with the law. And she, Sofia …

I am now one of the criminal class. Ready to perjure myself to save a murderer from punishment.

And why? Because there is no one in this world to love me but me, and I will take care of myself, whatever it takes.

Father Mario had been another reason she lived at home. Alone, among everyone involved, he knew the truth. She had told him under the seal of the confessional about the mob’s threats to tell about her and her father, and while she trusted that Mario would never break that confidence, having him close by while she was living out the lie would have been intolerable.

Maranzano sent a lawyer to accompany Sofia to the precinct building on the chilly September morning she was to give police her statement that she had been with Nilo all day on the day of the twin murders.

As she came out of her apartment building and walked toward the waiting car, Tommy came quickly across the street, his face set in a scowl.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Don’t play games with me, Sofia. I know you weren’t with Nilo that day. He was off somewhere else killing people.” His tone was sharp and hectoring.

It is so easy for you to be moral,
she thought.
You have never lived with a pervert and been a partner in his perversions. You, Mario, Tina, have all been raised with love, with people who love you, and I have been loved by no one. At least now people will know my name. And some will respect me and I will use them. And that is how it should be because only
I
care about me.

She snapped back at him. “You know nothing. Less than nothing. I was with Nilo and I will tell the truth. Does his life mean so little to you?”

“Not as much as yours,” Tommy said. “I thought…”

He thinks what? That because we had sex once it would mean something in this vile thing I call my life? Tommy, you are a child.…

“You thought wrong,” she answered angrily.

“I guess I did. But if you ever need a friend…”

The lawyer got out of the backseat of Maranzano’s car and walked up to them.

“Sofia,” he asked, “is everything all right?”

She smiled at Tommy. “You see, I have all the friends I need,” she said, and walked with the lawyer to the car.

The police interview with a young lieutenant and a lawyer from the district attorney’s office lasted only fifteen minutes. In a dull voice she stated that she and Nilo had spent the day in his apartment, often in bed together. She cooked dinner for him, veal parmigiana, which was one of his favorite dishes. They ate together, and she had not left him until nine o’clock that evening.

“At that same time,” the district attorney said, “Lieutenant Falcone reports he saw Mr. Sesta leaving the theater where Enzo Selvini was killed. What do you say to that?”

“Lieutenant Falcone is mistaken,” Sofia answered. Then her lawyer told the two investigators that they had her statement and she would answer no more questions.

An hour after leaving her apartment, Sofia was back home, where she went into the bathroom and threw up.

*   *   *

“
W
HY WOULD SHE DO IT
?
Why would she tell that obvious lie?”

Tony looked around the Falcones’ dinner table for an answer.

Tommy shrugged. “She told me it was the truth,” he said.

“But it’s not the truth. Dammit, I saw him myself.”

“Tony, please,” his wife said as she placed a platter of food onto the table. “Don’t get upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Maybe she’s in love with him,” Tommy suggested, and Mario nodded. Sofia had told him just that, but it was a private conversation and he did not feel comfortable repeating it to his family, especially since he was not sure that she had been telling him the truth.

“She is going to ruin her life,” Tony said.

“It’s her life,” Tommy answered. “Has anyone asked Tina? She would know.”

Tony sniffed. “Who can ask her anything when we never see her?”

“Mama, sit down. Let’s say grace,” Mario said. “For Nilo too.”

Tony glared at his son, then stubbornly folded his arms across his chest. “Forget Nilo. He made his bed. Let him lie in it.”

Mario said the prayer anyway.

*   *   *

F
OR A MONTH AFTER
giving her statement to the police, Sofia confined herself to the family apartment. The story of what she had done was all over the neighborhood now, and she knew if she worked downstairs in the restaurant she would be the object of scorn. Or, even worse, of pity.

The whole matter had clearly affected her nerves, too. She found herself throwing up most mornings, and early in November she was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet when Rosalia Mangini came into the bathroom, wet a washcloth, and began to wipe her daughter’s face.

“I don’t know why I’m so sick,” Sofia said.

“I think you can guess.” When Sofia did not answer, the woman said, “You are pregnant. Whose baby is it?”

“It is … Nilo’s, of course.”

“Does he know?”

Sofia shook her head. “We have not talked since they arrested him.”

“He will have to be told,” her mother said, then added almost as an afterthought, “Mr. Maranzano is downstairs. He wants to talk to you.”

“Maranzano?” Sofia had not spoken to the man since she had gone to his office and offered to be Nilo’s alibi. “I don’t want to see him, looking like this,” she said.

“Nevertheless, he is waiting.”

“Let me put on clean clothes, at least, and then I will come. These are all covered with vomit.”

“I will tell him.”

Sofia hurried to get herself ready. She wondered what this man would have to say to her. Probably he wanted to coach her how to lie in court about being with Nilo.

When Maranzano rose from the table in the private back room to greet her, Sofia was again impressed at how different he seemed from the other gangsters she saw, most of them in the family restaurant. He was impeccably dressed; his long hair groomed and oiled, his fingernails clean and polished. Maranzano looked first at Sofia, then at her parents, who also sat at the table.

“Nilo Sesta is like a son to me,” he said. “I want only what is best for him. I know that, as friends of his, you wish that, too.”

Sofia nodded dutifully, even though she knew that Maranzano did not give a damn about Nilo.

Maranzano reached across the table and patted Sofia’s hand. “You were very brave in coming forward to try to help Nilo. But now there is a problem.”

“What?” Sofia asked.

“Someone has reached into his pocket and bribed several men to lie. They will swear they saw Nilo shoot the child and kill Selvini in the theater.”

In the pit of her stomach, Sofia felt a sinking feeling of despair. Did this mean she was going to go to jail, too?

Something bad is going to come of this. This is going to be a very bad day in my life.

“I have thought this through carefully,” Maranzano said. “It seems to me to be best that Sofia and Nilo are married, as soon as possible.”

This suggestion took Sofia’s father by surprise. “Why, Don Salvatore?” he sputtered.

“There are a number of reasons. First of all, Sofia—in bravely telling the truth about being with Nilo that fateful day—has given him an alibi for the tragic killing of that poor child. The police will try to break down Sofia’s story. But if she is Nilo’s wife, unable to testify against him in his trial, they will leave her alone. So I am looking out here for her best interests, as well as Nilo’s. Two, Signor Mangini, it will be useful in preserving your family’s honor. It is not right for a young girl to be known as sleeping with a man who is not her husband. This will right that situation.”

Sofia looked at Maranzano while he was talking and felt only contempt. Then loathing.

Y
ou are a filthy hypocrite,
she wanted to scream at the Mafia boss.
You talk about protecting my honor from a belief that I was sleeping around like a wanton. But you know that I only lied in order to protect Nilo, even if it meant sacrificing my honor. Honor: you know not the meaning of the word.

She felt Maranzano’s eyes on her, and when she met them, she wondered if he was thinking about trying to take her to bed himself. She could not read it in his eyes, and usually she could see it in all men’s eyes.

I hate it and I hate men. I hate sex. It is not worth it, not for a woman. For a few minutes pleasure, we hostage our futures. Give yourself to a man and there is no longer trust or hope or love. There is only sex. The only use of sex for a woman is as a weapon. Thank you, Don Maranzano. You have taught me something important today.

Maranzano was still speaking. She struggled to catch up with what he was saying.

“Of course, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

Sofia almost laughed aloud at the look of shock on her father’s face. It was shock; then it was outrage.

This from the pervert who had made his own daughter’s bedroom a brothel.

“Yes, of course I am,” she said quickly. “And I’ll be very happy to marry Nilo.”

As soon as she said those words, she knew her life had just been changed forever. The dreams of childhood were gone; so were the fantasies of youth. What was left now was the raw, dirty reality of day-to-day existence.

I will not just survive. I will win. Nilo will give my baby a name and save the child from shame and ignominy. And I think Don Salvatore can be used to get me out of this rathole. For that, for the love of my child yet to be, I need only give my own life away to others.

In my whole life, has it ever been different?
she wondered.

“But Nilo is already in jail,” Sofia said. “How can we be married?”

Maranzano smiled. “It can be arranged,” he said.

Her father was still staring at Sofia, in shock at her pregnancy but clearly afraid to speak in Maranzano’s presence. The Mafia don reached out his manicured hand to pat Sofia’s hand in a warm gesture of avuncular reassurance.

“My dear,” Maranzano said, “you are a beautiful child and you will be a beautiful bride. I will make arrangements for you to be cared for. I have every hope that Nilo will be freed of these unfortunate charges. But it may be a long, time-consuming process. If during that time, you need any help while your brave young husband is away, I will be nearby. I will be your padrone.”

I hate them. I hate them all.

*   *   *

N
ILO WOKE SLOWLY,
yawned, and stretched, before remembering that he was in The Tombs, the castlelike main New York City jail. But a few short minutes before, while he still slept, he had been back in Castellammare del Golfo, a young boy again, playing hide-and-seek among the turrets and terraces of the old Moorish castle that jutted out into the bay.