A Few Drops of Blood (21 page)

“
Zia
, it’s a hundred degrees! Forty centigrade!” Natalia exclaimed as she kissed her.

“I’m just out of the shower. You want me to catch cold? Come in, child. Come in.”

The day after Natalia’s confab with the major, Suzanna answered the door, a white poodle snuggled in her arms. Her onyx and diamond hairband matched the dog’s collar.

“Look at you,” Suzanna said. “Don’t you look cute in your uniform. Come in. Meet Shasha.”

She held up the dog for Natalia to admire: a miniature white poodle. Natalia patted Shasha’s head and followed her owner’s gardenia scent down a long hallway into the living room.

Flanking the entry were a pair of onyx and white marble end tables. Across the room two green brocade couches mirrored one another, between them a Persian rug saturated with purples and splashes of ochers and greens. A baroque lamp with red butterflies gamboling on the creamy silk shade stood in the middle. Several white orchids were displayed in small gold pots on the ebony
coffee table. Against the back wall a mahogany bar held every kind of liquor imaginable.

“Just abandoned my mother’s place. You were there, no?”

“Once, I think. Your communion party.”

“That sounds right. Marzipan angels?” Suzanna laughed.

“And almond candy,” Natalia said, “coated in white sugar.”

“Mama still has my dress. I was just going to treat myself to
prosecco
. Can I get you one?”

“Sounds great.”

Suzanna had made a big deal out of the visit—drinks, a platter of fancy cakes on a low table between them. The dog skittered over to Natalia.

“He bother you? I can put him in my bedroom.”

“No, it’s fine.”

While the dog sniffed her ankles, Natalia surveyed the rest of the room. Not her style, but impressive.

“Like it?” Suzanna handed Natalia a glass of pale green liquid.

“Amazing.”

“First thing I did: got a feng shui expert. Rid the place of bad vibes. Helped me arrange everything. Feels harmonious right? To Auld Lang Syne.”

“Cheers.” Natalia and her old classmate clinked glasses.

Suzanna sat down. “You should see my mother’s place. Nothing has changed, except it’s all gotten dingier.”

“I remember it was very large.”

“Seriously, the wire’s been sticking out of her cushions for the past two years. Like it would kill her to get a couple of new cushions.”

Suzanna filled her in on life in London.

“You can’t find a decent
prosecco
to save your ass. Plus the winters suck. But you should see my mink. I look like the original ice queen.”

What was it with these women and mink, Natalia thought. First Lola. Now Suzanna. At least London was climate appropriate.

“Mama having a good visit with your brother and their new baby?”

“She and the wife don’t get along—surprise, surprise. Calls every day, threatens to come home.” Suzanna played with a jeweled mobile phone and handed it to Natalia.

A blurry baby’s face swam into view. Enormous black eyes. Pink frilly cap.

“Cute,” Natalia said. “You enjoying Naples?”

“Yeah, well.” Suzanna made a face. “God, I hate this place. Everyone’s in your business.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“Who said I was coming back? I promised Nicky I’d check on Mama. How did she seem to you?”

“She seemed … the same.”

“Right? Nicky’s a pain in the ass. So is she. She’s wearing the same old rags she wore after Papa died. Like he’s going to be offended if she wears a new blouse. Uses the same rancid perfume that she got when I was twelve. I opened one of her lipsticks? It had turned to chalk. I tried to get someone in to clean, and she threw a fit. Sorry about your mom and dad,” she added.

“Thanks. It’s been a long time, but it still hurts.”

“Sure. She drives me crazy, but when Mama goes, I can’t imagine.”

Natalia reassured her that with her mother’s stubbornness, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. “You’ll never guess who I ran into the other day. Liana Pagano. Sister Immaculata.”

“Sweet Liana,” Suzanna said.

“She asked after you. Wanted to know how you were doing. She’d love to see you.”

“And me her. God, Liana, a nun. Jesus, the good old days, right? Only we didn’t realize then.”

“Yeah.”

“Then came my darling Ernesto.”

“We were all envious. You’d found your soul mate. Just like in the paperback romances. So what was it like being courted like that? Limousines picking you up at school? Dining out at extravagant restaurants? Flowers arriving every day? A dream wedding?”

“Dream is right. It was exciting at first. He proposed the day we met. A week later we were living together and married in another month. I had my own maid. Every morning she brought me breakfast in bed. Wheeled in on a tray. A vase with a fresh baby rose. It was amazing: pineapple and blood oranges sculpted into flowers. Chocolate croissants. The maid laid out my clothes. He wanted me to look good. We’re talking Versace, St. Laurent, Halston. I wasn’t allowed to lift a finger. Couldn’t wash a pair of undies or a plate. Anything I wanted was mine. I admired a sapphire bracelet in Rinaldo’s window, and in a blink of an eye it was on my wrist. He found out I’d never tasted caviar and ordered an iced shipment air delivered overnight to the house from Moscow.”

“What went wrong?”

“First time the maid got in bed with us, I’m surprised. No, it was more like stunned and embarrassed. Shamed. But he’s my husband, you know? Then he asks me to do things … with men he’s brought home. He liked to watch and be watched. It got worse. He was into cutting.”

“Himself?”

“Me.”

“Jesus,” Natalia said.

“It was like I was living alone after a while. Except for the times he paraded me around in public like a trophy, I never saw him. Man was never home. Middle of the night the phone rings? I answer it, they hang up. Ten minutes later, he’s out the door, weighed down with cologne. I figured he was going off to one of his bimbos.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“Pride, I guess. I couldn’t go back to my parents. I’d made my bed, you know? Next thing I know, I’m pregnant. He goes nuts. Accuses me of doing it deliberately, of sabotaging his life. Punches me in the abdomen and throws me out of the house.”

“We had no idea.”

“I couldn’t let on, could I?” Suzanna leaned back into the couch, head resting on the edge. “It was sort of tolerable for a while. Until the pregnancy. When he struck me like that, I almost lost my mind. Well … you know.”

“That was terrible,” Natalia said. “Lola, Mariel—we all felt for you. But you really loved Ernesto, didn’t you?”

“Loved? Yeah, I suppose so. You know how it is. I was a virgin.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You’re surprised? A good Catholic girl? Sister Benedicta had me terrified. All that stuff about hell. Underneath I still believe it—you?”

“I don’t know. Probably,” Natalia said. “That’s when you …”

“Went berserk. Right. Put on quite a show for the folks on Via Tribunali. I was raving. They had to put me in a strait jacket.”

“I’m sorry,” Natalia said.

“Don’t be. I got myself together, didn’t I, Princess?” she
picked up the dog and kissed it on the mouth. “I’m in the hospital, sedated. Hubby pays a visit to my mama and papa. Suggests I’d be better looked after in a clinic abroad somewhere. Not Spain, not France, either. Not in continental Europe. It was all Lucia could do to keep my father from killing him.”

“That’s terrible,” Natalia said.

“Don’t waste your tears,” Suzanna said. “I was a kid. Naïve. I left Suzie Ruttollo behind a long time ago.”

“How did your father-in-law take it?”

“He was scandalized. We’d gotten along. Plus he’d been looking forward to a grandchild.”

“But he didn’t intervene?”

“Between an Italian husband and his Italian wife?” Suzanna shook her head. “They were very different, those two. Papa Gianni was a worker bee. Donated to the Sisters of Charity. Attended mass every day. Drove the same Fiat he’d had since 1965.”

“Yes, the local hero.”

“Papa Gianni was invited to every christening, every wedding. Gave a generous gift of cash without fail, even while imprisoned. He’s still paying for the fireworks and floats on saints’ days and holidays, though you’d never catch him riding on one. He and Renata still live in the same apartment they moved into when they were married.”

“That’s certainly not his son’s style.”

“No. Ernesto likes it fancy. And he was always a lazy son of a bitch. Don’t get me wrong—he paid his dues for Papa. Killed more than a few with his own hands. Nowadays? As if you people don’t know. Lounges by the pool after he lifts his weights. Pops his vitamins, counts out the grams of protein in his food. In between phone calls he screws whoever is on hand. He’s big into promotion. Facebook. Twitter.
Like he’s some kind of a brand. Have you heard the song?” Suzanna said.

“ ‘The Devil Fucks Satan’?”

“I heard he paid a hundred and fifty thousand euros to this hot band in Turin to write a song about him. He told one radio deejay if he didn’t play the song, he’d personally break his legs.”

“Sweet,” Natalia said. “What happened to your baby?”

Suzanna’s face lost its color. “I … I’m sorry. I can’t speak of it.”

Natalia lay in the crook of Pino’s arm. “Uncle Ricci sends his love. He’s so happy I’ve come to my senses. Said it’s time to see some children running around in the country house.”

“Since when does Uncle Ricci like children?”

“He’s getting sentimental in his old age. Man hasn’t been in a church since the war. Now he says he’ll talk to Father Mario. Arrange a church ceremony. I told him Father Mario passed eight years ago. ‘Whoever,’ he said. He even took a suit out of the closet.
‘Zio
,’ I said. ‘It’s full of moth holes.’ ‘So I’ll get a new one.’ ”

Natalia laughed. “How did he know I wanted a church wedding?”

“You do?”

“Doesn’t every Neapolitan girl? I can see it now: the photo of Lola ascending the steps of Santa Chiara. And above the headline:
CARABINIERI WED, CAMORRA
Attend. Seriously, I can’t talk about it right now. I have a lot on my plate.”

“Tell me.”

“Papa Gianni’s getting out, for one. We could be in for a bloodbath anytime.”

“And the other?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Oh, it’s like that now.”

“Pino, it has to be.”

“Come here. Let me take your mind off your troubles.”

In minutes, Pino was snoring. Natalia returned to her pillow, but sleep wouldn’t come. The door to the balcony was open. The moon was silvery and full. She watched as a cloud passed over, revealing its features then hiding them in shadow.

Surveillance and intelligence reports from the police antimafia directorate indicated that Scavullo might be losing interest in his African girlfriend. Which made Natalia think it might be a good idea to see if they could talk to her when he wasn’t around and maybe shake out some information about Ernesto.

It seemed obvious he was not faithful to her. In which case, she might be willing to vent.

In any case, Scavullo would know they’d been nosing around and wouldn’t like it, which made it almost worthwhile. If it led to his doing something foolhardy, it would most certainly be worth provoking him. Albeit dangerous. The woman would have to be looked after.

Natalia asked Lola to keep her posted about Ernesto Scavullo’s whereabouts. Lola reported that Ernesto was en route to Gaeta to see about a football team he was interested in acquiring. Natalia quickly collected Angelina, and
they once again made the journey to the mobster’s mansion on the hill.

Paolo was still guarding the door, looking stylish in a black suit, black shirt and magenta tie, though the sleeves of the jacket seemed oddly short. His bulking up had contributed to this. The extra bulge of his left shoulder was courtesy of his holster.

“He’s not here,” Paolo said.

Behind him, a maid vacuumed the foyer. A truck pulled into the circular drive hauling fresh laundry. Paolo waved it around the side to the service entrance near the garage.

“Friendly advice?” he said. “Stay the fuck away from him.”

Natalia informed Paolo they weren’t interested in talking to his boss. It was the girlfriend they wanted to see. Unofficially.

“That won’t be possible,” he said. “She isn’t here. And even if she was, I’d still need you to leave. See up under the overhang of the roof? There’s a camera trained on the front door. He could be watching us right now on his computer. He likes to keep track.”

“And if he sees something he doesn’t like seeing?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“We’d like to speak to the African woman,” Angelina said. “Please.”

“Look, ladies. The African dame disappeared during the night. I have no idea where she went.”

“Why aren’t you with the boss?” Natalia asked. “You don’t travel with him anymore?”

“That’s not your business, is it?”

“Depends how you look at it. Maybe you stayed here because something happened to the girl, and you had to clean up the mess. Is that it? Did Ernesto lose his famous temper?”

“Nothing’s happened to the girl.” He got a call on his hands-free device. “What time you gonna get here?” he said into the transceiver and listened. “Okay.”

A girl sauntered up behind Paolo, running her hands through a mass of dark hair. She had on a yellow tank top and white gauzy pants—no evidence of underwear. Ignoring the Carabiniere, she kissed Paolo on the ear.

“You leave me any coffee, honey?”

Paolo shook her off. “I’m working. Get it yourself, or get the housekeeper to do it.”

“Love you, too,” she pouted and gave him the finger as she clacked off toward the kitchen in her red stilettos.

A maid walking a tall, grey whippet made her way across the grounds toward them, circling around the sprinklers. Unleashed, the dog trotted up the steps. They made quite a pair, Natalia thought, the royal dog, pointed nose quivering, the maid in blue-and-white pinstriped uniform and a little cap.

“The dog guy is running late,” Paolo said to her. “He’ll do the manicure and brush him when he gets here. Give Salvatore a sponge bath in the meantime. I’ll call you when the groomer gets here. Take the pooch around the back, okay? The boss noticed a couple of scratches on the floor.”