The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,29
away with two men you’d apparently never met? One of whom committed murder before your eyes?” Il Sacchi laughed humorlessly. “Now, now, Miss Battaglia. No one—”
“It’s the truth,” she snapped. “I panicked, and yes, I was more afraid of the men who were there to protect Ricky than—”
“Than the man who had broken into the suite, robbed him, and violently killed him?”
“He wasn’t violent,” she growled back. “He thought I was in danger because Ricky was manhandling me, and he was trying to help.” She paused. “I don’t even think he meant to kill him.”
Il Sacchi stared at her. “He swung a statue at his head.”
“He did. But he looked as surprised as I was when Ricky fell.” She set her jaw. “I think he only meant to stop him, not kill him.”
Watching his sister take on Agosto il Sacchi, Carmine simultaneously wanted to beam with pride and clap a hand over her mouth to shut her up. Giulia had always been fiery, and that had only intensified over time because she’d grown up around nothing but rowdy Sicilian boys, preferring to tag along with Carmine than play with little girls or learn to sew with Mama. She had the unwavering courage to look a rival family’s boss in the eye and defend herself against grave accusations, but there was a very fine line between that and the arrogance to believe she could spit in the man’s eye and get away with it. Her mouth had gotten her in trouble for years, and Carmine prayed like hell right now that it didn’t get her—or all of them—killed.
After a moment, il Sacchi took a deep swallow of his drink. In a resigned tone, he said, “My nephew’s men, their story isn’t much different from yours, Ms. Battaglia. They heard the two of you arguing, and when they tried to come in, Ricky ordered them out.”
Giulia nodded mutely.
The boss sighed. “While I still question why that boy was in the room, I suppose Ricky didn’t leave him much choice but to intervene.”
She nodded again, her jaw working. Carmine suspected she was battling hard against her pride; she could take care of herself and she loathed the idea that she’d needed saving.
Il Sacchi went on. “Perhaps, in the end, we should be grateful that someone intervened.” He paused. “Before something…happened.”
Carmine shuddered. So did Giulia. If she’d truly been alone in the room with Enrico il Sacchi? Oh yes. “Something” could absolutely have happened.
I won’t shed a tear for Ricky il Sacchi, he thought again, but thank God it wasn’t Salvatore alone with my sister.
“We are certainly grateful someone intervened,” Maurizio said. “Though we are sorry that it ended the way it did.”
Il Sacchi nodded slowly and turned to Carmine. “What about the boy who did this? You spoke to the police that night. Have you been able to find his name?”
“No. The other boys who were caught were hired for that job.” Carmine shook his head. “They didn’t know the others, including the two who were in Ricky’s suite.”
Il Sacchi pursed his lips. Carmine kept his expression neutral, equal parts proud and ashamed of his ability to look a powerful man in the eye and lie through his teeth. Finally, il Sacchi said, “Well, in the end I suppose my family’s grudge is with the Irish boy, not with the Pulvirentis. I see no reason to believe Ms. Battaglia was involved in my nephew’s death, and I suppose I can’t blame a woman for being frightened away from such a scene.”
Carmine could almost hear Giulia’s molars grinding, and he silently begged her to keep swallowing her pride, if only to avoid a war. Fortunately, even if she was as proud and stubborn as anyone in their family, she was smart, too, and Carmine took from her silence that she understood that there were times when she could do worse than be written off as a terrified girl who’d run away from danger.
To his great relief, she kept her mouth shut, and the meeting concluded with somber handshakes and the bosses agreeing that Enrico il Sacchi’s death was, while tragic and violent, not something over which the two families needed to go to war.
Afterward, the Pulvirentis left the speakeasy first, and as Carmine walked through the falling snow with his sister beside him, he was grateful for the cool heads that had negotiated this tentative peace.
It wasn’t many years ago that what happened at the Plaza Hotel would’ve been resolved on the streets with