Page 44 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

But I wasn’t one to give up, so I went to his closet.

It was empty. Bare, with not a shirt or a tie or a pair of trousers in sight. I almost didn’t believe it. I’d seen Fausto’s closet once and it was filled with designer suits and custom-made shirts. My father’s was a close second. I guess Giacomo never dressed up?

There was one narrow dresser and the contents of each drawer were neatly organized. Folded t-shirts, jeans, and shorts, like you’d see in a store. This had to be Sal’s doing. I couldn’t imagine Giacomo folding laundry.

A small nightstand sat by the bed, a lamp on top. There was one drawer and I wondered if this might be the place where I’d finally learn more about Giacomo. Sitting on the mattress, I eased the drawer open. An eyeglass case. Condoms. Lube. A book on military history. Interesting. The pages looked well-read and worn, so I eased the book out of the drawer.

I flipped through it, marveling at a mafia don who studied his craft, when a photo popped out from the pages. Oh,hello. This was the first personal item I’d found. I only felt a smidge of guilt as I flipped the photo over to look at it.

A young boy and girl stared at the camera, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. The girl couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. The boy was older, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and there was no mistaking this was Giacomo. I’d seen this same unhappy full mouth and intense dark stare.

So, who was this girl? Don Gero had only Giacomo and Nino, so was this a neighbor? A cousin? She had dark hair and similar eyes—

“Signora!”

Startled, I dropped the photo onto the pages of the book. “Sal, my goodness. You scared me.” I hurried to straighten everything and put the book away. I closed the drawer and stood, trying my best to appear like I hadn’t been caught snooping.

Sal placed a stack of not-so-neatly folded laundry on Giacomo’s bed. Wow, had I been wrong about Giacomo’s folding skills, as well?

“You shouldn’t be in here,” Sal said. “Don Buscetta wouldn’t like you going through his things.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I moved toward the door. “I was just curious and the room was so bare.”

He gestured for me to leave, then closed the door behind us. Disapproval radiated off the older man and my stomach knotted. I suddenly felt like my father caught me cheating on a test—not that I would ever do such a thing.

“Giacomo is very private,” Sal said as we started down the hall together.

Giacomo might be private, but I was curious by nature. I couldn’t help it. My inquisitiveness was what drew me toward the sciences. I’m an analytical thinker; I like to find answers to any problems I encounter.

I asked, “There was a girl in the photo. She looks a lot like him. Do you know who she is? A cousin, maybe?”

“Signora.” Sal sighed. “You should not be asking questions. Leave it alone.”

“I’m trying to understand him better. I’ve been dropped into this house, this country, and married to a man I don’t know. You can hardly blame me for trying to make sense of all of this. And it’s not like he’s Mr. Talkative.”

Sal stopped and put a hand on my shoulder. His smile was kind, but firm. “Cara, there are some questions that are better left unanswered, capisce? You do not want to turn over this rock, te lo prometto.”

“Why? I won’t tell him you told me. I’m great at keeping secrets.”

Sal released me and began walking again. “You must ask your husband these questions. It isn’t my place to share. Per favore, signora. Don’t put me in this position.”

I immediately backed off. This wasn’t Sal’s responsibility. And I didn’t want Giacomo to get pissed at this sweet older man. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

We stopped at the top of the stairs. He gave me a soft smile. “You’re a good girl, signora. I am glad you are here.”

“Thank you, Sal. I don’t know what I would do without you.” And I meant it. He gave me someone to talk to, someone to eat with. I didn’t feel so lonely with him in the house.

“I must return to my bread before it deflates.” He grabbed the bannister and began going slowly down each step.

“Have you considered getting a lift for the stairs?”

“A lift? Does this mean someone carries me?”

“Sort of. It’s a chair that attaches to the wall and goes up and down.”

He waved his free hand. “Dai, I don’t need such things. I go slow, but I manage.”

I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I could talk to Giacomo about putting in an elevator or a chair lift. I watched Sal’s progress, ready to help if he needed it. So that Sal wouldn’t think I was hovering, I called, “Giacomo folds his own laundry.”

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