Constanzia’s face hardened when she remembered the humiliation that Sergio had caused her.
“When I was pregnant my husband cheated on me with every cheap whore on Mulberry Street, but I didn’t say a word, just like any good Italian wife. Sergio was much too busy becoming rich and powerful to be interested in what I was doing. He married me for just one reason—because I was Carlo Gambino’s daughter.”
Constanzia looked inquiringly at Alex.
“You’re not surprised to hear that Sergio comes from one of the city’s most powerful Mafia families, are you?”
“He told me that his father was a known killer,” Alex replied hesitantly.
“Pah!” Constanzia exclaimed. “Ignazio Vitali wasn’t just a killer. He was the feared enforcer of Lucky Luciano and Dutch Schultz—both of whom he later shot, by the way. But this is old stuff. They’re all long dead. Sergio bought the house in Mount Kisco after he made his first millions. It was terrible for me to live so far away from my family and friends, but Sergio thought it would be beneath his dignity to keep living on Mulberry Street. He bought the apartment on Park Avenue and only came home to me every now and then. He’s always been an inconsiderate egomaniac, and our marriage was never worth more than the paper it was written on. Sergio always did what he wanted, and I knew from the very first day that he couldn’t resist a beautiful young woman.”
Alex blushed, but Constanzia didn’t seem to notice.
“As the years passed, our sons grew up and left the house. All of them, except Cesare.” Constanzia sighed heavily. “Sergio always despised Cesare. He was different from his brothers, weaker and not as intelligent. He was in trouble all the time, and I lived in constant fear of Sergio’s temper tantrums when Cesare got himself into hot water.”
She smiled sadly, and the tears shone in her big eyes.
“It happened on the day of Sergio’s birthday party last year, as you probably remember. Sergio threw Cesare out of the house, and he never came back. He called me every now and then, but I didn’t know where he lived or what he was doing. I was terribly worried about him. Whenever I tried to talk to Sergio about the boy, he got angry. A few days after the party, I heard that David Zuckerman had been shot. He and his wife were good friends with my eldest son and often came over to visit. I knew right away that Sergio was responsible for his death.”
Alex held her breath.
“Then came the day Sergio was shot. I wasn’t shocked when Massimo called to tell me that his father was injured. No, I wasn’t hysterical. I laughed. May God forgive me, but for a second I hoped that he was dead.”
She smiled briefly at her own ridiculousness, but quickly her expression turned grim.
“Cesare was arrested that very same night. When I learned that he was…dead, I almost lost it. I was sure that Sergio had something to do with his death. I accused him of it a few days later when he came home from the hospital. I screamed and said all kinds of hideous things to him. Everything that had accumulated inside of me over the years burst out, and I finally realized that it was the truth that I never wanted to see.”
Alex saw Constanzia’s tears, and she understood how this woman felt. Wasn’t she in a similar situation?
“On that day it became clear to me that I hated Sergio. I wished him dead. I decided to leave him right then, but I lacked the courage. Then I heard about the assassination attempt on the mayor that killed his wife and son. I know how much Sergio despises Mayor Kostidis. Even though he never talked to me about business, I witnessed enough in thirty years to put two and two together.” Constanzia shrugged her shoulders. “Sergio orders people who stand in his way killed. Ever since childhood, I’ve been used to people around me dying—but not from old age in their bed. My father was a Mafioso, just like my brothers and uncles, but my husband Sergio is the worst of them all—more brutal and ruthless than even Lucky Luciano or Al Capone ever were. He’s a criminal, and I know it. I’ve endured all of this for my boys through all these years. But now that Cesare is dead, I can’t go on like this anymore. All of the blood, violence, and death—it’s too much for my conscience.”
Alex felt as if a cold hand had grabbed her by the neck. All of the color vanished from her face.
“Sergio killed his own son?” she whispered, terrified.
“Yes,” Constanzia said, nodding, “not with his own hands, of course. He wouldn’t, because he has people for that. But I know he did. He was afraid that, under pressure in prison, Cesare would start talking. My son had to die for the same reason as David Zuckerman or the man at LMI who was supposedly run over.”
Alex swallowed frantically.
“Gilbert Shanahan?”
“Yes, I think that was his name. His wife told the truth. The poor woman would have been better off keeping her mouth shut. They put her into a psychiatric clinic, and now she’s wasting away in a padded cell.”
Alex’s mouth was dry as cotton. Once she took it all in, she was overcome with terror. Oliver was right. Gilbert Shanahan had been killed because he didn’t want to play the game anymore and tried to get out.
“Why are you telling me all this, Mrs. Vitali?” she whispered.
Constanzia looked at her.
“I came here to warn you and to ask you for something,” she said. “I overheard a conversation last Sunday evening. Natale Torrinio, one of the killers who works for Sergio, told him that he saw you at the cemetery with Mayor Kostidis.”
Alex tried to control her panic. Natale Torrinio—the man with the yellow eyes.
“Alex,” Constanzia said emphatically, “Sergio has caused enough grief and sorrow. I wish that I had the courage to stab a kitchen knife through his cold heart, but I’m too much of a coward for that. I want someone to put an end to his crimes. I want revenge for my dead son and for everything that this monster has done to me and my family.”
She leaned forward and grabbed Alex’s hand.
“I have an ally,” she said, lowering her voice, “but he and I won’t be able to do it on our own, although we could destroy Sergio with our knowledge. I need contact with someone who is powerful and fearless enough to support me with what I must do. I can’t simply go to the police or the US Attorney’s Office. Sergio would find out about it right away and have me silenced.”
She paused for a moment.
“Alex, you know the right people. You know the mayor. You can help me!”
Alex jumped up and desperately wrapped her arms around herself. Of all people, Constanzia Vitali had come to her for help! She felt miserable. If Sergio hadn’t even batted an eye at the murder of his own son, he certainly wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. What had she gotten herself into? And all of this because of her damned ambition, her arrogance, her insatiable drive to belong in high society. She was a gangster’s whore, just what Oliver had accused her of being. All her work, her education—everything had been in vain! At thirty-seven, when others were getting their careers in high gear, her future was already over. She’d never be safe from Sergio again. Fear sprang to her eyes, and she turned around to face Constanzia Vitali. And somehow the woman was looking at her, full of hope.