Chapter 19: The Count

Gaspare's POV

At nine thirty my man came back from Kalsa and said the flat over the bakery was empty.

The bed was made.

The baker's wife said the Signora had left an hour before with her dress and her bag.

"With the driver?" I said.

"The driver is gone too, Don Lanzetta."

I stood in my own hall beside the long table, and the floor seemed to go out from under me.

She had said, if you touch my father, I will walk out of this city and you will never find me.

I had not touched him.

She had walked anyway.

I took the delivery sheet out of my pocket, looked at the two blue letters, and put it back.

I had meant to lay it on the table at the end of the vote, in front of all of them.

I had meant to give her the day she asked for.

Now I did not know whether she was alive in this city or on a ferry.

I had told the gate guards to keep every car out of the hall until the vote was done.

The capos came in at ten.

They took their chairs without looking at me.

Seven on my left, five on my right.

Placido Bonfiglio sat among the five, in his good grey suit.

His wife sat on a chair against the wall with a black handkerchief in her fist.

My consigliere sat at my right hand.

He had been told what was on the sheet.

He did not look at Placido once.

Placido stood.

He spoke for twenty minutes.

I will say that he spoke well.

He talked about the war, and the burned dock, and the ship in the harbor.

He talked about my wife, and he wept, and the tears were real.

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