Carmella Commands
ters, she felt, her father Tommaso was her child. Her child in language, at least.
The school day came to an end, and Carmella had a sudden inspiration. Instead of turning toward Doty Street, she started downtown. There was just a chance, she knew, that Dixon would be waiting near the Central Trust building for Mr. Barrington.
Dixon would know Greendale affairs as Nicolo could not. And she was sure he would tell her.
In this, as in so many of her plans, she met with good luck. Dixon was there, parked half a block away from the building, smoking a cigarette as he sat at the wheel. Carmella opened the door, and quietly stepped in beside him.
“Hello, Kid Kate!” he exclaimed. The throwing away of his cigarette was as involuntary as if she had been Mrs. Barrington. Carmella noted it without seeming to.
“Hello, Dixon!” she answered. “I hope you’re well.”
“I am, kid,” said the chauffeur, wonderingly. “And you?”
“All right! But I wish you’d tell me just what’s happening to dad’s job out Greendale way. I want to know all about it.”
“All what about what?”
“You know what, Why’s your boss worried? Why isn’t my dad beating the Cronin gang over at Elm Heights? What am I going to do about it?”
[180]
