Carmella Commands
ing to discourse with a girl named Kid Kate, or some such, and she’s a friend of Nicky Pieri, I have been told.”
“Cola!” said Tommaso, pointing to Carmella.
“I’m Kid Kate, if that’s what you want to know,” said Carmella.
She walked firmly toward the officer, though her heart was beating high. Lately she had learned that pugilists were taught to look each other squarely in the eye, and even the policeman’s practiced gaze almost fell before the intensity of her stare.
“Well, now, Kid Kate, y’re a friend of this Nicky boy, I do be hearing. Ain’t you now?”
“Tell the truth, Carmella!” screamed Maria, in Italian, and fell to weeping.
In that instant Carmella felt family mastery again. Her mother was frightened. Her new trick of understanding English, and of punishing Giuseppe, and of poise, was a bluff. She was scared by a uniform. Uniforms—hell! She had sassed them many a time. Even old Pat Cunningham’s.
“You bet your pet life I’m a friend of Nicolo, Mr. Cop,” she declared. “Now what have you got to say?”
Officer Dineen caught his breath. He had not expected to meet one so fully in command of herself.
“Tell him to sit down,” said Tommaso.
“Gee whiz, Mr. Cop! I forgot my manners,” said
[215]
