Carmella Commands
“The pup!” said Carmella to herself, in English. “He’s worse than I thought.” Then, to the stricken mother, she said in Italian:
“Better let him take his medicine and go to jail.”
But so deep a wail of grief answered her that she repented.
“Come with me,” she commanded.
Together they went to Mike Laudini as he idled on the front steps.
“Listen, Mike,” began Carmella, “Nicolo’s in a jam.”
“Is that so?’ asked Mike innocently.
“Yes, and you damn’ well ran away when you heard it,” shouted the girl fiercely. “You got scared before you knew why he was pinched.
“Now listen, Mike Laudini, you’re going to help this kid. He ain’t worth a damn, but his mother is, see? I’m helping her, and you’re going to.”
“Say, kid,” he said angrily, “who you think you’re talking to?”
“I’m talking to a guy that can’t afford to have an enemy that knows as much as I do. You threw Nick down, when he got into a jam. But you ain’t going to throw me down. Get me?’
“Is that so! And suppose I do?”
“Then,” said Carmella, in an undertone that made him listen closely, “I’ll get you hooked, Mike Laudini. I know you own the police and the Feds. I know you think you’re bomb-proof. But listen to this, Mike!
[249]
