The Witch of Napoli by Michael Schmicker Read Free Book Online Page A

so much of your time. Can I leave this to you to handle?”
    “Sure,” I promised. “Count on me.”
    He reached under the table for his bag. “Even if Lombardi comes, Alessandra may perform poorly. But I’ve spent enough of my time and money on this.” He put on his hat.
    “If she fails, I’m done with her.”

Chapter 10
    L ombardi’s answer arrived a week later.
    Venzano called Rossi and Alessandra to the newspaper and his secretary, Julieta, who everyone knew was his mistress, ushered us into his elegant, private office on the fourth floor of the
Mattino
.
    I idolized Venzano. He had style. He always dressed smartly, a white walrus moustache accenting his tailored dark suits and polished black shoes. He collected the
macchiaioli
long before the Paris art world discovered them, and he cultivated exotic orchids from South America. A long-stemmed, purple cattleya from Costa Rica graced his desk. I learned a lot from him.
    After we were seated, he leaned across the desk and handed Rossi a telegram he had received that morning from the
Mattino
’s correspondent in Torino. Alessandra and I waited nervously as Rossi silently read it. When he finished, he turned to Alessandra.
    “I’m sorry, Alessandra” he said.
    I watched the color drain from her face as he read the telegram to her.
    Lombardi rejects offer Stop Not coming Quote Naples not exempt from Newton law of gravity Don’t believe in miracles Do believe in mendacity credulity of common man Unquote.
    Alessandra snatched the telegram from Rossi’s hand.
    “No!” she shouted. “He must come. He must!” She crumpled up the telegram and flung it to the floor.
    I jumped up. “Don’t worry, Alessandra, we’ll think of something.”
    Rossi bent down and retrieved the telegram, then passed it back to Venzano.
    “Alessandra, it’s over. He’s not coming.”
    Venzano folded up the telegram. “Professor, do you have a comment we can run with the telegram?”
    “Perhaps later,” he replied, reaching for his hat. You could hear the resignation in his voice. Alessandra and I followed him out to the street where she refused to let him go.
    “Professor, if we can just get him to come…” she pleaded. “Once he’s here, I can convince him. I know I can! I know it! We can’t give up. We’ll talk about it after the service this week, yes?”
    That’s when Rossi dropped his bombshell.
    “Alessandra, we’re discontinuing the weekly séances.”
    “No!” she cried. “But why?”
    “Some members object to the cost.”
    “But you can’t! Oh, you can’t! It’s such a small amount.”
    Rossi stared at her for a second, then clasped her hands in his. “I’m so sorry about Lombardi, Alessandra. The failure is mine. I do believe you would have convinced him.”
    Rossi bowed then disappeared into the chattering lunch crowd thronging the street. I steered Alessandra over to a bench and helped her sit down.
    She was silent for several minutes, staring at the ground. Then she looked up, tears in her eyes.
    “Pigotti found the money,” she whispered.
    “What money?” I said.
    “The money I was saving for Rome. He noticed the slit in the mattress.”
    “Oh God, Alessandra! What did you say?”
    “I told him I was saving it for his birthday, to buy him something special. That I stole it from Rossi’s wallet during a sitting.”
    “Did he believe you?”
    “I don’t know. He slapped me hard, then he took the money. It’s all gone, Tommaso.”
    I tried to think of something to say, but I couldn’t. I mean, what
could
you say? Her dream was over. At least Pigotti hadn’t discovered the whole truth. She would have been dead.
    A beggar woman cradling a dirty-faced child approached us with her hand out, and I tried to shoo her away. The city was filled with them, and you can’t help them all. But Alessandra called her back, dug into her purse, found a few
soldi
, and handed them to her. Then she stood up, and extended her hand.
    “Thank you for