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

everything you have done for me, Tommaso. You’ve been a true friend.”
    “What will you do now?” I said.
    “I don’t know,” she replied wearily. “Maybe Dr. Cappelli can help. His family has money. And I know he likes me.”
    “Will I see you again?” I asked.
    She looked at me for a long time, then a soft smile appeared on her face. “You’re a sweet boy, Tommaso. You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.”
    Then she was gone.

Chapter 11
    I hid in the darkroom all afternoon, my head in my hands, thinking of Alessandra.
    Try as I might, I couldn’t come up with anything. Sick to my stomach, I was reaching for my hat to go home when Doffo stopped by to find out what had happened at the meeting.
    Venzano had hired him a month before I joined, hoping his drawings would put more bite in our editorial pages, especially the war we were running against the mayor and his cronies. People were dying from eating rotten meat because the Camorra ran the slaughterhouses and owned the inspectors. At the time Venzano offered him a job, Doffo was working up in Rome as a cartoonist for a small Socialist weekly that couldn’t always pay him.
    He was skinny, near-sighted, and a
ricchione
with a boyfriend in the Vatican, but he was fearless. He studied Daumier in art school and had an acid pen. He worked hard at his craft. The Dreyfus affair was big news that year, and he followed
La Libre Parole
closely – studying how their cartoonist exaggerated the Captain’s big nose, gave him a slouch, put him in ridiculous situations.
    A light suddenly went on in my head.
    “Doffo! Follow me,” I said.
    “Where?”
    “To Venzano’s office.”
    “Why?”
    “I’ll tell you on the way. Let’s go.”
    I knew Venzano desperately wanted to keep the Alessandra story alive. He had a great business sense, and he understood what sells papers. He also had a soft spot for me – he saw a little of himself in me – and so when we arrived he waved us into his office. I wasted no time pitching my idea.
    “We’ll shame Lombardi into coming,” I explained excitedly. “Let Doffo do a cartoon suggesting he’s afraid to test Alessandra.”
    Venzano gave us an amused look, then nodded at Doffo. “Alright, what can you do with it?”
    Doffo thought for a moment, then took the pencil from behind his ear and started drawing. I watched in fascination as he sketched out a woman in long flowing robes, which he labeled “Science,” holding the torch of “Knowledge.” She was scowling down at Lombardi, who’s hiding under her skirts. The caption read “Lombardi Investigates the Spirit World”
    I wanted to humiliate Lombardi. “No, make Lombardi a cat, hiding from a little mouse – Alessandra.” Doffo grinned and quickly redid the sketch. Venzano stroked his moustache as he studied the drawing, then smiled. “Finish it up, and we’ll run it next to Lombardi’s telegram.”
    “Front page?” I suggested.
    Venzano laughed. “Get out of here, both of you.”

Chapter 12
    L ombardi’s visit to Naples started off poorly.
    He was still smarting from the
Mattino
cartoon when he stepped off the train at the Napoli Centrale station. Before leaving Torino, he had announced to a reporter from
La Stampa
that he would be attending one séance only, and he expected to be disappointed.
    Rossi had booked him into the Palazzo, a short walk from the Main Post Office, a decent hotel but hardly
de luxe
. He should have known better. Lombardi wasn’t some ghetto Jew. He came from a wealthy family, and besides, Northerners always look down on the South.
    When I showed up at the hotel at eight the night of the séance, I found Lombardi in the lobby giving Rossi an earful – his room was too hot, mosquitoes buzzed him all night, the service was embarrassing, the hotel food both atrocious and suspicious. Rossi used my arrival to extricate himself and went off to find a bellman to call a carriage. When it finally swung by to pick us up, I hopped