Chapter 16
Later that Evening
F rankie made sure she wasn’t wearing anything that could identify her as one of the rowdy women at Radio City.
She put on a double-breasted beige pinstripe pantsuit with black threads, and a matching black camisole underneath.
She added a pair of gold, chunky earrings to match the buttons, and pulled her hair in a chignon.
She thought her signature ponytail might give someone a clue if they had been paying attention to the skirmish behind the dancers.
Giovanni was already dressed in a pair of black slacks, white shirt, and a black and blue tweed jacket. He was sitting in front of the television with the remote, watching the news on another channel.
“What are you doing?” Frankie asked.
“Watching the woman I love dance on the stage of Radio City,” he said jokingly.
“Ha. Not exactly dancing.” Frankie laughed as she took the remote from his hand.
“But cara , you can tell people you graced the stage at the famous venue,” he said, grinning.
“Graced the stage is a wild exaggeration,” Frankie said, and chuckled. “Let’s hope no one recognizes any of us.”
“Ah, but Randy knows it was you and Nina.”
“Then we’re going to have to kill him,” Frankie said, raising her eyebrows. “Kidding.”
“I hope so. I don’t want you to turn to a life of crime.”
“I think we did that last year.”
“Ah, but it was your friend Rachael who got arrested.”
“Yeah, but we were co-conspirators by letting her loose in Campagna.”
“You are not her babysitter,” Giovanni said, looking up at her.
“Have you met Rachael?” Frankie said with a grin.
Giovanni laughed, then remarked how lovely Frankie looked. “ Bellissima !”
“Grazie. Sei bello!” Frankie said in return.
“Ah, your Italian is getting better every day.” Giovanni got up and took her hand. “Andiamo!”
“Let’s go!” Frankie replied in English.
It took less than twenty minutes for them to walk from Frankie’s apartment to Keens Steakhouse. The air was crisp, and holiday lights twinkled from windows, trees, doorways, and around lampposts. There were banners of lights from one side of the street to the other.
“It’s another beautiful night in the city,” Frankie cooed as they walked arm in arm past Madison Square Park. “I’m glad we decided to stay local this year. The past three were exhausting,” she said with a bit of an ironic chuckle.
“I’m glad we are here, as well. And I am happy Mama and Aunt Lucia are here, too.”
“With their boyfriends,” Frankie replied with a devilish grin.
“ Si . I don’t remember the last time I saw Mama this happy. She is with her whole family, and with a genuinely nice man in her life.”
He continued, “Also, Aunt Lucia? Madonna mia ! What you and Nina did was like a miracle. First, you make her look beautiful. Ten years younger. Then you encouraged her to have fun at a party. She never went to parties.”
“No wonder she was so unhappy. We need people.”
“It’s a funny—well, not so funny—thing, but widows are expected to suffer for the rest of their lives.” He hesitated, then snickered, “As if they weren’t suffering enough when their husbands were alive!”
Frankie hooted, “Giovanni! I can’t believe you said that about your father!”
“You know what I mean. Sometimes men can be very demanding. Difficile.”
“How did you manage to escape the DNA?” Frankie said, and tugged on his arm.
“You see, I met a woman who was incredibly special. I knew if I did not behave myself, she would fly away.”
“Oh?” Frankie asked wryly. “Anyone I know?”
“ Probabilmente . But maybe not.”
She lifted her leg behind her and gently kicked him in the butt.
“And she has very long legs.”
They were the first to arrive at the restaurant. The ma?tre d’ brought them to a round table on the rear platform, two steps up from the main floor, and behind the baby grand piano. They could view the historic dining room from that vantage point.
Keens opened in 1885 and was part of the historic Hearld Square Theatre District.
At the time, it was a gentleman’s only club.
It wasn’t until Lillie Langtry, paramour of King Edward of England, sued the club in 1905 and won access to the once male-only establishment, that women were allowed inside.
Giovanni continued to share additional history of the restaurant.
A churchwarden “pipe membership” dated back to the early 20th century, where patrons would leave their pipes with a warden until they returned.
The tradition started during the Elizabethan era.
Due to the fragility of the pipe’s stem, travelers kept their clay at a favorite inn when they traveled.
Keens’s roster of their Pipe Club membership included such luminaries as Albert Einstein, Teddy Roosevelt, Babe Ruth, Will Rogers, and Buffalo Bill, to name a few.
Giovanni nodded in the direction of the pipes on display.
“You are a fountain of information, Signor Lombardi,” Frankie said in awe.
“I like New York history. I like restaurants. But pipes? Not so much,” he replied.
Frankie spotted the Lombardi family entering the dining room. Everyone was wearing smiles from ear to ear. The two stood and welcomed the rest of the dinner guests with two-cheek kisses and lots of greetings and gabbing.
Once everyone was settled, the wine Giovanni had ordered earlier had aerated, and the waiter poured everyone a glass. Again, cheers in English and Italian went around the table.
Giovanni started the conversation. “How was Macy’s?” He decided to wait until everyone had a little of the vino in their veins before he asked about the show.
Lucia was enthralled with the decorations. “So many trees, and lights, and wreaths! I didn’t know where-a to look first! It’s a wonderland.”
Frankie was grinning from ear to ear. At least the interlude at the theatre hadn’t ruined their day.
“Magnifica!” Rosevita echoed her sister-in-law’s assessment.
“Brava!” one of the Parisi brothers offered.
Giovanni couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. “How was the show?”
Frankie thought she might spit out the hundred-dollar-a-bottle chianti. She grabbed Giovanni’s thigh in a death grip. He tried to mask a wince.
Elio began, “It was for sure spectacular! And funny, too!”
“Oh, they had a comedian?” Frankie asked innocently.
“No! No!” Anthony chimed in with a big smile. “There was a race.”
“A race?” Giovanni feigned ignorance.
“ Si ! Two men dressed like Santa ran behind the dancers!” Lucia said.
“And six women chased them! One had-a white-a rhinestone-a cowboy boots!” Rosevita said, and giggled. “It was-a so funny!”
Elio looked over at Frankie, whose face was slowly turning red. “One-a look-a like-a you, Frankie!” he said gleefully. “And another one look-a like your friend, Nina. With the curly hair!” he continued to laugh.
Frankie tightened her grip on Giovanni’s leg. “Really? Now that is funny!”
Pinewood
Vinny and Jimmy were in mental limbo-land.
Neither could figure out what was happening or where it was happening.
All they knew was they had hightailed it through the Radio City Rockettes’ high kicks and were “escorted” into a limo.
The rest was a haze, including the current moment.
At least the duct tape was off their mouths as well as the zip ties off their extremities.
Vinny looked around the six-by-six concrete cell.
He heard whimpering echoing off the slab walls.
“Jimmy? Z’at you?” Vinny asked with a croaky voice.
First a sniffle, then a response. “Yeah. That you, Vin?”
“No, it’s Marie Antionette,” Vinny said, and huffed. “Who do you think it is?”
“Where are we?” Jimmy asked meekly.
“How should I know. We traveled together.”
Vinny could hear Jimmy rustling and approached the steel rods. “You okay?”
Jimmy stuck his fingers through the bars. “Can you see me?”
“Just your fingers,” Vinny said. “At least they’re still attached.”
“Yeah, but for how long do you suppose?”
“I have no idea. Like I said, we were traveling companions, and I don’t know who booked this trip.”
“What did you make of those Brits?” Jimmy asked.
“They had nice clothes.”
“The bald one reminded me of Captain Picard. You know the guy from Star Trek ?”
“You mean Patrick Stewart?” Vinny asked.
“Yeah. That’s the one. And the other guy looked a little like the dude from the movie about the King who had a speaking problem.”
“The King’s Speech?” Vinny replied, and shook his head. He loved his friend, but sometimes he wondered how Jimmy had lived this long without getting hit by a bus.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s the one. This guy isn’t as good looking, though.”
“You better keep your voice down. We don’t know who is watching or listening.”
No truer words were spoken, as Fergus and Charles listened to their conversation. Charles burst out laughing. “Not as good looking! That’s brilliant!”
“Well, Captain Picard, beam me up,” Fergus said in return.
“At least we’re being compared to movie stars,” Charles said with a chuckle. “I suppose we should bring them something to eat and drink.”
“Right. I’ll grab the tree.” Fergus went outside and then to a shed where Myra kept a bounty of holiday decorations.
Every room in the house had to have at least one Christmas tree.
He fetched the smallest one and brought it through the kitchen and down the stone steps.
Charles followed with a tray of sandwiches and thermoses of water.
Vinny and Jimmy began to shake when they heard footsteps heading in their direction. They both thought it was going to be curtains for them.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Charles said in his deep baritone voice.
“Huh … huh … hello?” Vinny and Jimmy answered simultaneously.
“You are going to be our guests for the next few days,” Charles said, as he slid one of the plates under the small opening at the bottom of the gate.
“Where are we?” Jimmy asked.
“Our version of The Grey-Bar Hotel,” Fergus answered.
“Who are you guys?” Vinny asked, as politely as he could muster.
“Friends of Lady Justice,” Charles answered.