Page 107 of Return of the Spider

I said, “In a Brooklyn junkyard. Beaten to death.”

The dead man’s stepbrother took a long breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that. Aldo deserved something more… merciful. Just glad my mom’s not around to know.”

“Some skin was cut off his back,” Sampson told him.

“His upper back?”

We nodded.

“The tattoo,” Fazio said.

“He had a tattoo on his upper back?”

“Eagle wings,” he said. “Got them when he was fifteen. Drove my mom nuts.”

Fazio talked to us for an hour, describing how his widowed mother had married Aldo’s divorced father. His stepfather had operated on the fringes of the Maggione family, running small bookie operations.

“Aldo and I, we were almost the same age,” Fazio said. “At first, like when we were ten, it was good between us. But I did everything to stay out of the crime thing. And then Aldo got that tattoo and started hanging with guys from the Capula family just to piss his dad off.”

Fazio said his life and Aldo’s life had gone in separate directions.

“I went to Fordham at eighteen,” he said. “Aldo boosted seven cars at eighteen, got caught, and went to Sing Sing for grand theft auto.”

By the time his stepbrother was released, Emilio Fazio had a whole new life.

“I have a law degree and work for the Commerce Department, cover international trade issues,” he said. “I’ve had nothing to do with Aldo for years.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?” I said.

Fazio looked uncomfortable. “Two Thanksgivings ago. So, a little over a year? My mom was sick, and she insisted we both come to her place in Queens.”

“How’d that go?”

“Bad,” Fazio said. “Aldo got drunk and started talking about all the women he was seeing, the money he was making, and the people who had it out for him.”

“He mention any names?”

“Just that they were all with the Maggione family,” he said, and frowned at some distant memory. “No, that’s not true. He did mention someone specifically and seemed very unnerved when he did.”

My pager buzzed. I took it out and saw it was my grandmother calling, which she never did when I was at work.

I walked away from Sampson and Fazio, found a pay phone, and called her. “Nana? Something wrong?”

“Everything’s right,” my grandmother said. “Maria’s gone into labor. I’ve just come back from taking her to St. Anthony’s. Go meet her there, and I’ll stay here with Damon.”

CHAPTER

90

Maria’s first delivery hadbeen slow, with Damon coming into our lives after fourteen hours of labor. But she’d dilated fast after her water broke at Nana Mama’s house, and I almost missed this birth.

I literally skidded into Maria’s room to find her sweating from head to toe, tended by two nurses and her obstetrician, Dr. Barbara Holmes, and very happy to see me.

“You made it for the grand finale,” she said, grinning.

“Just made it,” said Dr. Holmes. “We’re going to push at the next contraction, okay?”

I took my wife’s hand, and when the contraction came, Maria strained and screamed. At the end a nurse said, “Already starting to crown. Your baby’s at the finish line!”