back in a flash. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Greene." He grabbed their coats and Luzette's hand and they disappeared into the night laughing like young people should when they're in love.
There was an awkward silence after they left.
"He never brought a girl home before. I thought he was gay."
"So, what did you think?"
"Can I be honest here? I always thought black was beautiful, before it was a popular opinion. Beautiful, yes, but not one of us. She must be pretty special for him to bring her home."
"I must be pretty special too."
"You're black?" Frankie laughed, and so did I. "Do you know how they met? Gianni said she was an angel of mercy. She took care of him after the ferry crashed back in October. I thought she was a nurse."
"A French nurse." I smiled.
"We should call Angelina, congratulate her." Frankie started putting away the cannoli.
"I knew it wasn't really a dog in the trunk of that car."
"Oh yes he was," Frankie said, biting into another cannoli.
Â
* * *
Â
We put on our coats, heavy gloves, and snow boots, and trudged out into the backyard. The ground was frozen, but there we were at dusk with a shovel and a pick ax in thirty-degree weather digging a hole for the white marble Madonna statue her son had given her. Unstoppable, Frankie went into the garage and came back with a lit propane torch. She handled it like a professional and passed it over a large square of earth. Tossing me a shovel, she took up a pick ax and we went to work.
"You know what brought me to New York? A man who lied to me, cheated on me, then dumped me. Before I met my husband I didn't think I would ever be able to trust anybody again. His friends didn't approve of us because I wasn't Jewish. Raymond saved my life." A flood of tears cooled my cheeks.
"My cannoli never had this effect on anyone before."
"Frankie, you don't have to love that girl, but she loves him and he loves you."
"It's okay by me if Gianni and that young lady want to have some café con leche babies so I won't have to take the cannoli recipe with me to my grave. I'll show her how to make gravy."
"What kind of gravy? The kind you put on biscuits?"
"Madonna! Have you got a lot to learn, Cookie." She wiped the tears from my eyes.
"I never had a nickname before."
"Well, Cookie, it suits you."
We had been digging for about twenty minutes when I heard Frankie let out a low moan.
"Madonna!"
I looked down into the hole and saw the skull. There was a dirty Dodger's baseball cap on the ground beside her feet.
"You bastard!" Frankie spat the words.
"Is that your husband?" I whispered in the dark.
"Are you nuts? That's Jackie Domino. He lived next door."
"How do you know it's him?"
"He wore that Dodgers cap like a flag."
"What's he doing in your backyard?"
"How the hell should I know? That dirty pile of bones kissed me at his sister's wedding, then bragged about it to some of his friends. I told my husband what really happened. A few days later Jackie told everyone he was taking a vacation in Florida. I never saw him again. His daughter sold the house not long after that and moved to the city."
"Frankie, we have to call the police."
"Not gonna happen, Marie."
"Did you give him your cannoli recipe?"
"Wasn't me, if that's what you're thinking. Jackie Domino was not a nice man. No class. Could've been anybody. His ex-wife, she was paying him alimony for the pleasure of not being married to him. He was a big gambler, liked to play the ponies, it could've been his bookie. He was a bully. His kids hated him too."
"What about your husband?"
"Ignacio? He was no saint, but I don't think he'd have killed Jackie over a kiss. Rough him up a little, no doubt, but he wouldn't have risked making me a jailhouse widow over this worthless pile of bones."
She picked up the Dodgers hat and turned it over like she was searching for clues, then kept her head down and wept. I put my arms around her and hummed that blues song I held onto in my cloudiest hours.
Dark was
There was an awkward silence after they left.
"He never brought a girl home before. I thought he was gay."
"So, what did you think?"
"Can I be honest here? I always thought black was beautiful, before it was a popular opinion. Beautiful, yes, but not one of us. She must be pretty special for him to bring her home."
"I must be pretty special too."
"You're black?" Frankie laughed, and so did I. "Do you know how they met? Gianni said she was an angel of mercy. She took care of him after the ferry crashed back in October. I thought she was a nurse."
"A French nurse." I smiled.
"We should call Angelina, congratulate her." Frankie started putting away the cannoli.
"I knew it wasn't really a dog in the trunk of that car."
"Oh yes he was," Frankie said, biting into another cannoli.
Â
* * *
Â
We put on our coats, heavy gloves, and snow boots, and trudged out into the backyard. The ground was frozen, but there we were at dusk with a shovel and a pick ax in thirty-degree weather digging a hole for the white marble Madonna statue her son had given her. Unstoppable, Frankie went into the garage and came back with a lit propane torch. She handled it like a professional and passed it over a large square of earth. Tossing me a shovel, she took up a pick ax and we went to work.
"You know what brought me to New York? A man who lied to me, cheated on me, then dumped me. Before I met my husband I didn't think I would ever be able to trust anybody again. His friends didn't approve of us because I wasn't Jewish. Raymond saved my life." A flood of tears cooled my cheeks.
"My cannoli never had this effect on anyone before."
"Frankie, you don't have to love that girl, but she loves him and he loves you."
"It's okay by me if Gianni and that young lady want to have some café con leche babies so I won't have to take the cannoli recipe with me to my grave. I'll show her how to make gravy."
"What kind of gravy? The kind you put on biscuits?"
"Madonna! Have you got a lot to learn, Cookie." She wiped the tears from my eyes.
"I never had a nickname before."
"Well, Cookie, it suits you."
We had been digging for about twenty minutes when I heard Frankie let out a low moan.
"Madonna!"
I looked down into the hole and saw the skull. There was a dirty Dodger's baseball cap on the ground beside her feet.
"You bastard!" Frankie spat the words.
"Is that your husband?" I whispered in the dark.
"Are you nuts? That's Jackie Domino. He lived next door."
"How do you know it's him?"
"He wore that Dodgers cap like a flag."
"What's he doing in your backyard?"
"How the hell should I know? That dirty pile of bones kissed me at his sister's wedding, then bragged about it to some of his friends. I told my husband what really happened. A few days later Jackie told everyone he was taking a vacation in Florida. I never saw him again. His daughter sold the house not long after that and moved to the city."
"Frankie, we have to call the police."
"Not gonna happen, Marie."
"Did you give him your cannoli recipe?"
"Wasn't me, if that's what you're thinking. Jackie Domino was not a nice man. No class. Could've been anybody. His ex-wife, she was paying him alimony for the pleasure of not being married to him. He was a big gambler, liked to play the ponies, it could've been his bookie. He was a bully. His kids hated him too."
"What about your husband?"
"Ignacio? He was no saint, but I don't think he'd have killed Jackie over a kiss. Rough him up a little, no doubt, but he wouldn't have risked making me a jailhouse widow over this worthless pile of bones."
She picked up the Dodgers hat and turned it over like she was searching for clues, then kept her head down and wept. I put my arms around her and hummed that blues song I held onto in my cloudiest hours.
Dark was
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