WANTED: Love of my Life

40. Legless Evidence

Other than the one at Mrs. Reynolds' house, this door opened only after the fourth knock. When it did, the mountain of a man in the doorframe stared down at me, not very friendly. But I was not one to let myself be intimidated.

“Oh, it's you again. What do you want?” our Italian neighbor growled.

“I wanted to ask you the meaning of another word, if it's not too much trouble.”

“It is.”

“Sorry? What is what?”

“It is too much trouble.”

“Oh.” I gave him my tried and tested puppy dog expression. It was really useful sometimes to have such big, blue eyes. “Do you think you could tell me anyway?”

He was tough. For two or three seconds, he was able to resist. Then he grunted and shrugged.

“Maledizione! Go ahead, if you must!”

I took the piece of paper out of my pocket. On my way home from Jen's, I had wracked my brain and finally remembered the other word I was interested in. So I had written it down – just in case I would have the same trouble remembering it that I normally encountered when trying to remembering language stuff for school.

“Caccasotti. That was the word. Caccasotti.”

The big bald man frowned.

“Means 'wussies'.”

“Whatsies?”

“Wussies. You know, cowards, wimps.”

“Oh. I see.” I nodded and quickly wrote that down on the paper next to the original word. “That will help me a lot in Italian class.”

He gave me the hairy eyeball, and let me tell you, in contrast to the top of his head, it was very hairy.

“Sons of Bitches? Wussies?” He raised an eyebrow. “Impressive Vocabulary. Must have a pretty strange Italian teacher.”

“He's certainly unique,” I replied quickly, before he could ask me any questions I couldn't invent answers too quickly enough. But although he seemed suspicious, he didn't seem inclined to say anything more. Small wonder. “Thank you!” I said, smiling up at him. “Thank you so much, Mr...?”

“None of your business.”

And Mr. None of your business closed the door in my face. Sweet.

When I entered the flat, I saw a message on the notepad beside the phone in the hallway:

Miss Ellis called

Said she had found you out or something like that.

Are you in trouble again?

Mom

I took up the pen and scrawled underneath the first message:

Not found me out, found out something for me.

Don't worry, Mom, everything is going great.

Well, my grades maybe not so much, but everything else.

So keep your hat on.

Ange

Then I exchanged the pen for the receiver and started to dial. Miss Ellis had been quicker than I expected. But then, she was the incarnation of efficiency. Something that was again proven when I was finished dialing. The phone rang only twice before she picked up and announced: “Emmeline Ellis.” Nothing more. No hello, no how may I help you or why the hell do you call me at this hour. I hadn't really expected anything else. After all, I knew her.

“Hello, Miss Ellis? This is Angela MacAllen speaking.”

“Oh, good evening, Angela. Did your mother tell you I called?”

“She wrote me a note.”

“I see.”

I swallowed. “Did you find out anything?”

Did my voice betray my eagerness?

“Yes, in fact, I did. The um... expressive emblem you showed me...”

“You mean the fu-”

“Yes, that one,” she interrupted me hurriedly. “I found out what it means.”

I nearly bit my tongue off in excitement.

“It appears to be the symbol of a well-known association of lawbreakers in the vicinity of San Francisco. Very disreputable and dangerous people, as far as I could determine.”

It took me a moment to process what she had said.

“A gang? You mean it's the sign of a gang?”

“That is, I believe, the commonly used expression, yes.”

“Wow.”

For a few moments, there was silence. I was still digesting this information, and Miss Ellis' voice jolted me out of my revery.

“Angela?”

“W-what?”

“About the second symbol...”

Fear, anticipation, hope, all were mixed in a sudden violent upsurge of emotions. Forget the other symbol! This was the important one. The other one I had found on a garbage can. This one I had found on Giacomo's arm!

I gripped the receiver with both hands.

“Yes? What does it mean?”

“That, I was unable to determine.”

“What?!”

“I know, it is irritating, isn't it? And strange. I found many references to symbols all over the world of hands gripping various objects, but never the same number of hands, never the same objects. There doesn't seem to be any logical pattern behind such symbols.”

“Oh.”

“And nothing exceptional to report, either.”

“Well,” I sighed. “Thanks for trying, Miss Ellis.”

“Except maybe...”

“Yes?” I perked up.

“Except for one report. But it's just one report, and unsubstantiated at that, the man vanished soon after.”

“Tell me!” Just then, I remembered that I was talking to my teacher and appended: “Please. I'd really like to know.”

“But it is somewhat... ugly. I do not wish to frighten you.”

I had to swallow again.

“Don't worry about that.”

“As you wish. There was this young man who got a tattoo, you see.”

A cold shiver ran down my back.

“A... tattoo. I get it, yes.”

“One day he disappeared. His parents were frantic. They started a campaign, the police got involved, they looked all over the place for him. Then, suddenly, a month later, he turns up again.”

“Just like that?”

“Well not quite. When I said he turned up again, that wasn't quite correct. You see...” Miss Ellis hesitated. “You see, not all of him turned up again. He was missing the leg on which the tattoo had been.”

I had to grip the edge of the hallway table to keep standing.

“He... was missing a leg?”

“Yes. Extraordinary, isn't it.”

“Quite,” I managed.

“And do you want to know what the most amazing thing is?”

“There's more?”

“Oh yes. The young man went to the police. Apparently, he wanted the people found who had done this to him. The very next day, he had disappeared again. And he was never seen again on the face of this earth. Strange, isn't it?”