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Into barrel and handle, two separate pieces. He used a separate air shaft for each. They

made no sound when they struck the earth five stories below, but sank into the soft hill

of garbage that had accumulated there. In the morning more garbage would be thrown

out of the windows and, with luck, would cover everything. Vito returned to his

apartment.

He was trembling a little but was absolutely under control. He changed his clothes and

fearful that some blood might have splattered on them, he threw them into a metal tub

his wife used for washing. He took lye (щёлок) and heavy brown laundry soap to soak

the clothes and scrubbed them with the metal wash board beneath the sink. Then he

scoured (to scour – отчищать, оттирать) tub and sink with lye and soap. He found a

bundle of newly washed clothes in the corner of the bedroom and mingled his own

clothes with these. Then he put on a fresh shirt and trousers and went down to join his

wife and children and neighbors in front of the tenement.

All these precautions proved to be unnecessary. The police, after discovering the

dead body at dawn, never questioned Vito Corleone. Indeed he was astonished that

they never learned about Fanucci's visit to his home on the night he was shot to death.

Мультиязыковой проект Ильи Франка www.franklang.ru

47

He had counted on that for an alibi, Fanucci leaving the tenement alive. He only learned

later that the police had been delighted with the murder of Fanucci and not too anxious

to pursue his killers. They had assumed it was another gang execution, and had

questioned hoodlums with records in the rackets and a history of strong-arm. Since Vito

had never been in trouble he never came into the picture.

But if he had outwitted the police, his partners were another matter. Pete Clemenza

and Tessio avoided him for the next week, for the next two weeks, then they came to

call on him one evening. They came with obvious respect. Vito Corleone greeted them

with impassive courtesy and served them wine.

Clemenza spoke first. He said softly, "Nobody is collecting from the store owners on

Ninth Avenue. Nobody is collecting from the card games and gambling in the

neighborhood."

Vito Corleone gazed at both men steadily but did not reply. Tessio spoke. "We could

take over Fanucci's customers. They would pay us."

Vito Corleone shrugged. "Why come to me? I have no interest in such things."

Clemenza laughed. Even in his youth, before growing his enormous belly, he had a fat

man's laugh. He said now to Vito Corleone, "How about that gun I gave you for the truck

job? Since you won't need it any more you can give it back to me."

Very slowly and deliberately Vito Corleone took a wad of bills out of his side pocket

and peeled off five tens. "Here, I'll pay you. I threw the gun away after the truck job." He

smiled at the two men.

At that time Vito Corleone did not know the effect of this smile. It was chilling because

it attempted no menace. He smiled as if it was some private joke only he himself could

appreciate. But since he smiled in that fashion only in affairs that were lethal, and since

the joke was not really private and since his eyes did not smile, and since his outward

character was usually so reasonable and quiet, the sudden unmasking of his true self

was frightening.

Clemenza shook his head. "I don't want the money," he said. Vito pocketed the bills.

He waited. They all understood each other. They knew he had killed Fanucci and

though they never spoke about it to anyone the whole neighborhood, within a few

weeks, also knew. Vito Corleone was treated as a "man of respect" by everyone. But he

made no attempt to take over the Fanucci rackets and tributes.

What followed then was inevitable. One night Vito's wife brought a neighbor, a widow,

to the flat. The woman was Italian and of unimpeachable (безупречный,

безукоризненный; to impeach – брать под сомнение, бросать тень; порицать)

Мультиязыковой проект Ильи Франка www.franklang.ru

character. She worked hard to keep a home for her fatherless children. Her sixteen-

year-old son brought home his pay envelope sealed, to hand over to her in the old-

48

country style; her seventeen-year-old daughter, a dressmaker, did the same. The whole

family sewed buttons on cards at night at slave labor piece rates. The woman's name

was Signora Colombo.

Vito Corleone's wife said, "The Signora has a favor to ask of you. She is having some

trouble."

Vito Corleone expected to be asked for money, which he was ready to give. But it

seemed that Mrs. Colombo owned a dog which her youngest son adored. The landlord

had received complaints on the dog barking at night and had told Mrs. Colombo to get

rid of it. She had pretended to do so. The landlord had found out that she had deceived

him and had ordered her to vacate her apartment. She had promised this time to truly

get rid of the dog and she had done so. But the landlord was so angry that he would not

revoke (отменить, взять назад) his order. She had to get out or the police would be

summoned (to summon [‘sΛm∂n] – требовать исполнения) to put her out. And her

poor little boy had cried so when they had given the dog away to relatives who lived in

Long Island. All for nothing (ни за что ни про что), they would lose their home.

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