by J. D. Griffo
Alberta wasn’t able to tell if Nola shared her opinion that Johnny’s comment was callous and inappropriate when she pulled her boyfriend away from the group in an attempt to calm him down. Regardless of what Nola thought of Johnny’s point of view, it was clear that Jinx, Freddy, and Sloan agreed with Alberta.
“Dude,” Freddy said. “That dude’s rude.”
“Also too, as Aunt Joyce would say,” Jinx added, “he’s a jerk.”
“I don’t disagree with either of you,” Sloan said, “but we’re not theatre people, and remember that old adage.”
“Chi è più freddo? L’uomo o il cadavere?” Alberta asked.
“What’s that mean, Gram?” Jinx asked.
“Who’s colder: the man or the corpse?” Alberta translated.
“I’m going with the dude,” Freddy said. “I mean, the man.”
“You might be right, Berta,” Sloan said. “But I was referring to the theatre motto: The show must go on. Despite Missy’s unfortunate and ill-timed demise, the Tranquility Players still have a show to do. As the director, that’s Johnny’s top priority, which means he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress.”
“And stress does make people act funny,” Alberta added.
“It certainly does,” Sloan said. “And he and Nola both had a lot riding on this show.”
The fate of their production of Arsenic and Old Lace would have to wait as a different type of show was currently taking place in the theatre.
Two men wheeled the gurney that held Missy’s body across the stage. They moved from stage right to stage left and slowly rolled the gurney down the ramp that led to audience level. Like a funeral procession, the men moved down the aisle of the theatre, causing the group to part to either side to let the gurney pass by.
When Missy’s body, covered in a thin, white sheet, passed them, they all made the sign of the cross. Everyone except Johnny. Alberta wasn’t sure if he abstained from the gesture because he wasn’t religious or if he wasn’t sorry that Missy was dead. Maybe he was still angry with her because he considered her death to be more of an inconvenience than a tragedy. For the moment, Alberta pushed those thoughts out of her mind so she could concentrate on praying for Missy’s soul.
When the results of the autopsy came in, she’d decide if she needed to pray for Johnny’s soul as well.
CHAPTER 10
Scatta una foto, dura più a lungo.
A melancholy air floated above the ladies’ heads, thick and heavy, until it descended and infiltrated their spirits, turning their moods from somber to heartsick. A woman didn’t die alone, she took with her a collection of dreams.
Sitting around Alberta’s kitchen table, the four women who made up the unofficial Ferrara Family Detective Agency stared at their glasses of untouched Red Herring and unopened Entenmann’s boxes and wrestled with what had transpired only a few hours before. The event itself, as well as the collateral damage. Each of them had a reason to mourn.
Joyce had enjoyed Missy’s movies as a child, but it was only when she was an adult, with her own children, that she felt a connection to the fictional character she hadn’t previously recognized. Although Daisy was raised by her grandmother, she was an orphan and, consequently, on her own. As the only African American member of a large Italian family, Joyce often felt the same way. She was never alone, but oftentimes she felt isolated, not because of anything the Ferraras did, just the undeniable fact that she was an outsider. It was this kinship with Daisy that filled her with excitement to finally meet her. She was also delighted to be working with Sloan on the show’s publicity and explore a professional skill she hadn’t utilized in years.
Jinx didn’t have a personal bond with Missy until she saw her movies, and then she saw herself as the little girl on the screen, forging a new and unexpectedly powerful relationship with her grandmother. She couldn’t wait to interview the woman and delve into her connections with Teddy as well as her biological grandmother. But the opportunity would never come. Jinx had been in this situation before, where a professional gig was derailed due to circumstances out of her control, but the sense of loss was still maddening.
Helen admitted that her feelings about Missy’s demise were largely selfish. At her core she grieved for the loss of life, but right outside that feeling was a more personal sorrow for the loss of her chance to appear onstage. She knew it was a petty and self-centered reflection that shamed her, and yet she couldn’t shake the sense of utter disappointment that consumed her.
Alberta felt like a part of her had died along with Missy. Was she being narcissistic? Was she being histrionic? She didn’t know. All she was certain of was that a woman her age who resembled her, a woman she’d fantasized was her childhood friend, had died before she got to say hello. It was devastating. It made Alberta contemplate her own mortality, and it put death with a capital D into a new perspective.
None of these losses were as significant as the loss of a human life, but nevertheless, having those dreams and hopes shattered so abruptly and completely left wounds that cut deep. Wounds that would take a long time to heal, especially if it turned out that Missy took her own life. A fact that the ladies vigorously debated.
“Do you think Vinny could be right and Missy committed suicide?” Joyce asked.
She said the last word softly, almost mouthing it, so Lola, who she was cradling in her arms, wouldn’t overhear.
“I don’t think so,” Alberta said.
“We can’t gloss over the obvious,” Jinx instructed. “Missy was found clutching a bottle of arsenic.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit too on the nose?” Alberta said.
“She was going to star in Arsenic and Old Lace,” Helen started. “Maybe she felt it gave her death some kind of symbolism.”
“Clearly, the woman loved symbolism,” Jinx said. “I mean, she wrapped herself in a lace shawl.”
“No, she didn’t,” Alberta said.
“Gram, we all saw it,” Jinx said. “I’m not sure if it was hers or a prop, but Missy’s body was wrapped in a lace shawl.”
“I know that’s what it looked like,” Alberta said. “But that’s wrong.”
It could have been the late hour, or it could have been that everyone was tired after a long and unfortunately noteworthy day, but tension started to grow between the ladies like a foul odor. It was unpleasant, but it couldn’t be ignored.
“Berta, now you’re getting carried away,” Helen said. “I know you think you always know what’s going on, but there’s no way you could know that.”
“Helen’s right, Berta, you need to reel in your imagination,” Joyce added. “Missy was an actress, maybe she was creating a scene. She drank some arsenic and then added a nice touch by wrapping herself in a lace shawl.”
“Missy wasn’t being subtle, nor did she kill herself,” Alberta declared. “Somebody did that for her.”
Jinx’s face scrunched up, as if she’d just bit into a sour apple. “Trust me, Gram, I get it. If Missy was killed, that would make for a much better story.”
“It isn’t a story, lovey, it’s the truth,” Alberta protested. “Missy was murdered.”
“Just because that’s what you think happened, Berta, doesn’t make it the truth,” Helen stated.
“It isn’t what I think happened, it’s what I know!” Alberta shouted.
She didn’t mean to shout, but she was growing tired of not being heard. Hadn’t she proven that her instincts were usually right? Hadn’t she solved enough murders to warrant devotion from her flock? Shouldn’t all those around her offer up blind faith and simply agree to whatever she said knowing she couldn’t possibly be wrong?
Instead of following up her shout with a rant, Alberta started to laugh. Acting foolish was better than saying something that would make her look like a fool. The women sitting around her kitchen table weren’t part of her flock, they weren’t her entourage, they were her family. And family didn’t always temper honesty with sweet talk.
“I’m sorry,” Alberta said. “I didn’t mean to yell. It’s been a stressful day.”
“It’s been a stressful week,” Helen said. “But you’re not off the hook, Berta. Why are you so insistent that Missy was murdered?”
“Because she was,” Alberta replied. “And it was premeditated.”
Now that Alberta was speaking in a quiet, almost resigned tone, her claim didn’t trigger exasperation, it didn’t make those around her indignant and combative, it made them curious.
“How do you know that, Gram?” Jinx asked.
“Because she wasn’t wrapped in a lace shawl,” Alberta replied.
“Yes, she was,” Joyce said. “We all saw it.”
“No, we all saw what the killer wanted us to see,” Alberta explained.
“Berta, we’re all tired,” Helen said. “Just tell us what you’re talking about. What did we see that we really didn’t see?”
“Missy wasn’t wrapped in a lace shawl,” Alberta said, “it was a lace curtain.”
“A curtain?” Helen said. “How do you know that?”
Alberta looked around the table sheepishly. She wasn’t proud of what she had done, but it was time to confess, and prove that she had come to her conclusion about Missy’s demise not solely based on instinct, but also on fact.
“I may or may not have taken a photo of the crime scene,” Alberta announced.
“You did what?!” Jinx exclaimed.
“Berta, is that allowed?” Joyce asked. “I mean, is it a crime to take a photo of a crime scene?”
“Technically, when we first found Missy’s body, the dressing room wasn’t a crime scene,” Jinx said. “However, I think it’s fair to say it’s generally frowned upon to use such a locale as a photo op.”
“Wait a second,” Helen said. “Jinx, weren’t you with your grandmother when you found the body?”
“Yes,” Jinx replied. “Gram and I were the first to arrive at the scene; we discovered Missy together.”
“That room is tiny,” Helen said. “How come you didn’t see her snap some photos of the dead movie star?”
Slowly, three heads turned to stare at Alberta. It would’ve been four, but Lola had sensed the conversation had the potential to become belligerent, so she leaped from Joyce’s arms for the safety of the living room.
“Remember, lovey, when I entered the room on my own to check that Missy was really dead?” Alberta asked.
“Of course; you took off your shoes first so you wouldn’t contaminate the room,” Jinx said.
“After I couldn’t find a pulse and declared Missy was dead, I saw that you turned away to pray, so I took some photos of Missy with my phone,” Alberta confessed.
“You took advantage of my moment in prayer to snap some photos of a dead woman?!” Jinx shrieked.
“That is one way to describe my actions,” Alberta said.
“Gram, I have never been so proud of you!” Jinx exclaimed.
“Subdolo!” Helen proclaimed, raising her hand overhead and pointing her index finger to the heavens.
“Yes, it was sneaky,” Alberta admitted. “And I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I did. All I could think of was that phrase everybody used to say when we were kids.”
“Which one?” Helen asked. “‘You’re all gonna burn in hell’?”
“Scatta una foto, dura più a lungo,” Alberta replied.
Joyce laughed involuntarily. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”
“So does this suspense,” Jinx said. “I can’t take it anymore, Gram, show us the results of your borderline spiritual transgression.”
Reluctantly, Alberta stood up and grabbed her pocketbook from the kitchen counter. She sat back down and placed it on the kitchen table, and as if she were performing a pious ceremony, she unzipped the pocketbook, stuck her hand inside its confines, and slowly retrieved her phone. By the time she held the prize in her hand, the three other women had gotten up and stood behind her. Turned out she did have a flock. Alberta was the cleric and Jinx, Joyce, and Helen were her impatient congregation. It was revelation time.
When Alberta brought up the photo of Missy sprawled out on the settee, the three women crowded behind Alberta gasped. This was the first time Helen and Joyce had seen Missy in her role as a corpse, so they were shocked by the visual. Although Jinx had been one of the first to witness Missy’s death, seeing it captured on camera gave it a grotesque appearance. Even Alberta grimaced when she looked at her screen. She closed one eye and turned her head away as she did when she watched one of those old horror movies Sloan loved.
There might not be any blood in the photo, nor was Missy’s body disturbed in any way, it was still a gruesome portrait of the last moments of someone’s life. Just knowing that the woman they were looking at was dead gave Missy’s peaceful stare and supine position an aura of the macabre. Suddenly, Jinx expressed an unabashed enthusiasm for her grandmother’s slightly unethical achievement that surprised the women more than the morbid screenshot.
“Oh my God, Gram, this is so gross, but at the same time so fascinating!” Jinx roared. “You have got to send that photo to me!”
“Ah Madon, why would you want such a thing?” Alberta asked.
“Do you know how much of a raise Wyck will give me for a photo like this?” Jinx asked rhetorically.
“Jinxie!” Helen cried. “You can’t put Missy’s dead face on the cover of The Herald.”
“Why not?” Jinx asked.
“Because it’s immoral,” Helen replied.
“It’s indecent,” Alberta said.
“Also too, Vinny will blow a gasket,” Joyce added.
“Joyce is right, lovey,” Alberta said. “Vinny isn’t your biggest fan and he’ll be out for blood if you do that.”
“I don’t understand why the man doesn’t like me,” Jinx said. “I’m really very likable.”
“Voi due siete come l‘olio e l’acqua,” Alberta explained.
“Which one’s the oil and which one’s the water?” Jinx asked.
“Let’s not dwell on that right now,” Alberta said. “Swear to me you won’t publish that photo.”
With her arms crossed, Jinx stomped her foot. “Fine! But how does that photo prove Missy was wearing a lace curtain and not a lace shawl?”
The fact that the women had reacted so viscerally when they were shown the one photo Alberta had taken of the deceased woman, it was not surprising that they’d reacted in an even more heightened fashion when they discovered she had taken three.
Alberta swiped left to reveal a close-up photo of Missy’s face and then swiped left again to reveal a close-up of the lace. For some reason, the group shrieked louder when they saw the photo of the material than when they saw the photo of a dead Missy’s face with her eyes opened, but it was more of a reaction to the unexpected image than to what they were actually seeing. At every swipe, Alberta was surprising them, so they naturally expected the next image to be worse than the first.
“What in the world were you doing, Berta?” Helen asked. “Building a portfolio?”
“I was trying to capture a clue,” Alberta replied. “Look closely at this photo and tell me what you see.”
Helen, Jinx, and Joyce peered closer to the close-up. The women searched the photo for a suggestion that would indicate what they were looking at was a piece of a curtain and not a shawl, but all they saw was a piece of lace. They weren’t able to see what Alberta had seen until she told them what was hiding in plain sight.
“Look closely,” Alberta said. “You can see an opening for the curtain rod at the bottom of the hem.”
Another gasp arose from the group.
“Wow, Gram, you’re right,” Jinx said.
“Look at that,” Helen said, “it isn’t a shawl after all, it’s a curtain.”
“Which means that it wasn’t Missy’s,” Alberta declared.
“How can you be certain, Gram?” Jinx asked. “The photo confirms that it’s a curtain,
but Missy could’ve easily used that instead of a shawl.”
“Think about it,” Alberta started. “If Missy was going to go to the trouble of staging a symbolic suicide, don’t you think she would put some effort into it and get a real lace shawl? Such a thing isn’t hard to find, and being an actress, she would be aware of how important details are when creating a scene.”
“That’s really smart, Gram,” Jinx said.
“Thank you, lovey, but I wish I was wrong about all this,” Alberta replied.
“Why would you say that, Berta?” Joyce asked. “This is a very important clue.”
“I know,” Alberta said. “But it means that someone brought the lace curtain with them with the specific intention of staging Missy’s murder in her dressing room so it looked like a suicide.”
“That’s a sobering thought that, unfortunately, makes sense,” Joyce said. “If Missy were going to commit suicide, she would’ve waited until after the show opened for maximum publicity.”
“Or at least she would’ve done it on the stage during rehearsal to make sure she was found by as many people as possible,” Jinx hypothesized. “Not hidden away in her dressing room where no one knew where she was.”
Helen shook her head. Not because she disagreed with what she was hearing; she just didn’t like the implication. “Missy wanted to be back in the public eye, that’s why she was reigniting her career. If she wanted to kill herself in darkness, without an audience, she could’ve done it at home.”
No one had to say the words out loud because they all knew the truth. And it was a painful truth to admit. Their beloved star hadn’t taken her own life. Someone had murdered Missy Michaels and they’d done it right under their noses.
CHAPTER 11
Meglio amico che nemico.
No matter how many times Alberta and Jinx walked through the front doors of St. Clare’s Hospital, it never got easier. It didn’t matter if they were entering the facility as visitors or investigators, death was always lurking nearby. As amateur detectives working on a case, they had no choice but to get used to the feeling of rubbing shoulders with the grim reaper. As women, however, they found these visits emotionally daunting.