by J. D. Griffo
“How do you think rehearsals are going, Alberta?” Bruno asked.
“I finally learned my lines for the opening scene, which was a huge hurdle to get over, so for me they’re getting better,” Alberta said. “Though I do wish Johnny would stop his yelling. Dio mio! He likes to hear himself shout.”
“He’s a blithering idiot if you ask me,” Bruno said.
No one had asked Bruno how he felt about Johnny. However, now that he offered his unadulterated opinion, Alberta forgot all about her desire not to engage in any theatre talk and wanted to know more about why Bruno had critiqued their director so harshly. Knowing that Bruno had a soft spot where Nola was concerned, she made the assumption that his comment about Johnny was less about his being a loudmouthed director and more about his being a bad boyfriend.
“Are your feelings about Johnny somehow connected to your feelings about Nola?” Alberta asked.
Sloan seemed much more surprised by Alberta’s comment than Bruno, who silently mulled over her question before responding. “As her former lawyer, I still feel protective of Nola,” Bruno said. “She always finds herself unwittingly in a bad situation through absolutely no fault of her own.”
“Nola’s the one who brought Missy to Tranquility in the first place,” Alberta said. “Not for nothing, but she kind of created a bad situation for herself by setting things into motion.”
“No, she didn’t,” Bruno corrected. “It was Johnny’s idea to do Arsenic and Old Lace and to cast Missy in the lead.”
Sloan and Alberta looked at each other, matching confused expressions on their faces. Sloan turned to Bruno and asked, “Are you sure? Because that’s not what we heard.”
“Nola wanted to do a Neil Simon comedy, like The Odd Couple, because everybody loves Neil Simon, well, everybody except Johnny,” Bruno explained. “And God forbid Nola contradict Johnny. I don’t know what it is, but he sure does have a hold over her.”
Sensing that Bruno wasn’t yet ready to admit the hold that Nola had over him, Alberta decided they had talked enough about facts and thought it safer to discuss fiction.
They continued to dissect the rehearsal process and how everyone was starting to flesh out their characters. Bruno said he knew Father Sal was a born comedian but was surprised how well he handled his character’s more sinister traits. Sloan agreed and surmised that it might be the result of delivering so many fire-and-brimstone sermons.
They all had nothing but praise for Helen. She had learned all her lines so quickly and now that she had mastered her blocking, she was finding the funny bits and nuances of Martha Brewster. Alberta beamed like only a proud sister could when Bruno admitted that no one could deny that Helen was doing a great job portraying a crotchety old lady with homicidal tendencies.
When he finished his meal, Bruno threw the container back into the bag and apologized for rushing off but confessed that he had to meet with a new client in fifteen minutes, so he had to run back to his office. After he left, Sloan grabbed Alberta’s arm, and his words delighted her.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.
“If you’re thinking that Nola’s a liar, then we’re thinking the same thought,” Alberta replied.
“Why do you think Nola would tell us that casting Missy was all her idea?”
“Maybe she was hoping to take all the credit?” Alberta suggested.
Sloan shook his head. “That really isn’t like her, and considering how she feels about Johnny, why would she deny him a bigger spotlight?”
“Johnny could’ve told her to lie, or it could’ve been an innocent slip of the tongue on Nola’s part,” Alberta said.
Sloan’s face scrunched up as if he didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “I don’t think Nola is all that innocent. But we’re overlooking the most important piece of this new puzzle.”
Alberta raised her eyebrows. “What’s that?”
“Why would Johnny even think of Missy?” Sloan asked. “He’s too young to know who she was. I mean, it’s possible that he saw one of her movies on the late show.”
“There’s only one way to find out why Johnny is the real mastermind behind Missy coming to Tranquility,” Alberta said.
Sloan took a deep breath before he spoke. “I’m afraid to ask this, but how?”
“It’s time Jinx and I found out the real story about Johnny Fenn.”
* * *
There was no rehearsal on Friday night, so they knew the theatre would be empty. They also knew that for a young woman, Nola had an old-fashioned work ethic and didn’t readily embrace technology. Everything she did in connection with the theatre was done with pens and paper, not keyboards and computers, and Alberta knew that every person associated with the play had to fill out an application form. If they could see Johnny’s application, maybe they could find a clue that would reveal the real man behind the director.
To avoid being noticed in case anyone was working late at the school, Alberta and Jinx parked a block away and entered the theatre from the back entrance. Jinx had swiped Nola’s key and would put it back on her key ring in the morning while she was in the shower getting ready for rehearsal. It would mean Jinx would have to get up early on a Saturday, but she was hoping whatever facts they uncovered about Johnny would be worth not being able to sleep in.
Now that a show was being rehearsed, a ghost lamp was kept lit on the stage at all times. It was a bit of superstition acknowledging that theatres were often haunted by the ghosts of actors past, but it had a practical side effect: It prevented Alberta and Jinx from bumping into things backstage.
They were about to open the doors leading to the lobby when they heard someone talking. At first, they thought it was Nola doing work in her office, but realized that it couldn’t be her because Jinx had her key. The voice got louder, and they immediately recognized a Jersey accent trying very hard not to sound like a Jersey accent.
“I left some papers at the theatre and I needed to pick them up, but I’m leaving now,” the voice said.
There was silence for a few moments as the woman who was speaking listened to whoever was on the receiving end of the call. But Alberta and Jinx had heard enough to know the woman doing the listening was Donna Russo.
“I understand this has to be kept secret, and believe you me, nobody wants this Missy Michaels nonsense to be behind us more than I do,” Donna barked.
There was another pause and Donna said, “I’m on my way.”
A door slammed shut and Alberta and Jinx were quite certain they were alone, but to be on the safe side, they didn’t move for a full minute. Once they creeped over to open one of the doors and look around the lobby, they were confident Donna had left the premises and they were the only two people inside the building.
“Should we follow Donna?” Jinx asked.
“No,” Alberta replied. “I know enough about Donna Russo to know that she’s harmless.”
“Really? What do you know about her, Gram?”
“Nothing important, lovey, at least not anything to do with this case.”
“What we just overheard kind of implicates her in this case,” Jinx said.
“Let’s focus on one suspect at a time,” Alberta said. “And right now that suspect is Johnny Fenn.”
Inside Nola’s office, there was only one filing cabinet, so it didn’t take them very long to find the paperwork they were looking for. When they found Johnny’s application, with copies of his Social Security card and passport attached, they realized they were focusing on the wrong suspect. Johnny Fenn technically didn’t exist, but Gianni Fennacacculi did.
“Ah, Madon!” Alberta cried. “That’s almost as Italian as Melissa Margherita Miccalizzo!”
Now that they had concrete evidence that Johnny had lied to them about his real name and Nola, for some reason, had covered up the fact that it was Johnny’s idea to stage Missy’s comeback, they were ready to confront Johnny with the truth and expose him for the fraud they knew he was. They weren’t sure if it wo
uld lead to him confessing to Missy’s murder, but it was a possibility. Alberta and Jinx formulated a simple but surefire plan to get Johnny to reveal his true identity, but for it to work, they needed Helen to participate.
The next morning at rehearsal, the eldest Ferrara proved she was a trouper. “This is what they call meta theatre, Berta,” Helen stated, standing center stage and opening her arms wide, as if presenting to an audience.
“All of a sudden you’re Melina Mercouri?” Alberta said. “What’s this meta theatre?”
“It’s a play within a play,” Helen explained, crossing to stage right. “You, me, and Johnny will be rehearsing Arsenic and Old Lace, but really, you and me will be acting out Will the Real Gianni Fennacacculi Please Stand Up?”
“I never heard of this meta theatre before, but yes, that’s what it’ll be like,” Alberta said. “We need Johnny to admit he’s been lying to us about his real name and who knows what else.”
“I’ve got it covered, I’ve been acting far longer than you have, Berta,” Helen said. “I understand how to use a scene to my advantage.”
“As long as you get Johnny to admit he’s really Gianni, I don’t care what you do in the scene,” Alberta replied.
“It makes no sense to me, though,” Helen said. “Why would he change his name? Just listen to it ... Fennacacculi... it sounds like the song of Sicily.”
“Maybe all the yelling he does has made Johnny tone-deaf,” Alberta said.
The lobby doors slammed shut, announcing their director’s arrival.
“Places!” Helen cried. She then continued in a hushed whisper, “Let our scene begin.”
The door to the theatre was flung open and Johnny entered. He was wearing the same outfit he’d been wearing since the beginning of rehearsal: jeans, a white T-shirt, and his navy-blue baseball cap with the gold M embroidered on the front. Alberta assumed he had several T-shirts in the same style because despite his downtown look, he always smelled fresh and clean. But perhaps he went home every night and washed his clothes. Or maybe he just yelled at his shirts until any odors disappeared in fright.
“What a nice change of pace, ladies!” Johnny bellowed. “You’re on time.”
Helen remembered an old Italian phrase, Non si può aver il miele senza la pecchie, which roughly translated to honey is sweet, but the bee stings. Yelling was part of Johnny’s charm, but his words still had some bite. Although she had quietly taken his verbal abuse as an actress in his play, she was looking forward to seeing how the bee would react when it got stung.
“Rehearsal started five minutes ago, Johnny,” Helen remarked. “You’re the one who’s late.”
“Already in character, I see,” Johnny replied. He placed his left palm onto the stage, flung his body to the right, and didn’t stop moving until his two feet landed on the stage. “Let’s take this scene from the top.”
They ran through the scene once as directed, but when Johnny told them to do it again, this time with more feeling, Helen changed the stage direction. Instead of crossing stage left to where the couch would be, she crossed stage right to the front door.
“Stop!” Johnny shrieked. “You’re supposed to cross stage left!”
Suddenly, Helen’s face transformed into an innocent gaze and Alberta thought she was auditioning to play the lead in a stage version of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. When she spoke, however, Alberta detected the venomous tone of the housekeeper in Rebecca. “Are you sure about that?” Helen asked. She then placed one hand on her hip and gave what could only be described as a come-hither look as she said, “Mr. Fennacacculi?”
The blood drained from Johnny’s face and he looked as if he was playing out the last scene of Witness for the Prosecution. He opened his mouth to speak, but he had clearly forgotten his lines. Helen needed to prompt him.
“Should I check my script notes to see what the stage direction is?” Helen asked. “Mr. Fennacacculi?”
“How ... how do you know my name?” Johnny stuttered.
“That’s beside the point, Gianni,” Alberta stated. “What matters is why you’ve been masquerading as Johnny Fenn when that’s not who you are.”
Johnny was still in such shock he could hardly speak. “I... I...”
“Spit it out, Johnny!” Helen cried. “How do you expect them to hear you in the balcony?”
“This theatre doesn’t have a balcony, Helen,” Alberta whispered.
“It’s a theatrical reference, Berta!” Helen yelled. “Come on, Gianni, it’s your line.”
“I never meant to lie, I swear,” Johnny said, finally in command of his voice. “But I learned a long time ago that I could get more work if my name sounded less ethnic and not so, you know, not so ... Italian.”
“Holy Bobby DeNiro!” Alberta cried.
“Haven’t you ever heard of Martin Scorsese?” Helen asked. “He’s Italian and his career hasn’t suffered.”
“I know, but Fennacacculi is hard to spell, and if you can’t spell a name, you can’t Google it,” Johnny said. “I was thinking about changing it for a long time and one day my ex created a website for me, JohnnyFenn.com, and it was a done deal. Gianni Fennacacculi died that day and Johnny Fenn was born.”
“That was a smart business decision,” Alberta said. “That website is easier to type out than GianniFennacac-culi. com. But that isn’t everything you’re hiding, is it?”
“What else is there?” Johnny said. “I anglicized my name to push my career forward. I’m not proud of turning my back on my heritage, but there’s nothing more behind the change.”
“I’m not talking about your name, I’m talking about the real reason behind why you’re directing this show,” Alberta said. “It was your idea—not Nola’s—to bring Missy Michaels here, wasn’t it?”
Once again, Johnny started stuttering. “Nuh-nuh-nuh ... no!” For a director who was constantly telling his actors to articulate, he clearly wasn’t taking his own advice.
“Stop lying!” Helen barked. “We know it was your idea, we want to know why Nola told everyone it was her brainchild.”
“Because I told Nola to say that!” Johnny confessed. “I wanted Nola to take the credit, it’s her theatre after all.”
“You expect us to believe you were just being ... nice?” Alberta asked, her question filled with sarcasm.
“Yes!” Johnny shouted. “I know I’m a loudmouth, I know I can sometimes come off like a jerk, but I love Nola.”
Alberta and Helen looked at each other, surprised by Johnny’s confession about the severity of his feelings for Nola. He could easily be lying, but because they wholeheartedly agreed with the first two thirds of his statement, they figured they might as well believe the final third as well. That part of Johnny’s deception, at least, was motivated by emotion.
“I found an old DVD of one of Missy’s movies in my ex-girlfriend’s collection and one thing led to another and I came up with the idea to do this play and have Missy star in it,” Johnny explained. “But I knew how important it was for Nola to create something special for the Tranquility Players, so I told her to tell everyone that it was her idea.”
“Was it also your idea to swindle Missy out of one hundred thousand dollars?” Joyce asked.
Alberta didn’t know the terminology for a play-within-a-play-within-a-play, but when she saw Joyce at the back of the theatre with Vinny and Tambra standing behind her, she knew that their scene had taken a new twist. Joyce had not played a role in their original plan, but Alberta was curious to see where her sister-in-law would lead them.
“What are you talking about?” Johnny asked.
“I asked an investment banker friend of mine to do a little digging,” Joyce said.
“That one really does have more friends than Carter has liver pills,” Helen replied.
“He confirmed that Missy sent a check for one hundred thousand dollars for the creation of her website to Dirigo, Inc.,” Joyce said.
“I have no idea what Dirigo, Inc., is,” Johnn
y claimed.
“Then allow me to explain,” Joyce said. “It’s a newly formed company that was originally named Spider Web’s Design, Inc., but changed its name about a month ago. The only transactional activity has been the receipt of one hundred thousand dollars from Missy Michaels’s savings account and a subsequent transfer into another account. Do you want to guess where that money was transferred to?”
“No,” Johnny replied. “But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“It was deposited into the account of Gianni Fennacacculi aka Johnny Fenn,” Vinny announced.
“What?!” Johnny shouted. “That isn’t true! I never got any money from Missy. I never even met the woman!”
“You didn’t need to meet her to rob her of her money,” Joyce declared. “According to the security footage at the Tranquility Trust, you’re seen depositing the money into your account the night Missy Michaels was killed.”
“That’s impossible!” Johnny cried.
“You are a director, aren’t you?” Joyce asked. “Isn’t it your job to make the impossible look possible? According to the video, you succeeded.”
“I don’t know what this is about, but I didn’t take any money from Missy and I didn’t deposit it into my own bank account!” Johnny cried. “You gotta believe me!”
They didn’t.
“Gianni Fennacacculi,” Vinny said, “you’re under arrest for the murder of Missy Michaels.”
CHAPTER 23
Se non è un messaggio di posta elettronica, e l’altra.
Courts, like turtles, move at their own slow pace. Which is why despite Johnny’s screaming and bellyaching, he spent the weekend in jail.
At Alberta’s request, Bruno agreed to represent Johnny. She wasn’t convinced of the director’s innocence, but she knew that Bruno would be a fierce advocate. The lawyer hedged at first, his unspoken reluctance being his strong feelings for his potential client’s girlfriend, but in the end his oath to uphold the law was stronger than his desire to hold Nola in a tight embrace. Unfortunately, Alberta turned out to be more persuasive than Bruno because the judge didn’t agree with Bruno’s request to fast-track the bail hearing and kept it on the docket for Monday morning. Sometimes you could finagle the system and sometimes you couldn’t.