by J. D. Griffo
“Helen, c’mon, we’re going to be late,” Alberta said.
“I want to give you something first,” Helen said as she pulled a small, black velvet box from her pocketbook.
“Cosa del mondo,” Alberta muttered. “Helen, it’s not my birthday.”
“Today is even more special,” Helen said. “I know you don’t want to be in this play and you’re only doing it for me.”
Alberta started to contradict Helen, but she knew that was useless, they’d both know she was lying. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
“I do know that,” Helen said. “And that’s why I want you to have these.”
Alberta opened the box to reveal a delicate strand of rosary beads made out of balsa wood. “Helen, these are beautiful, but they’re yours.”
“The church sent a group of us to the Amazon rainforest to work with the missionaries,” Helen said.
“I remember,” Alberta interjected. “That was back in the eighties.”
“It was 1987, to be exact,” Helen said. “The indigenous people weren’t very welcoming—not that I blame them, we were intruding on their land—but there was this one boy, Baku, no more than eight years old, who was fascinated by us. He followed us everywhere, me in particular. He never said much, but each day he’d watch while he was whittling away at some balsa wood. The day we left, he gave me that rosary, and he said something to me that I’ve never forgotten.”
“What did he say?” Alberta said.
“I had to have it translated of course, but he said, ‘Keep these until you find someone who shares your soul,’ ” Helen replied.
“Dio mio!” Alberta cried. “Eight years old and so wise.”
“We’ve always been close, Berta, but these past few years have shown me that I could not live without you,” Helen said. “Which must mean we share a soul.”
“I know you want everyone to think that you’re grumpy and cantankerous, which you are, mia sorella,” Alberta said. “But I’ve always known you are the heart of this family.”
The sisters hugged each other tightly, and it was lucky that they hadn’t yet put on their makeup because the tears fell freely. They pulled back and looked at each other for a few more seconds and then Alberta grabbed Helen’s hands and stood up. “Let’s show everybody that the Ferrara girls have still got it.”
When they arrived at the theatre, it was a bustle of activity. All the actors were nervously walking around wearing half their costumes and reciting their lines to themselves, which made them look like they had recently escaped a psychiatrist’s care, the stage crew were making last-minute adjustments based on last night’s tech rehearsal, putting little pieces of black tape all over the stage, shouting orders to one another and speaking in a theatre shorthand that Alberta didn’t understand. Despite never wanting to perform onstage before, the energy was infectious, and for a while she almost forgot there was still a murderer loose.
Jinx and Joyce ran up to Alberta and Helen just as they were about to go backstage to their dressing rooms. No one spoke, they just screamed in delight, hugged one another, and jumped up and down with sheer happiness. The gift-giving continued as Joyce presented them both with opening-night gifts, small portraits that she’d painted of them in their costumes. As a sentimental touch, she included a small bouquet of daisies in memory of Missy.
“Joyce, these are beautiful,” Alberta said.
“After all this time, you’re finally starting to improve,” Helen said.
“Also too, notice how I smoothed out your wrinkles to make you look younger,” Joyce added.
Helen laughed the loudest among the ladies. “Just this once I’ll forgive you for trying to play God.”
Jinx was the next one to dole out the gifts. She presented her grandmother and aunt with two hardcover copies of the play signed by the playwright, Joseph Kesselring, and the two original stars, Jean Adair and Josephine Hull, who played Martha and Abby.
“This is starting to feel like Christmas,” Alberta said. “Lovey, these are lovely! So is your scarf by the way.”
Jinx ruffled the bright red, orange, and yellow scarf she was wearing and dramatically threw it over her shoulder. “Another fine piece of vintage fashion from Aunt Joyce’s never-ending closet.”
“I really did buy a lot of Pucci back in the day,” Joyce said. “I’m glad someone can put it to good use.”
“Thank you, Jinxie,” Helen said, kissing Jinx’s cheek. “This is a very thoughtful gift, especially for Berta.”
“Why’s it so special for me?” Alberta asked.
“You could use it as a prop during the play and if you go up on your line, you can just make like you’re reading a book,” Helen replied.
“Ah, Madon!” Alberta cried. “I knew Sweet Helen had a short shelf life.”
Nola’s voice boomed from some unknown place, but her announcement set them all into action.
“We’re going to open up the house, people,” Nola said. “All actors and crew, please go to your dressing rooms.”
No one wanted to use the star dressing room where Missy had been found dead, so the women were all sharing one room and the guys were in another. When Alberta and Helen arrived, they were greeted by two finely dressed gentlemen, who were waiting inside. Sloan looked resplendent in a navy-blue suit, white shirt, and a baby-blue tie that matched the bright shine of his eyes. Father Sal looked considerably less dreamy, but that was because he was dressed in his drab black suit and was wearing considerably more stage makeup than even the ladies because his character was described in the script as looking like Boris Karloff.
Alberta involuntarily let out a little gasp when she saw Sloan, she was that taken with his appearance. Helen, on the other hand, let out a loud laugh when she saw Sal.
“You’re going to frighten all the little children, Sal,” Helen said. “Which will be no different than at nine o’clock mass.”
“And you, my friend,” Sal started, but then paused. He smiled at Helen, and at first it looked as if he was searching for the right barb, for the cleverest bon mot, to toss back at her. But then his expression changed and his smile faded, although his eyes still shone bright. This was no time for jokes; the one-liners would come later when the lights dimmed and the play started. Now was the time for honesty.
“You, my friend, are gonna knock the socks off everyone in the audience,” Sal said. “Because do you know what you are?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Helen replied.
“You’re an actress, and a fine one at that,” Sal said. He took something from his jacket pocket and showed it to the others. “This is a medal of St. Genesius, patron saint of actors, and that is what you are, Helen.” He pinned the medal to the lapel of Helen’s dress. “No matter what happens tonight, you will be guided by your patron saint.”
Helen traced the medal with her finger and shook her head. “You’re a constant surprise, Sal DeSoto.”
“Likewise,” he replied.
“I guess it’s my turn,” Sloan said. “This is for you.”
“All these gifts!” Alberta cried. “No wonder theatre people are always broke, all they do is buy people things.”
“This actually didn’t cost me anything,” Sloan said.
“I’m not sure that’s how a fella worms his way into a woman’s heart,” Helen remarked.
“Shoosh you,” Alberta said. “Gifts that don’t cost anything are even more thoughtful.”
Alberta opened the beautifully wrapped gift, and the sight of the photo of her and Sloan on their very first date in a delicate antique lace frame brought tears to her eyes. She almost laughed out loud as well, because she realized she was becoming a sentimental old lady and wasn’t sure if it was because she was surrounded by so many emotional theatre people or because she was simply an old lady. Not that it mattered; it was nice to have something to cry happy tears over. And someone.
“Sloan, this is so thoughtful and I know exactly where I’m going to put it,” Al
berta said. “Right on my nightstand, so it’ll be the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning.”
“I have a copy of the same photo and that’s exactly where I put mine,” Sloan replied.
“I’m sorry to douse this moment with the unromantic seeds of reality,” Sal said. “But didn’t you say the gift didn’t cost you anything? You certainly didn’t get that frame at the discount store.”
“It was a gift from my daughter Shannon,” Sloan said. “She picked it up when she and her family were on that African safari.”
“In other words, you regifted,” Helen said.
“One more word out of you, Helen, and Martha Brewster’s going to be an only child,” Alberta scolded.
Nola’s voice once again boomed from the unknown, announcing that the time for gifts was over as they had a show to do. “Five minutes, people, the curtain goes up in five minutes.”
“Get out of here, fellas,” Helen said. “We have to finish our makeup and I have to screw on this wig so it doesn’t fall off.”
“Have a wonderful show, everyone!” Sloan cried.
He left the dressing room, allowing the actors to ready themselves for their adoring public, who they could already hear chattering and laughing as they patiently waited for the curtain to rise. Alberta took a deep breath and wondered how they were going to react when the curtain finally descended and she took center stage to introduce them to a murderer. At least they wouldn’t be able to say they didn’t get their money’s worth.
At exactly eight o’clock, Nola assembled the entire cast on the stage and the closed house curtain was the only barrier between them and the enthusiastic audience. She told everyone to gather in a circle, clasp hands, and close their eyes, which they did. Johnny, Father Sal, Bruno, Alberta, Helen, Kip, Adrienne, Benny, Luke, and the others all became one unending circle, and a new family was born.
“This hasn’t been an easy ride, folks,” Nola started. “We have had our share of obstacles literally from before day one, but we pushed forward, we persevered, and here we are on opening night. Let’s remember why we’re on this stage, to share our energy, to entertain, to make our audience forget about their troubles for a few hours. Life doesn’t always make us smile, so it’s vital that we, as actors, remind the world that it’s okay to laugh.
“Thank you for sticking with this show and never giving up,” Nola continued. “I am so proud of what we’ve been able to accomplish, and I know that Missy Michaels is looking down on us, and she’s already giving us a standing ovation.”
At the mention of Missy’s name, Alberta was jolted back to reality and she opened her eyes. She received another jolt when she found herself staring right into the eyes of the killer. Alberta felt a tingle in her gut; she knew the show must go on, but she knew it was going to be a very different show than the one anyone had expected.
* * *
Based upon the audience’s reaction twenty minutes into the show, Arsenic and Old Lace was a hit. There were howls of laughter, brief snippets of spontaneous applause, and one very loud “Bravo” was heard when Alberta made her entrance, but she suspected that was Sloan and didn’t feel she had earned such praise. However, during a scene with her, Helen, Father Sal, and Benny, who was playing Dr. Einstein, a more interesting scene was developing backstage.
During their dialogue, they could hear loud voices coming from behind them. Although the four actors were novices, they knew the protocol was for anyone who wasn’t on stage to be quiet and if they had to have a conversation they should whisper, not shout, as Kip and Johnny were doing.
Benny stumbled on a line that Father Sal expertly saved, but during the silence that came in between, Johnny could be heard telling Kip to “just admit you did it.” The audience also heard it and a murmur of giggles and hushed chitchat immediately erupted, causing the next few lines of the scene to barely be heard and definitely ignored.
Alberta was the only one of the actors standing, so she moved closer to peer out the stage window to see if she could catch someone’s eye and use hand signals to get them to stop yelling. What she saw made her want to start yelling. Lying on the ground was Jinx’s scarf, which meant she must be nearby, and Alberta knew that there was no reason for her to be backstage; she should be in the audience with Freddy. Jinx was in trouble, she felt it, and there was no way she was going to ignore her instinct if there was a chance her granddaughter was in danger.
“I do wish Freddy would stop lounging in his chair and go help his girlfriend,” Alberta ad-libbed. “I think she’s somewhere in the back and she’s in trouble.”
Helen, Father Sal, and Benny had no idea what Alberta was talking about, but luckily, the person she was trying to reach understood completely. In the darkness of the theatre, they heard a commotion, and Alberta knew that Freddy was stepping over people making his way to the aisle so he could run backstage to Jinx’s aid. Freddy might not have any acting chops, but he was born to play the hero.
Unfortunately, there was no way for Freddy to get backstage without running onstage and onto the set where the actors were performing.
“Where is she?” Freddy asked Alberta, acting as if he was in her house on Memory Lake and not in a spotlight in front of an audience.
“Follow me,” Alberta said. She then turned to a very confused Helen and said, “We’ll be right back.”
Freddy followed Alberta out the front door of the set and Helen, in her trademark deadpan expression, turned to Father Sal and said, “Looks like my sister’s got herself another hobby.”
The ad-lib worked, and the audience howled, immediately forgetting about the unorthodox entrance and once again paying attention to the scene. While the rest of the scene was being reconstructed without one of its principal players, another scene was playing out hidden from the audience. Behind the set, Alberta picked up the scarf from the stage, pulled back a curtain, and practically had to shove the scarf in her mouth to prevent her scream from further disrupting the play. Freddy immediately dropped to his knees and pulled out the gag that had been shoved into Jinx’s mouth and started to untie the ropes that were knotted around her wrists and ankles.
“Who did this to you?” Freddy asked.
“I don’t know,” Jinx replied. “Someone hit me from behind.”
She witnessed history repeat itself, because Johnny came running up behind Freddy and whacked him in the head with a gun.
“Why did you do that?” Jinx screamed.
When Freddy rolled over and Johnny saw who he had struck, he was stunned. “Oh my God! I thought it was Kip.”
“Why would you want to knock out Kip?”
They all turned around to see Nola standing right off stage left. She was wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard because she was doubling as the stage manager. She played a third role as she stared at Johnny, that of the confused girlfriend.
“I’m putting an end to all of this right now,” Johnny said. “I’m going to make Kip pay for killing Missy, framing me, and, most of all, ruining our play.”
“I’m not the one who’s ruined this lousy play, you are.”
They all turned in the other direction to see Kip standing stage right, pointing a gun directly at them.
“Excuse me,” Nola said. “This play is not lousy.”
“The direction stinks and you know it,” Kip hissed. “I’m going to make you pay for that, Johnny, and prove to everyone that you’re the one who killed Missy.”
Standing in between the two men wielding guns, Alberta stretched out her arms to both of them and put up her palms to stop them from talking any further. “I know exactly who killed Missy, and when this show is over, I’m going to tell everyone.”
Untied, Jinx was kneeling next to Freddy, cradling his head in her lap. “Gram, we have to be careful, the killer is on this stage and they’re desperate.”
Jinx looked from Johnny to Kip, and both men responded in unison, “I didn’t do it.”
“Shut up, both of
you!” Alberta yelled. “From here on in, Jinx and I are running this show.”
“Sorry, Gram, I think you have to fly solo on this flight,” Jinx said. “I need to stay with Freddy until he wakes up.”
“Of course, lovey,” Alberta said. “I know what I have to do.”
“What you have to do is get back onstage and finish out the scene,” Nola ferociously whispered.
“First, you need to tell me how many prop guns are used in this show,” Alberta asked.
“You know there’s only one,” Nola replied. “I went over all this during my gun safety lesson. Were you not paying attention?”
“I was hoping I was wrong,” Alberta said. “Because if there’s only one fake gun, that means one of these two is holding a real gun.”
Terror gripped Nola’s face as she looked at Johnny. Could this man she loved be a murderer? Would he use the gun in his hand to murder again? “Johnny, please tell me you didn’t kill Missy. Please tell me you have nothing to do with all this.”
“I’m sorry, Nola, but he can’t tell you that,” Alberta said.
“I knew he was the murderer,” Kip cried.
“No one said you were innocent, Kip,” Alberta stated.
Helen’s booming voice interrupted their confrontation. Alberta recognized it as her cue and she knew the time had come. She had wanted to wait until the end of the show to expose the killer, but there had been a rewrite and the play would have to change. In spite of the grave circumstances, she chuckled to herself. La commedia è difficile, è un omicidio che è facile. Comedy was hard, but murder, for some, came easy.
Alberta walked through the front door of the set and rejoined her castmates. Their dialogue bore no resemblance to the script, but you could hear a pin drop in the audience as they sat enraptured by what they were watching.
“Sorry, that took longer than I expected,” Alberta said.
“Is everything all right outside?” Helen asked. “It sounded like the boys were causing some ruckus out there.”
“They were arguing, but it’s all resolved now,” Alberta said.