Murder at St. Winifred's Academy

by J. D. Griffo

  The thirty-year-old actress was only cast in the role a week before the film went into production. The original concept was that the widowed Teddy was matronly but reserved, and it was Daisy who brought life to Teddy’s antiseptic, orderly world. After endless screen tests with every notable actress over the age of fifty, the producers still hadn’t made a choice and were starting to panic. They felt that they would never find the right woman for the role. Their failure was because they were looking for the wrong kind of woman.

  After a particularly grueling day of screen tests in search of the perfect grandmotherly actress to play the pivotal role of the grandmother, Missy was sitting on the floor with the very nongrandmotherly looking continuity girl. At first Missy was pouting and tired, but within minutes the two were drinking chocolate milk, blowing into their straws to make chocolate milk bubbles, and giggling. It was then that one of the producers overheard Missy say, “I wish someone like you were playing my grandmother because then the little orphan girl’s life would be all fun and games.”

  The producers immediately began a search for a less matronly, less grandmotherly actress to play Teddy. Thanks to Missy’s insightful comment, they realized they had to reverse their initial thought of the granddaughter-grandmother dynamic because it wasn’t Missy who breathed life into Teddy, it was Teddy who had to bring the orphan back to life. If Daisy was already perky, comfortable with her parents’ sudden death, and wise beyond her years, there would be nowhere for the series to go, and the first film was always envisioned to be the start of a series. With Teddy in the role of mentor, the audience—through Teddy’s eyes—would watch as Daisy gradually overcame the tragedy in her young life and found a way to incorporate joy to coexist peacefully with the sadness she would always feel at the loss of her parents at such a young age.

  Inga was one of the last women to test with Missy and the first impression she gave the huddled, worried group of men and women who greeted her was that she was too young to play a grandmother. Upon seeing her in hair and make-up, the second impression was with the right lighting she could pass as a young grandmother. After seeing her test, their third impression was that no one other than Inga could play Daisy’s grandmother. The chemistry between Inga and Missy was undeniable both as their characters and themselves. By the time Inga had changed back into her own clothes, there was a multi-picture contract waiting for her to sign.

  And that’s how Inga Schumacher got to play a seven-year-old’s grandmother when she was the ripe old age of thirty.

  If Missy wasn’t such a natural-born actress, she could have had a career as a casting director. But from the first moment Daisy came onscreen to the final shot, Missy’s performance was completely unaffected and made the audience feel as if they were peeking into a neighbor’s window. She had the magnetism of a young Judy Garland combined with the beauty of a young Elizabeth Taylor, and yet she appeared not to be a cliché or soaked in movie star magic. She looked both lost and grounded, real and imagined, youthful and old, but the audience didn’t understand any of that. All they wanted to do was wrap their arms around the little orphaned girl to try to ease some of her pain.

  The first time Daisy appeared onscreen she was wearing a black-and-white-houndstooth coat and black patent Mary Janes with white ankle socks. She was holding a suitcase and staring up at her grandmother with eyes that have seen far too much tragedy in her short lifetime. By the time she uttered her first line, You sure don’t look like a grandma, the little girl with the jet-black hair cut in a bob with severe bangs had already won over the audience’s heart. After Teddy knelt before Daisy, took her suitcase from her, and replied, “Well, you better get used to it because I’m never going to stop being your grandma,” the world had burst into tears. Which is exactly what Jinx did after seeing the pivotal scene for the first time.

  “Oh my God!” Jinx exclaimed. “It’s just like you and me, Gram.”

  “I never thought of that before, lovey,” Alberta replied. “But I guess in some ways it is.”

  Through her tears, Jinx explained her rationale. “You don’t act like a real grandmother—except for the food, of course—and we were both reunited when we desperately needed each other. It’s like I’m watching myself, except for the bangs, which I could never pull off.”

  The group, a mixture of family and good friends, had known each other for so long that no one was embarrassed by Jinx’s emotional honesty. Her relationship with Alberta wasn’t completely parallel to the relationship between Daisy and Teddy, but there were definite similarities. Most important, the sentiment came straight from Jinx’s heart. And in that respect, she was very much like Daisy.

  By the time the closing credits for the third film in the series—Daisy Joins the Circus—scrolled on Alberta’s TV it was almost two a.m. and they realized it was time to pause their marathon for another night. They needed to make sure they got their rest because tomorrow night was Nola’s party at which they would finally meet Missy in person.

  “I wonder what she’s like now,” Jinx mused.

  “Nola hasn’t said much about her, has she?” Joyce asked.

  “No, they’ve only spoken on the phone and e-mailed,” Jinx replied. “They’ve never even met.”

  “She’s taking a big risk, casting her in the lead without even auditioning her,” Helen said.

  “She didn’t audition you either,” Alberta said.

  “Because Helen didn’t give her a choice,” Father Sal said. “And before you say it, I’ll do it for you: I didn’t give Nola a choice either. But I did it all for Missy. Getting to be in her company, perform with her, and get to know her as a real person and not someone I’ve idolized for years will be a dream come true.”

  They all felt the same way. The little girl the world loved unconditionally and had watched grow up on screen, transforming from a scared, heartsick child into a strong, formidable young woman, was going to arrive tomorrow. No one knew if she’d be that same warmhearted little girl, or if she had turned into someone completely different, but it didn’t matter. Whatever person Missy Michaels had become, they couldn’t wait to meet her.

  CHAPTER 7

  Il tempo vola, ma rimane sempre lo stesso.

  The day had finally arrived. A little bit of Hollywood was coming to Tranquility, and Alberta could feel the magic in the air. It was still hard to believe that a movie star would soon be in their midst. Then again, Missy Michaels was more than a movie star; she was a friend.

  Because Missy played the same character for over a decade in movies that chronicled and highlighted a young girl’s growth from child to young women, Alberta, and scores of other filmgoers, felt as if they grew up right alongside her. She wasn’t some mysterious, untouchable film creation like Lana Turner, or Jean Harlow who came before her, nor did she play other film roles like Margaret O’Brien or Hayley Mills. Missy’s only major role was playing Daisy, and because she played the role for so long the two became interchangeable. As a result, Daisy became less of a character and Missy became more of their contemporary.

  Only two years younger than Missy, Alberta easily pictured herself in Missy’s Mary Janes and imagined she was living in Teddy’s Central Park West luxury apartment instead of the five-room apartment in Hoboken, but even as a young girl, Alberta felt sorry for Missy because the girl up on the silver screen didn’t have a family.

  It didn’t matter that Missy had a closet overflowing with frilly party dresses or a bedroom overpopulated with stuffed animals, Alberta knew that the poor little rich girl would overturn her situation if it meant she could have her parents back. Missy had more things than Alberta ever dreamed she would possess, but Alberta possessed the one thing Missy would never have: parents.

  Unbeknownst to her, grown-up Missy had tons of friends in Tranquility who were anxiously awaiting her arrival. Lost in a daydream where she was giving Missy a tour of the town’s hot spots, Alberta came back to reality just in time to turn down the flame before the water started boiling over
the top of the saucepan.

  “Ah, Madon, ” Alberta muttered to herself. “I’d better pay attention or else Missy will have nothing to eat.”

  From her vantage point lounging on the kitchen table, Lola watched Alberta quickly pour the box of spaghetti into the bubbling water with her head resting on an outstretched arm. Her body language was easily interpreted, and Alberta knew it was full of judgment.

  “Don’t you look at me that way,” Alberta said, pointing a wooden spoon at her beloved cat. “This is a very important day and your mama’s ansiosa. Now be a good girl and get off the table.”

  Lola had rarely been a good girl in her entire life, so Alberta was not surprised when she rolled onto her back, lifted her four paws into the air, and played with an imaginary ball. Feline discipline would have to wait for another time; Alberta had more important things to focus on at the moment, like cooking the food that would be served at Nola’s party that evening in honor of Missy’s arrival. Alberta had cooked for hundreds of parties before, but this one was somehow more special and she wanted to make sure everything was perfect.

  The third tray of lasagna, this one with sausage and hard-boiled eggs like her great-uncle Santino, one of the best chefs in their family’s village in Sicily, used to make, was still in the oven, along with a tray of eggplant that had been cut into long strips that would serve as the main ingredient in a recipe Alberta created to satisfy Jinx’s healthy diet. Vegetarian braciole consisted of layers of eggplant, green peppers, mozzarella, and portobello mushrooms all rolled together and cooked in Alberta’s homemade gravy—the red kind, not the brown. The mushrooms had a similar texture and, remarkably, a similar taste to flank steak, which was the traditional meat used to make braciole, so when you took a bite it was almost as if you were eating the same thing.

  In the refrigerator were trays of deviled eggs, a cold seafood salad, two large containers of pasta fagioli, bruschetta topped with spinach, goat cheese, and honey, escarole and beans, stuffed clams, stuffed peppers, and one of Alberta’s favorite dishes, mushrooms wrapped in bacon.

  There were also trays of sausage, peppers, and onions, and chicken parmigiana that would all be reheated in the kitchen at the theatre. Alberta didn’t need help preparing the food, but because her refrigerator couldn’t hold everything that was on her elaborate menu, she enlisted Joyce to get the antipasto and Jinx to mix up several batches of Red Herrings.

  Nola thought Alberta was off her rocker when she volunteered to provide the food for the party because the entire cast and several invited guests would be attending, until Joyce explained that Alberta was used to feeding the entire Ferrara family, whose total number was closer to the number of seats at the theatre than the number of cast members in the play.

  Alberta knew that she was an excellent cook, but she had almost exclusively cooked for her family, who loved her recipes. Cooking for strangers was always nerve-racking because they wouldn’t tell you what they truly thought of the meal. If it was terrible, if there was too much garlic, or if the pasta was too al dente, a stranger would never offer a negative critique. Family, on the other hand, wouldn’t hesitate to share a blunt opinion, which Alberta welcomed because it only helped make her a better cook. Plus, she’d rather throw away poorly cooked food than force someone to eat it just to spare her feelings. The only thing that induced more fear into Alberta, however, was making dessert.

  It was a family truth that Alberta was a terrible baker. Over the years she had tried to follow her grandmother Marie’s recipes for struffoli, bamboloni, tiramisu, pignoli, and failed every time. She even tried no-bake recipes for limoncello cheesecake, chocolate mousse, zabaglione, even a simple icebox cake, but there was always something off. The results were edible, just not Alberta-worthy. It had been years since Alberta attempted to make a dessert, but with Missy’s impending arrival she thought it was the ideal time to see if she could break the curse.

  Hiding in the back of the fridge in a Tupperware container Alberta bought at a St. Ann’s fundraiser back in the ’90s was a Neapolitan Baked Alaska. The traditional version of the dessert was Daisy Greenfield’s favorite, and the first meal she had when she went to live with Teddy. Alberta thought it would be the perfect dessert to serve, with an Italian twist, of course.

  She prayed to St. Lorenzo, the patron saint of cooks, to make her offering taste as delicious as the rest of the meal would most likely be. When she handed the Tupperware container to Sloan to bring out to his car for the drive over to St. Winifred’s, she felt as if she was placing myrrh at Baby Jesus’s feet. Hopefully he wouldn’t lose his head after taking a bite.

  “Do you think you made enough?” Sloan asked.

  “Per l’amor di Dio!” Alberta scolded. “Who do you think you are? Shecky McLelland? This is no time to be a comedian, just pack up the car.”

  “You mean cars,” Sloan said, grabbing a shopping bag filled with an assortment of plastic containers in various shapes and sizes. “Luckily, Freddy’s right behind me with his truck.”

  Alberta scooped up Lola, who hadn’t moved from her place in the center of the table, and opened the door for Sloan. Jinx entered before Alberta could close the door.

  “Hi, Gram,” Jinx said, kissing Alberta on her cheek. “Hello to you too, Miss Lola.” She repeated the loving gesture and showered the cat in kisses, prompting Lola to meow rapturously. Her next comment provoked a decidedly different response from Alberta. “Gram, do you think you made enough?”

  The string of Italian phrases and off-color words that flew out of Alberta’s mouth were mostly indecipherable to Jinx, but she got the gist of the message and left the kitchen carrying a tray of lasagna while laughing hysterically. It took them fifteen minutes to pack both cars before Alberta, holding a container of the freshly made spaghetti drenched in red gravy, asked Lola to wish her luck, smiled in appreciation when the cat dutifully purred in response, and shut the kitchen door behind her. On her back, Lola raised her front paws overhead and stretched, yawned silently, and rolled onto her side to survey her domain. She was greatly relieved now that Alberta had left so peace and quiet could be restored to the house.

  At the theatre, however, the calm, unfortunately, had been replaced by a storm.

  “That sign is tilted!”

  Nola’s screech bellowed through the theatre’s closed doors and filled the lobby. For a moment, Alberta wondered if she should turn and leave. She could spend a quiet night at home on the couch, drinking tea and eating the Baked Alaska she was holding with Lola. If the dessert tasted terrible, she knew her cat would only hold it against her until it was time for her next meal. Before she could give in to temptation, Sloan banged on the lobby door with the tip of his shoe and asked Alberta to let him in.

  “I’m sorry,” Alberta said. “Nola’s yelling distracted me and I forgot to prop the door open.”

  It was Alberta’s turn to put the tip of her shoe to use. She kicked down the lever so the front door to the lobby would remain open while they unpacked the car and brought in their bounty.

  “Why’s she yelling?” Sloan asked. “I thought that was part of the director’s duties.”

  “Maybe she’s lending Johnny a helping hand,” Alberta said.

  “I could use one of those,” Jinx announced, entering the lobby. She was carrying two trays of food topped by a large shopping bag that hid her face from view. “Take the top bag before I trip and break my neck.”

  “lovely, why’d you stack them so high?” Alberta asked. “You can’t see a thing.”

  “Ask Freddy,” she replied. “He did the stacking.”

  “Dude,” Freddy said, entering the lobby behind her. “I’m trying to shorten the number of trips so we can get this party started.”

  “It sounds like the party has already started,” Alberta said. “Though, honestly, it doesn’t sound like much of a party.”

  Juggling the Tupperware container and the shopping bag, Alberta managed to open the lobby door. When she did she saw that she was
right. The theatre was filled with people, there was a huge banner hung from the proscenium arch with the words “Welcome Home, Missy Michaels” written on it, and Nola was in the middle aisle screaming.

  “I need someone to fix that sign ASAP! We can’t welcome Missy back to the theatre with a droopy sign.”

  “Did Nola forget that neither the stage, nor Tranquility, is Missy Michaels’s home?” Sloan whispered to Alberta.

  “I think she’s trying to be symbolic,” Alberta replied.

  “She needs to knock it off,” Jinx said. “All week long she’s been acting like this night is life or death and I have had it.”

  Jinx rushed past Alberta and Sloan to enter the theatre. “The sign looks fine, Nola!” Jinx shouted. “Now stop your shouting!”

  “I love when my girl takes charge,” Freddy declared.

  “I wonder where she gets it from,” Sloan added. He winked devilishly at Alberta and then followed Freddy into the theatre.

  Shaking her head but smiling, Alberta muttered, “It’s gonna be a long night.”

  As she entered the theatre, something caught her eye that made all the noise fade away and stopped her in her tracks. It was a reminder of why they were all there in the first place.

  At the entrance of the theatre just off to the right of the middle aisle was a large poster for the show propped up on a tripod easel. It said, “The Tranquility Players presents Arsenic and Old Lace, starring Missy Michaels, star of the Daisy Greenfield movies.” In the center of the poster were two photos, one of Missy as the child star she once was and another, presumably, as how she looked today.

  “Il tempo vola, ma rimane sempre lo stesso,” Alberta whispered.

  It was true, time flew, but at the same time, it remained the same.

  The two images were complete opposites, but, oddly, completely the same. Together, they were bookends of an entire life, the before and after, the past and present of a person Alberta never met, but someone she felt she knew incredibly well. It was a silly thought, a holdover from her youth when she considered Missy a friend. But now, a much older woman, Alberta couldn’t let go of the thought and felt a childlike spark ignite within her. She was actually going to be reunited with a long-lost relic from her past.