by J. D. Griffo
The contents of the duffel bag didn’t contradict Alberta’s feeling. Helen had found pajamas, slippers, a plastic bag filled with crackers and raisins, and some celebrity magazines she most likely picked up at the airport. Was she searching to see if she could find her picture in any of the pages? Perhaps in a “Whatever happened to ...” segment? Helen started to shove her findings back into the bag when she suddenly yelped in pain.
“What’s wrong?” Alberta asked.
“Paper cut,” Helen replied.
“From the magazines?”
“No,” Helen replied. “This.”
She pulled out a copy of the Arsenic and Old Lace script. She thumbed through it and saw that all of Abby’s lines were highlighted in yellow, and there were notes scribbled in the margins.
“Dio mio!” Alberta exclaimed. “It’s Missy’s script.”
“Filled with her notes,” Helen said. “There could be a clue buried in here.”
Helen didn’t have to speak for Alberta to know what she was thinking because she was thinking it too. She was also thinking of Vinny’s last words before he left.
“We can’t take it,” Alberta said.
“Why not?” Helen asked. “It could be riddled with clues.”
“Because Vinny said not to take anything,” Alberta said.
“It’s not like we’re stealing it,” Helen replied. “We have every intention of giving it back, we just want to borrow it for a while.”
“For the sake of the investigation,” Alberta said, trying to convince herself stealing the script wouldn’t be viewed as breaking the law. “To solve this murder.”
Without saying another word, Helen put the script in her pocketbook and snapped her purse shut. “What script? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
They walked toward the front lobby instead of exiting out of the side door so they could return the key to Sanjay and thank him for letting them enter Missy’s room. In exchange for the key, Sanjay had something for them.
He put the key back on its holder on the wall and bent down to pick up a small cardboard box. “This is for you,” Sanjay said.
“Me?” Alberta asked.
“It’s really for Missy,” Sanjay explained. “But she’s dead, so you should have it.”
“Why me?” Alberta asked.
“Because you’re the police and you’re going to want to examine whatever’s inside this box,” Sanjay said.
“You’ve got it wrong, Sanjay, I’m not the police,” Alberta said.
“Stop joking, Mrs. Scaglione!” Sanjay cried. “Everyone in town knows you’re the real police ... so take it! But remember, Dushmanon ke upahaar koee upahaar nahin hain. ”
“You’re not talking to your wife back home, Sanjay,” Helen said. “Repeat that in English.”
“Gifts from enemies are no gifts,” he said.
“We have the same saying in Italian,” Alberta said. “Doni di nemici non sono doni. ”
“You think this is from Missy’s enemy?” Helen asked.
“The woman was murdered!” Sanjay cried. “Of course I think it’s from her enemy.”
Alberta hesitated only slightly to once again rationalize her actions. Vinny had said not to take anything, and technically she wasn’t breaking the promise she’d made to him. She was absolutely not taking this box that was meant for the recently deceased movie star, Alberta was being given the box. It was like a gift from Sanjay, which meant she was receiving the item, not taking it. Regardless of the semantic difference, the fact remained that Sanjay wanted a gift in return for his good deed.
“Get me a date with Joyce!”
Crossing her fingers behind her back like an untrustworthy teenager, Alberta swore, “I will do my absolute best.”
In Helen’s Buick, Alberta sat in the passenger seat with the package in her lap and waited for Helen to start the engine. The second she did, Alberta took her house keys from her pocketbook and used the serrated edge of one key to slice open the top of the box.
“You can’t wait until we get home?” Helen asked.
“Sorry, I’m too impatient,” Alberta said. “I’m dying to see what’s inside.”
“Let’s hope Sanjay’s saying doesn’t hold any weight,” Helen advised. “Because if there’s a bomb in that box, you’ll be dead before you find out who the enemy is.”
“I don’t think this will kill us,” Alberta said. “Unless being cute is fatal.”
She pulled a stuffed teddy bear out of the box and placed it on the dashboard.
“This is the clue I was hoping for,” Alberta declared.
“You were hoping to find a stuffed animal?” Helen asked.
“I don’t know what it means,” Alberta replied, “but obviously this bear was sent to Missy because her grandmother’s name in the movies was Teddy.”
“Is there anything else in there?” Helen asked.
Alberta reached into the box and pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded it and stared at it for a few seconds before repeating it to her sister. “‘Welcome home, Missy. Hopefully, by the time I arrive, you’ll be dead.’ ”
CHAPTER 14
Avvocato, bugiardo, soldato, spia.
The first time Jinx met Nola Kirkpatrick she knew she had found a friend for life. Later, she understood Nola would also be her partner in crime.
Before she moved to Tranquility and while still living with her parents in Florida, Jinx answered an online ad at RoommatesNJ.com. She and Nola set up a FaceTime meeting, and the fifteen-minute interview to see if the schoolteacher and the budding reporter had enough in common to live together turned into a two-hour chat fest with both women leaving the conversation thinking they had found their new best friend. Two weeks later, Jinx had moved into the apartment and their lives had been entangled ever since.
In many ways they had become the sisters neither one ever had. They sat up late talking about guys, swapped clothes, and every once in a while, Jinx had to bail Nola out of jail. Jinx knew Nola had a good heart and wasn’t one of the bad people she and her grandmother brought to justice; Nola just had a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time. During those periods it was a bit exhausting to be her friend, but it was a small price to pay to split living expenses and not have to go home to an empty apartment every night. Jinx, like her grandmother, was a practical girl.
She was also an impatient one.
Jinx looked around the crowded restaurant and sighed loudly. Nola was nowhere in sight. She tapped her red-manicured fingernails on the table so quickly, it sounded like she was galloping down a country lane. All she wanted to do was order the China Chef special with an extra spring roll and catch up with her friend, but in order to do that, her friend would have to arrive.
Just as Jinx pulled out her phone from her bag to send a text, the wording of which would not have been considered hashtag friendly, Nola plopped down in the chair across from Jinx and dropped her bag on the floor. She looked like she had just run a marathon.
“I’m so sorry,” Nola panted. “I had to break up a fight at school.”
“My aunt Helen always said that Catholic girls are tough broads,” Jinx said. “Who threw the first punch? Was it that kid who played Belle a few years ago? She looked like she could arm wrestle the Beast and win.”
“It wasn’t a physical altercation,” Nola said. “J. J. Yuskaukas claimed that Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Aspects of Love is a better musical than Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music and, well, as you can imagine, the class went wild. It was complete pandemonium.”
Jinx didn’t know which musical was truly better because she had never heard of either of them before. One of the few things they didn’t have in common was a love for the theatre. Nola lived for it, while Jinx only cared about it when Hugh Jackman decided to step away from Hollywood and strut his stuff on a Broadway stage.
“One can only imagine the chaos,” Jinx deadpanned.
“It was bedlam, Jinx! Worse than that. It was ho
rmones-out-of-control, teenaged bedlam!” Nola cried. “I tried to explain that everyone is entitled to their opinion, but my students weren’t buying it, and I don’t blame them. Don’t get me wrong, J. J. Yuskaukas is a good kid, a baby-faced baritone, but just between you and me, he needs his head examined because A Little Night Music is a masterpiece. My kids know that. They are a savvy bunch of theatre devotees.”
“That is one way to describe your students,” Jinx said. “How did you calm them down?”
“Same way I always do when things get out of hand or if someone is triggered by a comment,” Nola said, “I played ‘No One Is Alone’ from Sondheim’s Into the Woods. It always works.”
“I’ll have to remember that the next time I find myself in the middle of a breakdown,” Jinx said.
“Ever since what happened at the theatre, I’ve been listening to it nonstop,” Nola said, her voice a hushed whisper. “I still cannot believe that Missy Michaels was murdered in one of my dressing rooms. I asked Father Sal to bless the room. The whole backstage reeks of sage and incense, but at least it’s been spiritually cleansed.”
“That’s a relief,” Jinx said.
A bigger relief should’ve been when the waitress asked them for their order, but it became another source of frustration.
“We’ll have three China Chef specials,” Nola said.
“I’m not that hungry, Nola, two will be enough,” Jinx replied. “With a side of spring rolls, please.”
“There will be three of us,” Nola said. “I invited Kip to join us, but he’s running late.”
It was a good thing the waitress refilled their water glasses, it gave Jinx a few moments to decompress from hearing the news. She wasn’t anti-Kip, but she wasn’t pro-Kip either and didn’t want to have lunch with him. However, she also knew her friend was going through a difficult time and didn’t want to make matters worse by shouting her disapproval over the revised guest list. She hoped the way she posed her question would come off as curiosity and not inquisition.
“Oh, you didn’t mention that Kip would be joining us,” Jinx said. “Any particular reason you invited him?”
“I need to be surrounded by people who love the theatre as much as I do,” Nola replied. “I know you’re as devastated as I am over Missy’s death, but I think we can both agree that you’re not a supporter of the arts.”
“I have a subscription to Entertainment Weekly.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“If you need emotional support, where’s your boyfriend?” Jinx asked.
“Johnny went to New York to see some shows to refuel his creative juices.”
“He went alone? He couldn’t wait until you were free?”
Nola glared at her friend and then shook her head. “You don’t understand artists, Jinx. Sometimes they need to process things by themselves.”
“You don’t understand how the boyfriend-girlfriend thing works, Nola. You’re supposed to rely on each other during the hard times.”
“Don’t get all superior with me,” Nola said. “You have your relationship with Freddy and I have mine with Johnny. Don’t compare them.”
“Fine! If you’re happy, I’m happy.” Jinx took a sip of water and then looked her friend in the eyes. “Are you happy?”
Nola hesitated, and when she spoke, it wasn’t about her boyfriend, but another important man in her life.
“Bruno!” Nola cried. “Come join us.”
Her onetime defense attorney turned in their direction when he heard his name, and the moment he saw Nola his eyes lit up. It was obvious to everyone, except Nola and maybe even Bruno himself, that he had a crush on his former client. And it was obvious to Jinx that this was not going to be the quiet, girl talk infused lunch she’d hoped it would be.
“I was just picking up my takeout,” Bruno said, holding up a bag adorned with the China Chef logo.
“Don’t eat alone in that depressing office of yours,” Nola said. “Join us.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Bruno replied.
“Too late,” Jinx said. “Kip’s already done that. He’s allegedly on his way, but I’m sure he made a wrong turn and is cruising down to the Jersey Shore.”
“He’s right here, smart aleck,” Nola said.
“Sorry I’m late,” Kip said. “I seriously have no sense of direction. I graduated law school at the top of my class and I have trouble following the instructions on my GPS.”
“Where’d you go to law school?” Jinx asked. “Guam?”
“Relax,” Nola said. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters.”
“I didn’t know you were joining us, Bruno,” Kip said.
“Neither did I,” Bruno replied.
“Boys!” Nola cried. “I’m still your producer and I order you to sit down so we can have a proper lunch.”
Dutifully, both men sat down, and the awkward pause that followed made Jinx feel like she was one of Nola’s students and she had been summoned after class for detention. It also reminded Jinx that she was behaving like a brat. She couldn’t really blame Nola for wanting to be surrounded by as many friends as possible; her entire world had been upturned a few days ago. She should be entering an exciting and creative phase of her life and instead she was sitting in a Chinese restaurant making small talk, trying to forget that a celebrity was murdered on her watch. It was time for Jinx to help her friend and stop adding to her stress.
“So, Kip, did I hear right? You’re a real estate attorney?” Jinx asked.
“Yes, at Cohen, Cohen, Cohen, and Germinario,” Kip replied.
“Sounds like one of those things doesn’t belong with the others,” Jinx said.
“It’s three brothers and their cousin,” Kip explained.
“The brothers are the Cohens, in case anyone’s confused,” Bruno joked.
“They’re a great group of people and have really made me feel at home there,” Kip said.
“I hope we’ve done the same,” Nola said.
“You’ve all been wonderful,” Kip replied. “I just wish the experience hadn’t ended so quickly.”
“I know,” Bruno said. “I finally muster up the courage to be in a play and ... well, I’m sure there will be another opportunity.”
“Absolutely,” Nola said. “Like I told everyone on Saturday at the nonrehearsal rehearsal, Johnny and I are in the process of exploring our creative options.”
Before Nola could elaborate, the waitress reappeared with their lunch. Three plates overflowing with dim sum, pork fried rice, tofu with mixed vegetables, lo mein, and shrimp with lobster sauce. Coincidentally, Bruno had ordered the same meal, so it was China Chef specials all around. And, of course, a side of spring rolls for Jinx.
“You were right, Nola,” Bruno said, scooping up a mixture of rice, lo mein, and shrimp. “This is much better than eating in my office.”
“Speaking of my office,” Kip said in response to his phone ringing. “I am so sorry, but I have to take this. It’s one of the Cohens.”
“Which one?” Jinx asked.
“I can never tell,” Kip replied. “They’re triplets.” Excusing himself, Kip got up from the table and walked to a quiet corner of the restaurant. As he traveled, Jinx followed him with her eyes and glared daggers into his back.
“Hey, Jinx,” Nola said. “You might want to dial down the death stare.”
“I don’t trust him,” Jinx said unapologetically. “I think he’s a liar.”
“Avvocato, bugiardo, soldato, spia,” Bruno replied.
“Do I need to warn Sloan that you’ve been hanging out with my grandmother in your spare time?” Jinx asked.
“My old law school professor, Mr. DiBenedetto, would always say that,” Bruno said.
“What does it mean?” Nola asked.
“Lawyer, liar, soldier, spy,” Bruno explained. “Silly little ditty, as he would call it, but it sums up what a lawyer does. We fight, we conceal secrets, and we lie. Doesn’t make us sound like ours
is the noblest of professions, but, alas, it is the truth.”
“It really is a lot like acting,” Nola said. “We lie all the time.”
“Maybe that’s why Kip aced his audition and got the lead in your play,” Jinx mused. “He’s a consummate professional when it comes to the craft of lying.”
“Will you stop being so suspicious?” Nola said. “Kip got the lead because he’s a terrific actor. He’s also new in town, so we don’t know him very well. That doesn’t mean he’s a liar.”
“Five minutes after he arrives there’s a murder,” Jinx said. “To me, that’s all the suspicion I need to question every lying word that comes out of his mouth.”
“I know your grandmother is gaining this reputation as a superstar sleuth,” Nola said. “But stop trying to emulate her. Not everyone is a murderer.”
“Someone is,” Jinx declared.
Knowing that she was only going to get an emotional response from Nola, she redirected her questioning to Bruno, hoping to engage in a more logical discussion. Of course, to do that, she would need to ask a logical, and not an emotional, question.
“Doesn’t Kip have liar face?” Jinx asked. “I mean, can’t you tell just by looking at him that he’s hiding something? Like the fact that the only reason he moved here and auditioned for the play was to kill Missy.”
“How reassuring to know that unbiased, balanced journalism is thriving in our fair city,” Nola said, scooping up a forkful of lobster sauce.
“Jinx, I may have to side with Nola on this one,” Bruno stated. “I don’t know Kip extremely well, but I think he’s a good guy. We met at a continuing education class and because he just moved here, I’ve been showing him around a bit. He even joined the ski group with me that Freddy runs.”
“My Freddy?” Jinx asked.
“How many Freddys who own a ski and snorkel shop are there?” Bruno asked in return.
“Now who’s Miss Illogical?” Nola proposed.
“Freddy never mentioned anything to me,” Jinx pouted.
