“They were in my dresser drawer. Can you imagine that? He hides his bimbo’s panties in my dresser drawer, mixed in with all my own panties. So I go to put on a pair of red panties, I put on her panties instead. I got out of them the second I realized I’d made a mistake. But who knows what I may have caught from them?”
“Well, you only had them on for a second.”
“Even so. That’s why they won’t let you return panties, you know. Department stores. I wanted to call her and ask who she’d been intimate with lately. Besides my husband. You can get trichinosis from just eating the gravy,” she said.
“You can?”
“Sure. From the pork. So don’t tell me about only a second. Who knows what was in her panties?”
“Well, there’s no sense worrying about it now,” Michael said.
“Sure, you don’t have to worry, you’re not the one who was in her panties. Do you think I can get them analyzed? Put them in a paper bag and take them to a lab and get them analyzed?”
“For what?”
“For whatever she may have. I really would like to call her, I mean it. Hey, Jessie, how are you? Listen, do you remember those red silk panties Arthur left in my dresser drawer? They’re walking across the room all by themselves, who’ve you been with lately, Jess?”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t tell a perfect stranger who …”
“I’m not such a perfect stranger, I had her panties on. Also, she’s no stranger to my husband, believe me.”
“Does she work for him or something?”
“She’s an actress,” Albetha said.
“She’s in his new movie.”
“I didn’t know there was a new movie.”
“How would you know there was any movie at all?” Albetha asked, and looked at him suspiciously.
“A person who said he was your husband told me all about War and Solitude.”
“When was this?”
“Earlier tonight. In a bar. Before he stole my car,” Michael said, and put on the Santa Claus jacket.
“Was this person five-feet eight-inches tall, chunky, going bald, with brown eyes, a pot belly, and a Phi Beta Kappa key on his vest? From Wisconsin U?”
“No, he was …”
“Then he wasn’t Arthur.”
“I know he wasn’t. Now I know. But he was very credible at the time. Told me all about your husband’s work, gave me his business card …”
“Arthur’s business card?”
“Yes.”
“Well, anyone could have that. Arthur hands them out all over the place.”
“Does the name Helen Parrish mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“She’s not an actress or …?”
“No.”
“Or anyone with whom your husband may have worked?”
“My husband has worked with a lot of women over the years, but I don’t remember anyone named Helen Parrish. He was in television before he made Solly’s War, and in television …”
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“We called it Solly’s War. Because the man who put up the money was named Solomon Gruber, and he was always yelling about budget, and about frittering away time, that was his favorite expression, `Arthur, you’re frittering away time.` Arthur hated him.”
“What does he look like?”
“Gruber? An Orthodox rabbi.”
“He wouldn’t be a big, burly guy with a crew cut and a beard stubble, and hard blue eyes, would he?”
“No, he’s tall and thin and hairy.”
“Solomon Gruber.”
“Yes.”
“Who put up the money for War and Solitude.”
“Yes. And lost it all. Or most of it.”
“How much, would you say?”
“Did the film cost? Cheap by today’s standards. Cheap even by the standards twelve years ago, when it was shot.”
“How much?”
“Twelve million.”
“That’s cheap?”
“Here’s the beard,” Albetha said.
He put on the beard.
“And the hat,” she said.
He put on the hat.
She studied him.
“The kids think Arthur is Santa Claus, but you’ll have to do,” she said. “Come on downstairs and drink your milk and eat your cookies. If you keep your back to them …”
“Tell me about your husband’s new picture.”
“Strictly commercial,” she said. “Solly hopes. He financed this one, too.”
“What’s it called?”
“Winter’s Chill. It’s a suspense film. What the British call a thriller.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen it.”
“It doesn’t open till the second.”
“Here in New York?”
“Everywhere. As we say in the trade, it is opening wide—which does not have sexual connotations, by the way. The expression refers to opening on thousands of screens simultaneously, as opposed to two or three dozen. The ads should break in Friday’s papers. Arthur’s giving it six days’ lead time. He’s hoping to make a killing, you see. Which may be the way to do it, who knows?”
Albetha shrugged.
“His last film was a class act. This is crap. But maybe the public wants crap. I find it ironic. In television, Arthur was doing crap. He left television to do a really fantastic film that didn’t make a nickel. Now he’s back to doing crap again.”
He looked at her for a moment. She seemed to be searching his eyes for answers, but he had none for her.
“How do I find your husband’s mother?” he asked.
“You don’t,” she said.
“He was supposed to call her yesterday. Maybe if I can learn what they talked about …”
“He didn’t call her yesterday.”
“It was on his calendar. Call Mama.”
“His mother’s been dead for ten years.”
“Oh.”
“May she rest in peace, the old bitch. And he didn’t call my mama either ‘cause they don’t get along.”