I don’t have five hundred dollars! I just spent my last savings on a new waterbed. The old one deflated during a… vigorous evening.

I can. I have contacts. But it will cost five hundred dollars for the courier and the “donation” to the Italian consulate.

BLANCHE sweeps in dramatically, wearing a silk robe and holding a small, velvet box.

(clutching her throat): ARRESTED? Me? Blanche Elizabeth Devereaux? In orange ? That is not my color, Doctor!

Thank you for being a friend... Act One: The Living Room. Afternoon.

BLANCHE sashays out. DOROTHY sighs. ROSE starts separating jelly beans again. SOPHIA steals a handful and shoves them in her mouth.

Rose, the Sicilian Squirrel died in 1972. He choked on a Cracker Jack prize he’d been hiding in his cheek for twenty years.

No! That’s George’s memory! I can’t let a bunch of flat-footed cops paw through it. Julian, you said you could get it back to the countess discreetly?

Here’s my hurricane lamp fund.

I don’t feel safe, Dorothy. What if the Sicilian Squirrel’s nephews show up?

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