AB: Ann Lenny: Paul Mystery Caller: ? Maude: Bethany Fatelli: Fatelli Vlad: Paul Bob: William [smoky saxophone music] Aunt Barbara [V.O.]: It was a foggy morning in Baltimore, and it had been a foggy morning all week. And the week before that. But this time I couldn't find my glasses, and as far as I was concerned that was the last straw. Your Aunt Barabara doesn't see so well without her glasses, you might remember. If you would listen for once in your God Damned Life. [phone starts ringing in the background] Lenny [in the background]: Barb, ... is that the phone? AB [V.O.]: But I digress. I was in the garden, potting ham, when I sees Lenny come out of the house. He looked confused. Lenny [coming into the foreground]: Barb, is that the phone? I don't have my bifocals on. AB: What phone? Lenny: Our phone. I think it's ringing. AB: It's probably the neighbor's phone, you know ours hasn't rung in years. Lenny: Well can you pick it up just in case? AB: Well why don't you pick it up. Lenny: Listen, I was just asking. AB: O.K., I'll do it, Jesus Christmas. AB [V.O.]: It was our phone after all. But who knew who was on the other end? Telephone Voice: Hello, is this Barbara? AB: Who wants to know? Telephone Voice: Nice ham. [click] AB: Hello? Hello? Why do I even bother answering the damn thing. [sinister music swells] AB [V.O.]: Normally your Aunt Barbara doesn't mind receiving compliments. But whoever this caller was, they seemed to know a little too much about my gardening activities for my personal taste. But on the bright side, my glasses were right next to the phone the whole time. Who knew? Maude [entering, distraught]: Barb, hello? AB [V.O.]: Then Maude just barged right in. She was distraught, in a god-awful state. AB: Hello Maude. Lenny: Hi Maude. Maude: Barb, it's Bob. I found him just lying there. Still. AB: Oh my gawd. When? Maude: Since this morning. It's all over Barb. 35 years, it was. Lenny: You mean he's -- Maude: Don't say it. I can't bear to think about it. AB: Maude, I'm so sorry. Here, have a Pall Mall, it'll calm you down. Maude: God bless you. AB: It's the least I can do. Maude: Who's ... [choking back tears] ... got a light for your dear old Mom. Lenny: Here you go Maude. AB [V.O.]: Something wasn't right. I'd known Bob Berkowski for almost as long as Maude and if anyone was going to outlive us it'd be Bob. Because he was strong as a horse, in his day he did some masonry work for the city and I swear I never saw him get sick, even that year that the water tower got infested by rats and we were all in bed for a month, except for Bob. And he never smoked more than two packs of Parliaments a day. So just between you and me, I thought Maude was off her rocker. AB: Well did you call a doctor? Maude: Oh what's the point Barb, and who knows a doctor anyway? AB: Well can I look at him. Maude: Sure, what do I care, what difference is it going to make now. AB: Lenny, talk to her. I'm going over to Bob's. Lenny: What? Talk? AB: Just make conversation. AB [V.O.]: I had a hunch. And if there's one thing your Aunt Barabara knows, it's that not following a hunch is like having pie a la mode without ice cream. I walked out the door as briskly as I could, under the circumstances, what with my corns and all, they were killing me -- and headed for Bob and Maude's apartment. Unfortunately it was fourteen blocks away and four stories up. Which was a long time for Lenny to try and make conversation with Maude ... Lenny: Um, so you and Bob have that plot next to Tommy? Maude: Which plot? Lenny: Tommy Witherspoon, God rest his soul -- the bastard. He's with his wife now on the North Lawn. Maude: Yes, but we're not there. We're across from them next to my mother. Lenny: She was a great woman, your mother. Maude: You said a mouthful when you said that, Len. Well I'll tell you the North Lawn sure is filling up these days, with Melvin Thompson and his dear daughter there now. Lenny: It's such a shame about her. What was her name, Peggy or something. Maude: Yeah, Peggy. The poor thing. So young to be having a coronary. But frankly, if you want my opinion her mother is next if she won't let Uncle Whittaker take care of her. AB [V.O., huffing and puffing]: I'll tell you in my day your Aunt Barbara wouldn't have given four flights of stairs a second thought. But it sure will take it outta you if you haven't done it in a decade or two. To make a long story short, Bob was definitely out of commission. He was lying prone in his easy chair, in front of the television with the remote control still in his hand, for God's sake. There was only one explanation for it that your Aunt Barbara could think of -- murder! [burst of dramatic music] AB [V.O.]: But who? And for what? Some long-standing bowling league rivalry? A world series bet gone wrong? [coughing fit] Excuse me. Maybe whoever it was could tell me who made that bizarre phone call. And maybe I could have it all figured out before the Newlywed Game. AB [V.O.]: I lit myself a Pall Mall and thought. If I knew Bob at all, I knew he kept all his phone numbers and what not in a little pad of paper he carried in his shirt pocket. Which I figured I might as well have a look at. [AB picks up notebook] AB: Maybe I can call one of these guys, maybe I can catch them unawares, before they can come up with an alibi. Let's see ... Fatelli. [dials phone] Fatelli: Hello, Fatelli here. AB: This is your Aunt Barbara. Fatelli: Yeh. AB: Listen Fatelli, have you heard. Fatelli: Heard what? AB: Heard about Bob Berkowski. Fatelli: Sure I've heard of him, what. AB: The news. Have you head the news about Bob Berkowski. Fatelli: No, I haven't heard the news. How would I have heard the news? I don't see anyone anymore now that Mikey Johnson has been locked up and I can't afford to hire another boy to mow my lawn, they all charge so much these days, it's criminal. AB [V.O.]: He was holding out on me. AB: Well I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but Bob passed away earlier this morning. AB [V.O.]: There was a pregnant pause. Fatelli: He passed what? AB: Away. Passed away. Would you listen to your Aunt Barbara for a God Damned Change? Fatelli: Jeez Barb, can you lay off of me for one minute? You've got ants in your pants or something. AB: I'm sorry, it's the stress and strain. And my bunions are murderous, if you know what I'm saying. AB [V.O.]: I was trying to get him to crack under the pressure of my interrogation. But if you want my opinion he had already cracked when he had to file under Chapter 11 for the pizzeria in 1974. He was never the same after that. Fatelli: Well Look Barb, I'm sorry to hear about Bob. Is he going to get that plot next to Witherspoon? AB: What do I care, don't get me started about Whitherspoon. He was a bad kid and never grew out of it, if you want my opinion he should have stayed at home and looked after his mother. Fatelli: Well be that as it may Barb, I was just asking. AB: Do I know? Well I'm in no mood. Fatelli: I was only asking, Barb, about the plot that Maude and Bob have next to Whitherspoon. I would hope that after spending a fortune on it that Maude would have put something away for some nice arrangements. AB: Well I'm sure she will once she's no longer in shock. Fatelli: How's about I'll bring over a carton of Pall Malls, O.K.? AB: Sure, goodbye. Fatelli: Engh. AB [V.O.]: OK, so it wasn't Fatelli. But there were still a couple of more suspects weighing on my mind. Including Vladimir Thromenidich, the butcher. Literally, you understand. At one point Vlad and Bob weren't seeing eye-to-eye, if you know what I'm saying, and moreover they were on opposing Lions club softball teams. It got pretty ugly one day in 1963. [flashback. crowd sounds] Vlad: Strike three! Bob: Strike what? What, strike three. Are you crazy? Vlad: Listen Bob I said strike three, if you looked you could see the ball was right over the plate. Bob: Right over the plate my ass. Vlad: I saw it with my own eyes. Bob: Exactly my point, Vlad. If you would just wear your goddamn glasses you could be a decent umpire, but instead what do we get. This is ridiculous. Vlad: That's it, I'm finished with you Berkowitz, I don't have to put up with this, I'm walking out. Bob: It's Berkowski, you vindictive son of a bitch. Vlad: Don't even get me started. You don't even want to know. Bob: Vlad I was only joking, you're so sensitive about your goddamn glasses for chrissake. Vlad! Come back! [back to spy music] AB [V.O.]: I knew Vlad's number alright. Everybody did. Where else were you going to get a decent cut of meat anymore? You dealt with Vlad or you ate baloney and spam from the Eisner's, when it was still in business. All I had to do was think about pork chops and my fingers were already automatically dialing. Vlad: Hello? AB: Hello Vlad. Vlad: Yeah, what. AB: This is your Aunt Barabara calling. Vlad: Yeah hello Barb, we're out of pork chops. [Bob starts snoring very quitely in the background] AB: Well go get some. Vlad: Special orders are extra. AB: What business of that is mine. Vlad: All I'm saying is, if we don't have it in stock we have to order it for you special, and that's extra, what do you expect. AB: But I'm not ordering anything. I haven't ordered anything since 1983, when you retired, remember Vlad? [pause. Bob's snoring gets a little louder] Vlad: I'm sorry, the memory is going. I could have sworn. AB: Listen Vlad I've got news. Vlad: News? AB [V.O.]: I figured if he had done it, there would be a telltale suspicious tone in his voice when I broke the news to him. AB: Bob has passed on. It happened this morning. Vlad: Bond has gassed on what? AB: No, I said Bob! Vlad: Eisenbahn? AB: Bob!! [Bob wakes up] Bob: Hey, what's -- who turned the game off? There's three innings left for chrissakes. Maude, are you -- AB: Engh. Bob: Barb, what the dickens are you doing here? AB: Um, listen Bob I was just using your phone. Bob: Well you shoulda knocked for once. I must have fallen asleep during the game. AB: The game, what game. Bob: The Orieles, who else? I was watching the game, probably dozed off or something. What the heck time is it. Maude? Where's Maude? AB: Um, she -- well I was just talking to her. Bob: You don't say. Well if you'll excuse me, Barb, for a moment, say, where's the damned "on" switch on this new-fangled thing. Maude [entering]: Bobbie, what's happening? Is this some kind of horrible joke, because if it is you've got some explaining to do, you lily-livered -- AB: Calm down Maude, don't have a coronary yourself. Fatelli [entering]: I came as fast as I could, except with all the traffic on ninth anymore you can't make a left turn at main, and the Crown Victoria won't fit into half the parking spaces along there anyway. Bob! Bob: Hello Fatelli, what are you doing here? Fatelli: Well I heard -- I'm not sure I remember what I heard. The ol' memory's going, you know, it's the story of my God Damned Life. Bob: Tell me about it. Say, is it true the Johnson boy's been locked up. Fatelli: True, true, of course it's true. And what am I going to do about it. Lenny [entering]: Bob! My god man, you're -- Bob: What's the big deal, is it somebody's birthday, and I forgot? Maude: Aunt Barbara, this is the most shocking revelation I've personally experienced since Bobbie came back from the war. Bob [and everyone else]: Which war? Maude: Oh is it important, my basic point is I'm shocked. And appalled. Bob: What about? Maude: Bobbie's never been much of a talker. But this really takes the cake. Four hours and fourty four minutes and not a word. And to think that after all this was merely a false alarm. Why I can't bear to even think about it. AB: Maude -- Bob: So don't. Don't think about it. Do I look like I think about it. Maude: How should I know? AB: Say, who's got a light for your dear old mom? [all]: Here [all]: Have a Pall Mall [all]: Here you go Maude, [all]: You can have my cigar, [etc] Maude: Thank you, never mind, ... never mind. ... It was very nice of you all to come over. For once in your God Damned Lives. AB [V.O.]: It seemed that the mysterious death of Bob Berkowski was once again solved and the family was at least all in the same room, if you can count that as togetherness, I suppose it's the best we can do anymore. And I think we were all a little older and wiser, or at least a little older. Maybe not even that. But listen to your Aunt Barbara: mystery isn't worth the trouble. All that legwork, let me tell you I was up half the night for weeks after that with my feet in a bucket of hot water. Don't even get me started on that, you don't even want to know. Jesus Christmas. And those cab drivers, none of them speak English, so how are you going to get anywhere. And they keep changing the area codes. This is your Aunt Barbara saying keep your pants on.