Tell-All

toward the street far below. The blindfolded waiters stagger about.
    Despite such louche behavior, the voice of Terrence Terry continues reading, oblivious, “ ‘Even now as Katherine and I stood and strode to the tower’s lofty parapet, preparing to raise our glasses in a champagne toast to this, the world’s most glamorous city, countless lesser mortals dwelt at our feet, unaware of the bliss which existed so far above their heads. Somewhere below wandered Elia Kazan, Arthur Treacher and Anne Baxter , each in their own limited existence. Down there drifted William Koenig, Rudy Vallee , and Gracie Allen , no doubt imagining they lived lives of rich fulfillment. But no, if Mary Miles Minter, Leslie Howard and Billy Bitzer were indeed so wise and aware then they would’ve been us.’ ”
    The idealized man and woman shove themselves away from the dinner table, grab their drinks and lurch to the building’s edge.
    “ ‘In hindsight,’ ” says the voice-over, “ ‘perhaps we too were blinded by our supreme happiness. “Oh, Katherine,” I distinctly recall saying, “I do so love, love,
love
you!” Communicating this sentiment not merely with my probing love pipe, but also my mouth. If I dare say it—with my very life’s breath, every word comingled with the lingering aftertaste of her saucy nethers.…’ ”
    The star-filtered, stylized version of Miss Kathie tosses back the last of her champagne and hands the empty glass to the idealized Webster. Even as the blindfolded musicians continue to saw away on their violins, the Webster substitute checks his wristwatch and yawns, patting his open mouth with the palm of one hand.
    “ ‘During that blazing violet moment of our splendorous adoration,’ ” reads the voice-over, “ ‘Katherine’s elegantly shod foot skidded against a leftover layer of our spent passion. In that infamous moment, mankind’s most dazzling star fell, aflashing, shrieking Halley’s Comet hurtling to the bustling sidewalks of West Thirty-fourth Street.’ ”
    The Katherine stand-in shrugs her perfect shoulders in resignation. She kicks off both her high-heeled shoes, climbs the guardrail and swan-dives into the abyss. The idealized Webster stand-in watches her plunge; then he stoops to collect her discarded high heels and flings them after her.
    Terry’s voice reads, “ ‘The end.’ ”

ACT II, SCENE NINE
    Forgive me, please, but I must violate the fourth wall once more. Even as Miss Kathie dodges and parries the attempts on her life, a curious reversal appears to be taking place. The constant threat of violent death sculpts Katherine Kenton down to tensed muscle. The perennial threat of poisoning deadens her appetite, and the need to be continually vigilant deters her from indulging in pills and alcohol. Under such strain, her spine has stiffened with resolve. Her carriage stands erect, her stomach is hollowed, and she carries herself with the bravado of a soldier advancing onto a field of battle. The presence of death, always haunting, always at hand, has awakened a sense of vibrant life within her. Roses bloom in the cheeks of my Miss Kathie. Her violet eyes sparkle, alert for sudden danger.
    More than all the plastic surgeries and all the cosmeticsin existence, the terror of her imminent destruction has brought Miss Kathie back to glowing, youthful life.
    In contrast, Webster Carlton Westward III , once so young and ideal, now appears haggard, wounded, battle-scarred, his handsome face strafed with wrinkles … scratches … stitches. The Webb specimen’s dense hair sheds itself in daily strands and clumps. Thwarted at each turn, he adopts the whipped demeanor of a cowering dog.
    Still he perseveres, whatever his motives, to endear himself with my Miss Kathie. Always there’s the chance of an assassination plot we haven’t previewed, and Miss Kathie must forever be on guard. Once, in her heightened wariness, she pushed young Webster down a flight of stairs near the Bethesda Fountain , and he still staggers with a limp, a steel pin surgically embedded to heal his shattered ankle. On another occasion, at the Russian Tea Room when she misjudged a quick movement of his as possibly malevolent, she lanced his arm with a steak knife in preemptive self-defense. Another time, she pushed him from a subway platform. His all-American face looks livid and swollen from the burns caused when Miss Kathie assaulted him with a flaming bananas Foster . His bright brown eyes are dull