by Ian Shimwell
TRENCH: Oh yes, but thankfully not the same one.
DEBSY: No, this one’s dark skinned, just like Avril…
TRENCH: Now, what’s that got to do with the price of fish?
DEBSY: Nothing, it was just an observation, that’s all.
TRENCH: I… I think he wants a word. Debsy, time to disappear.
DEBSY: Right. What about you? It could be dangerous.
TRENCH: I’ll be all right. I’ll never find out anything if I don’t speak to people – now go.
DEBSY: All right – I’m gone!
(DEBSY goes. TRENCH tentatively walks up to the man.)
LEY: Rocks dude?
TRENCH: I…err – sorry?
LEY: Drugs – you know coke, Skag, E, anything. Got any?
TRENCH: No, I’ve even used up my last aspirin.
LEY: You taking the..?
TRENCH: No. I am looking for some Skank though. Know where I can deal?
LEY: You a cop?
TRENCH: No, I’m a re… I mean I’m helping at the Centre. I’m Trench.
(LEY starts laughing.)
TRENCH: What’s up, err..?
LEY: Ley’s the name. You centre people crack me up. You want Skank and work there… Jesus.
TRENCH: I know, I suppose it does sound a bit strange. But, I’m still looking for Skank, Ley.
LEY: Aren’t we all man, aren’t we all. It’s the best stuff I’ve ever had.
TRENCH: And where were you, err lucky enough to get some?
LEY: Trouble is bro’, it’s very expensive. You got plenty of cash?
TRENCH: Yee… err no, not on me.
LEY: In that case, I won’t have to mug you.
TRENCH: Thanks for that, Ley.
LEY: No pro’, bro’. The other problem with Skank, is that to get some you have to follow the scar…
TRENCH: I was afraid you were going to say that…
(Avenue and alleyways music mixed with mystery music ends the scene.)
AVRIL: What time do you call this?
TRENCH: Sorry, Miss Avril but a druggie – I mean user held me up, by the name of Ley.
AVRIL: Never heard of him.
TRENCH: He said he’s never come into the Centre. Right, what shall I help you with?
(We hear a buzzer.)
(AVRIL opens the door and a dishevelled-looking man shuffles in.)
TRENCH: (Says quietly:) The smell – and I would sack your tailor if I was you.
AVRIL: (Says crossly:) Trench.
TRENCH: Sorry Miss.
AVRIL: Now, you have visited us here in the Centre before. Finley, isn’t it? How can we help?
FINLEY: You could book me into a five-star hotel?
AVRIL: Drugs wise, I mean.
FINLEY: I need Skank. Problem is, I’m out of money.
TRENCH: Why do you need Skank, Finley?
FINLEY: Is this man simple or what?
AVRIL: Humour him.
FINLEY: All right. I once thought Ecstasy was the business, even better than Skag, but Skank… Unless you’ve tried it you can’t even begin to imagine the psychedelic imagination; the surreal heights; the absolute of sensation…
TRENCH: I get the message – but no, I haven’t tried it.
AVRIL: As you well know, Finley – the Centre doesn’t stock any drugs – so, no Skank. I can offer you methadone though, but only if you want to give up drugs altogether.
FINLEY: What are you talking about? I’m owed a few favours. Get me Skar. I want Skank.
AVRIL: He’s delirious, poor soul. Must be in withdrawal.
TRENCH: Or denial? Come on old chum, I think you should go.
FINLEY: I’m no chum of yours. Skar will hear of this.
TRENCH: Come on.
(TRENCH bungles FINLEY out of the Centre and then returns to AVRIL.)
AVRIL: It’s tragic really. He was a successful businessman with a wife and kids before drugs took hold of him. It all started with so-called recreational ones…
TRENCH: I don’t know, the fall of Finley… Oh look, I can see Finley on the security camera. He’s talking to someone.
AVRIL: Oh, that’s his ‘lap dog’, Dods. He must think because Finley was once rich, if he sticks to him – he’ll somehow get some of the money one day. He follows Finley everywhere.
TRENCH: Apart from in here… And talking of here, as in the School for Kicking Amphetamines.
AVRIL: No kidding! (They share a laugh.)
TRENCH: Isn’t it dangerous working alone?
AVRIL: I have you…
TRENCH: (Who clears his throat.) You know what I mean, Avril.
AVRIL: Well, the Centre was built with safety and security in mind. Hence, the security cameras…
TRENCH: But, what about going home at night? Trust me, I know that’s risky to say the least.
AVRIL: The answer is… I don’t.
TRENCH: What?
AVRIL: I don’t go home – this is my home. When the project was first set up, it was decided it would be safer if I slept here.
TRENCH: I see – but what about your family?
AVRIL: I have none to speak of.
TRENCH: I’m sorry…
AVRIL: Come, let’s go to my quarters – we’ll talk more there…
TRENCH: You’re the boss.
(They walk to AVRIL’s living quarters.)
TRENCH: Your… err bedroom is stunning. The retro design is striking.
AVRIL: I’m glad you like it, Trench.
(AVRIL moves closer to TRENCH.)
TRENCH: You said we should talk more.
AVRIL: Yes, I did – I lied. (She kisses TRENCH full on.)
TRENCH: About your family?
AVRIL: Did you not hear me?
TRENCH: I heard you. Remember, I’m a journalist.
AVRIL: All right then. My parents freaked out to another country far away, when my brother went off the rails at university.
TRENCH: You have a brother?
AVRIL: Yes, and that’s why I do all this. He seriously and hopelessly got lost to drugs – mainly class As. They nearly killed him – but he refused to even consider reigning in his languid lifestyle. I’ve not seen him for over eight years, I don’t even know if Tony is still alive…
(TRENCH holds AVRIL more tightly. This time he returns the kiss with a hungry passion.)
TRENCH: Perhaps we should stop talking…
(A passionate rendition of avenue and alleyways ends the scene.)
(TRENCH is cautiously walking along the streets of Downtown Stokeham, whilst whistling ‘avenues and alleyways’.)
TRENCH: I hope I haven’t left it too late again – darkness is fast falling, and there’s a strange mist in the air.
(A figure stealthily slithers behind him.)
STRANGER: Hold it right there, punk!
TRENCH: I… I haven’t got any money on me, or drugs for that matter.
DEBSY: Just my luck, I only wanted to lend a fiver.
TRENCH: Debsy! Don’t ever do that again, I nearly died a drug-fuelled death – and I don’t even take any. Hang on, what do you think you’re doing, walking alone in the district of death?
DEBSY: I could ask the same of you, Trench.
TRENCH: Well..?
DEBSY: Shock, horror – I’ve come to see you. And to see if you needed rescuing from Avril’s clutches. Did you need rescuing from Avril’s clutches?
TRENCH: This unnerving mist is so thick, I can barely make anyone out. Just a dark silhouette…
DEBSY: It reminds me of fog enshrouded Victorian London, when the Ripper used to stalk his victims.
TRENCH: I was afraid you were going to say that.
DEBSY: The fiend emerges from the shadows…
TRENCH: It’s Dods. Closely followed by…
FINLEY: Finley, at your service.
DEBSY: You know these two… people?
TRENCH: It would seem so.
FINLEY: Remind me who you are.
TRENCH: I’m Trench – and, in case you’re wondering, I help o
ut a bit at the Centre.
FINLEY: And your associate?
DEBSY: I’m a helper to the err… helper. What about your friend?
FINLEY: (Who snorts a laugh.) Oh, you mean Dods?
DEBSY: Doesn’t he speak?
FINLEY: Only when he’s something to say. Trench, you say you’re a helper at the Centre, then help me to source Skank. I need Skank.
TRENCH: Don’t we all?
FINLEY: Don’t act the fool, Trench.
DEBSY: Don’t say that – he’s usually so good at it. And don’t say don’t again – that’s three in a row, well five now. Oh, don’t Debsy – oops, another one.
FINLEY: Cease your senseless chatter.
DEBSY: Oh, all right then.
FINLEY: You really think tomfoolery will divert our attention from Skull?
DEBSY: Skull?
TRENCH: Another name for Skank.
DEBSY: Clever clogs.
TRENCH: (Says quietly:) Tomfoolery? For obvious reasons, I will let that remark pass. (Then normally:) You say you need Skank. Isn’t that what has lost you everything including your marriage and children? Why don’t you use the Centre for what it’s really for?
FINLEY: It’s too late for any of that. Just get me Skank – and quick, you must know how. If there’s any sort of delay for whatever reason, Skar will hear of it, and believe me, he is not exactly a friendly chap.
TRENCH: A threat?
FINLEY: Just remember my friendly warning.
(We hear their footsteps recede into the engulfing mist.)
DEBSY: I’m glad they’ve gone.
TRENCH: Oh I don’t know…
(Solid footsteps can suddenly be heard.)
TRENCH: And an imposing figure emerges from the mist.
DEBSY: He’s holding that knife again.
TRENCH: The knife with my name on it… He’s going to throw it.
DEBSY: Now’s the time to run, Trench. The misty fog may protect you.
TRENCH: I can’t… I’m like the proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights.
(An ear-piercing shot rings out. A body slumps to the floor. DEBSY screams.)
The cost of a man is easy to buy. Everyone is dealing. Everyone is stealing. All the lowlifes are gonna cry.
(OLD TOM lifts the gramophone needle up and it crackles slightly.)
TRENCH: So, old timer, you suspect Finley is not only a user, but also a dealer. I don’t know, it’s too easy to pick up this druggie street talk.
OLD TOM: It would seem Finley is as you so eloquently said, a drug taker stroke pusher. Oh dear, now I’m at it. But why did he think he could acquire Skank at the Centre?
TRENCH: You can’t think Avril is connected in some way?
OLD TOM: Finley said: ‘Get me Skar’. I think it’s more likely our frightening friend somehow contacts, or contacted – I should have used past tense – his users through or near the Centre.
TRENCH: So why did Avril deny Skar even visited the Centre?
OLD TOM: There is a conundrum of questions associated with this case – and I think there are even more to answer if we’re to experience the high of solving it.
TRENCH: Shall we partake in tea? It should be cold enough by now.
OLD TOM: Just before we do, Trench – there’s a tin box underneath your chair. Be a dear, and open it.
(TRENCH does as he is bidden.)
TRENCH: Cake – two slices of the aforementioned. One for me and one for you. (He passes OLD TOM a slice.)
OLD TOM: I’m obliged.
TRENCH: (Who begins munching on the cake.) I hope this is ordinary cake and not the ‘recreational’ treats you can consume in some more liberal European cities.
OLD TOM: There are no illegal substances in my cake! Although the green mould running through may very well send you on a hallucinogenic ‘trip’.
TRENCH: ‘fraid not – it was just stale, as usual.
OLD TOM: Now, let’s return to Skar. He tried to kill you, again – but, fortunately for you, was shot down dead. Now, why kill the big man?
TRENCH: To save my life?
OLD TOM: Or was it because, with the apparently short supply of Skull, Skar became unpredictable and untrustworthy?
TRENCH: You think he may have talked?
OLD TOM: Obviously to the wrong people – and the current lack of Skank was making him worse.
TRENCH: Experiencing dreadful lows that perhaps caused him to target yours truly. But Skar was the main dealer so, Old Tom, haven’t we succeeded? Skar has fallen.
OLD TOM: But that’s just it, maybe Skar was just the fall guy. Who is the dealer behind the front man? Who is the real power behind the sorry mess of Skank that leaves deathly skulls in its wake..?
(OLD TOM replaces the gramophone needle.)
Listen to the squealer. Then a little later. In the Stokeham paper. Hear about the way he dies.
(The song merges into mystery music, indicating the end of Act Two.)
Act Three
Wake up my sexy. Go to the ghetto. Stay here through the day. Wake up with me my way.
TRENCH: Gradually waking up in bed, to your beauty Avril, is truly amazing.
AVRIL: I should buy myself a bed-mirror Trench, then maybe I could enjoy the sensation too.
TRENCH: Nah, I’m better – I don’t mist up.
AVRIL: But, last night Trench…
TRENCH: I know, we must have some sort of connection, because the exquisite highs of our lovemaking were as high as… as high as…
AVRIL: …Skank?
TRENCH: Probably, but the only stimulant we needed was the love drug, baby.
(AVRIL giggles uncontrollably for a moment.)
AVRIL: Can I fix you some breakfast?
TRENCH: I thought you’d never ask, but I’d rather nibble on this first!
(AVRIL gives out a startled, but fun-filled cry.)
(A sexy echo of avenues and alleyways can be heard, which passes some time.)
TRENCH: That breakfast was… different.
AVRIL: Hmm, I not sure a healthy start to the day is what you’re used to, lover.
TRENCH: Lover? I suppose I must be – I like the sound of that. Hey, what do you mean? I’ll have nothing said against sausage, bacon, eggs, fried bread and black puddings.
AVRIL: But did you enjoy milk with apples, bananas, hazelnuts and sultanas?
TRENCH: Kind of – but next time, just open the Alpen will you?
AVRIL: Hilarious.
TRENCH: And I couldn’t stand the green tea you gave me, even with the novelty of it being hot.
AVRIL: I don’t follow.
TRENCH: Doesn’t matter. Oh Avril, there was a framed picture beside your bed of a rather plush yacht.
AVRIL: What of it?
TRENCH: I know it was on the small side but it did look err rather expensive.
AVRIL: You think it’s mine? (She laughs ironically.) I wish it was. I belong to a yachting club – and so does that yacht. What’s wrong with enjoying a sail with a few friends?
TRENCH: Nothing at all. I suppose I should show my face at the Stokeham Herald, if only to make sure Debsy gets the right angle on this drugs lark.
AVRIL: Yes… you go to Debsy.
TRENCH: Sorry?
AVRIL: I need to prepare for an important delivery of Methadone, I’m expecting later, and I expect your undercover work as my official assistant at this Centre has come to an end?
TRENCH: Regrettably, yes. I think it’s time I wrote about the drugs scene once more, instead of being inside it.
AVRIL: And does this also mean the end of us? I can take it, I’m a big girl now.
TRENCH: Oh no, I don’t think I could stop seeing you even if I wanted to. I’m…
AVRIL: …addicted?
(A thoughtful version of avenues and alleyways changes the scene.)
(DEBSY is typing away in then office at the Stokeham Herald. The door opens.)
DEBSY: I’m sorry, we don’t allow Skank-heads in here.
TRENCH: I’
m no longer one – and I’ve finished at the Centre.
DEBSY: But you still look troubled, so what’s up Trench?
TRENCH: There was a photograph of a boat, I mean a yacht on Avril’s bedside table.
DEBSY: Now, how did you see that?
TRENCH: I… err, I… spent the night there – with Avril.
DEBSY: I see.
TRENCH: You are all right about this, Debsy? I do like Avril…
DEBSY: Forget it, Trench – it’s nothing to do with me. Now, about this picture – what is it that bothers you about it so much?
TRENCH: Well, the yacht’s obviously expensive but Avril assured me it was owned by a yachting club that she’s a member of.
DEBSY: So, you have nothing to worry about then.
TRENCH: Well Debsy, have you finished your Downtown drugs busting article yet?
DEBSY: (Who types some more.) Very nearly.
TRENCH: And there’s something else that’s concerning me – Skank, or the current lack of it.
DEBSY: Why, do you want some?
TRENCH: I think I could do with some actually. I’m at a quandary with this case – and don’t say ‘where?’ I don’t honestly know what to do next.
DEBSY: Have a clandestine chin-wag with the old fellow?
TRENCH: Maybe… but I think I still need something more.
DEBSY: Go on, you chat with Old Tom, while I finish this article in time for the delivery deadline.
TRENCH: Delivery – that’s it! Debsy, sometimes you’re a genius.
DEBSY: I am?
TRENCH: Avril said she was awaiting an important delivery.
DEBSY: You think that delivery could be something to do with Skull or Skank or whatever it’s called? Hang on, are you saying Avril’s somehow involved?
TRENCH: She may not even know she’s being used. Come on, let’s catch that delivery.
DEBSY: But what about my article?
TRENCH: Oh, rewrite it later. Just think how much better it would be if it reached the dark heart of Skank…
(Sombre avenues and alleyways rendition moves things along.)
DEBSY: We’ve been stuck in the misty cold at the back of the Centre for quite a while now. The large metal shutters have remained stubbornly shut and there’s no sign of a delivery vehicle.
TRENCH: Shh.
DEBSY: Sorry, I was only saying.
TRENCH: I can hear loud breathing… yes nearer to the yard of the Centre is a figure skulking about – Finley without Dods, it seems.
DEBSY: A second someone seems to be joining him.
