by Ian Shimwell
SERIES ONE
Play Two
www.thearmchairdetective.moonfruit.com
THE
ARMCHAIR
DETECTIVE
and the
Manor-House
Mystery
Ian Shimwell
The Armchair Detective and the Manor-House Mystery Copyright Ian Shimwell © 2011
ALSO AVAILABLE IN SERIES ONE:
The Armchair Detective
The Armchair Detective and the Celebrity Stalker
The Armchair Detective On Holiday
The Armchair Detective and the Psychological Secret
The Armchair Detective’s Last Ever Case
Contents
Cast List
Act One
Act Two
Act Three
CAST LIST
TRENCH
OLD TOM
SALLY-ANNE
EDITOR LAW
MARCUS DREADBURY
SAWN-OFF
LORD DEVESHAM
GEMMA
LANDLORD
HAPPY
ACT ONE
OPENING MYSTERY MUSIC
OLD TOM: I have not seen you for months, young Trench. And as you can see, Mayflower Court is still standing. How can I help?
TRENCH: Yes, it certainly is, Old Tom. I just thought I’d have a chat - that’s all.
OLD TOM: I will ask you again: what’s on your mind?
(TRENCH shuffles uncomfortably)
TRENCH: How’s the armchair?
OLD TOM: As you can see, just as comfy as ever.
TRENCH: And the refurbishment project? Has the Mayflower had its makeover?
OLD TOM: Yes, the refurbishment project is complete.
TRENCH: Can’t say I’ve noticed.
OLD TOM: Naturally I refused to let them in here. I like…
TRENCH: …it just the way it is - I know.
OLD TOM: If you’ve just come here to annoy me, Trench - then you are succeeding.
TRENCH: No, I’m sorry.
OLD TOM: Is it girlfriend trouble? Do you wish for my advice on the birds and the bees?
TRENCH: Not exactly, but it does concern Sally-Anne.
OLD TOM: Go on.
TRENCH: She has been dating this shifty so-called aristocrat by the name of Marcus Dreadbury. I just don’t like him.
OLD TOM: (Who laughs, softly.) Accuse me of pointing out the obvious, but is all this fuelled by the green-eyed monster?
TRENCH: No, it’s not that. Simply for Sally-Anne’s safety, you understand, I did a background check on him.
OLD TOM: (Who coughs.) For your sake, I hope Sally-Anne doesn’t find out about that.
TRENCH: Yes, I know what you mean, Old Tom.
OLD TOM: Well, young man - what did the background check reveal about this Marcus Dreadbury?
TRENCH: A previous girlfriend of his, a Miss Emmy Hargreaves disappeared whilst visiting Marcus at the Dreadbury family home. Apparently she’s never been seen since.
OLD TOM: That’s actually not much to go on - but I can see why you are concerned, Trench.
TRENCH: So, what do you suggest?
OLD TOM: Keep a close eye on your fellow reporter. Now, would you pass me my cup of tea?
TRENCH: Here.
OLD TOM: I would have made you one, but I didn’t know you were coming.
(A short piece of music changes scene and time.)
(We hear TRENCH yawning.)
TRENCH: Another busy day at the hi-tech, modern offices of the dynamic Stokeham Herald. Hah.
SALLY-ANNE: Hmm, yes. We have had plenty of rain lately.
TRENCH: Oh Sally-Anne, didn’t I tell you before? I fell down a manhole on the way to work, and this gigantic rat nearly…
SALLY-ANNE: Oh, lovely.
TRENCH: Anyway enough about Editor Law… Earth to Sally-Anne - are you receiving?
SALLY-ANNE: Sorry Trench. I was miles away.
TRENCH: More like on another planet.
SALLY-ANNE: I was just thinking…
TRENCH: About a mysterious aristocrat, by any chance?
SALLY-ANNE: My thoughts did just touch upon Marcus, yes. What do you mean ‘mysterious’?
TRENCH: You don’t know very much about him.
SALLY-ANNE: What do you want me to do - a background check or something?
TRENCH: (Says guiltily:) Of course not.
SALLY-ANNE: Anyhow, the Dreadbury Family can be traced back centuries - sixteenth, I think. So, how much do you want to know?
TRENCH: Me? I don’t want to know anything - nothing to do with me.
SALLY-ANNE: Exactly.
TRENCH: Sixteenth century, eh? That’s an awful long time to be lord of the manor.
SALLY-ANNE: Will you shut - oh hello Editor Law.
EDITOR LAW: Afternoon. What are you two young people doing this evening?
SALLY-ANNE: I will be spending the evening with Marcus. I think he’s planning on taking me to that ridiculously expensive Italian restaurant…
TRENCH: And I’m washing my hair.
EDITOR LAW: Your plans have now changed. I want you both to investigate a story…
(We hear TRENCH trying to suppress a laugh.)
SALLY-ANNE: But sir, that’s not fair.
TRENCH: Sounds perfectly fine to me.
SALLY-ANNE: Trench - shut up, will you?
EDITOR LAW: We have had several letters from the locals at the Cock and Pheasant Public House, claiming that the Landlord is regularly watering down his ale. I want you to look into it.
TRENCH: Oh yes - we could pose as normal punters; drinking plenty of beers; seemingly enjoying ourselves but all the time, watching…
EDITOR LAW: (Who clears his throat.) Yes, you’ll probably have a barrel of laughs.
SALLY-ANNE: That was awful.
EDITOR LAW: I suppose it was - but just be there.
(We hear EDITOR LAW leave the office.)
TRENCH: I thought it was quite good - Editor Law doesn’t often come out with funnies. Oh, come on Sally-Anne, what are you so miserable about?
SALLY-ANNE: I won’t be able to see Marcus.
TRENCH: Yes you will - just invite him along to the Cock and Pheasant to join us.
SALLY-ANNE: Wonderful idea, Trench. Oh, sometimes I could kiss you!
TRENCH: Me and my big mouth.
(A few humorous notes move the scene to the evening.)
(We hear the pouring of a pint of Bitter by the LANDLORD and the usual sort of background of a pub - conversations etc.)
LANDLORD: Do you normally watch the pouring of your pint so enthusiastically?
TRENCH: I’m sorry Landlord - bad habit I suppose. It is just that I believe that pouring a pint is really an art form.
LANDLORD: Oh, you do? That’s all right then. There’s your perfect pint and a Pimms and lemonade.
TRENCH: Thanks.
(We hear the exchange of money. TRENCH moves a chair before eventually settling next to SALLY-ANNE.)
TRENCH: Cheers.
SALLY-ANNE: Hmm.
TRENCH: What’s wrong with you, Sally-Anne? Afraid that lover-boy won’t lower himself to turn up in this fine old establishment?
SALLY-ANNE: Marcus has given his word - so he will be here, yes even here, in the Cock an’ Pheasant.
TRENCH: You have faith in this Marcus, then?
SALLY-ANNE: Oh, stop being ridiculous Trench - I’ve only just arrived. How long have you been here?
TRENCH: About an hour.
SALLY-ANNE: And what have you discovered, apart from the various merits of the many lagers and bitters?
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TRENCH: Hah, well the Landlord is definitely a sneaky character who doesn’t like being watched - but it was just before I set foot in this pub where I overheard a rather interesting conversation.
SALLY-ANNE: Like when the price of crisps are going up next?
(We hear SALLY-ANNE heavy breathe a ‘get on with it then, will you?’)
TRENCH: It seems that this ‘watering down’ lark is big business. That unpleasant, ‘you don’t want to know’ type - a local ‘business man’ known as Sawn-Off was politely threatening the Landlord. Sawn-off as in Shotgun.
SALLY-ANNE: ‘Sawn-off’ not him. He doesn’t usually use his surname, ‘Shotgun’. Were his bunch of heavies with him?
TRENCH: Probably. They are obviously in on this low-alcohol beer racket.
SALLY-ANNE: (Cuts in.) Better for one’s health though
TRENCH: (Continues.) And I think they were in the process of extracting their cut.
SALLY-ANNE: We should tread very carefully with this story.
TRENCH: I know, I like my face exactly where it is.
(TRENCH takes another sip of his beer.)
SALLY-ANNE: (Says loudly:) Oh Marcus - over here darling.
(Chairs are shuffled as TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE stand up.)
MARCUS: (His voice is deep and sickly.) Dear, Sally-Anne - and Trench I presume.
TRENCH: Hello, err sir, Lord..?
MARCUS: As dear old Daddy is still alive, I have yet to inherit my hereditary title so, Marcus will suffice.
TRENCH: …Marcus.
MARCUS: (Who clicks his fingers.) A pint of your best bitter, barman and whatever my young friends are drinking. Bring them over.
(We just hear the LANDLORD grumble a ‘yes’ and a ‘who does he think he is?’ to his nearest customer. There was a low rumble of laughter at ‘bring them over’.)
(We hear them sit down.)
MARCUS: The lady is beautiful, Trench. Is she not?
TRENCH: Who are you talking about?
(SALLY-ANNE kicks TRENCH under the table.)
TRENCH: Ouch.
SALLY-ANNE: Ignore him, Marcus. I am so glad you came. We are on rather a dull assignment.
MARCUS: I admit, I usually frequent more grandiose locations.
(The LANDLORD places the drinks on the table.)
MARCUS: One will settle the bill at close of evening.
LANDLORD: Yes ‘one’ will. (Gruffly, he returns to the bar.)
(MARCUS drinks some of his pint.)
MARCUS: A rather peculiar taste. Now, what is the nature of your assignment?
TRENCH: Oh, I wouldn’t do you the disservice of boring you with the details.
MARCUS: As you wish.
TRENCH: Oh, it’s just so lovely to see such a handsome couple together.
SALLY-ANNE: (Says in a warning tone:) Trench.
MARCUS: Yes - and, dearest Sally-Anne, I wish us to be together this weekend for shooting at Dreadbury Manor.
TRENCH: (Who coughs) No, she err can’t.
MARCUS: Why ever not? Prey the lady speaks for herself.
SALLY-ANNE: I would love to come. Thank-you Marcus. Now, Trench, why can’t I?
TRENCH: Editor Law might have another assignment for us.
SALLY-ANNE: Yes well, he may own my evenings but not my weekends. I’ll be there, Marcus.
TRENCH: Shooting you said? I’ve always wanted to do that. Ah well…
MARCUS: Then you must come too, dear Trench.
TRENCH: Good-oh.
MARCUS: Look for the line of oaks that line my estate…
SALLY-ANNE: Wonderful - excuse me a minute. (She leaves.)
MARCUS: Never been shooting? Try to be very careful though, there can be the most dreadful accidents…
(Ominous music changes the time and scene to the following day.)
OLD TOM: So, you will be shooting Grouse, my boy?
TRENCH: Yes, not really my idea of fun, but I couldn’t let Sally-Anne go on her own, could I?
OLD TOM: Evidently not.
TRENCH: Then, you will never guess what happened next in the pub?
OLD TOM: Sawn-Off and his heavies arrived and Marcus put his aristocratic arms around young Sally-Anne?
TRENCH: I’m speechless. Sometimes, Old Tom, you amaze me.
OLD TOM: Only sometimes, Trench?
TRENCH: You are going to tell me how you came up with that astonishing deduction?
OLD TOM: You had excitedly mentioned Sawn-Off earlier. Your challenge was made in exactly the same tones. Then, assuming my deduction was correct and Sawn-Off had entered the scene, it is easy to presume a gentleman would hold his girl protectively, knowing the mobster’s reputation, say like a mother goose protecting her goslings under her wings - if that was what Marcus was actually doing of course.
TRENCH: Thanks for not saying, ‘elementary, my dear Trench.’
OLD TOM: I was sorely tempted.
TRENCH: And before you tell me, Sawn-Off had a chat with the Landlord who seemed to lose all colour in his face…
OLD TOM: Which is completely consistent with their character traits.
TRENCH: But the weirdest thing was ‘the look’.
OLD TOM: Define ‘the look’. And to whom was ‘the look’ intended?
TRENCH: ‘The look’ was predictably threatening, but there was something else - like an intense questioning, a strange sense of curiosity, if you like. Sawn-Off seemed to be staring at Marcus…
OLD TOM: Very interesting…
(OLD TOM coughs very badly.)
TRENCH: Here, let me fetch you some water.
OLD TOM: No, no - never touch the stuff.
TRENCH: I give up.
OLD TOM: So, are you going to tell me about your trip to the Police Station this morning? And before you look open-mouthed again, they’re several Police-headed reports sticking out of your briefcase.
TRENCH: Yes, unofficially and in complete confidence Sergeant Strong let me have them for research.
OLD TOM: Concerning the missing Emmy Hargreaves, no doubt?
TRENCH: Correct.
OLD TOM: You’ll have obviously read them by now and probably have to return them very soon so you might as well save me the bother and give me the edited highlights.
TRENCH: Marcus was not only seeing Emmy, they were engaged to be married. Emmy spent her last weekend at the Dreadbury Manor-House with Marcus, naturally, and his father, Lord Devesham-Dreadbury for a spot of shooting. Now, can you see why I’m worried?
OLD TOM: Lightning never strikes twice, young Trench but then again, history does have an unpleasant habit of repeating itself.
TRENCH: Also, Miss Emmy Hargreaves was rumoured to be in the employ of a certain Sawn-Off and his merry band of men known as the Syndicate…
OLD TOM: That, I didn’t expect. What was Emmy’s connection to the low-life of Stokeham and district?
TRENCH: Sergeant Strong stressed it was only a rumour, but the whispers from mostly unreliable sources, did mention Drugs. I don’t know more than that.
OLD TOM: But that tells us an awful lot.
TRENCH: That Sawn-Off saw off Emmy? That she died an addict’s death, if indeed she was an addict? Or is Marcus Dreadbury somehow involved in her disappearance or even murder?
OLD TOM: Searching questions, Trench. Very old families like the Dreadburys usually have plenty of skeletons in their cupboard.
TRENCH: And my visit to Dreadbury Manor this weekend will be the perfect opportunity to start opening some cupboards…
OLD TOM: In the meantime, my boy - nip into the kitchen and make us both a cup of tea.
TRENCH: But you usually have it made.
OLD TOM: So therefore it’s your turn. Come on, tea doesn’t make itself.
TRENCH: (Says in the kitchen to himself.) And besides, that would involve you getting up from that armchair of yours…
