by Ian Shimwell
TRENCH: So, to save time – can I ask you one question?
MOTHER: Of course you can, young man – and I’ll be as quick as I can because you are obviously two very busy bees!
TRENCH: Prior to our last visit, has anyone unusual visited you recently? A stranger, perhaps?
MOTHER: Hmm, no – I don’t think so.
SALLY-ANNE: Any kind of visitor, then?
MOTHER: Let me think… Oh yes, the gas man came a day before you did.
TRENCH: Now, this is very important, did he go into your kitchen?
MOTHER: Yes, yes he did. In fact he insisted on making the tea, just like you did! I can make tea myself, you know – honestly.
SALLY-ANNE: And I’m sure it’s lovely tea too, Mother.
MOTHER: Mother knows best.
TRENCH: And what did this gas-man look like?
MOTHER: He was tall like you, a fair bit younger though – and had a rather unruly mop of curly brown hair.
TRENCH: Thank-you, Mother – you’ve been most helpful.
MOTHER: Oh good.
SALLY-ANNE: Goodbye, Mother.
(MOTHER closes the front door after they leave.)
SALLY-ANNE: That description, Trench, sounds an awful lot like Dominic.
TRENCH: But why would Dominic want us to run around Stokeham carrying this Black Box to uncover bizarre, cryptic clues?
SALLY-ANNE: Some sort of twisted prank, that only he finds amusing?
TRENCH: He doesn’t seem the type, though…
BLACK BOX: Take me to the telephone box on the High Street before eleven hundred and forty-five hours to discover your fourth and final clue.
SALLY-ANNE: The missing clue…
TRENCH: Let’s go – and get it.
(Traditional private-eye type music moves time on.)
SALLY-ANNE: There’s the telephone kiosk.
TRENCH: And we’re five minutes to spare. Oh no, there’s someone inside it.
SALLY-ANNE: She shouldn’t be too long. We’ll just have to wait.
(Quick music emphasising impatience passes a few more minutes.)
TRENCH: Stupid woman. There’s no sign of her shutting-up, typical.
SALLY-ANNE: Hey!
TRENCH: We’ve only a few minutes left.
SALLY-ANNE: I’ll knock.
(The kiosk door opens.)
TRENCH: Thank-you, madam. It’s going to be a tight squeeze, Sally-Anne – me, you… and the Black Box.
SALLY-ANNE: People might start talking. You go in, I’ll ‘keep guard’ outside.
TRENCH: At least I won’t have to look very far for the clue.
(TRENCH opens the door and goes inside.)
BLACK BOX: The fourth clue: A change is as good as a rest. You have ninety seconds remaining.
(The telephone rings. TRENCH opens the door slightly.)
TRENCH: Sally-Anne, the telephone’s ringing – what shall I do?
SALLY-ANNE: Err, answer it?
TRENCH: Of course, thanks!
(The door closes and TRENCH picks up the receiver.)
TRENCH: Hello, hello. Trench here, who is it?
GEOFFREY: (Obviously speaking from the other end of the ‘phone.) Trench, it’s me – Geoffrey.
TRENCH: Who told you to ‘phone here? Never mind, did you recommend Dominic to us?
GEOFFREY: No way, do you know what happened at the Ghoulmouth Gazette?
(Telephone interference can be heard. Foreboding music changes the atmosphere. And we can no longer hear GEOFFREY.)
TRENCH: Speak up, Geoffrey – with all this interference I can only just hear you. He didn’t, he did. Never, sacked? Closed down? Oh no, they’ll do the same here.
BLACK BOX: Twenty seconds remaining.
TRENCH: I’ll have to go, Geoffrey. I’ll be in touch. Yes, I got that: ‘message received, accepted and understood’ – just.
(TRENCH puts the ‘phone down.)
TRENCH: Now, what was the clue? A change is as good… Change, of course, look at the returned coins collector… and there is the little black box.
(We hear TRENCH squeeze the mini black box open.)
TRENCH: A red and white striped pole.
BLACK BOX: One second remaining.
(TRENCH drops the pole before it explodes and dashes out of the telephone box.)
SALLY-ANNE: What was all that about?
TRENCH: We have less than fifteen minutes to save the Stokeham Herald. Come on, Sally-Anne – we’re going to have to really dash. It’s nearly noon.
SALLY-ANNE: You do the dashing, Trench – I’ll catch you up at the Herald. You’ll be faster without me. (She turns round.) Oops, he’s already gone.
(Fast paced music which also heightens suspense ends the scene.)
(TRENCH is furiously running down the corridors of the Stokeham Herald.)
TRENCH: Come on, Trench. Barely seconds left…
(TRENCH bursts through EDITOR LAW’s office door.)
TRENCH: (Who’s breathless but loud.) Editor Law, do not sign that document.
EDITOR LAW: What’s going on?
DOMINIC: Ah, good old Trench – you’re just in time… to be too late. The ink may not be dry yet, but Editor Law has signed. The Paper is ours.
TRENCH: Ours?
MAX: Yes, I, Max Sterling and my business partner Dominic Jenkins, now own the Stokeham Herald.
EDITOR LAW: I don’t understand.
MAX: It’s really quite simple, Editor Law – or should I say ex-Editor Law. Hand the letters out, Dominic.
DOMINIC: Yes, sir.
EDITOR LAW: What are they?
MAX: Your redundancy notices.
EDITOR LAW: But you promised that our jobs were safe.
MAX: I lied. Look at it this way, now you have more time than ever to play your infernal golf.
TRENCH: Question: how can we be redundant, when our jobs still exist?
MAX: They won’t. We have taken over this Paper for one purpose only: to demolish it; and build a multi-storey car park in its place. This is the business myself and Dominic are in. We go around the country and have ‘transformed’ many places – it’s highly profitable. Local newspaper businesses usually make ideal establishments because they are normally located at prime sites close to the town centre.
TRENCH: So, that’s why you were banging on about car parking problems so much.
MAX: That’s right, create a demand…
TRENCH: But why pick on this particular newspaper?
DOMINIC: Your friend, Geoffrey in all innocence recommended you to us – before we sacked him and went on to close down the Ghoulmouth Gazette, of course. You’re still holding my Black Box, Trench – how quaint.
TRENCH: Your Black Box, Dominic? Care to explain?
DOMINIC: A diversion, Trench. An extravagant, theatrical, ridiculous and ultimately an amusing one – but simply a diversion nonetheless. Geoffrey also let slip about you and Old Tom solving mysteries and the like, so I knew I had to keep you more than occupied whilst myself and sir got on with serious business of car-parking your newspaper. I made the Black Box. It contains a microprocessor, sound recorder, speaker and voice relay – see when I speak into my little microphone: (DOMINIC speaks, but his voice comes through electronically via the BLACK BOX:) I am the Black Box – and you, Trench are a fool.
TRENCH: I’ve certainly been fooled.
DOMINIC: Believe it or not myself and Max are sportsmen, so we, in the interests of fair play, decided to give you a chance. You could have worked our intentions out from the tantalising clues left, if you discovered them on time. Even the last clue was timed so you could have just prevented the take-over, if you had been fast enough. But, of course Trench, you were too slow, far too slow.
TRENCH: What do you want me to say, Dominic – how clever you are?
DOMINIC: It would be nice. I also found it amusing, after studying past copies of the Stokeham Herald, to involve people from your previous investigations.
TRENCH: You shouldn’t have gone to
so much trouble, but you do know about Old Tom. How much do you know?
DOMINIC: Know about Old Tom? I even visited him.
TRENCH: You couldn’t have – you don’t know where he lives.
DOMINIC: The Black Box also contains a satellite navigation locator – so the box led me back to Mayflower Court. And that’s when I really felt sorry for you, Trench.
TRENCH: Felt sorry for me?
DOMINIC: Old Tom doesn’t even exist. His supposed Flat was derelict – and empty.
TRENCH: I don’t believe you.
SALLY-ANNE: I’m here! Have I missed all the fun?
TRENCH: We have lost the Stokeham Herald, Sally.
MAX: And you are all sacked. So, if you don’t mind..?
DOMINIC: Trench, leave my Black Box on your way out.
TRENCH: Might as well, no use to me now. Err, no – you know what they say about ‘finder’s keepers’?
DOMINIC: Suit yourself. Right, all of you out. Get out!
(Sad music suggesting loss and defeat closes the scene.)
(We hear TRENCH rattle the front door.)
TRENCH: It’s no use – the doors locked. I know – letter box. (We hear him open the letter box.) The hall’s not only empty but stripped bare. Old Tom must have left, assuming he does actually exist… Am I going mad?
OLD TOM: Come in, young man, the door is open.
(TRENCH tries the door again, this time it opens. He puts something down in the hallway and enters the living room.)
TRENCH: Why’s the hallway completely empty?
OLD TOM: I’ll tell you later, now sit down, Trench. Traffic warden, crumpled paper, sports car and a black sheep. Someone’s been sending us on a right old wild goose chase.
TRENCH: Old Tom, I’ve something to tell you.
OLD TOM: The fourth clue? Go ahead then.
TRENCH: Oh that? I’d almost forgotten. It was a thin, red and white pole about so big.
OLD TOM: A pole… or a barrier? I think I’ve got it, Trench. The black sheep of the family; a snake in the grass; a traitor from within, if you like. An enemy who has deliberately plotted against us…
TRENCH: That’ll be Dominic.
OLD TOM: What do sports cars do?
TRENCH: Take over?
OLD TOM: Exactly. The crumpled-up newspaper illustrates the folding of the Stokeham Herald. The traffic warden could quite easily be a car-park attendant and the pole an entrance/exit barrier to surprisingly… a car park. The Stokeham Herald must be in grave danger, Trench – you had better rush before, before… But judging from your expression and the fact that it is now well after mid-day – we’re too late, aren’t we?
TRENCH: I’m afraid so, but at least we know now why the fourth clue was held over – it meant contact with Geoffrey who would have warned me about the car-parking leeches Max Sterling and Dominic Jenkins – they killed the Ghoulmouth Gazette prior to picking on us.
OLD TOM: But why did they pick on you?
TRENCH: I’ve already kind of told you. Geoffrey inadvertently mentioned us and the Paper.
OLD TOM: It still doesn’t make sense. Ghoulmouth is the other side of the country. True, they might have reached Stokeham eventually, but why come straight here? Of course, that’s the reason.
TRENCH: Not for the first time, you’ve lost me, Old Tom.
OLD TOM: Think about our very first case. Think about who we really upset by saving the Mayflower flats. Think about Dominic. Come on- think, Trench, think.
TRENCH: Yes, yes – now I know why – but I still can’t see it helping. My job, the Herald has gone – lost forever. This is one case where we are well and truly beaten, Old Tom. And it pains me to say – outwitted.
OLD TOM: I agree, we have badly lost a battle, but the war isn’t over just yet… I assume Dominic asked for the Black Box back, but you didn’t give it him.
TRENCH: I nearly did, but decided to keep it just to annoy him – hang on, how did you..? I know, like before you heard me place something in the hall and deduced it was our boxed friend.
OLD TOM: Fetch it then – along with that hammer you most kindly bought me – as you know it resides in the kitchen drawer. I knew it would come in useful one day.
TRENCH: What are you going to do?
OLD TOM: This time, my observational deductive process hasn’t quite worked out. So, we are going to give brute force a damned good chance for a change…
(Determined music changes the scene.)
(The office door opens, MAX and DOMINIC are discussing something whilst looking at the plans. Rustling of paper can be heard.)
MAX: Yes Dominic, I thought the main car-parking terminals are going to be here – and here. Trench, Sally-Anne and good old ex-Editor Law, quite a visiting committee. None of you, however, have any right to be here – so please leave, as you can see we are very busy.
TRENCH: Sorry to interrupt you Max, I’ve come to return what’s left of the Back Box to Dominic.
(A rattling sound can be heard as TRENCH hands the bag of BLACK BOX broken bits to DOMINIC.)
DOMINIC: I shall sue you for criminal damage, Trench.
SALLY-ANNE: That was very naughty of you, Trenchy.
EDITOR LAW: Unforgiveable…
DOMINIC: Oh, shut up and get out. All of you.
TRENCH: I know now why you choose this newspaper. You were probably quite happily illegally and dishonestly slowly closing down local papers to replace them with very useful car-parks pretty much at random. But Geoffrey no doubt triggered a memory, a memory perhaps of ex-Sergeant Jenkins?
DOMINIC: All right, I admit it – it can do you no good. Ex-Sergeant Jenkins, as you put it, and for some reason passionately wanted Mayflower Court to be demolished. But of course, your goody goody Stokeham Herald campaign stopped that. He died shortly afterwards - sad and alone. I blame you for his death. You broke his spirit – my uncle.
TRENCH: So, that’s why you said ‘the Black Box brought you back to Mayflower Court’. You had previously visited your uncle there.
DOMINIC: Bravo, Trench. And revenge is sweet, conning Editor Law to sell this Paper as a going concern, only to tarmac it, was may I say, a very, very pleasurable days’ work.
TRENCH: Oh, sorry Dominic and Mr Max, I forgot to mention that I did save one thing from the Black Box – the sound recorder. From the box of delights, something delightful…
(TRENCH presses ‘play’ and DOMINIC’s recorded voice can be heard.)
DOMINIC: (From the tape-recorder:) …conning Editor Law to sell this Paper, as a going concern, only to tarmac…
(TRENCH presses ‘stop’.)
TRENCH: Did you hear that, Sergeant Strong?
(SERGEANT STRONG enters the office.)
SERGEANT STRONG: Yes, I did and together with the other evidence we have collected from around the country means that I can declare this newspaper sale legally void. Max Sterling and Dominic Jenkins, you are under arrest for numerous accounts of obtaining property by deception and for other offences – when I’ve thought of them.
MAX: I warned you, Dominic that it would be too dangerous here. And as for you and that fancy box of tricks… I knew it wouldn’t work.
DOMINIC: Max, do us all a favour, will you? And shut up.
SALLY-ANNE: Wait, before they go, I think Editor Law wants to do something right in front of their eyes.
EDITOR LAW: Do I, Sally? Yes, of course I do. This is – or was the contract selling the Stokeham Herald to your bad selves.
(We can hear EDITOR LAW gleefully tearing the contract to pieces, with TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE cheering on.)
(Lighter music ends the scene.)
SALLY-ANNE: I’ve said goodbye to Editor Law, now it’s your turn, Trench.
TRENCH: First, Sally-Anne, there is something I must do.
(We hear TRENCH grab SALLY-ANNE and give her a long kiss.)
TRENCH: Maybe I should have done that when we first met. Maybe things would have turned out differently…
SALLY-ANNE: You know, if
you would have knocked on my door at Fisherman’s Cove, you would have found it open… But you were too wrapped up in Old Tom’s latest mystery.
TRENCH: That just about sums us up.
SALLY-ANNE: With Old Tom around in spirit, at least, meant that me and you never had a chance.
TRENCH: But now you are going to have a new life with Jonathan in London. What are you actually going to do there?
SALLY-ANNE: I was going to ask around for a job as a television news reporter, maybe at Globelink News, but a little addition to our lives has forced us to change plans.
TRENCH: An addition to you and Jonathan? Are you going to have a threesome? (He then takes off DARNIA:) I adore threesomes!
SALLY-ANNE: (Who laughs:) Yes, ‘Darnia’. It is a threesome in a way, I suppose. Me and Jonathan are going to have a baby.
TRENCH: That’s great, truly great.
SALLY-ANNE: Goodbye, Trench.
(Music tinged with sadness closes the scene.)
OLD TOM: Come in, young man, the door is open.
(TRENCH enters the flat.)
TRENCH: Now there’s nothing left in the whole flat apart from your armchair – and my chair. What is going on, Old Tom?
OLD TOM: First, Trench, sit down and tell me what happened.
TRENCH: (Who sits down.) Your plan worked a treat, old timer. Max and Dominic are arrested and the Stokeham Herald is saved. Sally-Anne has left for pastures new and nest building in London. And Editor Law has found a way to play more golf without selling the Paper: he’s promoted me to be Assistant Editor.
OLD TOM: Congratulations. I suppose you will need to employ some new reporters?
TRENCH: Yes, interviews start very soon for one vacancy. The other, I’ve offered to Geoffrey. Well, he’s obviously lost his job at the Gazette and his insurance work has dried up.
OLD TOM: So, he said yes?
TRENCH: Well, Geoffers actually said, ‘message…’ – never mind, he starts next week. He’ll probably drive me mad, but after Dominic I’ll take the chance. And now, are you going to tell me about the mystery of your vanishing furniture?
OLD TOM: First, look under your chair.
TRENCH: Two cups of cold tea. Here’s yours. (They start drinking.)
OLD TOM: I’m moving on, Trench. You’ve been promoted, your partner’s left. It is the end of an era. You don’t need me anymore. I can be of no further use to you. You have come a long way, my boy, learnt a great deal. You will not look at things quite the same from hence forth. My work here is complete. You will not see me again.
