by Ian Shimwell
TRENCH: Yes..?
MARCUS: To rub salt into the wounds, those West Indies blighters won the match!
TRENCH: How awful. Oh, on the way here I couldn’t help but notice the stables.
MARCUS: How terribly observant of you.
TRENCH: Thing is, there wasn’t any horses there – not a single one.
MARCUS: There are no gee gees at Dreadbury.
TRENCH: Quite. Well perhaps, Sally-Anne has finished powdering her nose by now.
MARCUS: Perhaps she has. You go to her, Trench. I must go and check that the shotguns are in order for tomorrow’s shooting.
TRENCH: Right, then.
MARCUS: After all, we wouldn’t want any accidents, would we?
(More heavy notes emphasizing the threat and a longer piece of music moves things on to the following day.)
SALLY-ANNE: What a wonderful meal, or should I say banquet, we had last night.
TRENCH: I know Sall’. Duck soup, roast pheasant and I don’t think I could eat another Quale’s egg.
SALLY-ANNE: The meal was that heavy, it kept me up half the night.
TRENCH: Yes, I remember.
SALLY-ANNE: Mmm, what a lovely smell: sausages, bacon, eggs…
TRENCH: Yes, the maid must be cooking a full English breakfast.
SALLY-ANNE: I’ll just go and pour some juice, coming?
TRENCH: Give me a moment, then I’ll join you.
(We hear SALLY-ANNE leave the room.)
TRENCH: What I really could do with now is a chat with Old Tom.
(At that moment, the telephone rings, TRENCH tentatively answers it.)
TRENCH: Hello.
OLD TOM: Good morning, young Trench.
TRENCH: Old Tom! But how could you possibly..?
OLD TOM: It may surprise you to know, I am just about capable of using a telephone directory.
TRENCH: I’ve so much to tell you, Old Tom. Where should I start?
OLD TOM: I’ve always found the beginning a useful place…
TRENCH: No I won’t, I’ll first tell you what happened in the middle of the night.
OLD TOM: Wait a minute, would you pass me my cup of tea? Oh sorry, of course you can’t. I will have to struggle myself.
(We hear OLD TOM struggle to reach his tea.)
OLD TOM: Ah, that’s better. Tear on, Trench.
TRENCH: Well I woke up looking for the bathroom and bumped into Sally-Anne who was doing the same. We tried the nearest door but it was locked. This woke Marcus up and he seemed annoyed. He dismissed the locked room as private and simply not in use. He as good as told Sally-Anne it was none of her business when she suggested taking a ‘peek’.
OLD TOM: There is nothing more mysterious than a locked room in a manor-house…
TRENCH: Could poor Emmy Hargreaves be held prisoner in there? Assuming she is still alive.
OLD TOM: You have something else, in particular, to tell me.
TRENCH: Yes I do, but how did you know? Never mind - as I returned to my bedroom I left the door slightly ajar and could just make out a whispered conversation between Sally-Anne and Marcus.
OLD TOM: And..?
TRENCH: Shockingly, Sally-Anne suggested that she could slip into Marcus’ bedroom. I tell you, I didn’t know what to do.
OLD TOM; But no action was necessary, as master Marcus said - that they should know each other rather more before making that next step, err shall we say.
TRENCH: Now, come on Old Tom - you couldn’t have known that.
OLD TOM: I can read, err situations.
TRENCH: But the bottom line is - do you think Sally-Anne is in danger?
OLD TOM: I believe that is a likely possibility, but I still need to know more.
(We hear someone enter the room.)
SALLY-ANNE: What do you mean ‘is Sally-Anne in danger?’ Who are you speaking to, Trench?
TRENCH: Just having a chat with Old Tom, that’s all.
SALLY-ANNE: Give me that ‘phone. (We hear SALLY-ANNE snatch the ‘phone off TRENCH.) Hello good Old Tom, hello..? Who were you speaking to? The line’s dead.
TRENCH: Yes, and so might you be - if we don’t get out of here.
(A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act Two.)
ACT THREE
(We hear a few shots as TRENCH and MARCUS try to kill their prey.)
MARCUS: You missed, Trench.
TRENCH: So did you, Marcus.
MARCUS: Not exactly, I was firing a few warning shots to manipulate my prey.
TRENCH: Good excuse, I mean reason. Who’s letting the birds out - the gamekeeper?
MARCUS: No, a game keeper is not necessary. The Dreadbury Estate is famous for its generous stock of Grouse. Controlled shooting of said pheasants here, dates back centuries.
TRENCH: Missed the blighter again, although as they say I managed to ruffle a few feathers. Err, wait a minute, Marcus - you seem to be pointing your shotgun straight at me, why?
MARCUS: Always so many questions, Trench - may I ask you one?
TRENCH: Fire away - except don’t. Ask away to your heart’s content though.
MARCUS: If you really want to know about Emmy Hargreaves, why don’t you just ask - you know, another one of your questions?
TRENCH: All right, I will. What has happened to her? Where is Emmy Hargreaves? And how do you know I’m looking for her?
(We hear a click as MARCUS prepares to fire.)
MARCUS: Your none too subtle slip about looking for your own supposed Emma was a trifle obvious.
TRENCH: Yes, I admit that was a bit crass. You can stop pointing that gun at me, if you like.
MARCUS: As you are probably aware, Emmy and I were engaged, however for reasons only known to her - maybe the pressure of it all, or she went off me - I don’t know, she decided to leave suddenly, not even having the good grace to leave a note. You do believe me, don’t you?
TRENCH: Of course I do. I believe you, absolutely.
(MARCUS’ shot rings out.)
TRENCH: Ouch! That bullet singed my ear!
MARCUS: But killed the Grouse that was moving just behind your head. I venture that tonight’s culinary delights will be entirely predictable.
TRENCH: You win, Marcus.
MARCUS: I invariably do. We should return to Dreadbury Manor.
TRENCH: One more thing, though - did you and Emmy go on plenty of extravagant parties?
MARCUS: Yes we did, actually - but why ask?
TRENCH: Sorry, just another of my insufferable questions.
(Thoughtful music shifts the scene once more.)
SALLY-ANNE: Right, while we’re alone, Trench - I want to know why my life is in such supposed peril and what are you actually doing here?
TRENCH: All right, I’ll tell you - wait, I think Marcus is coming.
(We hear the door open.)
TRENCH: Ah, Lord Devesham, delighted.
(TRENCH groans.)
DEVESHAM: We are forty runs behind, Tiger Trench. A quick half-century from you and we’ll stuff the blighters! Oh, apologies Miss - I did not realize there’s a lady present, as I’m always saying to my dearest Winnie…
TRENCH: Mad as a hatter.
SALLY-ANNE: Apology accepted, sir. (SALLY-ANNE suddenly takes a deep breath.) Marcus!
MARCUS: I’m sure Sally-Anne would prefer to watch the match than talk about it, father.
DEVESHAM: Oh dear, another one of our chaps out. You’re on next, Trench!
MARCUS: How about we all relax for a while in the err Pavilion first - and drink some punch.
(MARCUS rings for the Maid, who enters.)
GEMMA: You rang, my lord.
SALLY-ANNE: It’s not fair, I’ve always wanted to say that!
MARCUS: Gemma, would you be so kind as to fetch our silver bowl? We shall all be partaking in punch.
TRENCH: Hmm, I think you are trying to give me a clue, Marcus.
SALLY-ANNE: Oh dear Trench, what are you talking about?
TRENCH: Punch… bowl… the Dreadbury P
unchbowl! Excuse me, I’m just going out for a walk.
(TRENCH shuts the door sharply behind him.)
DEVESHAM: (Who shouts.) Knock ‘em for six, Tiger!
(Pacey music plays as TRENCH runs along the gravel path and through the woods until he reaches the swamp.)
TRENCH: The Dreadbury Punchbowl…
SAWN-OFF: Trench, what are you doing staring at that swamp?
TRENCH: That’s funny, that’s the same question I asked Marcus… Sawn-Off! What are you doing here?
SAWN-OFF: I am here to find-the-lady namely Emmy Hargreaves. Where is she?
TRENCH: I wish I knew. Why do you want her?
SAWN-OFF: The Syndicate want her back. No one ever leaves the Syndicate… I made her into a Lady and she was our window to the aristocracy. She did extremely well. She sold many drugs for us, at highly lucrative prices.
TRENCH: Which she sold at the many parties her and Marcus frequented, I see. Come to think of it, I don’t really know what the lady looked like. Enlighten me, Sawn-Off.
SAWN-OFF: Platinum blonde - and she was beautiful in a regal sort of way.
TRENCH: Well, the only girls here are Sally-Anne who is dark haired and the Maid is a brunette. Neither of them are particularly regal… Wait a minute, what’s that in the swamp, by the bushes?
SAWN-OFF: A body?
TRENCH: If I can reach, I’ll get it with this branch.
(We hear rustling as TRENCH hauls it out of the swamp with a long branch.)
TRENCH: I’m afraid not, it’s just a coat.
SAWN-OFF: But it’s Emmy’s coat, I recognize it. I must bring Happy and my associates down to dredge this swamp - the body must be somewhere.
TRENCH: See the bubbles, Sawn-Off - that’s where some sort of underground river emerges which originates from the Great Southern Lake - which is where the body of poor Miss Hargreaves has probably been swept to, by the currents. And that lake is far too big to be dredged up, even by your heavies. (TRENCH takes a deep breath.) The Lady in the Lake…
SAWN-OFF: I’m sorry, she is dead?
TRENCH: Why, do you miss her?
SAWN-OFF: No, I wanted to kill her myself – at least the horses didn’t though.
TRENCH: Say what?
SAWN-OFF: She was allergic to horses, didn’t you know? Obviously not. See you around, Trench.
TRENCH: Give my regards to Happy.
(More music and a change of scene.)
TRENCH: I’ll sneak back through the kitchen. (He has a sharp intake of breath.) Marcus and the Maid are embracing - and kissing! I must tell Sally-Anne.
(TRENCH sneaks through to the Drawing Room.)
TRENCH: Sally-Anne, where are you?
(His only answer is the ‘phone ringing.)
TRENCH: Hello? Old Tom… I’ve so much more to tell you.
(Music passes some time.)
TRENCH: So, what do you deduce?
OLD TOM: As far as I’m concerned, the case is almost closed. I could explain the mystery of the missing society girl, come drug pusher right now - but I won’t. This is a case I want you to crack. Now, how do you propose to gain access to the locked room? Come on think, Trench, think.
TRENCH: I don’t know. Marcus said the bedroom is unused but I was sure I heard something… The door is not used though - there was dust on the handle. My hand was covered in it.
OLD TOM: Then the secret must be literally staring you in the face.
TRENCH: I can only see the fireplace. Of course, I said to Sally-Anne it was almost big enough to walk through.
OLD TOM: And, young Trench, these old manor-houses are notorious for secret passageways - so venture forth, walk through and solve the mystery.
(The ‘phone goes dead and TRENCH replaces the receiver.)
TRENCH: Sally-Anne!
SALLY-ANNE: You’re obviously back, Trench - now tell me what’s going on.
TRENCH: (Who takes a deep breath.) I believe that Marcus Dreadbury’s previous girlfriend, err fiancé Emmy Hargreaves has been murdered by Marcus. He may have disposed the body in the Dreadbury Punchbowl - that’s a swamp leading to the Great Lake, or she’s imprisoned in that locked room upstairs. Want to find out?
SALLY-ANNE: Might as well, I suppose. I’ve nothing else to do at the moment. I think you’ve finally flipped though, Trench.
TRENCH: The fire has long since died, so let’s walk through it.
(We hear them walk through the remains of the fire.)
SALLY-ANNE: A secret passageway with a twisting, spiral staircase.
(They walk up the heavy stone steps.)
TRENCH: Oh, and Marcus is having a fling with his maid.
SALLY-ANNE: What!? I’ll kill him.
TRENCH: Not if he kills you first. (We hear the creepy sound of a rocking chair.) There’s a rocking chair, rocking.
SALLY-ANNE There’s someone on the chair. (She screams.) A skeleton!
TRENCH: Not so much a skeleton in the cupboard - this one resides in a whole bedroom!
(We hear the key tumble in the lock and the door creaks open.)
TRENCH: Marcus, is that what’s left of poor Emmy?
MARCUS: I think we should all return to the Drawing Room, sit down, drink some Punch and talk about this in a civilized fashion.
(Solemnly yet surprisingly they do as Marcus requests and walk downstairs.)
TRENCH: I prefer to stand, actually.
SALLY-ANNE: Me too.
MARCUS: As you wish. Oh, hello father.
DEVESHAM: Would you believe it, my boy? Some blighter’s left your mother’s door open. Winnie will catch her death. See you all in the Pavilion. Cheers!
(We hear DEVESHAM leave the room.)
MARCUS: Now where were we? Now as you have probably gathered, the skeleton upstairs is the remains of my late mother. It pleases father and I don’t really care what you or anyone else thinks.
SALLY-ANNE: What about this Emmy Hargreaves, Marcus? Have you, have you..?
MARCUS: Murdered her? (He rings the bell and the door opens.)
GEMMA: You rang?
MARCUS: For Gemma, read Emmy. Remove your wig, my dearest.
(GEMMA removes her wig.)
TRENCH: Platinum blonde!
SALLY-ANNE: I think you owe us - me an explanation.
MARCUS: I am truly sorry my sweet, Sally-Anne - but you were little more than a diversion. I first met Emmy at a society party - the type of venue I later discovered, where she pedaled those dreadful drugs of hers. We fell in love, of course, but Emmy was trapped.
GEMMA: Sawn-Off and his Syndicate would not let me leave the Drug dealing - it was too valuable. They wouldn’t even accept Marcus’ money, something to do with their reputation. In fact the only way I could be free of them and be with Marcus was to…
MARCUS: … die - or disappear.
TRENCH: Or both - which is why you left Emmy’s coat in the swamp, err the Dreadbury Punchbowl.
SALLY-ANNE: And that’s why you were courting me Marcus, so obviously - putting your arm around me when Sawn-Off turned up in the Cock and Pheasant to at least make it look like you were over Emmy here.
TRENCH: And to confirm you had finally accepted your fiancé’s disappearance.
MARCUS: I am sorry you were both drawn into this.
GEMMA: Me too, we are in love - that’s all.
SALLY-ANNE: But I did have feelings for you, Marcus - so you deserve this.
(SALLY-ANNE slaps MARCUS across the face.)
TRENCH: Well, thanks for a truly wonderful weekend! Come on, Sally-Anne, I really think we must be going.
(A slightly longer piece of reflective music changes the scene and pace.)
TRENCH: A pint of Bitter please - Sally-Anne, what are you doing behind the Bar?
SALLY-ANNE: A girl has to make money where she can, these days - even if it’s toiling away in the Cock and Pheasant.
