by Ian Shimwell
SALLY-ANNE: There’s no need to apologize for it, Constance.
SARAH: I thought I had made it more than clear, crystal in fact, that I did not want to speak to you two again.
TRENCH: Crystal… or diamond? You’re a star, Aunt Sarah.
SARAH: What are you talking about?
TRENCH: Sit down, Aunt Sarah.
SARAH: I am not your…
CONSTANCE: Please, do as he says.
(CONSTANCE helps her AUNT SARAH to sit down.)
SARAH: Really, I must protest – this is all becoming increasingly insufferable, not to mention ridiculous.
TRENCH: We have found your brothers, Sarah.
SARAH: No.
CONSTANCE: My father.
SALLY-ANNE: Yes.
TRENCH: The two skeletons are remarkably well preserved in an old subterranean smugglers’ cave just beneath the Fisherman’s Cove headland. I believe they have been there for fifty years. And I believe that it was you, Sarah Quinn, who took that final photograph on the day of their death.
SARAH: It wasn’t me, Constance – don’t believe their lies. Their terrible lies…
TRENCH: Aunt Sarah, you knew they had just captured the precious Star of Rhodesia, didn’t you? It was a far cry from their usual petty smuggling. You knew of the smugglers cave – you had probably been there many times. So please, end the silence – and your dark secret: tell us what really happened on that day.
SALLY-ANNE: Come on Sarah – if not for us, do it for Constance. You surely owe her that much.
CONSTANCE: Aunt Sarah, tell me… tell me… my father… you must.
(AUNT SARAH takes a heavy breath.)
SARAH: It was all a tragic accident really on what began as a special, wonderful… day. I had taken the photograph on the beach. Your father, Constance was actually holding The Star but it’s hidden by a shadow. My brothers then swam to the headland with the diamond, and dived down to their secret cave. Only myself and their friend Jack knew about the cave, until now…
CONSTANCE: Go on.
SARAH: They were to hide the diamond in the cave until all the expected fuss died down – but when my brothers were in the cave, that’s where everything went wrong. A storm had seemed to have whipped up from nowhere – and one of the highest tides in history, a freak event, said the weathermen – must have drowned my poor older brothers in the cave. They were accomplished divers but the currents must have been too strong to allow their escape. They must have died painfully… and slowly. Watching the water creep above their necks. Hoping for the tide to recede but, all the time, knowing and fearing the worst…
SALLY-ANNE: But you could have rescued them. You could have sent Jack or other fisherman out to help them.
TRENCH: But, maybe Sarah, you wanted The Star diamond all to yourself?
SARAH: How was I to know the high tide would kill them? They had hidden in that cave many times before – and had been safe, and even dry.
TRENCH: But you went back, didn’t you? When the tide had gone out, you plucked the diamond from your dead brothers’ corpses that has financed your lifestyle, ever since. Even your hotel: ‘The Sandy Star’.
SARAH: Constance, I didn’t know they were going to die. Please, believe me.
CONSTANCE: Your greed killed my father. Goodbye, Aunt Sarah.
SARAH: Where are you going?
CONSTANCE: Well away from you. I think I always sensed your guilt somehow. I should have left years ago.
(CONSTANCE sweeps out and firmly closes the door behind her.)
SALLY-ANNE: Constance was always your conscience, Sarah – and now you’ve lost even that.
(Music tinged with sadness closes the scene.)
(We can hear lively music in the background and jokey conversations – the post-conference party is in full swing.)
SALLY-ANNE: I can’t believe what I’m seeing – can you Trench?
TRENCH: I don’t want to. Editor Law breakdancing in the middle of the dance floor. How embarrassing… or groovy. Come on, let’s look away.
GEOFFREY: Great news guys – I can make the party, after all. I’m here!
SALLY-ANNE: Wonderful.
TRENCH: Put it there, Geoffers.
(We hear TRENCH and GEOFFREY slap their hands together.)
GEOFFREY: One thing, Trench – you had help with this investigation, didn’t you? Was it that guy you visited in that deserted, derelict guest house?
TRENCH: I don’t suppose it can do any harm. Yes, Old Tom’s help was invaluable but he’s a very private person so mum’s the word, eh?
GEOFFREY: Message received, accepted and understood. Right, Sally-Anne we can now have that dance you’ve been looking forward to. Sally-Anne, where’s she gone?
TRENCH: Err, I think she’s powdering her nose or something…
(The lively tune slowly changes to the more familiar mystery music.)
TRENCH: ‘The tides of time’. You knew about the unusually high tide, how?
OLD TOM: That’s simple, Trench – whenever I go to the seaside I always take my books detailing past and future tides.
TRENCH: Why is that, in case you go for a swim?
OLD TOM: Something like that.
TRENCH: Dark brown. You are back in your dark brown armchair. Are you glad to be home, Old Tom?
OLD TOM: I suppose I am. I’ve never been a good traveller, really.
TRENCH: You do surprise me. Oh, one other thing: how did you know Geoffrey could help me out with the contents of ‘The Schooner’ safe?
OLD TOM: Pure deductive reasoning – with an added leap. Geoffrey all too quickly joined your quest for the brothers Quinn. He had already prepared his snorkelling equipment and diving skills – and rather too conveniently found The Schooner. Which all pointed to ‘Geoffers’ knowing initially more than he claimed.
TRENCH: And do you think Mad Jack saw the remains of the Quinn brothers?
OLD TOM: Without a doubt. In fact, I think it was seeing them in that cave – a familiar smuggling haunt for him – that pushed him over the edge. However, I believe that was many days later. Mad Jack knew nothing of the diamond and by the time he visited the cave, Sarah Quinn must have spirited The Star away.
TRENCH: Yes, and Mad Jack then thought the cave was cursed. That’s why he, probably, never told the police at the time.
OLD TOM: Well summed up, dear Trench. And even the name of the Cornish village was also a clue – albeit an unintentional one.
TRENCH: Fisherman’s Cove?
OLD TOM: Substitute the ‘o’ for an ‘a’.
TRENCH: Of course, ‘Fisherman’s Cave’… So, did the Armchair Detective enjoy being on holiday?
OLD TOM: It had its moments. Right, I’m parched – and it’s your turn to make a cup of tea.
TRENCH: Are you sure?
OLD TOM: Come on – chop, chop young man. You’re not on holiday now, you know!
CLOSING MYSTERY MUSIC
THE
ARMCHAIR
DETECTIVE
and the
Psychological
Secret
INTRODUCTION
"What has turned an independent woman into a Stepford Wife?"
An old college girlfriend of Sally-Anne's has disturbingly changed since her marriage. Is her friend's controlling husband responsible?
Trench and Old Tom have plenty to think about. To help, they must uncover a frightening secret from the past...
CAST LIST
TRENCH
OLD TOM
SALLY-ANNE
EDITOR LAW
GORDON
VICKY
MRS HOPKINS
HAROLD
JAMES
DAVID
TAXI DRIVER/WAITER
ACT ONE
OPENING MYSTERY MUSIC
OLD TOM: Come in, young man, the door is open.
(TRENCH goes through the usual routine of coming inside OLD TOM’s flat and sitting opposite his beloved armchair.)
TRENCH: Err, how are
things at the moment?
OLD TOM: Trench, is that really the reason you have come here – to ask me that?
TRENCH: No, it’s just that the thing I have come to discuss with you – I’m not sure you could call it a case; a mystery; an investigation. I’m not sure it’s the sort of thing we usually do together at all.
OLD TOM: Why don’t you simply tell me – and then let me decide whether it is worthy of my attention?
TRENCH: All right, Old Tom, I will. That’s funny, you’ve made two cups of tea – how did you know I was going to visit?
OLD TOM: I didn’t. I sometimes make an extra cup of tea, just in case a certain reporter decides to descend on me.
TRENCH: And what happens to the tea if I don’t decide to visit?
OLD TOM: I drink it. Now drink yours before it gets warm.
TRENCH: Right.
(We hear TRENCH take a few tentative sips.)
OLD TOM: How is it?
TRENCH: Cold – just how you like it.
OLD TOM: Good, now do you care to tell me what’s on your mind?
TRENCH: Sally-Anne’s best friend, Vicky has just got married.
OLD TOM: I would offer her my congratulations, but…
TRENCH: I know – that would involve rising from that beloved armchair of yours.
OLD TOM: And what’s the problem with this marriage? Did her husband vanish on the honeymoon or something?
TRENCH: No, it’s not that, Old Tom, it’s – oh dear, you’re not going to like this…
OLD TOM: Spit it out, Trench… I insist.
TRENCH: Well… Sally-Anne says this Vicky has changed…
OLD TOM: In what way, Trench?
TRENCH: She’s just not herself anymore. Sall’s Vicky was outgoing, bubbly, bright and cheerful but, according to my colleague, is now reserved, quiet, introverted and, I suppose, downright miserable. Her get up and go has got up and gone. Her husband runs a hardware store. He’s called Gordon, by the way.
OLD TOM: Fascinating, absolutely fascinating…
TRENCH: There you go, I told you you wouldn’t be interested. It’s not really a mystery at all. I’m sorry to have bothered you with it. I’ll be on my way, then.
OLD TOM: Wait. I find that sarcasm strains the sole. I meant it when I described the case as fascinating.
TRENCH: Case..?
OLD TOM: It could be the usual newly-wed blues but Vicky’s condition sounds more extreme than that. What has caused her to sell her self-esteem down the proverbial river?
TRENCH: Yes, what turns a promising young woman into a ‘Stepford Wife’?
OLD TOM: Apart from marriage? Yes, I think we shall investigate this… err situation. Instead of chasing stalkers and missing persons, why can’t we really help someone for a change?
TRENCH: You’ve surprised me, Old Tom. I was ready to have my knuckles wrapped! I’ll have a chat with Sally-Anne, then…
OLD TOM: You do that, young man, you do that. In fact, I think it’s high time you had a nice meal in one of those new-fangled, fancy, restaurants in town. Just the four of you…
(Music to think about ends the scene.)
(We can hear the shuffling of paper and the odd punch of keys on a keyboard as TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE chat in their office.)
SALLY-ANNE: I see another shop on the high-street has fallen victim to the current shoplifting crime wave.
TRENCH: I know, terrible isn’t it? Why can’t you get honest thieves anymore?
SALLY-ANNE: (Who ignores TRENCH:) Hmm, new research claims that the average shoplifting felon is becoming increasingly younger. Kids aged ten, blah blah blah. This is rather disturbing, perhaps I’ll look into it.
TRENCH: You do that, Sally-Anne.
SALLY-ANNE: With Editor Law’s say-so I will. And what’s ‘Tiger Trenchy’ going to do today? If you try really hard, you could even remove your feet from my desk.
TRENCH: I can’t promise anything on my feet – they’re rather comfy, but I was going to work on the apparent change in your friend, Vicky.
SALLY-ANNE: Really? It’s hardly a Stokeham Herald story, though. Even so, I would like to know what has caused her personality transplant.
TRENCH: Old Tom has suggested we all go out for a meal as a foursome.
SALLY-ANNE: Old Tom, Old Tom! I can’t believe you have discussed Vicky’s personal problems with him. I told you in the strictest confidence.
TRENCH: Calm down, Sally-Anne. Remember, Old Tom only actually speaks to me so it’s hardly likely to go any further, is it?
SALLY-ANNE: I suppose not, but I’m still not happy about it.
TRENCH: Oh cheer up. With Old Tom’s bloodhound-like skills on board, we might be really able to help Vicky.
SALLY-ANNE: All right, having dinner with Vicky and Gordon might be a good idea – I’ll arrange it.
TRENCH: Good. I know Gordon manages a hardware store, but what does your friend do for a living?
SALLY-ANNE: She’s studying to be a lawyer at university.
TRENCH: Still?
SALLY-ANNE: Oh yes, that’s one thing that won’t change. Vicky is passionate about Law.
EDITOR LAW: Is she now? And I’ve not even met her!
(We hear TRENCH quickly take his feet off the desk.)
TRENCH: Oops.
SALLY-ANNE: Editor Law, I didn’t realise you’d come in.
EDITOR LAW: I gathered that. Surprisingly, I pay you two to uncover stories of local interest to the local populace – not just gossip about one of your friends.
TRENCH: I know, terrible isn’t it?
EDITOR LAW: Or suggest dinner parties, Trench.
TRENCH: Ouch. But I am going to investigate this recent shoplifting spree. One of my better ideas, even if I say so myself.
SALLY-ANNE: Excuse me, that’s my story – and idea.
EDITOR LAW: Now, let’s not argue children. You can both work on the story.
TRENCH: Thank-you, Editor Law.
SALLY-ANNE: Most kind of you, Editor Law.
EDITOR LAW: But this time I want results, not excuses. I’ll be in my office.
(We hear EDITOR LAW sweep out of the office.)
TRENCH: The nerve, the cheek.
SALLY-ANNE: Oh Trench, don’t you dare talk to me about nerve and cheek. ‘One of my better ideas’, indeed.
(Quirky music changes scene.)
(We can hear the usual background noises associated with a top-class restaurant.)
WAITER: Have you decided on the wine, yet?
SALLY-ANNE: Well, that’s one thing I don’t have to ask Vicky about. The usual burgundy, I take it?
VICKY: (Her voice has a slightly nervous, unsure quality about it.) I used to drink burgundy – is that all right, Gordon?
GORDON: We usually drink white wine these days.
VICKY: Sorry, Sally-Anne – we’d better have white, then.
GORDON: But hey, we’re with friends so let’s spoil ourselves, shall we?
TRENCH: One of your finest Burgundies then, waiter.
WAITER: Understood.
(There is a moment of awkward silence.)
TRENCH: So, Gordon – how’s the hardware trade, these days?
GORDON: I can’t complain, Trench. Well I could, but it wouldn’t do any good.
(GORDON laughs at his own little joke, but then waits for the others to laugh. There is no laughter for a moment until VICKY dutifully, joins in with a somewhat forced chuckle.)
GORDON: Thank-you, my dear – it wasn’t that funny. Profits are up in the shop, actually.
SALLY-ANNE: So, how you’ve managed that? Done a 3 for 2 promotion on all lawnmowers?
GORDON: Not exactly. Control, Sally – it’s all down to strict control. From the stock to carefully adjusting prices – and keeping a close eye on the goods. Control in all areas is the only way to run a business.
SALLY-ANNE: (Says obviously bored:) How interesting.
TRENCH: Well, I’d be extra careful if I was you, Gordon. There’s a nasty spate of shoplifting run
ning through the town – in fact it’s a story we are currently investigating. So watch out, or you might be the next victim.
VICKY: Maybe you will have to limit the number of people who enter the shop, Gordon.
GORDON: Don’t be ridiculous, Vicky. Sorry about this. (He talks more quietly to VICKY but can still be clearly heard by TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE.) What have I told you about thinking before speaking?
VICKY: Sorry, Gordon.
GORDON: Every inch of the shop floor is covered by CCTV and most of the staff are highly trained in such matters.
SALLY-ANNE: Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?
WAITER: Would you like to order now?
VICKY: I’ll have a…
GORDON: We’ll have the soup followed by two sirloin steaks, cooked exactly medium.
SALLY-ANNE: But Vicky – you can’t, you’re a vegetarian.
GORDON: She was a vegetarian.
TRENCH: The same for us, Sally-Anne?
SALLY-ANNE: Don’t get any ideas, Trench – but yes, I’ll go with the flow.
WAITER: Understood.
VICKY: I can recommend marriage, what about you Gordon?
GORDON: Ah, but you have the advantage over me, dear wife because you are lucky enough to be married to me.
SALLY-ANNE: I think I’m going to be sick.
TRENCH: Don’t be silly, Sally – you’ve not eaten yet.
SALLY-ANNE: No, but I think I’ve had more than I can stomach.
TRENCH: Hah – ignore us. Sally-Anne’s has always had an awfully strange sense of humour.
GORDON: And, have you two any plans to tie the knot?
VICKY: Oh Gordon, didn’t you know they’re not an item?
GORDON: Of course dear. I was, what is known as, teasing.
TRENCH: To clear up the confusion: Sally-Anne and I are just good friends.
SALLY-ANNE: And how’s the degree going on, Vicky? You must be near your finals by now.
(There is another awkward silence.)
VICKY: Err… fine.
SALLY-ANNE: Hey, Vicky – remember after college when we used to hang about the chip shop, and that lad from the science block, I think – went and dropped his…
(VICKY laughs slightly, but stops abruptly when GORDON speaks.)
