by Ian Shimwell
SERIES ONE
Play Four
www.thearmchairdetective.moonfruit.com
THE
ARMCHAIR
DETECTIVE
On Holiday
Ian Shimwell
The Armchair Detective On Holiday Copyright Ian Shimwell © 2012
ALSO AVAILABLE IN SERIES ONE:
The Armchair Detective
The Armchair Detective and the Manor-House Mystery
The Armchair Detective and the Celebrity Stalker
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
GEOFFREY
SARAH
CONSTANCE
MAD JACK
OLD MAN
ACT ONE
OPENING MYSTERY MUSIC
OLD TOM: Good morning, Trench.
TRENCH: Hello Old Tom.
OLD TOM: Well, sit down young man; you’re making the place look untidy.
TRENCH: Now, that would be difficult.
(We hear TRENCH sit down. There is a moment of silence.)
OLD TOM: Am I right in assuming there is a purpose to your visit – or are we going to stare at each other in silence all day?
TRENCH: No, I’ve come to tell you I’m going away for a while.
OLD TOM: On a holiday?
TRENCH: Actually, more of a working holiday. There is a Local Newspaper conference in the Cornish coastal village of Fisherman’s Cove. Unsurprisingly it is primarily a fishing community. The place itself is supposed to be rather quaint but it’s virtually devoid of tourism. In fact, the meeting is taking place at the only hotel in the resort: The Sandy Star – which has only modest conference facilities.
OLD TOM: And who is accompanying you on this jolly jaunt?
TRENCH: Sally-Anne and the one and only Editor Law.
OLD TOM: Right, Trench – in view of our recent chat, I want you to answer the next question very carefully: Is this the only reason you have visited me – to tell me about a holiday?
TRENCH: Of course not – what do you take me for, a simpleton? Tell you what, don’t answer that. I also wanted to ask you if you’d like a holiday present – and to show you this.
(We hear TRENCH slap a newspaper next to OLD TOM’s armchair.)
TRENCH: It’s a current edition of Fisherman’s Cove and district’s local paper.
OLD TOM: I can see that.
TRENCH: Read the story I’ve highlighted.
OLD TOM: I already have. ‘It is the fiftieth anniversary of one of the region’s most enduring mysteries. Fifty years ago today, at first light, the brothers Quinn, instead of going fishing, uncharacteristically took a stroll on Fisherman’s Cove beach. See photograph. The brothers were never seen again. Despite an extensive investigation by police and, in fact, the whole community – they never turned up. No bodies. No clues. No nothing. The Quinn brothers simply vanished into thin air. The family distraught, the police baffled.’
TRENCH: Look at the picture; it was taken on the actual morning of the disappearance – on the beach!
OLD TOM: I already have. How strange, for men about to miss out on their daily fishing trip – they are, curiously, dressed up in their full fishing gear.
TRENCH: I thought I would look into while I’m there. Which, finally brings me to the point of my visit: can I have your ‘phone number in case I need your help? Which is probably very likely.
(We hear OLD TOM scribble something down.)
TRENCH: Oh good, you’re writing it down already.
OLD TOM: No, no – that’s just a note to myself. I’m afraid my telephone does not take incoming calls. Although I absolutely detest them, you may give me your mobile telephone number.
TRENCH: All right, you can have one of my cards.
OLD TOM: I’ll reach over for it.
TRENCH: Damn I’ve dropped it – hah, here it is. Blooming heck Old Tom, you very nearly left your armchair then!
OLD TOM: And in the confusion I, at least, have your number. The tea is cooling down in the kitchen; you may fetch it soon, if you like.
TRENCH: Yes, I’ll join you in a brew – a cold brew.
OLD TOM: Oh and when you do go on holiday, don’t forget your bucket and spade.
TRENCH: So I can build a few sandcastles?
OLD TOM: No, so you can do some digging…
(Mysterious music changes scene, time and place.)
(We can hear the seagulls; the sea-breeze; the waves crashing on the rocks and the sands – and TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE’s footsteps as they walk along the beach.)
TRENCH: Stop right there, Sally-Anne.
SALLY-ANNE: (She stops.) What now?
TRENCH: Just let me check the photograph. Yes, with the small harbour in the background – yes this is the exact spot, well more or less, that the brothers Quinn disappeared from, fifty years ago. Err, Sall – why are you looking up at the sky?
SALLY-ANNE: Isn’t it obvious, Trenchy? I’m just waiting for the aliens to abduct us as well.
TRENCH: Ruling that marvellous idea out – for now, I wonder what did happen to our fisherman friends?
SALLY-ANNE: Most probably they walked inland. Either side of the bay is guarded by those sheer cliffs.
TRENCH: But there were never any sightings of them – in Fisherman’s Cove.
SALLY-ANNE: This is a very sleepy village, Trench – perhaps they were all asleep! What if they fancied a sail or a spot of fishing and set off from the harbour?
TRENCH: As you can see from the photo’, the sea was too far out for that possibility.
SALLY-ANNE: The tide could have been on the turn, though. Are the brothers’ families still around?
TRENCH: I think so, I’ll have to check.
SALLY-ANNE: Oh, come on Trench. You’ve left Old Tom now. Is there really any point in pursuing such a gloriously irrelevant mystery that even Sherlock Holmes himself would struggle with? We’re at the seaside together in Fisherman’s Cove. If I was with someone else, maybe a holiday romance would drift along the shore…
TRENCH: With one of the other delegates? I’ll have to check on the talent later.
SALLY-ANNE: Can you see what I can see?
TRENCH: Yes, there is a rather small man rushing along the sands towards us.
SALLY-ANNE: Editor Law, you appear to be out of breath.
EDITOR LAW: (Who after taking several deep breaths, finally manages to compose himself.) I thought I’d find you two together. Come on, the conference is due to start shortly – you’ll miss the opening speech, which I’m due to make – if I ever get my breath back, that is.
TRENCH: If I missed your speech boss, now that would ruin the whole holiday.
EDITOR LAW: This is not a holiday – well mostly not.
SALLY-ANNE: Let’s go back to our hotel then. The Sandy Star awaits…
(Music moves things along.)
(SALLY-ANNE and TRENCH are at the hotel bar. We can hear the usual background noises: people ordering drinks and jovial conversations. They occasionally take a sip of their drinks during their conversation.)
SALLY-ANNE: How did you do it, Trench?
TRENCH: I don’t know, actually. Do what, exactly?
SALLY-ANNE: Stay awake during Editor Law’s speech. Your self-discipline is more than commendable.
TRENCH: Actually, the only reason I did stay awake Sall, was thinking about our little myster
y.
SALLY-ANNE: I might have known.
GEOFFREY: Hi, I’m Geoffrey. Do you snorkel?
SALLY-ANNE: Hmm, as far as chat-up lines go, err Geoffrey – that one is at least original.
GEOFFREY: It wasn’t a chat-up line, just a question.
TRENCH: (Who laughs slightly.) Good for you Geoffers. I’m Trench and my immodest colleague answers to the name of Sally-Anne.
SALLY-ANNE: Thank-you, Trench. We’re representing the Stokeham Herald. And you..?
GEOFFREY: Oh, I write for the Ghoulmouth Gazzette.
TRENCH: That’s way down in the West Country, isn’t it?
GEOFFREY: Got it. I thought your editor’s speech was marvellous.
SALLY-ANNE: It was… memorable, shall we say.
GEOFFREY: The problem with these Dos is that there’s no story to work on. You know, just something to pass the time – away from the conference.
TRENCH: Actually Geoffrey, we are working on a story as we speak.
GEOFFREY: Really?
SALLY-ANNE: But we couldn’t possibly tell you. Giving one of our best stories to a rival newspaper kind of undermines the world of cut-throat competition we journalists pride ourselves on.
GEOFFREY: Oh come on, Sally-Anne and Trench. Even if I did ‘borrow’ aspects of your story, Ghoulmouth is many miles away from Stokeham – we are not exactly competing for the same market. Anyway, I might be able to help you.
SALLY-ANNE: I doubt it.
TRENCH: All right, I’ll share our story with you – but first I want to clear one thing up – no, we don’t go snorkelling.
SALLY-ANNE: Not ever.
GEOFFREY: Message received, accepted and understood. I do, though, if you are at all interested.
SALLY-ANNE: I thought you were interested in our story?
GEOFFREY: I am.
TRENCH: (Says in a hushed tone, emphasising the supposed secretive nature of what he is about to say.) Our investigations involve events that happened half a century ago on the lonely beach of Fisherman’s Cove. Events concerning the mysterious and sudden disappearance of the brothers Quinn…
(Mysterious music changes scene.)
SALLY-ANNE: Right, Trenchy – conference has finished early today, so let’s go – and quick.
TRENCH: What’s the rush?
SALLY-ANNE: I’ll tell you outside.
(TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE quickly make their way outside of the hotel.)
TRENCH: Well?
SALLY-ANNE: Good, yes – I don’t think he’s following us.
TRENCH: Am I missing something, Sally-Anne?
SALLY-ANNE: Not something, somebody. I just don’t want ‘Geoffers’ around our ankles yet.
TRENCH: I see.
SALLY-ANNE: Why did you have to ask Geoffrey to join us, anyway?
TRENCH: Because of what he said. He is not a direct rival; his offer of help – and the most compelling reason of all…
SALLY-ANNE: Which is?
TRENCH: That he seems to annoy you!
SALLY-ANNE: Thanks.
TRENCH: Don’t mention it. Are we going anywhere in particular, or just wandering around aimlessly?
SALLY-ANNE: Just after breakfast, one of us did a little research in Fisherman’s Cove’s little library.
TRENCH: And..?
SALLY-ANNE: The brothers Quinn do still have family in the village. Their younger sister, Sarah lives with her niece – the elder brother’s daughter, who’s the only offspring of the brood. And that’s where we’re going now.
TRENCH: I’m impressed.
SALLY-ANNE: I aim to please.
(Upbeat music moves time along.)
SARAH: (Her old voice frail yet firm.) Cup of tea?
TRENCH: No thanks.
SALLY-ANNE: Trench and I had one not too long ago.
TRENCH: This is a beautiful, big house Mrs..?
SARAH: Miss Sarah Quinn actually – I never married. Now, what is it you two young people want to talk to me about?
SALLY-ANNE: We are staying here, in Fisherman’s Cove for a local newspaper conference at the Sandy Star, Miss Quinn.
SARAH: I am aware of the conference and please call me Sarah.
TRENCH: And Sarah, while we’re here we thought we would look into your brothers’ disappearance.
SARAH: But that was over fifty years ago.
SALLY-ANNE: We just want to go over it again, to see if a fresh approach might help.
SARAH: (Says dismissively:) I wish you luck then. I went through what happened that day countless times with the police. Not even a highly respected detective from Scotland Yard could find my dear brothers. So what hope do you think you have, after all this time?
TRENCH: Yes, but I have an Armchair De… Err, just an armchair.
SARAH: I have one too, so what?
SALLY-ANNE: Could you just tell us about that fateful day, Sarah? Then we can leave you in peace.
SARAH: All right then, I don’t suppose it can do no harm. The day started like any other. I was, of course, a young woman in those days. As usual, I had to get up very early to make the boys’ breakfast – they eat it and went on their way. Then… nothing. I never saw my brothers again.
TRENCH: Did they go fishing?
SARAH: I thought they had – after all they left wearing their full fisherman’s gear. They should have gone fishing – but they did not.
SALLY-ANNE: Then what did they do, Sarah?
SARAH: They vanished. My brothers did not go fishing as they always did. To this day, I have no idea what they did.
SALLY-ANNE: As simple and as complex as that.
(We hear TRENCH rummage inside his pocket.)
TRENCH: This is the last picture taken of your brothers, Sarah – perhaps even minutes before they disappeared. Here, take a look.
SARAH: (Who’s obviously upset.) No, no – I’ve seen it.
(Another person enters the room.)
CONSTANCE: What’s going on here?
SALLY-ANNE: We are reporters, just taking another look at…
CONSTANCE: …my father – and uncle’s disappearance. I see. You are upsetting Aunt Sarah.
TRENCH: I am sorry..?
CONSTANCE: …Constance.
TRENCH: Constance, we will stop at once, of course.
CONSTANCE: But you see, you must carry on. I have more reason than most to find out what happened to my father. Is that not so, Aunt Sarah..?
(Slightly disturbing music changes scene.)
SALLY-ANNE: There is one thing about hotels, one can certainly become used to being waited on – and the view of Fisherman’s Cove, beautiful. Trench, why are you staring at your mobile ‘phone?
TRENCH: It’s about this time; I normally have a chat with Old Tom. Last time – at the manor-house, I just thought about wanting to speak to him, but now… nothing.
SALLY-ANNE: Well, you’ll just have to talk to me instead. You can pretend I’m Old Tom, if you like!
TRENCH: (Who briefly laughs.) I do have an imagination, but not that vivid.
SALLY-ANNE: I think we are getting nowhere fast with this seaside mystery. I mean there’s just nothing to go on.
TRENCH: Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Sally-Anne. If your say elderly aunt was in distress, you would want to protect her – yes?
SALLY-ANNE: Where are you trying to go with this, Trenchy?
TRENCH: But young Constance insisted we carried on talking about the picture.
SALLY-ANNE: And it was the photograph that seemed to disturb Sarah more than anything…
TRENCH: And that is what I find interesting. Wait, what’s this note in my pocket?
SALLY-ANNE: I don’t know – what does it say?
(We hear TRENCH un-scrunch the note.)
TRENCH: ‘Come to Cove’s Guest House, Room 12 at 13 Angler’s Avenue – alone.’
SALLY-ANNE: I’ll come with you.
TRENCH: It says alone, Sally-Anne.
SALLY-ANNE: But we don’t know who’s it from. It could be dangerous, you could eve
n suffer the same fate as the brothers Quinn.
TRENCH: Don’t be ridiculous.
SALLY-ANNE: What are we, Trench – exactly?
TRENCH: Err, colleagues?
SALLY-ANNE: Is that all?
TRENCH: I like to think we are friends as well. All right, to put your mind at ease, I’ll take Geoffrey with me. What do you think about that?
SALLY-ANNE: Wonderful.
(Light and then doom-laden music changes the scene.)
GEOFFREY: Are you sure this is it, Trench?
TRENCH: I’m afraid so, Geoffers. I’ve checked and re-checked the address and this is 13 Anglers Avenue.
GEOFFREY: But that can’t be a guest house – its derelict, falling to bits. The only guests staying there will be rats.
TRENCH: Well it was once a guest house, I can just make out the old, creaky sign. Right, I’m going in – alone.
GEOFFREY: What about the promise you made to Sally-Anne?
TRENCH: I had my fingers crossed! Anyway, if I’m not out in ten minutes – you can come in after me. That should ensure my safety.
GEOFFREY: I don’t know about that, but message received, accepted and understood.
TRENCH: And Geoffrey…
GEOFFREY: Yes?
TRENCH: Please stop saying that.
(TRENCH then knocks on the guest house front door, which promptly collapses.)
TRENCH: Oops. Now, let’s see what’s inside. It’s rather dark in here. Ah, room 12 must be upstairs.
(TRENCH walks up the creaky staircase.)
TRENCH: This place is awful – and full of cobwebs. If there was a cleaner, I’d sack her. And I’m definitely not ever going to stay here. Well, here’s room 12. I don’t think anyone will be here, but I’ll knock anyway. It is the polite thing to do, after all.
(We hear TRENCH tentatively knock on the door.)
OLD TOM: Come in, young man, the door is open.
(TRENCH creaks open the door and walks inside.)
TRENCH: Old Tom, what are you doing here?
OLD TOM: Young Trench, you didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you?
(Mystery music indicates the end of Act One.)
ACT TWO
