The Armchair Detective and the Psychological Secret: Series One

by Ian Shimwell

  SERIES ONE

  Play Five

  www.thearmchairdetective.moonfruit.com

  THE

  ARMCHAIR

  DETECTIVE

  and the

  Psychological

  Secret

  Ian Shimwell

  The Armchair Detective and the Psychological Secret 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 On Holiday

  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

  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 running 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.)

  GORDON: We don’t talk about the old days, do we Vicky?

  VICKY: Oh, no. Gordon and I like to focus on the future, because…

  TRENCH: The future is bright?

  SALLY-ANNE: The future’s married…

  (Music with a disturbing edge closes the scene.)

  (We can hear the taxi-cab engine running which then stops. A cab door is opened.)

  TRENCH: Goodbye then. It was an… err pleasant evening.

  SALLY-ANNE: And Vicky, we must go out alone sometime, just like the old days.

  GORDON: We will see.

  TAXI DRIVER: Hurry up will yer, I’m only a humble cabbie – I do have other fares to collect tonight.

  VICKY: Bye, sorry.

  (The door is closed and the taxi drives off. TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE remain inside the taxi.)

  TRENCH: East side of Stokeham, now driver.

  TAXI DRIVER: Gotcha.

  SALLY-ANNE: I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! I could cheerfully kill him without any guilt whatsoever.

  TRENCH: Oh, come on, Sally-Anne. I don’t think Editor Law is that bad – not really.

  SALLY-ANNE: You know very well I was referring to Gordon – Gordon the control freak. He as good as tells her what she can drink and eat. I mean, she’s suddenly not even a veggie.

  TRENCH: People do sometimes change their minds.

  SALLY-ANNE: And she should change her husband because he has changed her.

  TRENCH: Yes, and from what you had previously told me about Vicky – seeing her in person – she has obviously undergone a remarkable transformation. But why?

  SALLY-ANNE: Well it’s him. It’s as if he’s almost shut off Vicky’s old life completely and pulls all her strings.

  TRENCH: But why has Gordon all but destroyed her? Turned vibrant Vicky into Vicky the victim?

  SALLY-ANNE: As I’ve said, he’s a control freak, Trench. A dominating force studying law has become a… dormant doormat.

  TRENCH: But, at least, she still is a Law Student.

  SALLY-ANNE: Is she, I wonder..?

  (The taxi stops.)

  TAIX DRIVER: Time for you two love birds to return to your nest?

  TRENCH: A-hem.

  SALLY-ANNE: Don’t even go there – and besides I’m not in the mood.

  (Quirky and then thoughtful music ends the scene.)

  OLD TOM: So, Trench, you and Sally-Anne dined with Vicky and Gordon, and then dropped them off from the taxi. What happened after that?

  TRENCH: After some confusion, I escorted Sally-Anne to her door and then the taxi driver was good enough to take me home. Once I was in my house, I went straight upstairs to brush my teeth; then I put my pyjamas on and…

  OLD TOM: I don’t want a running commentary to that extent, young man. I’m not that interested. I want to know what you have done the day after the meal – that’s today, by the way.

  TRENCH: Well, I…

  OLD TOM: Edited highlights only, please. One day I might surprise you and get up from this armchair and clout you one!

  TRENCH: All right, keep your grey hair on.

  OLD TOM: No, let me see if I can accurately deduct your activities.

  TRENCH: Old Tom, I give up.

  OLD TOM: Right, this morning, seeing as you’re investigating the Stokeham shoplifting spree, you probably visited the high-street shopping area. I imagine you would have spent most of the morning trying to gather information. That was, most likely, followed by a light luncheon with Sally-Anne. After that, you both managed to pluck up enough courage to visit Gordon’s hardware store on the pretence of covering the shoplifting story.

  TRENCH: Old Tom, I’m speechless. How could you possibly..?

  OLD TOM: First, contrary to popular belief, I can actually read. I am aware of the shop-thefts from none other than the Stokeham Herald.

  TRENCH: Fair enough, but what about lunch?

  OLD TOM: It’s a bit late for that now, don’t you think?
<
br />   TRENCH: Not now! I mean how did you know I had a mid-day snack with Sally?

  OLD TOM: Supposition. You journalists never let an opportunity of some food slip by, especially when it’s on expenses. The lovely Sally-Anne is your partner, professionally speaking of course, so it’s easy to presume you lunched with her.

  TRENCH: ‘You presume a lot, Mr Bond.’ Sorry, must stop watching those films.

  OLD TOM: And as for visiting the hardware store, even I wouldn’t have been able to resist that one. Such a handy excuse…

  TRENCH: All that talk about food and lunch has made me feel rather peckish…

  OLD TOM: There is some cake in the tin next to you. Help yourself.

  TRENCH: I will, thanks.

  (We hear TRENCH open the tin and happily munch on the cakes.)

  TRENCH: These are quite scrumptious, actually. Even though they’re slightly stale.

  OLD TOM: They are nice. Pass me one when you’re finished.

  TRENCH: Oh, sorry – I’ve eat both of them. I didn’t realise…

  OLD TOM: Journalists. Take that cake out of its wrapper – on your other side and put it in the tin.

  (We hear TRENCH follow OLD TOM’s command.)

  TRENCH: Here you are, then.

  OLD TOM: Oh no, that cake is far too fresh. I’ll have to wait a good few months before I can eat it. No matter – did you unearth any useful information from Gordon at his DIY establishment?

  TRENCH: Not really. All he did was describe in excruciating, boring detail his highly elaborate anti-theft devices to put-off would be pilferers.

  OLD TOM: Was he… err wearing anything unusual?

  TRENCH: The usual, bog-standard long brown overall like the rest of this staff – but wait, he did have it open. Yes, he was wearing a bright red belt. I thought it was odd at the time. It just didn’t go with the rest of his mundane clothes.

  OLD TOM: That could be interesting, Trench.

  TRENCH: So, what should I do – call the fashion police?

  OLD TOM: Well, we now know the cause of dear Vicky’s abrupt change of personality.

  TRENCH: We do?

  OLD TOM: Gordon – and his treatment of her. So now you must focus your investigation on him. Walk into his past, get inside his head. Discover why he uses his wife as a dishcloth.