The Armchair Detective and the Psychological Secret: Series One

by Ian Shimwell

  JAMES: If you must know, he runs a wholesale distribution warehouse down the road.

  TRENCH: Distributing what?

  JAMES: You’re very nosey, aren’t you?

  TRENCH: Comes from being a journalist. Occupational hazard, you see.

  JAMES: Ah well, he distributes the whole range of retail merchandise ranging from shirts to screwdrivers.

  TRENCH: And leather jackets..?

  JAMES: (Says angrily:) What?

  TRENCH: Oh nothing. I hope those suspicious lads keep away from Gordon’s DIY tomorrow, though.

  JAMES: Why?

  TRENCH: I know Gordon – we go drinking together. He’s refitting his CCTV cameras tomorrow, so they’ll be off-line all day.

  JAMES: Why are you telling me?

  TRENCH: In case you and David do the shops tomorrow. If you visit Gordon’s hardware store, keep your eyes open – you may catch the thief red-handed!

  (Busy music moves a little bit of time along.)

  SALLY-ANNE: Ah, Trench – I thought I’d find you shopping again.

  TRENCH: Sally-Anne, is there anybody else I’m going to ‘bump into’? I’ll probably meet Old Tom himself next.

  SALLY-ANNE: Now you are being silly. What have you been up to?

  TRENCH: Entrapment.

  SALLY-ANNE: Oh that? I’ve seen it. Zeta-Jonesy is in it, I think. Good ending, but I don’t like the middle bit.

  TRENCH: Finished?

  SALLY-ANNE: Yes. Explain what you really mean, then.

  TRENCH: Let’s just say I’ve dangled an awfully large carrot in front of our chief-shoplifting suspect. So, all that’s left is whether…

  SALLY-ANNE: … he takes the bait.

  TRENCH: Sally-Anne, you look rather too pleased with yourself. Have you found something out, about Gordon..?

  SALLY-ANNE: My contact in the town-hall has come up trumps. Gordon’s mother is still alive and living in a nursing home in the outer-suburbs of Stokeham.

  TRENCH: So, what are we waiting for?

  (‘Investigative’ music changes scene and time.)

  (We can hear slight squeaking as the wheelchair is pushed around the nursing home gardens.)

  SALLY-ANNE: It is very good of you, Mrs Hopkins, to agree to see us.

  MRS HOPKINS: Nonsense, I welcome anyone who will push me around these beautiful gardens. I’m usually stuck there, inside the so-called nursing home. I seldom have the chance…

  TRENCH: … to talk about your son, Gordon.

  MRS HOPKINS: Oh yes, I’ll talk about him, even to the Press.

  TRENCH: Even though it might not be entirely complimentary?

  MRS HOPKINS: Especially if it’s not complimentary.

  SALLY-ANNE: Am I right in assuming your relationship with Gordon has soured over the years?

  MRS HOPKINS: You could say that. I have not met or spoken to him for nearly twenty years - which suits me.

  TRENCH: And Gordon’s childhood. We would love to know.

  MRS HOPKINS: You can stop pushing me around.

  SALLY-ANNE: Sorry.

  (The wheelchair stops.)

  MRS HOPKINS: I like the view of those trees.

  SALLY-ANNE: Majestic or intimidating?

  TRENCH: Must have many roots that twist and turn in the murky depths… delving through the undergrowth.

  MRS HOPKINS: Twisting… murky depths… how appropriate.

  SALLY-ANNE: And we are interested in Gordon’s roots, Mrs Hopkins.

  MRS HOPKINS: Are you sure you’re from the local newspaper? Very odd line of enquiry, if you ask me.

  TRENCH: Remember, we showed you our identification.

  MRS HOPKINS: There’s nothing wrong with my memory, sunny Jim.

  (SALLY-ANNE laughs.)

  TRENCH: What was Gordon like as a child?

  SALLY-ANNE: Please tell us, Mrs Hopkins.

  MRS HOPKINS: Oh, very well. He was a bad boy; always crying; spoilt; selfish – and he even killed his own father, my husband.

  TRENCH: What? How?

  MRS HOPKINS: Even though I had told him many times not to play at the top of the stairs; he was doing just that, playing with one of his infernal cars. My husband was late for an appointment and was about to rush downstairs, when he tripped over his son – and fell to his death.

  TRENCH: (Says quietly:) Arriving downstairs perhaps quicker than he planned…

  SALLY-ANNE: How awful. You did convince Gordon though, that it wasn’t his fault, just a terrible accident?

  MRS HOPKINS: No, he caused his father’s death. I blamed him then as I blame him now. My son became argumentative and resentful.

  TRENCH: Hardly surprising.

  MRS HOPKINS: But I kept him in line with my belt. I beat him into submission – and began to control my awful excuse for a son. Control his thoughts… and fears.

  TRENCH: Was the belt bright red, by any chance?

  MRS HOPKINS: Why yes. It would amuse me to think he still has it. A painful reminder of his deserved retribution.

  SALLY-ANNE: And how did Gordon come to have the belt?

  TRENCH: A birthday present?

  SALLY-ANNE: (Says quietly so only TRENCH can hear:) Don’t.

  MRS HOPKINS: When the lazy so-and-so eventually did get a job at seventeen, I think, I went strike him to try to beat the memory of his father back into him – and the swine snatched my belt off me, and ran. Ran away. Never seen, or want to see him again.

  (Disturbing yet sad music ends this scene.)

  (We can hear SALLY-ANNE talking on the telephone and TRENCH typing away in the office. TRENCH taps a key particularly hard.)

  TRENCH: There, I’ve just sent my shoplifting report to our copy-editor.

  SALLY-ANNE: (Who puts the receiver down.) And I’ve just found out from university that Vicky has quit her Law degree for good. You know, I bet Gordon the controller has got her fetching and carrying for him in that grotty shop.

  TRENCH: At least we now know where the origins of Gordon’s bad behaviour evolved from.

  SALLY-ANNE: Mummy. Whatever happened to mother’s love?

  TRENCH: Lost down a flight of stairs? Poor Gordon, it wasn’t his fault. Maybe they should have safe parking areas for toy cars?

  SALLY-ANNE: Don’t think so, Trench. Daddy Hopkins simply went head over heels… into oblivion.

  TRENCH: Maybe I’ll leave a car or two on your side of the office. Might work on you.

  SALLY-ANNE: Now, who would hold your hand if I wasn’t here?

  TRENCH: Old Tom.

  SALLY-ANNE: And don’t say Old Tom.

  TRENCH: Consider it un-said.

  SALLY-ANNE: There was one thing I noticed about Mrs Hopkins.

  TRENCH: She’s no spring chicken? (There is no response from SALLY-ANNE.) She’s not bitter?

  SALLY-ANNE: Not quite.

  TRENCH: Then, prey what, Sally-Anne?

  SALLY-ANNE: She never referred to her son by name – Gordon. Did you notice?

  TRENCH: I noticed…

  SALLY-ANNE: Probably some way of de-personalizing the loathing she so obviously feels for her only child…

  (The office door is flung open.)

  TRENCH: Editor Law, I must protest – you nearly woke Sally up!

  GORDON: No, it’s Gordon.

  SALLY-ANNE: Hello Gordon.

  GORDON: I have come to warn you both to stay away. Stop bothering Vicky, she is very happy.

  SALLY-ANNE: Is that because you told her she’s happy?

  GORDON: Just keep away.

  SALLY-ANNE: Nobody tells us what to do, especially in our own office. Except Editor Law of course.

  TRENCH: Yes, belt up, Gordon.

  (GORDON storms off, slamming the door behind him.)

  TRENCH: Did you notice he was still wearing his mother’s red belt?

  SALLY-ANNE: I noticed…

  (Thoughtful music changes scene and time.)

  OLD TOM: Very interesting, Trench, very interesting. Not quite the Oedipus Complex, but there are certain similari
ties…

  TRENCH: Maybe Gordon’s mother always disliked him. Perhaps she saw him as a thorn; a barrier to her relationship with her husband.

  OLD TOM: And when he died, the contempt changed into a deep, brooding hatred…

  TRENCH: Manifesting itself in constant physical abuse and punishment.

  OLD TOM: Which brings us back to the belt, the bright red belt that could tell a thousand nightmares…

  TRENCH: And to put it bluntly, caused Gordon to become a control freak. Ruining his wife’s life from his own personal wreckage.

  OLD TOM: To stop this cycle of hatred, Trench, you need to confront Gordon… and break him, mentally speaking. He must be wearing the red belt though, that is the key to unlock his mind. Yes, I believe, the belt is vital.

  TRENCH: I plan to have it out with Gordon this lunchtime at his own DIY shop.

  OLD TOM: And while you’re there, young Trench…

  TRENCH: Yes?

  OLD TOM: Catch those damned shoplifters while you’re at it.

  (Music building suspense ends this scene and starts the next.)

  (We hear the door chime as TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE stroll into Gordon’s DIY.)

  GORDON: Trench, Sally-Anne – I thought I told you…

  SALLY-ANNE: (Says quietly to TRENCH:) What are we going to do, Trench? Gordon’s not wearing his belt.

  TRENCH: Carry on regardless.

  GORDON: I beg your pardon.

  TRENCH: You don’t beg anything or anyone, Gordon – you control, order…

  SALLY-ANNE: Is that why you’ve turned a passionate and fiercely independent woman – my best friend, into a snivelling, subservient wreck?

  GORDON: Nonsense.

  TRENCH: You were not to blame for your father’s death, Gordon.

  GORDON: How do you know? I was to blame… Mother told me I was to blame. She beat the guilt further into me.

  SALLY-ANNE: Your mother controlled you, Gordon, in a reign of terror. And now, you are doing the same to Vicky. Can’t you see that?

  GORDON: I would never harm Vicky.

  TRENCH: Maybe not physically…

  GORDON: I want you to leave.

  TRENCH: Not yet, Gordon – you might need our help.

  GORDON: How do you work that one out?

  TRENCH: I’d keep an eye on that group of lads, especially with all this shoplifting going on.

  GORDON: What?

  TRENCH: Or maybe I wouldn’t, because I think the lads are just a paid diversion so the real thieves can get to work.

  SALLY-ANNE: I don’t follow, Trench.

  TRENCH: No, but young David over there sadly does. He follows his social services mentor. Hello James.

  JAMES: Hi Trench. Come on David, we’re going.

  TRENCH: Empty your school bag out, David. Just do it.

  DAVID: (Who sighs:) All right.

  SALLY-ANNE: Screwdrivers, electric drills, tools… and sandpaper. I don’t believe it.

  TRENCH: Nice little racket, wasn’t it James? Abusing your position in social services and manipulating a vulnerable child to do your dirty work. Of course, your brother’s wholesale business came in handy – to distribute your ill-gotten gains, for a tidy profit no doubt.

  SALLY-ANNE: Despicable.

  TRENCH: You and your brother’s activities dove-tailed quite nicely actually, but I don’t think Harold, the store detective knew of your devious dealings.

  JAMES: I told you to be careful, David – you stupid boy. I said this store was too risky, but you said, you said… I’m going to teach you a lesson with the leather from my belt.

  (We hear JAMES whip his belt off and is about to strike David…)

  GORDON: No, don’t.

  (GORDON grapples with JAMES.)

  JAMES: Get off me.

  GORDON: Mummy, please don’t hit him. I’m sorry, I know it’s my fault Daddy died. Hit me instead. (GORDON then shouts.) Vicky, fetch my Mummy’s red belt from the stockroom – I deserve to be punished.

  (We hear slow footsteps as VICKY approaches.)

  VICKY: I’m afraid that’s not possible, my sweet. I’ve chopped your red belt into pieces and thrown them into the incinerator.

  GORDON: It’s over, finally.

  VICKY: Come here, Gordon. I’ll hold you. And it’s an order, my order.

  GORDON: Gladly.

  SALLY-ANNE: And it’s over for you, James – I’ve called the police.

  TRENCH: Oh, and don’t worry David, I’ll put a word in for you.

  SALLY-ANNE: That, Trench is what he is worried about.

  (Concluding music wraps this scene up.)

  TRENCH: You said the belt was vital, Old Tom – and you were proved right.

  OLD TOM: Well yes, the belt was the trigger – but, of course, I was referring to the red one. Were you a bit worried when you realised Gordon wasn’t wearing it?

  TRENCH: Just a little bit, but fortunately the shoplifter from social services came to my rescue…

  OLD TOM: … to provide the catalyst that cut through years of cruel conditioning. And then, thankfully, Gordon finally cracked. It was just an ordinary belt that provided a link to Gordon’s troubled childhood. Well, Trench – are you going to inform me of the deductive process that brought down James’ robbing racket?

  TRENCH: I’ve been looking forward to this, Old Tom. I began to be suspicious when…

  OLD TOM: Hold your horses, Trenchy – first, let me see if I can piece the little information I have, together successfully.

  TRENCH: I doubt it. But if you must, go on.

  OLD TOM: You discovered most shoplifting incidents happened on Tuesday and Thursday lunchtimes which coincided with James’ visit to the high-street with young David. A group of youths always seemed to divert attention at the time of the thefts. They were probably rewarded by our friend from the social. James also proudly and prominently displayed his social services name badge, obviously to further divert suspicion away from him. Scandalously, he used a vulnerable child, David to stash the ‘swag’ in his ever-so-slightly oversized school bag when no one was looking. Then he used his brother’s distribution network to peddle the stolen goods. How am I doing so far?

  TRENCH: I’m speechless – how could you possibly know that? You’re not telepathic, are you?

  (We hear OLD TOM throw a newspaper at TRENCH.)

  OLD TOM: No, but as I’ve already mentioned, I can read. Reading in-between the lines of the article on the shoplifting spree in the Stokeham Herald provided me with my suppositions.

  TRENCH: It’s not fair, I wanted to solve the shoplifting, but – on my own.

  OLD TOM: You did, young Trench – and I’m proud of you. In fact you are learning that fast, you might not need me for much longer.

  TRENCH: Oh, I still need you Old Tom – I think I always will.

  OLD TOM: Nothing lasts forever, Trench. When the time is right, I will move on – and so will you…

  TRENCH: Well not yet, not on my watch! You’ll be pleased to know that young David has been exonerated of all blame.

  OLD TOM: Good. Oh, thanks for the hammer, by the way. One day, it will come in very useful…

  TRENCH: Don’t mention it. And Vicky is her old self again. She is re-joining her Law degree course at university next term, treating her hiatus as a ‘gap’ year.

  OLD TOM: The legal eagle can now open her wings and begin to fly again…

  TRENCH: Sally-Anne says she is now in contact with all her old friends including Sall of course. Vicky’s independent spirit has returned with a vengeance and, believe it or not, she and Gordon couldn’t be happier. Even though now it’s Vicky who generally gives the orders and not him!

  OLD TOM: So, Vicky is now wearing the trousers? Just as it should be, err I think. A happy ending, Trench – and to celebrate let’s bring out my new/old cake.

  TRENCH: Yes, the armchair detective has unlocked Gordon’s psychological secret, I’ll eat to that.

  OLD TOM: Fetch the cake tin then.

  (TRENCH passes o
ver the tin.)

  OLD TOM: One for me and one for you.

  TRENCH: What would happen if I took two slices?

  OLD TOM: I’d think twice if I was you. If you look closely, you will notice that I am still wearing my belt…

  CLOSING MYSTERY MUSIC

  NEXT:

  The Armchair Detective’s Last Ever Case

  As new owners prepare to take over the Stokeham Herald, a bizarre black box sends Trench on a seemingly frantic wild goose chase throughout Stokeham. But as there is an increasingly familiarity behind all the rushing about; Old Tom senses something sinister…

  Read more…

  Read Radio Transcript a ‘sideways glance’ which is intended to accompany and compliment this script in an original and thought-provoking way.

  Look out for PLAY OF THE MONTH at www.thearmchairdetective.moonfruit.com

  www.thearmchairdetective.moonfruit.com