The Armchair Detective The Early Years (Special Editions)

by Ian Shimwell

TRENCH: I’m speechless. Sometimes, Old Tom, you amaze me.

  OLD TOM: Only sometimes, Trench?

  TRENCH: You are going to tell me how you came up with that astonishing deduction?

  OLD TOM: You had excitedly mentioned Sawn-Off earlier. Your challenge was made in exactly the same tones. Then, assuming my deduction was correct and Sawn-Off had entered the scene, it is easy to presume a gentleman would hold his girl protectively, knowing the mobster’s reputation, say like a mother goose protecting her goslings under her wings - if that was what Marcus was actually doing of course.

  TRENCH: Thanks for not saying, ‘elementary, my dear Trench.’

  OLD TOM: I was sorely tempted.

  TRENCH: And before you tell me, Sawn-Off had a chat with the Landlord who seemed to lose all colour in his face…

  OLD TOM: Which is completely consistent with their character traits.

  TRENCH: But the weirdest thing was ‘the look’.

  OLD TOM: Define ‘the look’. And to whom was ‘the look’ intended?

  TRENCH: ‘The look’ was predictably threatening, but there was something else - like an intense questioning, a strange sense of curiosity, if you like. Sawn-Off seemed to be staring at Marcus…

  OLD TOM: Very interesting…

  (OLD TOM coughs very badly.)

  TRENCH: Here, let me fetch you some water.

  OLD TOM: No, no - never touch the stuff.

  TRENCH: I give up.

  OLD TOM: So, are you going to tell me about your trip to the Police Station this morning? And before you look open-mouthed again, they’re several Police-headed reports sticking out of your briefcase.

  TRENCH: Yes, unofficially and in complete confidence Sergeant Strong let me have them for research.

  OLD TOM: Concerning the missing Emmy Hargreaves, no doubt?

  TRENCH: Correct.

  OLD TOM: You’ll have obviously read them by now and probably have to return them very soon so you might as well save me the bother and give me the edited highlights.

  TRENCH: Marcus was not only seeing Emmy, they were engaged to be married. Emmy spent her last weekend at the Dreadbury Manor-House with Marcus, naturally, and his father, Lord Devesham-Dreadbury for a spot of shooting. Now, can you see why I’m worried?

  OLD TOM: Lightning never strikes twice, young Trench but then again, history does have an unpleasant habit of repeating itself.

  TRENCH: Also, Miss Emmy Hargreaves was rumoured to be in the employ of a certain Sawn-Off and his merry band of men known as the Syndicate…

  OLD TOM: That, I didn’t expect. What was Emmy’s connection to the low-life of Stokeham and district?

  TRENCH: Sergeant Strong stressed it was only a rumour, but the whispers from mostly unreliable sources, did mention Drugs. I don’t know more than that.

  OLD TOM: But that tells us an awful lot.

  TRENCH: That Sawn-Off saw off Emmy? That she died an addict’s death, if indeed she was an addict? Or is Marcus Dreadbury somehow involved in her disappearance or even murder?

  OLD TOM: Searching questions, Trench. Very old families like the Dreadburys usually have plenty of skeletons in their cupboard.

  TRENCH: And my visit to Dreadbury Manor this weekend will be the perfect opportunity to start opening some cupboards…

  OLD TOM: In the meantime, my boy - nip into the kitchen and make us both a cup of tea.

  TRENCH: But you usually have it made.

  OLD TOM: So therefore it’s your turn. Come on, tea doesn’t make itself.

  TRENCH: (Says in the kitchen to himself.) And besides, that would involve you getting up from that armchair of yours…

  (A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act One.)

  ACT TWO

  (We hear TRENCH walking along the streets of Stokeham.)

  TRENCH: (Whistling to himself.) A hunting we will go…

  (TRENCH suddenly stops walking.)

  TRENCH: Excuse me sir, you happen to be blocking my way. If you wouldn’t mind…

  THUG: Move.

  TRENCH: I was moving until you stopped me.

  THUG: Over there.

  TRENCH: I love these mono-syllabic types. You want me to move into that dark alleyway? Now, why didn’t you say so?

  (TRENCH is ‘escorted’ into the alleyway.)

  TRENCH: I think that kind-hearted gentleman wants me to have a chat with you.

  SAWN-OFF: You mean, ‘Happy’.

  TRENCH: He looks so miserable though.

  (HAPPY grunts menacingly.)

  TRENCH: No offence

  SAWN-OFF: He is happy being miserable. Now, do you know who I am?

  TRENCH: Only by reputation. You are a local gangst… I mean ‘business man’ whose trade name is, Sawn-Off.

  SAWN-OFF: You have the advantage over me, what is yours?

  TRENCH: I do not own a business, Mr Sawn-Off.

  SAWN-OFF: (Says threateningly:) Name?

  TRENCH: Trench. Pleased to meet you.

  SAWN-OFF: Do not act the fool with me Trench, the last person who did laughed himself into an early grave. Do you follow me?

  TRENCH: My understanding of your message, Sawn-Off is clear. Crystal.

  SAWN-OFF: You were seen with a gentleman, a Marcus Dreadbury. Explain.

  TRENCH: Oh relax, I don’t really know this Marcus. I’m just a friend of a friend, that’s all.

  SAWN-OFF: Do you know his girlfriend?

  TRENCH: Which one? He was going out with - now what was her name? She was an absolute award of a girl - that’s it; her name is Emmy, Emmy Hargreaves. Now, I wonder where she has disappeared to?

  (HAPPY smacks his fist into his palm.)

  HAPPY: Boss..?

  SAWN-OFF: No, not yet. Despite being a fool Trench, you amuse me. In fact I will carry on laughing till you have an unhappy accident.

  TRENCH: How do you know I’m going to have an accident?

  SAWN-OFF: They can be arranged. And for your sake, I hope you know nothing about dear Emmy.

  HAPPY: (Who laughs.) Good one, ‘arranged’. Hah.

  SAWN-OFF: Laugh Trench.

  TRENCH: Oh hilarious, Sawn-Off. Hah, hah.

  (Music moves scene and time on.)

  (We hear the car driving through the country lanes.)

  TRENCH: I think we must be lost, Sally-Anne. There’s no sign of Dreadbury Manor anywhere. Here, check the map.

  (We hear SALLY-ANNE unfold the map.)

  SALLY-ANNE: I can’t make head nor tail of this.

  TRENCH: Here, try reading it the right way up.

  (TRENCH snatches the map, turns it the right way round and hands it back to SALLY-ANNE.)

  SALLY-ANNE: I knew that, of course - I was just teasing.

  TRENCH: Hah. Well, can you make out where we are?

  SALLY-ANNE: Not really, Trench - we could do with one of those ‘You Are Here’ signs.

  (TRENCH sighs heavily with evident frustration.)

  SALLY-ANNE: We should have found it by now. Even though we’re deep into the countryside, Marcus said it was only half-an-hour’s drive from Stokeham.

  TRENCH: And we’ve been driving for nearly an hour. Well, I suppose if we’re going to be lost, it’s best to be lost in beautiful scenery. There’s the Great Southern Lake somewhere nearby and I mean, look at that majestic line of oak trees over there.

  SALLY-ANNE: That’s it Trench! Marcus told me there is a mall of oak trees leading to his estate.

  TRENCH: (Who takes a deep breath to calm himself.) Yes, yes he did. Don’t you mean his father’s estate?

  SALLY-ANNE: That’s what I meant.

  TRENCH: At least we’ve finally found this mystery manor, anyway.

  SALLY-ANNE: ‘Mystery’ ah yes. Can you explain to me why you decided to join us on this weekend?

  TRENCH: As I’ve already said, I fancied a spot of shooting.

  SALLY-ANNE: Rubbish! You’ve always hated blood sports.

  TRENCH: All right, alone with a stranger in a sprawling mansion. I was concerned f
or you Sally-Anne, that’s all.

  SALLY-ANNE: Well, I can look after myself.

  (We hear the car stop.)

  TRENCH: The grand Dreadbury gates. Hadn’t you better pop out dear, and ring the bell or something?

  SALLY-ANNE: I think dear Marcus will be more sophisticated than that. Look at that security camera up there. He’s probably recognized us by now.

  TRENCH: And if he doesn’t?

  SALLY-ANNE: I’d better pop out and ring the bell!

  TRENCH: It looks like dear old Marcus has spotted us. The gates are…

  SALLY-ANNE: …opening by remote control.

  (We hear the gates opening.)

  SALLY-ANNE: What are you waiting for Trenchy, drive on!

  TRENCH: It is wise to hesitate before entering the lion’s den.

  (The car drives through the gates and ominous yet regal music changes the scene.)

  SALLY-ANNE: Oh Marcus, this is truly a wondrous home. An oak-paneled library; classical dining hall; imposing portraits adorning the walls and this Drawing Room… exquisite.

  MARCUS: I’m glad you like it, my dearest Sally. Would you care to offer an opinion on my humble abode, Trench?

  TRENCH: Well, if you think having seventeen rooms in your abode is humble, I’d hate to see you when you’re being arrogant.

  SALLY-ANNE: (Who whispers sternly:) I’m warning you, Trench - behave.

  TRENCH: Sorry Marcus, no offence intended.

  MARCUS: I humbly accept your apology, old boy. And yes, I suppose you would hate to see me when I’m being arrogant.

  SALLY-ANNE: I think this weekend will be marvelous, Marcus. We’ll be all alone in this big house.

  TRENCH: Wait a minute, why are you looking at me? Oh, don’t worry - you’ll hardly notice I’m here.

  (There is a knock on the door and it opens.)

  MARCUS: Ah, Gemma, you’ve brought afternoon tea. Splendid.

  GEMMA: My lord. Oh, I forgot the milk - I’ll just go back for it.

  MARCUS: Err… that’s Gemma, the maid

  TRENCH: So that’s why she was wearing that outfit!

  SALLY-ANNE: (Who again, sharply whispers to TRENCH.) Very funny, Trench - now stop it.

  (A fit of coughing and increasingly loud footsteps are heard upstairs.)

  MARCUS: Oh and my father Lord Devesham-Dreadbury is pottering around somewhere too.

  SALLY-ANNE: I think we’d have more chance of being alone in Piccadilly Circus!

  MARCUS: I assure you my sweet Sally-Anne, we will spend time alone.

  TRENCH: Now that’s what worries me.

  MARCUS: Speak up Trench, I didn’t quite catch that.

  TRENCH: Sorry Marcus, I was just saying that all this lovey-dovey stuff reminds me of my previous girlfriend.

  SALLY-ANNE: Oh dear, what are you talking about?

  (We hear the door open.)

  GEMMA: Panic over, I’ve found the milk.

  TRENCH: It was so sad, you see - we were engaged to be married, and then poor Emma simply vanished off the face of the earth.

  (There is an almighty crash as the maid, GEMMA drops the milk jug.)

  GEMMA: Oh, sorry.

  MARCUS: A fascinating story, Trench. I do expect to enjoy our shoot tomorrow…

  (Ominous music changes the scene.)

  SALLY-ANNE: Such a magnificent roaring fire, Trench. Now that’s what I call a grand fireplace.

  TRENCH: I know, it’s almost big enough to walk through - if you happened to be made of asbestos or something.

  SALLY-ANNE: Anyway, what was all that nonsense about Emma? I’m pretty sure you’ve never been out with an Emma before. And you’ve not even been engaged - to anyone.

  TRENCH: Well, Sally-Anne, you see…

  (We can just hear MARCUS and the maid’s voice coming from a nearby room.)

  SALLY-ANNE: Hang on, what’s Marcus doing in the kitchen with the maid?

  TRENCH: Why don’t you go and find out?

  SALLY-ANNE: I will.

  (We hear SALLY-ANNE walk away but can still hear their voices.)

  SALLY-ANNE: What’s going on, Marcus?

  MARCUS: Oh, I was just explaining to Gemma here my choices for evening dinner. You are in for a treat my dear, Sally-Anne.

  SALLY-ANNE: Oh, that’s all right then, Marcus - my Marcus.

  GEMMA: Excuse me, my lord.

  (The door is closed and TRENCH hears no more.)

  TRENCH: I think I’ll pour myself a drink - ah, sherry.

  (We hear the clink of the decanter as TRENCH pours himself a sherry. At that moment, another door opens and Lord DEVESHAM -Dreadbury arrives.)

  DEVESHAM: I wouldn’t drink, if I was you old boy.

  TRENCH: Why ever not? Lord Devesham, I presume. Trench, at your service.

  DEVESHAM: Ah, Tiger Trench - you’re next in to bat. Keep a clear head, at least that’s what Winnie always says.

  TRENCH: I thought we were going shooting.

  DEVESHAM: That’s tomorrow. Today we’re in the Pavilion at Lords and about to thrash the West Indies.

  TRENCH: Oh, I see - no I don’t.

  DEVESHAM: You’re not even kitted out yet. Have you gone mad?

  TRENCH: I think one of us has.

  DEVESHAM: Look lively Tiger. Beware of the demon bowler. And as a special surprise, Lady Devesham, that’s err Winnie to you, is providing refreshments for afternoon tea.

  TRENCH: Splendid, I’ll… I’ll just go and get kitted out then.

  (TRENCH hastily leaves the room, closing the door firmly behind him.)

  TRENCH: Oh, Gemma - have you seen Sally-Anne anywhere?

  GEMMA: I believe she is out walking with Marcus.

  TRENCH: Oh no - I mean I’ll go and quickly catch up with them.

  (Faster-paced music changes the scene.)

  (We hear TRENCH’s footsteps as he runs across the gravel path/driveway. He then runs through the woods, his panic over SALLY-ANNE’s safety increasing - the music reflects this.)

  TRENCH: (Who shouts:) Marcus! (TRENCH breathlessly adds:) What are you doing staring at the swamp?

  MARCUS: Staring… thinking… (He snaps out of it.) Swamp? I assume you are referring to the Dreadbury Punchbowl.

  TRENCH: Dreadbury Punchbowl? What an odd name for a swamp.

  MARCUS: It is thus named because there is a subterranean stream that flows through to the Great Southern Lake, a few miles away - hence the bubbles - here look.

  (We can hear the bubbling.)

  TRENCH: How err unsettling.

  MARCUS: I agree Trench. It always reminds me of someone drowning, struggling to draw their last breath…

  TRENCH: Where is Sally-Anne?

  MARCUS: Evidently not here.

  TRENCH: What have you done with her?

  MARCUS: I detect a note of panic in your voice, why?

  TRENCH: Just tell me where she is. The maid said you both went out walking.

  MARCUS: Oh yes, we did. If you must know, my dear, sweet Sally-Anne has gone to powder her nose. You know how women do that sort of thing.

  TRENCH: Is that all?

  (TRENCH slowly walks up to MARCUS, evidently relaxing a little.)

  TRENCH: I didn’t realize that your mother, Marcus, was still alive.

  MARCUS: I’m afraid not, my mother Lady Winnifred died a long time ago.

  TRENCH: But…

  MARCUS: You must have been chatting with father. Allow me to explain, mother passed away whilst at Lord’s cricket ground watching a Test match against the West Indies. Father has never basically recovered from it. He believes his ‘Winnie’ is still alive and life is one perpetual game of cricket.

  TRENCH: I know a few people like that!

  MARCUS: However, the worst thing is…