The Armchair Detective The Early Years (Special Editions)

by Ian Shimwell

  BEN: My job is to protect, not threaten…

  TRENCH: And the prima-donna Vivien Velvet. Are you that envious of your rival Darnia Storm, that you have resorted to attempting to inflict on her a nervous breakdown – or something worse?

  VIVIEN: (Who laughs outrageously.) I found the idea amusing, but as I know talent will win through in the end, resorting to such skulduggery would not be necessary.

  TRENCH: And finally, manager extraordinaire Donny Davies. I have heard you plotting a fake stalker – or is that a real one to give your client an unhealthy dose of sensational publicity?

  DONNY: I admit I’ve toyed with the stalker idea, but nothing came out of it, especially not now.

  SALLY-ANNE: So, everyone’s innocent!

  TRENCH: I don’t think so – so let’s start again. I’m sorry about this, Darnia but I must share your real name, which is Deidre Brown.

  (VIVIEN laughs, cruelly.)

  TRENCH: And those photos – of course, that’s it. I can now tell you who the stalker is. (There is a moment of expectant silence.) The stalker and your husband, Darnia, are one of the same.

  DONNY: I’m her manager. I would know if my client was married, surely?

  TRENCH: Ben Brown, you are Darnia’s or should I say Deidre Brown’s husband – and stalker.

  DARNIA: Is this true, Ben?

  BEN: I’m sorry Deidre, my Deidre but yes – it is true.

  DARNIA: But why Ben? You know our marriage ended years ago. Remember I only agreed to stay married on paper only, on the condition we kept it secret. I could live my own life and become the superstar, Darnia Storm – in return you could watch me from the side lines as my bodyguard.

  BEN: I know the agreement, Deidre. But do you realise how hard it’s been watching you change, becoming this glamorous actress and not even noticing me – me your husband. Worse, I had to stand by, helpless, while you slept with the many men – and women who either helped your career or you just simply lusted after. Yes, I stalked you, but you were never in any danger, I was very careful with the sandbag. Yes, I was the stalker, so that in some way at least, you would need your husband again.

  DARNIA: Oh, Ben.

  BEN: I want to be your proper husband, I don’t want to be invisible anymore. I love you, Deidre Brown.

  DARNIA: I’ve moved on, Ben. I’ve done so much as Darnia Storm. I don’t think I could be plain old Deidre Brown again…

  SALLY-ANNE: (Who whispers:) Come on, Trench. They’re having a domestic. Let’s leave them to it… Oh, and I think I belonged to the ‘lusted’ category.

  TRENCH: Thank-you, Sally-Anne, for clearing that up for me.

  (Reflective music ends the scene.)

  TRENCH: So, that’s when it hit me Old Tom, I suddenly realised that Ben and Deidre shared the same surname and together with those photos which showed a very young Darnia’s left hand displaying a wedding ring.

  OLD TOM: In the early days, she was obviously still proud to show off her wedding band.

  TRENCH: And that completed the married picture and provided Ben with a moving motive for being the dreaded celebrity stalker. But you knew before seeing the pictures, how?

  OLD TOM: Well naturally, when you told me of Ms Storm’s real name: Deidre Brown, I put two and two together but really the clues go beyond that. Ms Storm always called her bodyguard, Ben – again like the maid in the manor-house – is quite unusual for such a supposedly formal relationship. It was Ben who brought the suspect bomb package to the person he was supposed to be protecting – sometimes the obvious clue is simply that, obvious and not a clever double-bluff. And of course, one of the poisoners pen letters, ‘You must seek greater protection’. The evidence against Ben begins to add up.

  TRENCH: The sandbag incident did point to Vivien though. She was actually there and had just disappeared.

  OLD TOM: Ben was obviously biding his time and I couldn’t really picture Miss Velvet climbing the stage gantry. Although, I grant you, Miss Velvet did have a motive albeit in an outrageous, drama-queen sort of way. Like her life, her motive was fiction.

  TRENCH: And mister manager would do anything to attract publicity for Darnia.

  OLD TOM: But he wouldn’t do that. Davies is a cynical pro but he would had to have feelings he didn’t possess to turn stalker.

  TRENCH: And I now realise Ben’s motive was compelling. I suppose it wouldn’t be much fun to watch your wife seduce any Tom, Dick – or Harriet.

  OLD TOM: Yes, as I’ve told you before, Trench – piece all the pieces together and the final picture becomes clear.

  TRENCH: Of course, I know what Darnia meant when referring to a former lover – her husband: ‘I don’t see him anymore, but he’s still around’. Hey, come to think of it Old Tom, you’ve never referred to Darnia Storm as a Miss – always a Ms.

  OLD TOM: I like to keep my options open young man…

  TRENCH: Do you think Ben and Darnia – or is that Deidre? – will ever be a proper married couple in the fullness of time?

  OLD TOM: That is one mystery, even the Armchair Detective, will be unable to solve…

  (They both laugh good-heartedly.)

  OLD TOM: Trench, did you bring that pack of biscuits I asked you for?

  TRENCH: Yes, here they are. Shall we have one now?

  OLD TOM: Don’t be ridiculous. I will open them in two years’ time, when they’ve well and truly gone off!

  TRENCH: I’ll have to wait then.

  OLD TOM: Oh, and I nearly forgot, there was of course one peripheral clue which pointed me in the right direction.

  TRENCH: You’ll have to explain, old timer.

  OLD TOM: Ben said he was the best bodyguard outside Chicago. Strange thing to say, don’t you think?

  TRENCH: Yes, but..?

  OLD TOM: It was possibly a subliminal nod to the musical, ‘Chicago’; which features a starlet called Roxy who treats her husband with contempt. He feels invisible and even sings the number, ‘Mister Cellophane’ - sound familiar?

  TRENCH: I didn’t realise you were fond of musicals, Old Tom?

  OLD TOM: Don’t worry, I’m not about to burst into song, if that’s what you mean.

  (TRENCH laughs.)

  CLOSING MYSTERY MUSIC

  THE

  ARMCHAIR

  DETECTIVE

  On

  Holiday

  INTRODUCTION

  TRENCH'S HOLIDAY CHECKLIST:

  (for a visit to the sleepy coastal village of Fisherman's Cove)

  TOOTHBRUSH - CHECK

  BUCKET & SPADE - CHECK (I'll need to do some digging.)

  MYSTERY - CHECK (An enduring fifty year-old one: whatever happened to the brothers Quinn?)

  GIRLFRIEND - NOT EXACTLY (But Sally-Anne's coming along.)

  ARMCHAIR - AFRAID NOT (Sorry Old Tom, but it won't fit in the suitcase.)

  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 S
andy 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 it 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 mystery.

  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 Gazette.

  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.