by Ian Shimwell
DOMINIC: I’m afraid them – and you have that quite wrong. Editor Law is in discussions to sell this newspaper. In that event, I’m sure things would run more or less the same.
TRENCH: I thought you didn’t know who the mystery man was.
DOMINIC: I don’t, Trench. But Law told me himself he’s thinking of selling to someone – whether or not it was that gentleman you saw – I’ve really no idea.
TRENCH: Editor Law told you – really? He’s not mentioned anything to me.
DOMINIC: He probably will at some point. Trench, what have you been carrying that black box for? And why have you dumped it on the desk?
TRENCH: It’s connected with a story I’m working on. It’s rather complicated, so I won’t bore you with the details.
DOMINIC: I see. Working on an exclusive scoop, are we?
TRENCH: Not really, but it has given me the run-around. Have you been busy?
DOMINIC: I was trying to finish this article on car-parking problems in central Stokeham, before I was interrupted.
TRENCH: Carry on, don’t mind me, Dominic. I wouldn’t want to keep you from such a dynamic story.
DOMINIC: People still have to park their cars, Trench. It may be boring to you but you may find it is important to the general public at large.
TRENCH: Maybe, but I think most people should use the bus or better still walk – or cycle.
DOMINIC: Anything else before I try and do some more work?
TRENCH: Yes, do you like it here, Dominic? Were things more regimented at the Ghoulmouth Gazette with Geoffrey?
DOMINIC: Working here at the Stokeham Herald is more challenging. At the Gazette, I was used to being with professionals who worked damned hard – and got results.
TRENCH: (Says just loud enough for DOMINIC to hear:) It’s a good job I’m not easily offended.
DOMINIC: Fortunately, I like challenges.
TRENCH: Good for you, Dominic, good for you. Oh, and when you’ve finished on your car-parking story, make a start on the obituaries. (Then says quietly:) Preferably your own…
(Reflective music finishes the scene.)
TRENCH: So, Old Tom, the clues so far are a black sheep and a toy car.
OLD TOM: A toy sports car.
TRENCH: Yes, is that important?
OLD TOM: I’m not sure. So, what can we deduce from the evidence so far?
TRENCH: Hmm, we’re looking for a secret institute that uses sheep to drive sports cars?
OLD TOM: Very good, Trenchy. It doesn’t really seem to make sense though, does it? I see you’ve brought your little friend along.
TRENCH: Come along, Black Box, say hello to Uncle Tom.
(The only response is silence.)
OLD TOM: Shy little fellow, isn’t he?
TRENCH: Oh, I don’t know – he soon speaks when it suits him.
OLD TOM: How are things at the office?
TRENCH: Not good. I’m not sure I like Dominic and it seems Editor Law is considering selling-up.
OLD TOM: Interesting… I assume it was Dominic who gave you that ‘information’? Never mind, Trench – have a soft biscuit. You can make some tea later.
TRENCH: Why not? We don’t really need the tea yet anyway, these biscuits are that soft they’d probably disintegrate on sight, at the thought of dunking them!
(They both happily munch on their biscuits for a few moments.)
OLD TOM: And when you do eventually make the tea, Trench – try to make sure there isn’t a tiny black box already in the tea-pot.
TRENCH: Yes, Old Tom.
OLD TOM: Now, let’s look at the rather puzzling questions this strange mystery is asking us: What do the clues mean? Why were the clues found from people we have previously been concerned with? And how did the Black Box know Sally-Anne was coming home on the five o’clock train?
TRENCH: With all the rushing about I’ve been doing, I haven’t had time to think. But yes, a pattern does seem to be forming…
BLACK BOX: Take me to the Stokeham Empire before twelve noon to discover your third clue.
OLD TOM: Well, at least, that gives you plenty of time to drink your tea, once you’ve made it – of course.
TRENCH: Yes, Old Tom. But after that, it’ll be a case of: Here we go again!
(A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act One.)
ACT TWO
(SALLY-ANNE and TRENCH are walking quickly through the streets of Stokeham.)
SALLY-ANNE: Oh Trench, why do you have to drag me along too?
TRENCH: Come on, Sally-Anne – you know Darnia Storm is back in town to perform extra dates of her Play.
SALLY-ANNE: So?
TRENCH: So – I need you for protection.
SALLY-ANNE: You need me for protection? She was after me as well, you know.
TRENCH: Yes well, I believe in safety in numbers. The Stokeham Empire, we’re here.
SALLY-ANNE: I expect your Black Box buddy will be pleased.
TRENCH: Are you pleased, Black Boxy? (There’s no response.) I’m afraid he’s incommunicado at the moment.
SALLY-ANNE: The stage door is open…
TRENCH: I assume Darnia is no longer troubled by the stalker.
SALLY-ANNE: So she won’t be as concerned about security. Shall we go inside?
TRENCH: That is the general idea.
(TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE enter the theatre.)
TRENCH: See that big star on the dressing room door?
SALLY-ANNE: Yes.
TRENCH: And the legend Darnia Storm bedazzled across it?
SALLY-ANNE: Yes.
TRENCH: This must be Ms Storm’s dressing room.
SALLY-ANNE: Your powers of deduction are truly amazing, Holmes!
(One of them knocks.)
DARNIA: Enter, please.
TRENCH: Ever get the sense of deja-vu?
SALLY-ANNE: Unfortunately, yes.
(They enter the dressing room.)
DARNIA: Trench and the beautiful Sally-Anne, how wonderful to see you again.
TRENCH: Likewise. Err, Darnia can I ask why you are wearing just a black Basque with matching stockings and suspenders?
DARNIA: Dress rehearsal darling, dress rehearsal. Do you think I look supremely sexy in an utterly sexy sort of way?
TRENCH: Err…
SALLY-ANNE: You are an attractive woman, Darnia.
DARNIA: Ooh, come here and say that, Sally.
SALLY-ANNE: What about your husband?
DARNIA: Oh, don’t worry about him. I’ve split from that creep for good. Come closer, Sally.
SALLY-ANNE: What about Trench?
DARNIA: He can watch… or join in. Ménage-a-trios. I adore threesomes…
(TRENCH coughs.)
DARNIA: Come on, Sally-Anne, let’s just do it. You can decide whether you like it or not afterwards – but I guarantee you’ll love it. You might get something out of it too, Trench.
TRENCH: I’m sure I would.
(The BLACK BOX whirrs into life.)
DARNIA: What the..? How kinky.
BLACK BOX: The third clue: Suspenders are found with suspense. You have ninety seconds remaining.
DARNIA: Excuse me, it takes me longer than that!
SALLY-ANNE: Suspenders, suspense? I don’t get it.
DARNIA: You will though, darling.
TRENCH: Suspenders… found – of course! Darnia, where are your drawers?
DARNIA: You’re staring at them, gorgeous.
TRENCH: No, where do you keep your smalls, suspenders – that type of thing?
DARNIA: To please some sort of perversion?
BLACK BOX: Twenty seconds remaining.
SALLY-ANNE: Quick Darnia, tell him – it’s important.
DARNIA: Oh very well, over there in that drawer.
(TRENCH firmly opens the drawer and has a good rummage.)
DARNIA: I’ve seen it all now.
TRENCH: Found it!
DARNIA: I’m sure you have.
SALLY-ANNE: Squeeze it.
<
br /> DARNIA: Pardon?
TRENCH: The tiny box opens… to reveal a screwed-up newspaper.
SALLY-ANNE: Drop it.
TRENCH: I have.
BLACK BOX: One second remaining.
(We hear the paper vanish in a puff of flames and smoke.)
TRENCH: I’d better put it out.
(TRENCH stamps on the small fire.)
DARNIA: You know how to dampen a girl’s flame of passion, don’t you?
(Seductive music with irony closes this scene.)
(TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE are walking through the offices of the Stokeham Herald.)
SALLY-ANNE: That was a close escape.
TRENCH: From the clue or Darnia?
SALLY-ANNE: Both!
TRENCH: I wonder what project Madam Darnia Storm will grace her presence with next? Maybe a film?
SALLY-ANNE: Yeah like, ‘Revenge of the Rampant Nymphomaniac’.
(They both laugh as they walk into their office, but abruptly stop laughing when they see DOMINIC there.)
DOMINIC: What’s so amusing?
TRENCH: Well, by the time we explained, Dominic…
SALLY-ANNE: … it wouldn’t be funny anymore. It’s known as comic timing, dear ‘colleague’.
DOMINIC: So you’re not going to tell me – fine. Can I ask this though, while I’ve been working hard on my car parking article and on three other topics, what have you two been working on all morning?
SALLY-ANNE: It’s known as a story, Dominic. You know some of us do something called investigative journalism in the real world.
TRENCH: And not sat on our backsides in a cosy little office.
SALLY-ANNE: At the moment though, it’s a cramped little office with three of us in it.
DOMINIC: Well, what is this supposedly big story and, Trench, why are you still carrying that ridiculous Black Box around with you?
SALLY-ANNE: Ever been to Charm School, Dominic? Was it closed?
TRENCH: Good one, Sally-Anne. Dominic, you don’t need to concern yourself with things you won’t understand. And don’t call my Black Box ridiculous, you’ll hurt his feelings!
DOMINIC: You know what I think? I think you’ve both been doing precisely nothing this morning. You probably woke up late – together.
SALLY-ANNE: How dare you.
DOMINIC: And all this secret story nonsense is a pathetic excuse to cover your tracks. I’ll be glad when Editor Law does sell this place. Perhaps then, the new boss will sort you two out.
SALLY-ANNE: I don’t think so, Dominic. Remember, we are the experienced professionals and you are the office junior.
TRENCH: Another good one. You’re on form today, Sall.
(A figure pops in the office.)
EDITOR LAW: Everything all right?
DOMINIC: Err yes, we were just having a… creative discussion, that’s all.
EDITOR LAW: Trench, Sally-Anne – I want you in my office, now.
TRENCH: Righto.
SALLY-ANNE: Don’t work too hard, Dominic.
(TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE follow EDITOR LAW into his office and close the door.)
EDITOR LAW: Sit down.
(They sit down.)
EDITOR LAW: You’ve probably heard the rumours flying around but now it’s all sorted, I want you two to be the first to know. I will inform the rest of the staff later today.
TRENCH: (Asks tentatively:) Are you selling up?
EDITOR LAW: Yes, I am selling the newspaper to a businessman, Max Sterling. You may have seen me having a meeting with him yesterday.
TRENCH: Bald headed guy in a suit?
EDITOR LAW: A crude but accurate description, Trench.
TRENCH: So, is this the end?
EDITOR LAW: Oh no, not at all – don’t worry about that. Max Sterling has given me his personal assurance that nothing will really change here at the Stokeham Herald.
SALLY-ANNE: If nothing’s going to change, why’s he bothering taking over then?
EDITOR LAW: Because, Sally-Anne, he’s a businessman. Whatever else this Paper is, it makes money. Max respects and recognises that.
TRENCH: What about our jobs though?
EDITOR LAW: I told you, relax. Max has given his assurances that both your jobs are safe. Even I’m going to stay on as part-time editor but alas, I will have slightly more time for golf. The appropriate legally binding contracts will be drawn up ready for me to sign the Paper over tomorrow – at noon.
SALLY-ANNE: It’s very kind of you, Editor Law, but you don’t have to worry about me. I resign.
EDITOR LAW: Sorry?
TRENCH: Listen Sally, if it’s because I made you see Darnia, then I’m sorry.
SALLY-ANNE: No, it’s nothing to do with that; this take-over or even the delightful Dominic. I am leaving to live with Jonathan – in London.
TRENCH: (Says almost dumbstruck:) Oh.
SALLY-ANNE: Come on Trenchy, I was going to tell you when we were alone but suddenly, now seemed as good as time as ever.
TRENCH: When are you leaving?
SALLY-ANNE: Don’t worry – not right now. I’ll be around for a few more days yet.
EDITOR LAW: Well, thank-you for telling me, Sally-Anne. I’ll inform Max that you, at least, will not be joining the new regime.
(Melancholy music moves a little bit of time on.)
(TRENCH and SALLY-ANNE are back in their office.)
TRENCH: I wonder where golden boy is?
SALLY-ANNE: Dominic? He’s probably powdering his nose or something.
TRENCH: Yes, well we do know he never seems to leave the building.
SALLY-ANNE: If he did, he’d probably shrivel up and die in the fresh air. What a wonderful thought!
TRENCH: You know Dominic lied, don’t you?
SALLY-ANNE: Do I?
TRENCH: Dominic previously claimed that Editor Law has told him of his intention to sell, when Law suggested he had told us two first.
SALLY-ANNE: He was probably lying to try and impress and sound superior. Adding two and two…
TRENCH: … and making four on this occasion. Dominic was right, though. Mind you, he most likely gleaned his information from the rumour mill.
BLACK BOX: Take me to Gordon’s DIY on the high street before fifteen hundred hours to discover your fifth clue.
SALLY-ANNE: Fifth clue? What about the fourth clue?
TRENCH: Well, either the Black Box has missed it out for a reason, or he can’t count! Either way, we’d better be going – I don’t want to be on the last second, for a change.
SALLY-ANNE: Trench, would you be offended if I don’t come with you on this occasion? I’m feeling tired all of a sudden.
TRENCH: Are you all right?
SALLY-ANNE: Fine – probably still recovering from dodging Darnia’s clutches! And, in any case, one of us had better get back to some mundane office work. Dominic’s complaining enough as it is.
TRENCH: All right, I’ll be off, (he suddenly takes-off Darnia:) darling.
(With a slight SALLY-ANNE giggle, TRENCH leaves the office and walks down the corridor.)
MAX: It’s Trench, isn’t it? Pleased to meet you at last.
TRENCH: Max Sterling, an unexpected… err encounter.
MAX: I’m just over here to chew a few things over with your editor ahead of tomorrow’s ‘seal the deal’.
TRENCH: And what plans do you have for the Stokeham Herald, Mr Sterling?
MAX: Max, please.
TRENCH: Max, then. This humble Paper has built a reputation for sometimes biting journalism in its forty odd year lifetime.
MAX: Oh, I have big plans for this Paper.
TRENCH: Really?
MAX: But don’t look so concerned. They’ll always be a position for you here, Trench.
(DOMINIC walks up to them in the corridor and stops.)
DOMINIC: It’s an honour to meet you, sir.
(DOMINIC shakes MAX very warmly by the hand.)
MAX: Ditto Dominic. You may stop shaking my hand now.
DOMINIC
: Oh, sorry.
MAX: Watch this bright young lad, Trench. His recent story on local car-parking problems was inspiring stuff. More, please.
DOMINIC: Thank-you, sir.
MAX: Don’t you agree, Trench?
TRENCH: Oh yes, absolutely. In my journalistic experience, I find car parking up most people’s street!
(Quirky music changes the scene.)
(We hear the door chime as TRENCH enters Gordon’s DIY and walks to the counter.)
TRENCH: Gordon, it’s me Trench – how are you doing?
GORDON: I’m fine – we’re fine.
TRENCH: Where is Vicky?
GORDON: Studying hard at university. She’ll be a legal eagle very soon. You’re not checking up on me, are you Trench?
TRENCH: Oh no, no, no. I’ve come in here to buy something actually.
GORDON: That’s good – most people do. Is it something I can help you with or do you just want to browse?
TRENCH: I’m looking for a black box.
GORDON: Are you sure you want a black box? You see, Trench, you seem to be carrying one under your arm.
TRENCH: Oh, not that one, Gordon. I’m looking for a very small black box – about so big.
BLACK BOX: The fifth clue: It is cocktail hour at the hardware store. You have ninety seconds remaining.
GORDON: It speaks!
TRENCH: (Who whispers loudly to GORDON:) Attention seeker – take no notice, you’ll only encourage him.
GORDON: Back to tiny black boxes, I’m pretty sure we don’t stock them – and I can’t think who would…
TRENCH: Cocktail hour at the hardware store? What on earth does it mean by that?
GORDON: Vicky enjoys a cocktail occasionally, did you know?
TRENCH: Of course, that’s it – a cocktail. What does your wife normally drink?
GORDON: Hmm, let me see.
TRENCH: Quick, quick.
GORDON: Sometimes a Blue Lagoon… sometimes a screwdriver…
BLACK BOX: You have twenty seconds remaining.
TRENCH: Screwdrivers, that’s the things – where are they?
GORDON: Over there.
(TRENCH dashes to the screwdriver display.)
TRENCH: Excuse me madam, I have to get to that shelf.
SHOPPER: Well, really!
(TRENCH starts pulling the screwdrivers off the shelves, frantically searching.)
TRENCH: It must be on one of these shelves somewhere. Ah, there it is – the mini black box. Time to squeeze… A man… Some kind of model traffic warden, I think.