The Armchair Detective The Early Years (Special Editions)

by Ian Shimwell

  OLD TOM: I only read it myself, by chance – just before your last visit, from the illustrious pages of the Stokeham Herald: ‘A foreign couple, known only as Mark and Katherine are rumoured to be operating in the local area.’ Need I go on?

  TRENCH: No, but where did the rumour originate?

  OLD TOM: Their last victim, probably…

  TRENCH: Well, Marconi and wife won’t be coming back in a hurry. Gilcrest said he would prosecute if they ever set foot in this country again. Oh, Gilcrest’s father has returned to the factory, part-time of course – just to keep an eye on things from now on…

  OLD TOM: Very wise. And you must congratulate, dear so-called dizzy Debsy. Her undercover work was invaluable.

  TRENCH: I will, old timer. So, the armchair detective returns… with a vengeance..?

  OLD TOM: I am not sure about ‘with a vengeance’ though.

  TRENCH: Oh, and despite the fact that we basically saved their company, Gilcrest Gadgets still won’t resume sponsorship of the Stokeham Herald, would you believe? How’s that for gratitude?

  OLD TOM: Never mind – at least it means you will be stuck as a reporter coming to me for help on intriguing stories…

  TRENCH: Yes, there is that, I suppose. And did you know that Marconi really was Italian, and surprisingly used his real name?

  OLD TOM: Yes, remember he would have had to have his real name on the all-important cheque. And Marconi’s dialect did not sound Italian because he left Italy when he was still very young.

  TRENCH: Now, how could you possibly know that? I’ve checked – and you’re right.

  OLD TOM: Pure deduction, I would have already expected you to have mentioned Marconi’s nationality, if it was fake like the rest of him, except his identity, of course.

  TRENCH: Amazing.

  OLD TOM: Right, as a treat, Trenchy – you can have your cold crumpet – you deserve it.

  TRENCH: Gee, thanks. Well, I suppose this all means we are definitely back together, at last.

  OLD TOM: Back, my boy, back? Back? As far as I am concerned, young Trench, we have never been apart.

  CLOSING MYSTERY MUSIC

  The

  Armchair

  Detective

  and the

  Logical

  Problem

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  To see an example of one of Debsy’s Logic Problems, have a look on the internet, or alternatively pick up a Puzzler Logic Problems magazine from your local newsagent. Go on, have a try – trust me, it’s fun.

  INTRODUCTION

  Tearing Debsy away from her latest craze, logic puzzles, Trench looks into a noisy neighbour story with a difference.

  Why does Harris play very loud music at such precise, regular intervals?

  What is the purpose of a Bank in the middle of a housing estate?

  And is Harris' obsession with the Cold War anything to do with the price of fish?

  Helped again by Old Tom, Trench needs to take a leaf out of Debsy's book, and start looking at the problem... logically.

  Cast List

  TRENCH

  OLD TOM

  DEBSY

  EDITOR LAW

  HARRIS

  VALERIA

  WILLIAMS

  GREG HYDE

  MRS JACKSON

  SERGEANT STRONG

  Act One

  OPENING MYSTERY MUSIC

  OLD TOM: Come in, young man, the door is open.

  (TRENCH opens the door and comes into the living room.)

  TRENCH: Right – wait, your armchair’s empty. Old Tom, where are you? (Then shouts, increasingly concerned:) Old Tom!

  OLD TOM: Calm down, Trench. I am simply sat in the armchair you normally occupy instead of mine.

  TRENCH: Whatever for?

  OLD TOM: I fancied a change of scenery. I assume that’s all right with you?

  TRENCH: Well, yes. It’s your flat old timer – you can sit where you like. If you want, I could bring in another chair and you can sit on that as well.

  OLD TOM: That will not be necessary.

  TRENCH: You just gave me a start, that’s all. For a moment, I thought…

  OLD TOM: Which brings me to the benefits of logical thinking. If you would have stopped and thought for a moment – and instead of panicking applied a little bit of logic, you would have deduced two things. Shall I go on?

  TRENCH: Please do.

  OLD TOM: Firstly, you heard my voice coming from the living room.

  TRENCH: (Who sighs slightly.) Correct.

  OLD TOM: Secondly, you entered my living room which contains two armchairs. I was not sat in my usual chair so logic dictates, assuming I have not thrown my voice – which I am not in the habit of doing, that I must be incumbent on the other armchair.

  TRENCH: Elementary, I suppose but please don’t talk about logic. I’ll sit down first.

  OLD TOM: (Who says sternly:) No, not on my chair. Listen, the water’s just boiled, be a dear and finish the tea off, will you?

  TRENCH: Oh very well.

  (TRENCH wanders into the kitchen and potters about for a bit.)

  TRENCH: Ah the milk’s in the usual bucket of water. Cups, saucers, sugar, tea-pot, and teaspoon – I think it’ll be easier if I put them all on a tray.

  (TRENCH rummages around for a bit more and enters the living room with his tea tray.)

  TRENCH: Old Tom – you’ve moved back to your old armchair.

  (TRENCH places the tray on a nearby table.)

  OLD TOM: Logic does not involve stating the blinding obvious though.

  TRENCH: (Who sits down.) Logic? Yes, as I was saying – I’ve had logic problems up to here. Dizzy Debsy can’t stop doing the dratted puzzles. In the office; out on a story; at home, probably – she’s addicted. You know what ‘Logic Problems’ are, Old Tom? Thanks to Debsy, I know this bit by heart – when say Derek is being collected by his wife but she had longer to wait than the man who is waiting to be driven by Denise and so on – that sort of thing, using a kind of working out grid…

  OLD TOM: I know what Logic Problems are, young man. In the Old Days in our spare time, we helped to create the damned things along with…

  TRENCH: With whom? You’ve never mentioned the ‘Old Days’ before.

  OLD TOM: Forget that I did. Now, as I’m pouring the tea, you can tell me the reason for your visit.

  (OLD TOM pours the tea.)

  TRENCH: Reason? Oh yes. Remember when you said I should take more notice of Debsy? Well I have. She’s been working on a ‘noisy neighbour’ story and has come across something most odd.

  (OLD TOM stops pouring.)

  OLD TOM: Go on.

  TRENCH: An usually quiet forty-something man has suddenly started playing awfully loud music at regular intervals. That regular – and precise, the poor locals can set their watches by it.

  OLD TOM: How interesting.

  TRENCH: I mean, maybe someone’s upset him and he’s being deliberately anti-social…

  OLD TOM: But the precise nature of the musical aberrations renders that explanation illogical.

  TRENCH: Oh, we’re back to logic again, are we? What do you think though, Old Tom?

  OLD TOM: I suggest that it, at least, warrants further investigation…

  TRENCH: So, what next – visit the neighbourhood? See what we can find out.

  OLD TOM: First we wait.

  TRENCH: Wait?

  OLD TOM: For the tea to cool down, of course, Trenchy.

  TRENCH: Oh yes, I forgot – the long wait commences…

  (Thoughtful music changes the scene.)

  (TRENCH and DEBSY are walking through a council-type estate. There is only the odd traffic-type noise – and occasionally the sound of children playing ball in the background.)

  TRENCH: So, who are we seeing again, Debsy?

  DEBSY: Mrs Jackson, the next-door neighbour of public enemy number one round here, a Mr Harris. A very, very noisy neighbour, Trench. But not a nosey neighbour, just a noisy one.

&nb
sp; TRENCH: No, we’ll leave the nosey neighbour business to your Mrs Jackson.

  DEBSY: Please yourself Trenny, but I don’t think wanting to hear yourself speak in your own home automatically classes you as being nosey.

  TRENCH: I thought this was a council estate though.

  DEBSY: You know what I mean. Well here we are – that’s where Harris lives and this is Mrs Jackson’s.

  TRENCH: All seems rather quiet to me. Lead on Mac Debsy.

  DEBSY: I will – I have no problem at all leading you down the garden path.

  (A brief interlude of music. TRENCH and DEBSY are sat inside MRS JACKSON’s living room.)

  TRENCH: Thank-you for the tea, Mrs Jackson – it was so very hot.

  MRS JACKSON: It usually is, err Trench.

  TRENCH: Not in my experience.

  MRS JACKSON: What?

  DEBSY: Oh, take no notice, Mrs Jackson. Thanks for the tea, we are having a nice, peaceful time.

  TRENCH: Yes, with peaceful being the operative word. I thought you had a problem with noise coming from the direction of Mr Harris over there.

  MRS JACKSON: What time is it?

  DEBSY: Oh silly me – I forgot to put my watch on.

  TRENCH: It is just gone five to one.

  MRS JACKSON: Then hang around for a few minutes more ‘cause at one o’clock precisely all hell will break loose.

  TRENCH: Yes, you’ve already told Debsy about the exact nature of the musical outbursts.

  MRS JACKSON: Does he always speak like this?

  DEBSY: ‘fraid so, Mrs J.

  TRENCH: All right, what are the noisy times then?

  MRS JACKSON: At last, a straightforward question. Every day from nine till twelve; one to four and finally five till eight. Thankfully he then shuts up.

  DEBSY: What about weekends?

  MRS JACKSON: Oh, Harris gives himself and us the weekends off – it’s just a weekday nightmare.

  TRENCH: Have you complained?

  MRS JACKSON: Have I complained? Of course I’ve ruddy complained. Harris more or less blanks me, saying it’ll all be soon be over and his daughter isn’t much better either. The council and the police don’t seem to listen.

  TRENCH: Probably can’t hear you!

  MRS JACKSON: It’s all one big laugh for you, Trench – isn’t it?

  DEBSY: No it isn’t – and I assure you Mrs Jackson we will thoroughly investigate –

  (Crazy, loud music cuts DEBSY off. The crockery rattles as the noise is almost deafening.)

  MRS JACKSON: (Who shouts loud, just to be heard.) Told you, one o’clock – you can set your slow cooker by it.

  TRENCH: (Shouting:) Pardon?

  DEBSY: (Shouting:) We’d better go.

  MRS JACKSON: (Shouting:) Whatever, now where did I put my earplugs?

  (Thankfully, the loud music stops – for us – and the usual mystery music changes the scene.)

  (Then we hear loud music coming from a radio.)

  EDITOR LAW: Turn it off!

  DEBSY: What?

  TRENCH: Can’t hear you sir, ‘cause of the radio.

  (EDITOR LAW turns the radio off.)

  EDITOR LAW: What do you think you’re playing at, Trench?

  TRENCH: We’ve not worked on the noisy neighbour story for a few days due to clearing the backlog of work, so…

  DEBSY: …we thought this would feel us back in the mood.

  EDITOR LAW: You’re both as mad as each other. A detective doesn’t get himself in the mood for a murder inquiry by killing someone!

  TRENCH: Point taken.

  DEBSY: Did we disturb you, Editor Law?

  TRENCH: Miss the putt, did we?

  EDITOR LAW: The impertinence of it. I was working actually.

  DEBSY: Doing what?

  EDITOR LAW: I am the editor, Deborah – so I was busy editing! Now, carry on working, but quietly.

  (EDITOR LAW leaves the office.)

  TRENCH: I said it wouldn’t take long to flush Editor Law out.

  (There is no response from DEBSY who is writing something.)

  DEBSY: Now, Louise is picking up Harry but only has a ten minute window.

  TRENCH: Debsy, put the Logic Problem down for once – never mind Louise is driving Harry – you are driving me mad!

  DEBSY: Of course! That means she can’t be married to either Brian or Derek. Thanks Trench!

  TRENCH: I give up.

  DEBSY: All right, I’ll put the Logic Problem down – just for now. What should we do about the naughty neighbour story?

  TRENCH: Let’s give Mrs Jackson another visit and see what else we can find out.

  DEBSY: Or hear what we can find... or see.

  TRENCH: Oh, come on.

  (More music changes scene.)

  (TRENCH and DEBSY are walking along a pavement.)

  DEBSY: Trenny, we are entering the council estate from a different angle – why?

  TRENCH: Err, because it’s always good to view things from a different perspective.

  DEBSY: Look over there – that’s odd.

  TRENCH: Well I never – a Bank in a housing estate. Let’s take a closer look.

  (They walk across the road to the Bank.)

  DEBSY: ‘The Handy Bank. The national Bank that aims to be a real part of the local community.’ I think that says it all.

  TRENCH: Well, never mind – Mrs Jackson’s house can’t be far from here.

  (They walk for a bit longer.)

  DEBSY: Here we are, Mrs Jackson awaits. I think I can see her net-curtains twitching from here.

  TRENCH: She certainly doesn’t miss much – and all is quiet on the Western Front.

  DEBSY: I know – not a sound from the Harris’s.

  TRENCH: But it is only half past twelve – slap bang in the middle of the silent zone. Come on, let’s see if there have been any developments.

  DEBSY: Yes, before next door’s racket starts again!

  (Music moves things along.)

  TRENCH: Thanks Mrs Jackson, bye.

  (The front door closes and TRENCH and DEBSY walk from MRS JACKSON’s house.)

  TRENCH: She was as informative as ever.

  DEBSY: I told you – Mrs Jackson is a serial curtain twitcher!

  TRENCH: Wait. I think someone’s coming from the Harris household.

  DEBSY: Must be the daughter. Have you seen her arms? They’re so chunky!

  TRENCH: So, they are… I wonder if she’ll talk to us.

  DEBSY: (Who raises her voice.) Excuse me, sorry – can we have a quick chat?

  VALERIA: Who are you?

  TRENCH: I’m Trench and this is Debsy. We’re local reporters.

  DEBSY: Working on noisy neighbours of all things.

  VALERIA: This is where the conversation ends.

  TRENCH: Hang on.

  DEBSY: We only want to hear your side of the story.

  VALERIA: Really?

  TRENCH: So, who do we have the pleasure of speaking to?

  VALERIA: All right, Valeria.

  TRENCH: Isn’t that eastern European?

  DEBSY: Was your mother Russian, by any chance?

  VALERIA: No, and I don’t want to talk about her. She left us a long, long time ago.

  TRENCH: So it’s just you and your father?

  VALERIA: Yes – and as for my name, my Dad’s into the Cold War, always has been.

  DEBSY: People have been named through worse things, Valeria.

  TRENCH: Yes Valeria – can you explain why you or your Dad plays incredibly loud music at regular three, three hour intervals during the week?

  VALERIA: I could – but then again, it’s none of your business.

  DEBSY: Mrs Jackson seems to think so.

  VALERIA: Well, she’s nothing more than a nosey witch.

  TRENCH: Is that your last word, Valeria? You’ve not given us much to go on – so our report will be one-sided against you and Dad.

  VALERIA: I don’t think so.

  DEBSY: I know so, young lady.

  VALERIA: It�
��s very nearly one o’clock. Stick around for a few more moments longer… and listen for yourself – goodbye.

  (VALERIA marches off.)

  TRENCH: It will be one o’clock any second now. Debsy, what are you doing?

  DEBSY: What does it look like? Sticking my fingers in my ears – I’m not going to be caught out a second time.

  TRENCH: (Who shouts:) It’s one – now! Wait, why am I shouting? There’s no music. Debsy, get your fingers out.

  DEBSY: What? There isn’t any Heavy Metal or anything.

  TRENCH: Listen.

  DEBSY: I am.

  TRENCH: How strange – the noisy neighbour has finally become silent…

  (Thought-provoking music changes the scene.)

  (We hear the pouring of tea.)

  OLD TOM: That’s the tea poured.

  TRENCH: Thanks.

  OLD TOM: No, not yet! It won’t be quite cold enough.

  TRENCH: (Who sighs.) Shall I put my tea down then?

  OLD TOM: Just checking the temperature. I had a suspicion the tea was tepid, no it’s now cold. Trench, enjoy your tea.

  TRENCH: About time. So, Old Tom, what do you think about the noise-pollutant, Harris suddenly shutting up?

  OLD TOM: Like Alice, I’m being asked to believe three impossible things before break… err afternoon tea. Why is Harris now giving us the silent treatment? Has he finished whatever it is he is doing? Or is it something else?

  TRENCH: He might have acquired a neighbourly conscience, but I doubt it.

  OLD TOM: Why were the three hour noisy musical intervals so precise and regular?

  TRENCH: Thrice three-hour sessions on weekdays only. Similar to the working week? He even had his meal breaks planned in.

  OLD TOM: They say that three hours is the optimum working time, but what was he doing? Did Mrs Jackson enlighten you on the recent delivery stroke collections at the Harris house?

  TRENCH: Yes, old timer – but how did you..? Don’t tell me – you used your deductive process.

  OLD TOM: And logic. Is Debsy progressing with her Logic Problem?

  TRENCH: Slowly – but I’ll let you know if she gets stuck.

  OLD TOM: About the deliveries etcetera?

  TRENCH: Oh yes – yes, Mrs J said that a large white van, driven by Harris’ daughter, Valeria, regularly visits the house. She can’t see what the van is delivering or collecting because it backs straight into the garage.