by Ian Shimwell
DEBSY: Yes, would you please direct me to the nearest thief, if you’d be so kind.
TRENCH: Yes, the next shopper that comes inside Devlin’s with a swag bag and a stripy jersey – I’ll give you a shout.
DEBSY: Ah, so that’s where I’ve been going wrong – so now I know what to look for.
TRENCH: Well, Debs – what do you think of my security guard uniform?
DEBSY: It’s err very secure. And do I look like a normal shopper?
TRENCH: I suppose you look like a shopper – I don’t know about normal though. So, have you seen anybody acting suspiciously?
DEBSY: Apart from you, you mean? No, not really.
TRENCH: That dog behaved strangely though – you know the one by where we came in. It hated me.
DEBSY: Oh, by the tradesman’s entrance? You mean Snowy.
TRENCH: Now, come on – how do you know it’s called Snowy?
DEBSY: It was a Snowy dog for heaven’s sake – so I’m calling the little love, Snowy. Yes, and the rascal was barking and growling at me too, remember?
TRENCH: Now, I don’t blame darling Snowy for that.
DEBSY: Watch it – or I’ll have you arrested. I am the store detective, you know.
TRENCH: And I’m security – so that makes us even.
DEBSY: So, Chief of Security Trench, have you found anything out yet? You know, the real reason we are here.
TRENCH: Nope – but this floor is the one we should concentrate our efforts on.
DEBSY: The first floor – why?
TRENCH: The power cut affected the whole store – but the jammed doors…
DEBSY: …only affected this floor – I see. And how were the doors jammed?
TRENCH: The wires of the controlling mechanism were snipped in an, err control box.
DEBSY: And thank-you Mr security guard for backing me up with that suspect shoplifter.
TRENCH: Debsy, what the hell are you talk… Oh, can I help you Mr err..?
BRIDGES: Bridges, the floor manager. You’re new, aren’t you?
TRENCH: Yes – I’m Trench, and I’ll be keeping an eye on things.
BRIDGES: And have you lost something, madam? How can Devlin’s be of assistance?
DEBSY: You think I’m a customer? Brilliant! My fiendish disguise has worked perfectly…
TRENCH: Bridges, meet Debsy – your new store detective.
BRIDGES: Devlin should consult me before hiring new staff. I’ll be having words with him later.
TRENCH: Oh, don’t worry about that – we’re only here temporarily.
DEBSY: You know, just to cover the Christmas rush.
BRIDGES: I see. So, what do you think of my floor?
DEBSY: I’m not too keen on the pattern. (TRENCH kicks DEBSY.) Ouch! No, I mean it’s very busy, isn’t it? The toy department’s over there and children’s clothing is on the far side.
TRENCH: The toys in particular should be very profitable at this time of year.
BRIDGES: Yes, with ‘should’ being the operative word.
TRENCH: I don’t understand.
BRIDGES: It’s just my luck that the only busy rented-out space in the entire store is on my floor. It takes all the children’s attention away from the toys – and hardly makes any money incidentally. So, while other floor managers can maximise their profits – I’m stuck.
DEBSY: We’ve not come across this little oddity yet, have we Trench?
TRENCH: Err… no.
BRIDGES: You wouldn’t have – it’s tucked away in the far corner. Come, I’ll show you.
(They walk across the floor.)
TRENCH: Oh, Devlin thought someone has a grudge against the shop.
BRIDGES: The man’s paranoid – always has been. Although there have been a few incidents recently…
TRENCH: He briefed me to keep an eye on the situation though. Have you seen anyone behaving suspiciously?
BRIDGES: Ah, here we are.
DEBSY: A cuckoo shop! A stall that sells cuckoo clocks.
BRIDGES: And makes them as well in the viewable workshop. I mean, look at all those kids staring at the old duffer with hammer and chisel.
DEBSY: I know, they seem fascinated.
BRIDGES: But not spending!
TRENCH: I think the precision instruments are a little bit more subtle than your ‘hammer and chisel’ description.
BRIDGES: Well. The couple are barking mad too.
DEBSY: Now, what makes you say a thing like that? They seem friendly and kindly.
TRENCH: Yes, he makes the clocks and she seems to be selling them. What’s mad about that?
BRIDGES: The price. Even though I say it myself, the craftsmanship is marvellous. The clocks should retail at two hundred plus, but they will only accept ten pounds for each one.
DEBSY: I bet the waiting list is long.
BRIDGES: It is. (We hear a beep.) Ah, Devlin wants me.
(The cuckoo clocks all seem to ‘cuckoo’ at the same time.)
DEBSY: Err… that’s cuckoo for ‘bye’.
(TRENCH laughs.)
(Christmassy music passes some time.)
TRENCH: Detective Debsy, we meet again.
DEBSY: It’s gone an awful lot quieter.
TRENCH: Dead. Probably the lunchtime-lull. Which gives us a chance to have a chat with the cuckoo couple.
DEBSY: Cuckoo. Sorry, that’s cuckoo for ‘I agree’.
(DEBSY and TRENCH start to walk towards the cuckoo clock stall. Suddenly, the harsh ringing of a fire alarm belts through the store.)
DEBSY: Fir… fir… fire! Don’t panic!
TRENCH: Don’t you panic. It’s probably only a fire drill. Come on, we’d better go.
(The bell ringing evolves into a Christmassy bell arrangement as the scene changes.)
OLD TOM: A mince pie?
TRENCH: Let me guess, Old Tom – at least three years old?
OLD TOM: Oh no, these have been allowed to mature for a full five years.
TRENCH: Oh, go on then.
OLD TOM: Here’s your plate and pie then. (OLD TOM passes TRENCH the plate with the mince pie on.) You may now drink your tea, Trench – it should be cold enough.
TRENCH: You’re too kind, sir. Mince pies are an improvement – but still no festive decorations?
OLD TOM: They would only be in my way, when I am dashing about the flat.
TRENCH: I never thought of that. Couldn’t you even stick some holly on your armchair?
OLD TOM: No, I would not – that might be very painful.
TRENCH: Now, I’d never thought of that!
OLD TOM: Then think of this, Trenchy – did you examine the fire door on the first floor at Devlin’s?
TRENCH: I’ll admit, I did forget about the fire door – only temporarily mind you. I finally remembered to take a look at the door during the fire alarm – like when we… err were trying to escape.
OLD TOM: A false alarm, I presume?
TRENCH: Now, how could you..?
OLD TOM: It fits in with the case profile, that is all.
TRENCH: I didn’t know this case even had a profile.
OLD TOM: They all do, my boy. Patterns, coincidences – apparent and otherwise, clues and connections.
TRENCH: So, what does this ‘profile’ tell you, old boy?
OLD TOM: As it is Christmas, I will let that pass. The profile suggests that our mystery antagonist wants to hurt Devlin’s but only in non-violent ways.
TRENCH: Ah, I see – hence the false alarm assumption.
OLD TOM: Deduction, not assumption.
TRENCH: Sorry, I meant to say deduction. Blame it on Debsy’s influence.
OLD TOM: I will do no such thing. Now, about the fire door.
TRENCH: I don’t follow.
OLD TOM: You said that you belatedly examined it.
TRENCH: Oh yes, I did. The only strange thing about the fire door was that the glass cylinder – which you have to break, to open the door – had been completely removed.
OLD TOM: Perhaps something had rep
laced the cylinder when the floor-entrance doors were jammed - and had since been removed.
TRENCH: That would explain it, I think.
OLD TOM: But what would explain the three ‘attacks’ on Devlin’s? Each resulting in considerable loss of Christmas trade.
TRENCH: The power out; the jammed doors and the false fire alarm – but who’s doing it, and why?
OLD TOM: The jammed doors at least points to the target being the first floor – so let’s look at the suspects bearing that in mind. Maybe the target is not the whole floor, but simply part of it – like a stall for instance.
TRENCH: The cuckoo clock shop – then Bridges would be a prime suspect – he seems to blame the charming cuckoo couple for deflecting the customer’s attentions from his toy sector in particular.
OLD TOM: You said they were charming – who are this couple with cuckoos?
TRENCH: They’re about your age, Old Tom.
OLD TOM: I see, in their prime.
TRENCH: Gerard makes the clocks, so beautifully and intricately – and his wife, Gelda sells them.
OLD TOM: Gelda, that sounds German.
TRENCH: You know, I think she is.
OLD TOM: Look into it Trench, question them both. If they are the intended victims, such information could prove very useful.
TRENCH: Anything else while I’m on security watch?
OLD TOM: Request an audience with Devlin himself. I realise he instigated our investigation by seeking help, but all the same…
TRENCH: The old double-bluff, eh Old Tom? Yes, I’ll talk to him.
OLD TOM: And keep your eyes wide open, Trench. We don’t know yet what other Christmas ‘presents’ are in store at Devlin’s…
(A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act One.)
Act Two
DEBSY: Ah, there you are Trench.
TRENCH: Well, we did arrange to meet at the staff entrance.
DEBSY: So we did.
TRENCH: Are you ready for another delightful day at Devlin’s, Debsy?
DEBSY: That was a decidedly dodgy number of Ds - but yes I am ready to roam the store, if only I could remember the key code to this damn door.
TRENCH: Fortunately, I do.
(Suddenly, a loud and relentless yapping can be heard.)
DEBSY: It’s Snowy!
TRENCH: Oh yes. Hello Snowy.
(TRENCH’s answer is a deep and menacing growl.)
DEBSY: He doesn’t like you – come here, darling.
(Snowy’s growling changes into an aggressive bark.)
TRENCH: (Who laughs.) I envy the remarkable affinity you so obviously have with dogs, Debs.
DEBSY: Don’t start the dreaded Ds again.
(The barking becomes more frantic.)
DEBSY: Snowy may not exactly be our best friend, but… the strangest thing is – I think he wants to come inside the store.
TRENCH: Nonsense.
DEBSY: I dare you to leave the door open then.
TRENCH: I don’t think Devlin’s or Bridges would appreciate a dog running loose on top of everything else. So, I think we should dash inside when Snowy’s not looking.
DEBSY: Snowy, look at that big, juicy, succulent bone just behind you.
(Snowy gives a lighter, quizzical bark.)
DEBSY: Right quick Trenny – let’s go for it.
(TRENCH quickly presses the entry code and they dash inside, slamming the door behind them. Knowing he’s been tricked, Snowy starts howling sadly. Sad, seasonal music closes the scene.)
(We can hear background sounds of the store, as TRENCH studiously examines a toy.)
GELDA: So, Trench isn’t it? – what draws a security guard to such a toy? Surely it’s not a security risk?
TRENCH: Oh no, of course not err Gelda. Beautiful though, don’t you think?
GELDA: I suppose so. What is it?
TRENCH: It’s a combine harvester – and no, it’s not for me. I was just comparing quality and price.
GELDA: (Says mischievously:) Doing a survey, are we?
TRENCH: Now, I fear you are teasing me, Gelda.
GELDA: Only just a little bit.
TRENCH: I’ve just bought one for an old colleague’s toddler. Funny thing, at the time, a few years ago now – was that Sally-Anne wasn’t really trying and pop, suddenly she was pregnant. Sorry, I’m waffling on a bit here.
GELDA: (Says seriously:) It goes against the grain.
TRENCH: I suppose it does really – or processes it. A combine harvester actually cuts, threshes and finally cleans the grain.
GELDA: How err… fascinating.
TRENCH: Yes, Gelda. Gelda, are you German by any chance?
GELDA: Gelda? Long, long ago… yes. I fled my country of birth when I was only little. I was one of the first to get out before the Nazi persecution really started…
TRENCH: I’m sorry.
GELDA: Don’t be – I’ve had a full life here, a long life.
TRENCH: And you now sell cuckoo clocks.
GELDA: And I think it’s time I returned to my beloved Gerard and his clocks…
(GELDA moves away and is replaced by DEBSY.)
DEBSY: Well, what was all that about?
TRENCH: Would you believe combine harvesters?
DEBSY: As far as your concerned? Yes I would.
TRENCH: You’re just jealous, Debsy – that I’m not buying one for you.
DEBSY: Oh yes, madly. Right, while you Trenny were chatting-up dear Gelda – I checked out her husband.
TRENCH: (Who laughs slightly:) Chatting-up? She is a little bit old for me, don’t you think?
DEBSY: Oh, come on Trench – we both know you get on very well with old people.
TRENCH: Yes, well – did her hubby say anything of interest?
DEBSY: He did actually.
TRENCH: So, are you going to tell me – or are you going to continue your bad impression of being a real customer?
DEBSY: That was hurtful. And if I was a real customer, the first thing I would complain about would be the surly security guard on this floor.
TRENCH: You snitch.
DEBSY: I’ve been called worse. Now, we were talking about Gelda’s spouse.
TRENCH: Yes, you were trying to.
DEBSY: Gerard was actually quite informative.
TRENCH: What did he say?
DEBSY: I’ll tell you later.
TRENCH: (Who takes a deep, frustrated breath.) Why?
DEBSY: We have both been summoned to Devlin’s office.
TRENCH: I’ll see if I can fit him in after lunch.
DEBSY: Trench, Devlin’s the owner of this store.
TRENCH: Really? I wondered why it was called Devlin’s Department Store.
DEBSY: So, now you know. And from what I’ve heard about Devlin, you do not keep the man waiting, so come on.
TRENCH: Oh very well.
(More Christmas music changes the scene.)
DEVLIN: Ah, Trench and Debra. Come in, sit down and close the door.
DEBSY: (Says quietly to TRENCH.) But not necessarily in that order.
TRENCH: Shh.
(They sit down.)
DEBSY: Lovely office, Mr… Devlin.
DEVLIN: Firstly, I am right in believing that only I know you are working undercover here?
TRENCH: You are correct in that assumption, sir.
DEBSY: Yes, you’ve got about the gest of it, Denvers.
DEVLIN: As we all should know, person or persons unknown are plotting against my store at this busiest of Christmas times. I want to know what leads you have – and whom are your suspects.
DEBSY: I think Snowy, the dog is a very suspicious suspect, if you ask me.
TRENCH: (Says through gritted teeth:) I’m not asking you. (Then says normally:) Yes we are investigating various leads…
DEBSY: Really? Nobody told me.
TRENCH: (Says hushed but firmly:) Zip it Debsy. (The says normally:) And looking at several suspects, but at this stage, Mr Devlin – I don’t think
it is appropriate to actually name names.
DEVLIN: I understand.
TRENCH: I can tell you that we believe the target of these ‘attacks’ is not your entire store though, just the first floor.
DEVLIN: How interesting.
DEBSY: I think so too.
DEVLIN: I wonder, the foreign couple…
DEBSY: Excuse me, Gerard’s not from Germany.
DEVLIN: No but, like his wife, he is Jewish.
TRENCH: Is that a problem, sir?
DEVLIN: That friend, depends entirely on whom one asks…
(Downbeat music closes out the scene.)
DEBSY: (Who is furious.) The racist, sexist pig!
TRENCH: Debsy, at least wait till we walk down the stairs and out of Devlin’s earshot.
(They start walking down the stairs.)
DEBSY: I don’t care if he does hear.
TRENCH: Maybe, but I do. Anyway, how come he’s sexist all of a sudden?
DEBSY: Did you not notice that he never directly spoke to me – not even once.
TRENCH: Now that was because you suddenly started acting all ridiculous. I mean, what was all that ‘the gest of it’ and ‘suspect Snowy’? What had got into you, Debsy?
DEBSY: Oh, I don’t know. I think it was possibly his insufferable arrogance and highly unattractive superiority complex that might have had something to do with it.
TRENCH: Nothing to do with his apparent dislike of Jews?
DEBSY: That certainly didn’t do him any favours.
TRENCH: Perhaps all this business working undercover is a double-bluff. Gelda and Gerard are Jewish after all…
DEBSY: Trench, are you thinking what I’m thinking?
TRENCH: I’m thinking that we at least add Devlin himself to our list of suspects…
DEBSY: We need to find out more about him.
TRENCH: And I’m going to do that while you keep an eye on things here.
DEBSY: How? And I don’t mean ‘keeping an eye on things’.
TRENCH: By talking to somebody who already knows at least one member of the Devlin family. The somebody who put us up to this.
DEBSY: Oh no – you’re going to have to chat with the dreaded Editor Law!
(Comical Christmas music changes the scene.)
(TRENCH knocks on the office door. Receiving no reply, he opens it.)
TRENCH: His office is empty, I wonder…
(TRENCH walks down the corridor and enters his own office. Typing can be heard, which abruptly stops.)
TRENCH: Editor Law, I can’t believe it – I have actually caught you working!