The Armchair Detective Returns: Series Two Read online

  SERIES TWO

  Play One

  www.thearmchairdetective.moonfruit.com

  The

  Armchair

  Detective

  Returns

  Ian Shimwell

  The Armchair Detective Returns Copyright Ian Shimwell © 2012

  ALSO AVAILABLE:

  The Armchair Detective Series One – The Complete ‘Boxed Set’

  AND IN SERIES TWO:

  The Armchair Detective and the Logical Problem

  The Armchair Detective and the Castle of Mandrake Part One

  The Armchair Detective and the Castle of Mandrake Part Two

  Contents

  Cast List

  Act One

  Act Two

  Act Three

  Cast List

  TRENCH

  OLD TOM

  DEBSY

  EDITOR LAW

  GILCREST

  MARCONI

  KATHY

  GILCREST SENIOR

  SECURITY GUARD

  SECRETARY

  Act One

  OPENING MYSTERY MUSIC

  (There is a slightly desperate rattling of the front door.)

  TRENCH: What am I doing? I give up.

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

  TRENCH: What the..?

  (TRENCH pushes the front door open and enters the flat.)

  TRENCH: I don’t believe it – everything is as it was.

  (TRENCH enters the living room.)

  TRENCH: The armchair, you… nothing’s changed.

  OLD TOM: Ah, Trench, good to see you – sit down.

  TRENCH: Two cups of tea.

  OLD TOM: Or tea for two.

  TRENCH: Two cups of tea – just made and ready for me and you to drink, when they’re cold enough of course. I think I’m going crazy.

  OLD TOM: If you look closer, you will also find two pieces of stale cake.

  TRENCH: Just in case, eh? Oh dear. It’s been a long time, Old Tom.

  OLD TOM: Two years in fact. Two years and seventeen days.

  TRENCH: Really, that long?

  OLD TOM: And what, pray Trenchy, can I do for you today?

  TRENCH: Wait a minute, Old Tom – last time we did meet, I seem to recall you saying that I would never see you again…

  OLD TOM: I sincerely believed that to be the case – but things have changed, haven’t they?

  TRENCH: You also said you were ‘moving on’, leaving. Where did you go to? Why did you come back?

  OLD TOM: Let me tell you something, young Trench. I have never left this flat – not in the last two years – not ever. I will always be here… waiting – in case you need me.

  TRENCH: But why all the theatrics?

  OLD TOM: You were being promoted to Assistant Editor and I… I sensed I was no longer required. I just did not wish to stand – or rather sit – in your way.

  TRENCH: That was very… considerate of you.

  OLD TOM: Now, as I said, things have changed. As you can see, I’m really the same old duffer, so that only leaves you. What has changed, Trench? Something to do with the Stokeham Herald?

  TRENCH: Yes… and yes. I might as well start at the beginning of recent events. Geoffers, I mean Geoffrey, left us a month ago to return to his specialised insurance role full-time. Moved up to Scotland… poor thing. I thought it would be a piece of cake to find a new reporter to partner Debsy.

  OLD TOM: Debsy? Sally-Anne’s replacement, I presume.

  TRENCH: Yes Debsy, or should I say dizzy Debsy. She’s fickle, fussy and…

  OLD TOM: …fun?

  TRENCH: She might have replaced Sally-Anne but her personality is as far removed from Sal as you could possibly imagine. I really don’t know how she and Geoffers survived for so long. They were very nearly as bad as each other.

  OLD TOM: And when Geoffers, I mean Geoffrey left, what happened then?

  TRENCH: A major and long-standing sponsor of the Stokeham Herald suddenly pulled out and terminated their contract with us. And before you even suspect it, there is absolutely no connection with that and Geoffrey’s departure.

  OLD TOM: So, the Herald was short of money?

  TRENCH: Yes, so I had to step back in my old reporter’s shoes and dear old Editor Law has been unceremoniously recalled from the golf course.

  OLD TOM: I see. Who was this marvellous sponsor?

  TRENCH: Gilcrest Gadgets Limited. A family firm that took the world by storm with inventive products such as the everlasting pencil. The lead is astonishingly self-renewable. Its association with the Stokeham Herald dates back twenty years.

  OLD TOM: So, why cut off ties now? Is the company struggling?

  TRENCH: I don’t think so. In fact their share price has recently doubled.

  OLD TOM: Has it really? How fascinating…

  TRENCH: So, Old Tom, after all this time – will you help me again?

  OLD TOM: To investigate Gilcrest Gadgets..?

  TRENCH: So… what do you say?

  OLD TOM: Pass the tea; it should be cold enough by now. Oh, and don’t forget the cake.

  (Whimsical music changes scene.)

  EDITOR LAW: Good morning Trench – well what’s left of it.

  (TRENCH shuffles some papers on his office desk.)

  TRENCH: Yes, I see what you mean time is cracking on. We must have words about your lateness, Editor Law.

  EDITOR LAW: Impertinence doesn’t suit you, Trench.

  TRENCH: I take it we lost at golf then..?

  EDITOR LAW: Talking of lateness, where’s that damned girl, Deborah?

  TRENCH: Debsy, you mean. Knowing her, she probably walked all the way to the train station – and then realised she had forgotten her money – and in her panic to return home, somehow dropped her keys down a grid. Or something like that. It usually is.

  EDITOR LAW: I’m at a loss to explain how Geoffrey put up with her. Mind you, he was just as bad…

  TRENCH: Geoffrey?! What about me? How am I supposed to work with dizzy Debsy?

  (The office door is flung open; there are startled cries and a tearing sound.)

  DEBSY: I’m most dreadfully sorry, Editor Law. I was rushing to start work and…

  EDITOR LAW: I know what you were doing Deborah. Somehow, on your way down to the floor, you have managed to tear my shirt, completely ruining it.

  DEBSY: It was the carpet – I tripped over it.

  EDITOR LAW: Debsy, err Deborah; it is actually not that unusual to find carpets in offices. And if you weren’t so late in the first place, you wouldn’t have to rush around like an insane bull. Why were you late?

  DEBSY: I forgot my money, but still had my train pass. Unfortunately, as I reached the station a gust of wind blew my pass…

  EDITOR LAW: All right, all right – I’ve had enough. Trench, what story are you working on today?

  TRENCH: I thought I’d look at Gilcrest Gadgets. Try and find out why they’ve severed links with our paper.

  EDITOR LAW: They don’t have to explain themselves, but… all right – just don’t mither them. I’ll be in my office if you want me.

  (We hear EDITOR LAW leave the office.)

  DEBSY: Yeah, he’s probably going to play with his office putting set.

  TRENCH: Debsy, don’t you think you’re in enough trouble?

  DEBSY: The old swinger can’t hear through walls, you know. Where were you this morning, anyway? Just because you arrive just before the boss doesn’t make you any less late.

  TRENCH: How do you know I was late in?

  DEBSY: Your hurried signature on the signing-in board made me suspicious.

  TRENCH: You deduced all that from my si
gnature?

  DEBSY: Well, not quite. Not receiving an answer to my telephone call to inform you of my impending lateness also gave me a clue. I needn’t have bothered – you were late yourself! Where were you?

  TRENCH: Nosey, aren’t we?

  DEBSY: Occupational hazard of being a journalist. Well Trenny?

  TRENCH: Trenny? Never mind. I was visiting an old friend if you must know, Debsy.

  DEBSY: Do I know him?

  TRENCH: No, you don’t. But how did you know he was a him?

  DEBSY: Lucky guess. I did have a fifty per cent chance of success. And when are we visiting Gilcrest Gadgets this afternoon?

  TRENCH: Not we Debsy – me. I am going to visit them right now. You can man the ‘phones; catch up on your work or something.

  DEBSY: Oh, old swingers, gadgets – and take a hike, Trenny!

  (Comical music ends this scene.)

  GILCREST: Did you enjoy the factory tour, Mr err… Trench?

  TRENCH: Yes, actually I found it fascinating. The lines seem virtually fully automated.

  GILCREST: Please sit down – and don’t worry. The rather plush leather armchair is simply that – not a gadget that will swallow you up!

  TRENCH: (Who laughs rather nervously.) Quite. Stunning office, by the way, Mr Gilcrest. It seems so modern, yet traditional all at the same time.

  GILCREST: Thank-you, I like it too. The old represents Daddy’s influence, which is Gilcrest Senior.

  TRENCH: Who has recently retired?

  GILCREST: And the new is my challenging ideas and tastes. Coffee?

  TRENCH: Is it fresh and really hot?

  GILCREST: Err, yes.

  TRENCH: Yes please then.

  GILCREST: (Who presses a buzzer.) Two coffees.

  TRENCH: Now, where were we?

  GILCREST: I think, Trench, you were enthusing about our automated manufacturing lines.

  TRENCH: Yes boss, I mean Mr Gilcrest. In fact, the only people I actually saw were the packing girls.

  GILCREST: Packing girls? In these enlightened times, we would rather refer to them as Dispatch Technicians.

  TRENCH: But they did seem to be all girls though, or rather young women.

  GILCREST: What would you have me do? Sack one and replace her with a man just to please the PC brigade?

  TRENCH: Well, no.

  GILCREST: As stimulating as this conversation is, I’m afraid your trip here will be an ultimately wasted one.

  TRENCH: Really?

  GILCREST: I am afraid that Gilcrest Gadgets will not reconsider sponsoring your paper, the Stokeham Herald.

  TRENCH: Oh that? I realise that. I’m here just to publicise your company in gratitude, if you like, of your support from previous years.

  GILCREST: Very kind, I’m sure - but this company is going in new and exciting directions – and with all due respect, an article in the local rag… paper does not exactly fit it with our vision.

  TRENCH: I see. ‘Our’ and you said ‘we’ before. I thought you were running this company on your own now, Mr Gilcrest.

  (There is a muffled knock on the door.)

  GILCREST: Ah, coffee.

  TRENCH: Your secretary?

  GILCREST: Oh no, Mr Trench. Here at Gilcrest Gadgets, we can come up with something a bit better than that.

  (We hear a mechanical device lurch into the office.)

  TRENCH: (Amazed.) A robot?

  GILCREST: A robot that makes coffee…

  (Intriguing music closes the scene.)

  (Having just left the factory, TRENCH is walking out through the gates.)

  TRENCH: Security is tight as well.

  SECURITY GUARD: Good afternoon, sir – I hope you enjoyed your visit.

  TRENCH: Err, yes – bye.

  (TRENCH starts walking briskly.)

  TRENCH: It might have been coffee by automaton but, somehow, it didn’t quite taste the same. Still it was a change drinking a hot drink!

  (TRENCH and DEBSY collide on the pavement. They crumble to the ground in an undignified heap. Both moan as they struggle to get up again.)

  DEBSY: We weren’t watching where we were going, were we?

  TRENCH: Me? I think you find it was you, Debsy who walked into me.

  DEBSY: Nonsense.

  TRENCH: What are you doing out here, anyway?

  DEBSY: Going to work, that’s all.

  TRENCH: Debsy, I know you can be a bit… how can I put this kindly? Hah yes, ‘eccentric’ – but you may have completely lost the plot this time. You happen to be walking away from the Stokeham Herald offices.

  DEBSY: How perceptive of you, Trench.

  TRENCH: And..?

  DEBSY: Oh, I’m starting a new job – right now, in fact.

  TRENCH: It’s probably me, but I don’t understand.

  DEBSY: I’ve been to the temps’ agency and landed a temporary position at, wait for it, Gilcrest Gadgets.

  TRENCH: (Says slightly annoyed:) Whatever for?

  DEBSY: Ever heard the phrase: ‘working undercover’?

  TRENCH: But that’s ridiculous.

  DEBSY: Maybe so, but I intend to give it a try.

  TRENCH: As a packing girl, I suppose?

  DEBSY: A Distribution Technician, if you don’t mind. And while I’m working undercover, I may uncover our little mystery.

  TRENCH: But we don’t even know if there is a mystery to solve yet.

  DEBSY: Exactly. And this, Trench is one sure way to find out.

  TRENCH: I don’t know who’s worse: me, you or… or…

  DEBSY: Or your old friend?

  TRENCH: Hadn’t you better go, or won’t you be late – again – or something?

  DEBSY: Yes, must dash. Aren’t you going to wish me luck?

  TRENCH: Oh, go away – and beware of the coffee!

  (Comical, then thoughtful music ends this scene.)

  TRENCH: Honestly, Old Tom, have you heard anything so crazy? I mean, I don’t know what she hopes to achieve working at Gilcrest Gadgets. Although actually, Debsy might be more suited to being a packing girl than a serious journalist.

  OLD TOM: Now now, Trench.

  TRENCH: Yes, sorry – that was uncalled for.

  OLD TOM: Just calm down and drink your tea before it gets warm.

  TRENCH: Good idea.

  (We hear TRENCH take a sigh as he sips his cold tea.)

  TRENCH: (Says quietly to himself:) And I was complaining about hot coffee… (Then says normally:) It’s just that my new colleague absolutely infuriates me.

  OLD TOM: And, young Trench, shall I tell you why this Debsy annoys you so?

  TRENCH: Please do.

  OLD TOM: Because Debsy’s idea to infiltrate the gadget factory is a damned good one. She thought of it before you did – is that what’s really bothering you?

  TRENCH: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.

  OLD TOM: Here, I’ll tell you what will cheer you up, Trenchy – I have some new crumbly biscuits, you’ll love them.

  TRENCH: Hmm, I like the sound of them.

  OLD TOM: Now, where did I put them? I might have left them underneath my armchair.

  (OLD TOM rummages about for a bit.)

  OLD TOM: There not… ah yes, here they are. It says on the packet that they will crumble in your mouth. Here, have one.

  TRENCH: Thanks.

  (We hear TRENCH take a biscuit and begin munching.)

  TRENCH: Wait a minute, this biscuit isn’t crumbly at all – it’s soft.

  OLD TOM: Do you think I should take them back?

  TRENCH: Let’s have a look at the packet.

  (OLD TOM passes TRENCH the packet of biscuits.)

  TRENCH: It’s no wonder they’re soft. These biscuits are more than two years out of date.

  OLD TOM: I know, perfect. Shame about losing their crumbliness though.

  TRENCH: I give up. Now, what do you think about events at Gilcrest Gadgets? Do you think there’s even a mystery to solve?

  OLD TOM: First we have to discover what the mystery i
s before we can solve it.

  TRENCH: But, do you really suspect foul play of any sort?

  OLD TOM: I’m not sure yet – but there are inconsistences.

  TRENCH: Such as?

  OLD TOM: The company severs connection with your paper; Gilcrest Senior retires, leaving his son in charge. The shares inexplicably double in price. You said Gilcrest shied away from any publicity, but still invited you to his factory – why?

  TRENCH: And you’d think a gadget company would always welcome good publicity, wouldn’t you?

  OLD TOM: And is there a reason they only seem to employ girls for packing?

  TRENCH: Other than sexism? Maybe Debsy will find out after all.

  OLD TOM: And, reading in-between the lines, maybe Gilcrest has a new business partner he’s keeping suspiciously quiet about.

  TRENCH: Yes, but he may have been simply using the collective ‘we’ on behalf of the company though.

  OLD TOM: Possibly…

  TRENCH: So, what next?

  OLD TOM: Keep a close eye on Debsy – she may well find out more than she bargained for. And much could be learnt from a visit to Gilcrest Senior…

  TRENCH: Right, I’ll get moving then. Old Tom, you are suddenly smiling – why?

  OLD TOM: Oh sorry, I’ve just thought. You, here having tea and biscuits. The searching questions delving into a possible mystery…

  TRENCH: Yes..?

  OLD TOM: Well, young Trench, it is just like old times, isn’t it?

  (Mystery music indicates the end of Act One.)

  Act Two

  (We can hear someone typing away very fast in the Stokeham Herald offices.)

  TRENCH: So, Debsy, how did your first day at work go?

  (DEBSY seems to ignore TRENCH as she continues to, furiously, type away.)

  TRENCH: Hey, slow down girl – I am actually trying to speak to you.

  DEBSY: (Who’s slightly out of breath.) Oh yeah, sorry – getting carried away. My first day at Gilcrest Gadgets…

  TRENCH: Yes, is doing a real job for a change, tiring you out?

  DEBSY: Hey, watch it Trenny – I can do angry, you know?

  TRENCH: All right, all right – how did it go then?

  DEBSY: I didn’t find anything interesting out, if that’s what you mean. I was just packing smaller boxes inside bigger boxes for most of the afternoon but I did make a new friend during a smoking break.