The Armchair Detective Down the Avenues and Alleyways: Series Four Read online

  SERIES FOUR

  Play One

  www.thearmchairdetective.moonfruit.com

  The Armchair Detective Down the Avenues and Alleyways is Copyright Ian Shimwell © 2015

  ALSO AVAILABLE:

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

  The Armchair Detective Series Two

  The Armchair Detective Series Three

  The

  Armchair

  Detective

  Down the

  Avenues and

  Alleyways

  Ian Shimwell

  Contents

  Cast List

  Act One

  Act Two

  Act Three

  Cast List

  TRENCH

  OLD TOM

  DEBSY

  EDITOR LAW

  AVRIL

  LEY

  FINLEY

  Sergeant STRONG

  DRIVER

  STRANGER

  Act One

  OPENING MYSTERY MUSIC

  (We can hear music and song.)

  Down the avenues and alleyways…

  (There is a knock on the door.)

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

  (There is another knock.)

  OLD TOM: (Says much louder:) Come in young man, the door is open.

  … there’s a whole scene coming reactive.

  (There’s another knock.)

  OLD TOM: Oh, I give up. (OLD TOM lifts up the needle, effectively silencing the music.) Trench, come in!

  (TRENCH enters the flat and OLD TOM’s living room.)

  TRENCH: What the..? What was all that racket about?

  OLD TOM: Do you mind, Trench? That’s the pride and joy of my record collection.

  TRENCH: Really, Old Tom? I’ve never even seen your record player before – never mind heard any records.

  OLD TOM: It is a gramophone actually.

  TRENCH: Yeah, sorry – it does look far too old-fashioned to be anything else.

  OLD TOM: Well, I’ve only recently dusted the old thing down – and I’m not talking about my armchair.

  TRENCH: I hope it gives you many years of pleasure. I assume you don’t mind if I sit down?

  OLD TOM: Yes, I certainly do. You can fetch the tea from the kitchen first. Don’t worry, it should be cold enough by now.

  TRENCH: I’m so glad.

  (TRENCH fetches, and then pours the tea. Finally he sits down. They sip their teas for a moment.)

  OLD TOM: Feel free to explain what’s bothering you, anytime you like.

  TRENCH: Sorry?

  OLD TOM: Are you stuck on a story from your Stokeham Herald, for example?

  TRENCH: Ah, you mean, do I have a mystery for you?

  OLD TOM: Get on with it, Trench.

  TRENCH: All right then, but it’s not so much a mystery – more of a ‘how do I get going?’ And it could be dangerous – very dangerous.

  OLD TOM: I’m intrigued. Would you care to elaborate?

  TRENCH: Well, I suppose shamefully, it concerns Stokeham’s thriving drug culture.

  OLD TOM: Yes, I enjoy cold tea – but I’m not sure I’d enjoy cold turkey though.

  TRENCH: No, it’s probably not quite your scene, old timer.

  OLD TOM: Quite. Anyhow, as shocking as this drug burst is, what has actually changed? Why do you need my help?

  TRENCH: A relatively new drug has hit town, with particularly nasty side-effects. Editor Law has asked me to run a story on it.

  OLD TOM: And..?

  TRENCH: But, how do I approach it? The druggies in Downtown Stokeham will soon clam up, when they realise I’m a journalist.

  OLD TOM: You mean a reporter.

  TRENCH: Err, journalist sounds better. And Debsy will want to come even though it’s far too dodgy. How do I investigate without her tailing along?

  OLD TOM: Firstly, if you don’t fancy being known as a reporter, I mean journalist, simply go undercover.

  TRENCH: Of course…

  OLD TOM: And as for Debsy, that’s your problem.

  TRENCH: Thanks.

  OLD TOM: But before you bust the Stokeham drug scene wide open, pour another tea.

  TRENCH: Oh, yeah. (He pours the teas.)

  OLD TOM: And be careful in…

  (OLD TOM places the gramophone needle back on the vinyl.)

  … down the avenues and alleyways… The day drifts to night.

  (The music merges into mystery music as the scene changes.)

  DEBSY: Undercover in the murky, drug-fuelled world of Downtown Stokeham – sounds exciting. When do we start?

  TRENCH: There is no ‘we’ on this one, Debsy. I’m afraid it would be far too risky there, for the likes of you.

  DEBSY: Cheek! Hang on, what do you mean ‘the likes of me’?

  TRENCH: Err… I mean you’d be a target because you’re… err so good looking.

  DEBSY: Creepery’ll get you nowhere, Trench.

  TRENCH: Don’t you mean flattery?

  DEBSY: I know what I mean.

  TRENCH: Well, you can’t come – and that’s that.

  DEBSY: We’ll see what Editor Law has to say about this. He’s the boss – not you.

  (DEBSY storms out of the office.)

  TRENCH: (Says to no one in particular:) Yes let’s. Right now, in fact.

  (TRENCH follows DEBSY out of the office. DEBSY is already talking to EDITOR LAW.)

  DEBSY: And because I have the greatest respect for you, Editor Law…

  TRENCH: (Says quietly:) Hah. What was that you said about ‘creepery’?

  DEBSY: … I am positive that you will back me up by allowing me to cover this important drugs story.

  EDITOR LAW: Err… give me a moment to think.

  TRENCH: Please remember sir that I am the lead reporter, I mean journalist – and you should respect my wishes on this one.

  DEBSY: Oh, ‘sir’ now, is it?

  EDITOR LAW: I’m sorry, Deborah – but as Trench has previously pointed out, the assignment is far too perilous for a pretty thing like you.

  DEBSY: Oh, I could scream. Actually I am going to scream. (DEBSY screams!)

  (And DEBSY storms off again.)

  TRENCH: I think she took it rather well, actually.

  EDITOR LAW: Yes, well… how are you going to tackle this story, Trench? Disturbing rumours of this apparently new drug are gradually filtering through the community. I mean, it’s even been mentioned at the golf club!

  TRENCH: Heaven forbid.

  EDITOR LAW: And rumour has it that this drug seems to actually originate from Stokeham – the dreaded Downtown area…

  TRENCH: I thought I might go undercover as a druggie!

  EDITOR LAW: I want an exclusive for the Herald – not a suicide. No, I have a much better idea.

  TRENCH: I’m listening…

  EDITOR LAW: One of the local businessmen, whom I happen to play golf with occasionally, is one of the sponsors of a drugs rehabilitation centre. I could get you in as an official helper.

  TRENCH: Ideal, and now you’re going to tell me that this centre is slap bang right in the middle of the drug-filled dread of Downtown…

  (Sombre avenues and alleyways music changes the scene.)

  (TRENCH knocks on a solid metal door.)

  TRENCH: Come on, I don’t want to particularly linger out here. And it’s starting to get dark. (He knocks again.) Actually nobody is going to hear me – this door’s so thick.

  (TRENCH hears dragging footsteps from a distance behind him.)

  TRENCH: Please let me in. Wait – of c
ourse, there’s a security buzzer and camera. (He presses it, and thankfully the door opens.) There is a God!

  (TRENCH walks inside, and the door securely closes behind him.)

  TRENCH: Shop!

  AVRIL: (Who appears just after closing a cupboard door.) Sorry – just starting to clear up. (She walks to TRENCH and shakes his hand.) I’m Avril – Trench, is it?

  TRENCH: You have such a beautiful… err nose.

  AVRIL: Thanks… I think.

  TRENCH: Sorry. Yes, hi Avril. I’m the reporter, I mean journalist.

  AVRIL: The undercover journalist who’s going to pose as my assistant in the Centre here.

  TRENCH: You don’t mind, do you?

  AVRIL: I can always do with help. In fact, here’s your official ID badge.

  (AVRIL pins it on TRENCH.)

  TRENCH: Ouch, that prickled my chest.

  AVRIL: Do you want me to rub it better?

  TRENCH: Err… yes. I mean, I’m only kidding. Thanks for the badge, now I feel really useful. Now, how shall I help then?

  AVRIL: You can help with these trays of vials.

  (We hear a sound of slight glass rattling, as TRENCH helps AVRIL with the vials.)

  AVRIL: They go in those cupboards there.

  TRENCH: Righto.

  (TRENCH places the trays in the cupboard.)

  TRENCH: What’s in these vials?

  AVRIL: Oh, that’s just methadone – a Heroin substitute. The primary concern here is to first educate and then hopefully wean the hard drug users off using methadone for example.

  TRENCH: This looks a bit like part of a laboratory. Do you make it here?

  AVRIL: Yes, I do. I studied chemistry at uni, before a more, shall we say, alternative lifestyle seduced me.

  TRENCH: (Says quietly:) And talking of seduction…

  AVRIL: Sorry Trench?

  TRENCH: I mean, fascinating… And what is this centre exactly? I obviously know it’s in the middle of Downtown Stokeham.

  AVRIL: This centre is officially known as the School for Kicking Amphetamines.

  TRENCH: No kidding?

  (AVRIL laughs, for a moment uncontrollably.)

  AVRIL: Sorry, it’s just that I said exactly the same thing when I first heard the name.

  TRENCH: Oh.

  AVRIL: It’s a bit of a mouthful, which is why it’s normally called just the Centre.

  TRENCH: And Avril, what do you know of this new drug, rumoured to be circling Downtown?

  AVRIL: Oh, that would be Skank – a new Heroin derivative. But, unlike established ones like Skag, this new drug is giving users undreamt of highs, but at a price.

  TRENCH: New lows..?

  AVRIL: Kind of. Unfortunately ten per cent of Skank addicts experience a new dangerous level of lows which usually compel them to act in a violent manner.

  TRENCH: So, we have a problem… And where does this Skank come from?

  AVRIL: Rumour has it, that the only place you can get it is here, in Downtown – which means Skank has become awfully expensive, awfully quickly.

  TRENCH: And who is distributing this Skank?

  AVRIL: I’m not completely sure, but top of my list is a particularly unsavoury and nasty dealer by the lurid name of Skar.

  TRENCH: He, at least, sounds… dodgy.

  AVRIL: Oh yeah, he’ll either supply you or kill you – whichever is the more profitable.

  TRENCH: Does Skar ever visit you in here?

  AVRIL: Oh no, never. The Centre is only for users and addicts who want to be helped, not for the likes of him.

  TRENCH: Shh. Sorry Avril, I think I can hear something.

  (TRENCH and AVRIL are silent for a moment, and we can just hear a dull thudding sound.)

  AVRIL: Some idiot’s knocking on the door.

  TRENCH: But why don’t they simply ring the buzzer?

  AVRIL: Exactly. According to the scanner, it’s a woman. I’m opening the door.

  (AVRIL opens the door.)

  TRENCH: Debsy! What are you doing here?

  DEBSY: I… err got lost. I’m not disturbing anything, am I?

  TRENCH: No, I was about to go anyway. See you soon, Avril.

  AVRIL: I’ll look forward to it, Trench.

  (TRENCH ushers DEBSY out and slams the door behind them.)

  TRENCH: Right, now Editor Law forbade you to work on this assignment, Debsy.

  DEBSY: Oh, you mean the drug story thingy? I’m not. I’m just… err out for an early evening stroll.

  TRENCH: What, five miles from your home?

  DEBSY: What can I say? I’m a fast walker. And do you know, that Avril was making eyes at you?

  TRENCH: Absolute nonsense – was she? Come on, we should get out of here. Downtown is extremely dangerous, especially when it’s nearly dark with a slight mist descending…

  DEBSY: Like it is now?

  (TRENCH and DEBSY begin to walk – quickly.)

  TRENCH: Was Avril really looking at me?

  DEBSY: Yes, and be careful – she has dark eyes, you know.

  TRENCH: Debsy, what in err Downtown, do you mean by that?

  (DEBSY takes a sudden sharp intake of breath.)

  TRENCH: What is it?

  DEBSY: Look, there’s a man at the end of the passage – waiting for us.

  TRENCH: No, he can’t be – actually you’re right.

  DEBSY: He’s got a knife!

  TRENCH: I can see. (Then says more loudly:) Don’t panic old chap. We’ve got nothing on us. We’re not druggies – and we’re certainly not dealers.

  DEBSY: I… I don’t think he’s listening. He’s going to throw it.

  TRENCH: (Says frightened:) Don’t panic, Debsy.

  STRANGER: (Says full of manic hatred:) Die!

  (The knife whooshes through the air. DEBSY screams.)

  (Mystery music fades into avenues and alleyways music.)

  Down the avenues and alleyways. Where the strong and the fast only can survive.

  (OLD TOM lifts up the gramophone needle and the singing stops.)

  OLD TOM: So, he threw the knife. I deduce he missed, Trench.

  TRENCH: Wonderful deduction, Old Tom. Yes, he did miss, but only just.

  OLD TOM: I would imagine this fellow-me-lad is adept at using a knife – so, why did he miss?

  TRENCH: I think that must have been because an unknown someone belted him with some form of stick as he was taking aim.

  OLD TOM: Hmm, that tends to usually put people off. Who was this gentleman?

  TRENCH: I don’t know. He disappeared into the night, so I never had chance to thank him.

  OLD TOM: Oh well. Still, you and Debsy had a very lucky escape.

  TRENCH: I know. I think we’ll only wander around Downtown in daylight from now on.

  OLD TOM: Not that that is necessarily any guarantee…

  TRENCH: Shall I pour tea?

  OLD TOM: Is it cold?

  TRENCH: Yes.

  OLD TOM: Then pour.

  (TRENCH pours the tea.)

  OLD TOM: Remind me again young man, why your Avril laughed so much?

  TRENCH: Oh, that was just because my reaction to hearing the Centre’s name – you know, School for Kicking Amphetamines was the same as hers. Hey, what do you mean, ‘your’ Avril?

  OLD TOM: What was your reaction, Trench?

  TRENCH: Err… let me think. Yes, that’s it – I just replied ‘no kidding’ that’s all. Why, is it important?

  OLD TOM: Maybe, I don’t know yet…

  TRENCH: So, what should I do next?

  OLD TOM: Firstly, find out if this terrifying new drug, Skank is available anywhere else in the country, and secondly, stick to the Centre – it is literally in the centre of Downtown. So much could be learnt…

  TRENCH: And thirdly? If there is a thirdly that is.

  OLD TOM: Treading very carefully in Downtown, talk to the druggies and discover who the chief distributer of Skank is. He either knows, or is, behind this whole sorry mess.

  TRENCH: That could be e
asier than you think. Avril believes the dealer of Skank, is a nasty character by the name of Skar – oh no.

  OLD TOM: What is it, Trench?

  TRENCH: I’ve just realised. The person who tried to kill me, he had a scar – gorged right across his face…

  (OLD TOM places the gramophone needle back on his record.)

  Search around the scene. See the rough and mean.

  (The music merges into a longer play of mystery music which indicates the end of Act One.)

  Act Two

  Down the avenue and alleyways…

  (TRENCH and DEBSY are walking along a pavement.)

  DEBSY: Explain again, Trench – why have you dragged me back to Downtown?

  TRENCH: Ever heard the phrase ‘return to the scene of the crime’?

  DEBSY: Yes, but that’s for criminals – and last time I looked, we weren’t one. Well, not me anyhow.

  TRENCH: (Who stops walking.) Right, here we are.

  DEBSY: Wonderful, we’re in the exact same spot you nearly got killed last night. Have you a death-wish or something, Trenny?

  TRENCH: It is broad daylight now Debsy, or hadn’t you noticed?

  DEBSY: Hah, I wondered why it was all bright and light everywhere.

  TRENCH: And the purpose of the exercise is to find a clue. Our attacker may have left something.

  DEBSY: I suppose this is one of Old Tom’s brilliant suggestions?

  TRENCH: Actually, funnily enough no, no it isn’t.

  DEBSY: What’s that in the gutter?

  TRENCH: Let’s have a look.

  (TRENCH stretches to pick it up.)

  TRENCH: Curious. It’s some form of rubber end thingy.

  DEBSY: But, from what?

  TRENCH: I’m not sure. It seems oddly familiar, but I can’t think from what.

  DEBSY: Then think Trench.

  TRENCH: Do I have to do everything?

  DEBSY: Hang on – I thought I was banned from this story, anyway.

  TRENCH: You are – officially. But I suppose, if you’re good, you can help as long as you’re careful, and we don’t tell Editor Law…

  DEBSY: And what are you going to do? Visit the lovely Avril again?

  TRENCH: Err… I don’t know yet.

  DEBSY: (Who suddenly gives a startled cry.) There’s a man watching us… again.