mystery at shady acres - drama for...

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Mystery at Shady Acres

Prologue

(Prologue consists of music/dance number with parody of ―Penny Lane,‖ in which all the characters

will be introduced. ―Beatles‖ characters will accompany live. Maids will be part of Beatles Band and

wear hippie clothing, they‘ll sing the first verse, giving the impression that they‘re reminiscing about

Shady Lane, now that they have new lives as Beatles groupies (and wives?). Prologue will also feature

verses sung by Mr. and Mrs. Clifford, the police & detective groups, and Mr. and Mrs. Brightham.

Words to the parody and blocking directions coming before the end of Fall Term!)

Act One

Scene One

(AT RISE: Hotel lobby; Friday morning. Storm sounds; lightening. The hotel staff is busily preparing

for their new weekend guests. They jump whenever thunder grumbles and lightening flashes. The

maids are dusting and arranging the furniture, Baji is next to the front desk, absent-mindedly watering—

or drowning—a fake plant, and Mr. Clifford is overseeing all the preparations.)

Mr. Clifford: Baji, please stay at the front desk and do not wander off. I don‘t want our guests

spending an eternity waiting for you to serve them. (Mrs. Clifford enters)

Mrs. Clifford: (Yells) Mr. Clifford, what are you doing now? I told you to talk to Baji about the

Fairfax‘s checking into the hotel.

(While conversation is going on, Delia and Beth are checking the couch and chair for any lost money.

They each find some and pocket it. They bump into each other in the middle of the couch and go

back to work)

Mr. Clifford: Well, I was just telling Baji . . . . ..

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Mrs. Clifford: (To Mr. Clifford) Never mind. I‘ll tell her. (Turns to Baji) Baji, we have some very

important guests coming to the hotel today and I don‘t want them to spend an eternity waiting for you

to serve them (She notices that Baji is overwatering the plants). And. . . What are you doing?! No

wonder all our plants look so terrible! You don‘t need to water that plant. IT‘S FAKE!!! (Shakes her

head in disbelief and storms off. Mr. Clifford follows behind trying to explain what he was doing.)

Baji: (Stops watering the plant and nods after the hotel owners reverently). Yes, Mr. Clifford, Mrs.

Clifford. I will not move from desk.

(Greta checks the couch for money as the other maids stop working and gather up to gossip when

Cliffords leave.)

Delia: I can‘t believe anyone would want to come to THIS square hotel.

Lavinia: Yeah, it‘s so weird here. We‘ve had lots of strange things happening lately.

Delia: Now that you mention it, there have been some freaky stuff going down.

Beth: Like the fire in the broom closet. We were lucky to get that put out just in the nick of time.

Lavinia: That and the time the tree fell and hit the hotel porch. It was almost as if someone cut it

down.

Greta: Like the hotel is haunted or something.

Delia: Do you think it is? I don‘t want to work in a haunted hotel! (Mr. Clifford enters again and gets

busy with paperwork at the desk. Beth checks for money in the couch.)

Greta: Well, I don‘t want to work anywhere! I wish that new Beatles song were true—―All You Need is

Love.‖ What a drag, all this dusting and sweeping. The only good thing about this hotel is Mrs.

Clifford‘s far-out radio. Dig this sound! (She turns on the radio at the front desk; ―Eight Days A Week

comes on.)

Beth: Oh, I love this song! Turn it up. The Beatles are the best! (She starts singing; other maids join

in. Baji joins in, but is torn between singing and dancing or staying at the desk. Mr. Clifford snaps his

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fingers and looks wistful—he‘d like to dance, too. As the song is finishing, Mrs. Clifford enters and one

by one the staff realizes it and falls quiet. Beth sheepishly switches off the radio.)

Mrs. Clifford: (Sees the maids standing around talking). What are you doing?! Get back to work! The

Fairfaxes will be here soon. (Maids start working again; Mrs. Clifford checks on Baji, straightens her

suit, then exits. Mr. Clifford exits with her once more, trying to excuse the staff to Mrs. Clifford.)

Lavinia: (Beth goes to turn on the radio again but gets distracted when she finds a newspaper beside

the radio) Beth, Greta, Delia can you believe that the wealthy and famous Fairfaxes are coming to stay

here, at our hotel? They just wired and booked the room yesterday!

Delia: So, Mrs. Clifford‘s scheme just might work!

Beth: What do you mean?

Delia: Well, I was dusting behind their wardrobe a few weeks ago, and the old lady was telling her old

man about a pile of letters she sent out, inviting all KINDS of rich people to Shady Acres, to get

publicity for this place. She even invited the Beatles?

(All maids ad lib at the same time)

Greta: Groovy!

Beth: Far out!

Lavinia: Dig it!

Greta: Well, I don‘t think even the Beatles can beat the Fairfaxes for tips. I have a friend who works at

another hotel where they once stayed. She said they‘re big-time tippers!

Beth: (Holding the newspaper up in her hand, pointing to a picture of Blanche and Edward Fairfax.)

It says here that Mrs. Blanche Fairfax is bringing her million-dollar diamond necklace from her

family‘s American Dynasty collection.

Delia: I can‘t wait to see it!! Can you imagine wearing a million dollars around your neck?

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Lavinia: Let‘s see that! Neato! What would you do with a million dollars?

Delia: I would get a new car and travel around the world.

Greta: I‘d quit this dumb job and become a flower child, or maybe a groupie, following the Beatles

around the world. (Maids laugh and mime other ideas as Mrs. X enters, holding a suitcase and

shaking off an umbrella. Thunder rolls.)

Baji: Good day, ma‘am. (She nods politely.) Can I help you?

Mrs. X: Well, you might get me a towel! This blasted rain! Will it ever stop? (Baji hands her a towel.

She dries off.) I‘d like a modest room, just for the weekend please.

Baji: A modest room? I not understand. (Shakes her head)

Mrs. X: Inexpensive. Cheap. I‘d like a small, MODEST room.

Baji: (Nods understanding) Ah, yes, I understand now. Please to sign name here. (She points to the

guest registry with her pen; Mrs. X signs her name and holds out her suitcase.) Oh, no, so sorry,

ma‘am. I cannot leave this desk for any reason. My boss said me so. You must carry bag to room

yourself. Good exercise!

(Mrs. X, obviously irritated, mutters something about poor service and exits with her suitcase as Mr.

Clifford enters. When he does, Beth quickly stuffs the newspaper under the cushion of an armchair so

it sticks out a little. She and the other maids resume their tedious tasks, acting bored.)

Mr. Clifford: Baji, who was that woman who just passed me in the hallway?

Baji: She is new guest, sir: Mrs. X.

Mr. Clifford: Mrs. X? What kind of name is that? Mrs. X? Let me see that! (Reaches for registry book

and looks at entry)

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Baji: I tell her to sign name and she just write ―X‖ so I call her Mrs. X.

Mr. Clifford: How odd . . . just a minute! Baji! Why didn‘t you show her up to her room and help her

with her suitcase?

Baji: (Smiling proudly) I follow your orders.

Mr. Clifford: My orders? What orders?

Baji: You say not to leave desk.

Mr. Clifford: I meant— (Tries to explain but sees Mrs. C entering & wants to end it so she doesn‘t

know the guest wasn‘t served). Oh, never mind what I meant. (Mrs. Clifford sweeps into the room.)

Mrs. Clifford: Miss Whyte! Miss Morgan! Miss Crawford, and Miss Benson! Have you not finished

cleaning in here yet? Our weekend guests are expected to arrive anytime now, and I don‘t want you

hovering around with feather dusters. And don‘t forget to press out your French lace aprons and caps

for when the Fairfaxes arrive. Is the champagne chilling? Henry, see to the pastries! I don‘t trust that

crazy German Chef Heimlich! (She inspects the room and dismisses the maids, who leave making

exaggerated faces behind her back. Mr. Clifford follows them out. Mrs. X enters again and Baji waves

happily to her.)

Baji: You find modest room all right?

Mrs. X: (Loudly) Yes . . .

(Mutters) No

(Loudly) thanks

(Mutters) to you!

(Mrs. X settles on an armchair, pulling out the newspaper stuffed into it. Lois Banks enters holding her

purse over her head against the rain, with husband Geoffrey Bank, who carries two heavy suitcases and

is drenched. Also with them is their nanny, Myrna Werther, who is trying to keep the two children

under her umbrella while carrying two suitcases. The children are fighting for the space and crying

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about being wet. Miranda carries a doll and shakes rain out of it when she enters the lobby, spraying

her sister, who cries.)

Lois: Geoffrey! Please go book two rooms for the five of us. I‘m exhausted; I‘m soaked; I need a hot

bath. The girls wear me out.

Myrna: (Mutters) You‘re exhausted? (While still carrying the suitcases, Myrna tries to close the

umbrella and the two girls take off. Miranda runs over to the front desk and starts ringing the bell

incessantly. Elizabeth grabs the bell from her and Miranda starts chasing her around the hotel lobby.)

Miranda: Give that back to me. I had it first.

Elizabeth: You‘ll have to catch me if you want it. (Myrna starts running after the two children while

still carrying the suit cases and Baji joins in the chase. Elizabeth runs past the front desk, holds the bell

up high so Miranda can‘t reach it. Baji grabs it and hugs it protectively.)

Baji: No, no, no little girls. This is NOT at toy!

Myrna: I‘m sorry sir. They are quite . . . . . active children. I should know; I‘m the nanny.

Geoffrey: (Approaches desk) We‘d like two rooms please.

Baji: Let‘s see what is here. Very busy weekend. . . . name, please?

Miranda: (Takes her doll and uses its head to hit the bell again, this time striking it with each syllable

of her own name.) Mi – ran – da!

Elizabeth: (Takes the doll and does the same with her name) E-liz-a-beth!

Miranda and Elizabeth: (Both hit the bell at the same time and yell in unison . . . ) Banks! (They laugh

and continue to hit the bell.)

Baji: (Seizes the bell again.) I say don‘t touch! (The two start to sniffle, then cry) Oh….ah…. nice little

girls, nice little girls. No cry. (She pats their heads and they run off to their mother for comfort.)

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Myrna: Don‘t worry about them—they‘ll get over it . . . as soon as they find something else to get into!

Lois: Myrna, please, please, please, be a love and come take care of these children. (Myrna hurries

over to help take care of the children.)

Geoffrey: The name is Banks. Geoffrey and Lois Banks along with our two darling girls Miranda and

Elizabeth. Of course we also have our nanny along, Myrna Werther. Don‘t know what we would do

without her.

Myrna: (Aside) Neither do I!

Baji: Please to sign here, Mr. Banks. I give you rooms 101 and 103. Wait here till Mr. Clifford come

show you to rooms—I no can leave desk.

Geoffrey: Thank you.

(The adults try to sit on the couch with the two children who resist settling down. Thunder rolls. Mrs.

Rogers and Cathy enter. Mrs. Rogers carries a large sign that reads ―English Tea Garden Tours‖ and

Cathy holds an umbrella over her to protect the sign. Cathy has a clipboard in the other hand.)

Mrs. Rogers: Cathy, do you think we‘ll get any takers on our tea tour today with this dreadful weather?

The roads are so bad! And the gardens are positively pounded to a pulp!

Cathy: Oh, dearie, chin up! (Looks outside) The sky‘s brightening up—(Clasps hands together and

sings the first line of ―Here Comes the Sun.‖ Baji perks up and sings the ―da-da-da-da.‖ Cathy sings the

second line and Baji sings ―and I say.‖ Together they sing ―It‘s all right, doo-doo-doo-doo‖ etc.

Everyone on stage laughs and claps.) I think we‘re in for a lovely day! April showers bring May flowers

after all.

Mrs. Rogers: What about May showers?

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Cathy: (Laughs and changes the subject.) There was QUITE a lot of interest at my presentation after

dinner last night. I told the guests that the bus leaves at 9:30 sharp and that they had to be in the lobby

this morning to register. (Looks at her watch) It‘s nine o‘clock now.

(Patricia enters with Frederica Frumpet.)

Patricia: Come along, Frederica, duckie (tugging her sleeve). You always grumble about these things at

the outset, and then you‘re pleased you came along.

Frederica: Don‘t you duckie me, Patricia! Why would I want to go on an English tea garden tour in the

pouring rain! It‘s been raining for three bloomin days solid. Besides, I hate tours, I hate gardens, and I

hate tea!

Mrs. Rogers: (Comes up to greet the pair of ladies) Top o‘ the morning to you both! Mrs. Rogers at

your service. I‘m your bus driver today taking you on the tour of your life. And this is our lovely tour

guide, Cathy.

Cathy: Hello! And welcome to the finest tea garden tour in England. Please step this way and register

with me. You can pay by cash, traveler‘s cheques—

Frederica: (Interrupts) Do you have a money back guarantee? After all, there‘s a blasted typhoon going

on out there! Can‘t I pay afterwards, when I decide if it‘s worth it or not?

Cathy: All our tours are satisfaction guaranteed, madam. I‘m sure you‘ll love it. There‘s no outing like

a May outing.

Frederica: Hrrumph!

(Mrs. and Mr. Clifford enter, arguing.)

Mr. Clifford: What are all you people doing here? We‘re expecting some VERY important guests this

morning and you‘re clogging the lobby!

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Cathy: Are we not important to you Mr. Clifford? Why just the other day you mentioned how much

you enjoyed having our tour originate at your hotel. You said it brought you more business.

Mrs. Clifford: (Glares at husband) Sooooo sorry, Cathy, my dear. He‘s just little on edge this morning

because we‘re expecting the Fairfaxes at Shady Acres today.

Mrs. Rogers: The Fairfaxes? As in the wealthy Edward Fairfax and his lovely wife Blanche from the

States?

Mr. Clifford: Yes, yes, those Fairfaxes. So, if you wouldn‘t mind, please finish your touring

preparations quickly and move along.

Baji: (Waves tour group along to the door) Move along, please, move along. Beautiful day for tour.

Rain stopped now. ―Here come the sun.‖ (Nods head & winks at Cathy who winks back).

Cathy: All right, let‘s finish our registration later, everyone. We‘re parked right out front—just look for

the big, yellow tour bus.

Lois: (Calls after Cathy) Wait, please! (Turns to Geoffrey) A tea garden tour? That sounds lovely and

relaxing. Geoffrey, I think we should go. It would be educational for the girls! Darlings, would you like

to go on the bus tour?

Miranda: Not the school bus!

Lois: It‘s not a school bus, dear.

Elizabeth: But you said educational! And it‘s big—and yellow! You can‘t fool me! Daddddyyyyyy!!!!!!

Geoffrey: (Absentmindedly) Listen to your mother and your nanny, sugar plums.

Elizabeth and Miranda: No!

Lois: (To Cathy, ignoring them) We‘d love to go. It will give the girls something to see and do.

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Myrna: I don‘t know, Mrs. Banks. I‘m not sure a tea garden tour is the best activity for these two. Is

there a zoo nearby? (Mutters) Why not put them where they belong?

Lois: Nonsense! Children need culture, too. (To Cathy) What do you think?

Cathy: We‘d be delighted to have you join us. We‘ve never had children on one of our tours before. It

will be a new experience!

Myrna: Oh, you can say that again. (She moves all the suitcases to Baji. The tour group follows Cathy

offstage, Mrs. Rogers following behind, carrying the tea garden tour sign with her. Ingrid Brightham

enters, not realizing she is talking to herself.)

Ingrid: Oh, Albert, did you see that? An English tea garden tour! That would be delightful, don‘t you

think? I wonder if it‘s offered daily. We‘ll have to try it out when we‘re here. I love tea cups—I mean,

tea. Don‘t you, Albert? Albert?

Albert: Ingrid, are these all of our suitcases, dear?

Ingrid: Hmmm, let‘s see. (Counts them) No, there are two more in the taxi. We can get the driver to

bring those in. (She approaches Baji.) Good morning, young lady! Do you have a room ready for the

Brighthams?

Baji: (Preoccupied with a crossword puzzle) ‗Scuse me. Who you say?

Ingrid: The Brighthams . . from Fairfax. We made our reservations several weeks ago.

Baji: (Excited) Fairfax? Oh, yes, yes. We have very special room for you. Best room in house. (Mrs. X

looks up at this, shakes her head and returns to reading paper.)

Albert: (Leans against suitcases, exhausted.) Oh, splendid. Did you hear that, dear? We‘ve got the

nicest room in the hotel. Well-stocked, too, I shouldn‘t wonder.

Ingrid: Yes, I heard, dear. I‘m not deaf, you know. (To Baji) Young lady, would you take these cases to

our room? Albert, let‘s go and see why the taxi driver‘s taking so long to bring in our other suitcases.

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(As the Brighthams exit, Baji maniacally rings the bell at the desk until Mr. Clifford rushes in.)

Mr. Clifford: What is it, Baji? A fire? Again? Not now!

Baji: Mr. Clifford, Mr. Clifford!

Mr. Clifford: (Nervous) What? What? Spit it out woman!

Baji: Spit what out?

Mr. Clifford: Oh, it‘s just an English expression. Never mind. Tell me, what‘s the matter?

Baji: The Fairfaxes—here!

Mr. Clifford: They are? Where?

Baji: They get other suitcases outside. These here Fairfax suitcases, too.

Mr. Clifford: (Looks dubiously at the shabby cases) Really? Well, all right. Just calm down. I‘ll take

these cases up to the room, and you can help with the others when they come in. And call Mrs.

Clifford! And get those maids going with the pastries and the champagne! (He leaves)

Baji: Ok, Ok. (But she does not have time to do anything else before Brighthams reenter)

Ingrid: Imagine the gall of that driver, refusing to carry in our last two cases. They‘re large, I know, but

not even the least bit heavy! I‘m glad you didn‘t tip him, Albert. Albert?

Albert: (Follows with two very large suitcases swinging from each hand) Don‘t fuss, Ingrid. As you say,

the suitcases are quite light. In fact, they feel empty!

Ingrid: That‘s because they are. You know how I like to pick up a few souvenirs when I‘m on holiday.

We‘ll need room for them.

Albert: (Winks, nods) Ohhhhh—of course, my dear.

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Baji: (Points to guest registry) Please to sign here, Mrs. Fairfax.

(Mrs. Clifford enters just as Ingrid responds to Baji.)

Ingrid: I‘m not Mrs. Fairfax! I‘m Mrs. Brightham. We‘re Albert and Ingrid Brightham—from Fairfax!

Mrs. Clifford: (Gasps – then gives Baji the evil eye and says ―Baji!‖ under her breath. Turns to the

guests and extends her hand in greeting.) Ah . . . Mr. and Mrs. Brightham. You reserved rooms several

weeks ago, if I remember correctly. You were the ones asking about our collection of Elizabethan

antiques. Allow me to show you to your quarters. We have a lovely room for you at the back of the

hotel, next to the kitchen. It has a stunning view of the . . . . swamp.

Albert: Thank you, Madam. Baji here tells us that it‘s the very best room you have.

Mrs. Clifford: Of course it is, the very best room we could give (lowers voice) you. Please follow me.

(The three exit. Mrs. Clifford does not offer to help with bags, so Brighthams struggle along behind.

Stanley Larson enters with Greta Whyte on his arm.)

Stanley: Well, in the words of my favorite playwright, ―the course of true love never did run smooth.‖

Greta: Oh, Stanley, you even quote Shakespeare. I wish I knew some Shakespeare! I just know

Mother Goose.

Stanley: (Chants the old rhyme flirtingly) ―Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day. Little Greta

wants to play!‖

(Mr. Clifford enters. Greta jumps and looks guilty when she sees him, and quickly exits, leaving Stanley

with the hotel owner.)

Baji: Oh Mr. Clifford, you won‘t believe what happened. (Talking really fast) Well, the Fairfaxes

aren‘t really the Fairfaxes, they‘re the Fright-hams or Bright – hams or some hams FROM Fairfax . . . . .

and then . . . . . Mrs. Clifford . . . . . .

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Mr. Clifford: Mrs. Clifford came in? (Baji nods head with a worried look). And she saw? She heard?

Baji & Mr. Clifford: Oy, I, I.

Mr. Clifford: Mr. Larson! Was that Miss Whyte I saw you with just now? I hope not! I sent her out to

cut fresh flowers for the Fairfax‘s room half an hour ago, and she still hasn‘t taken care of it!

Stanley: Henry, you really shouldn‘t fret so much. You‘ll have a seizure. By the way, has the English

tea garden tour left yet? I was very much hoping to join them today, after being cooped up inside with

all the rain these past few days. That tour guide Cathy is very lovely—I mean, she seems to be very

knowledgeable about lovely flowers.

Mr. Clifford: Sorry, old chap. You just missed them. I kicked them out of here, or, rather, I suggested

they leave early today, since we are expecting those very special guests any minute.

Stanley: Oh, that‘s what got you all tied up in knots. I forgot about the Fairfaxes arriving today. (Mr.

Clifford sees Mrs. Clifford coming and tries to sneak out. She sees him and chases after him.) I think

I‘ll just hang around to catch their arrival (next line under his breath) It‘s the only excitement

happening in this stuffy little hotel. (Stanley sits on couch, near the armchair side. He stretches out,

then sits up again and extends his hand to Mrs. X.)

Stanley: Hello, ma‘am. Aren‘t you looking stylish today? I‘m Stanley Larson. You must have just

arrived—I haven‘t seen you here before. (Mrs. X just stares at him and doesn‘t respond to his flirting.

Awkward pause, then Stanley coughs and becomes more businesslike.) May I borrow a section of your

paper?

(Mrs. X nods, and hands him a portion of the paper. Both are reading when Greta enters with a large

vase of flowers. Thunder rolls; lightening flashes.)

Greta: Baji, where did Mr. C want these posies? I can‘t remember. I was little distracted.

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(Greta gazes dreamily at Stanley. Sets vase down on front desk under Baji‘s nose. Leans on the desk,

flips on radio and ―I Want to Hold Your Hand‖ comes on. She stares at Stanley and sings/hums along.

Baji starts singing too but then starts sneezing and goes behind the desk to look for tissue.

Audrey enters, closing up an umbrella as she does. She carries a suitcase and a shopping bag. When

she hears the music, she starts snapping her finger to the beat, too. Both Stanley and Mrs. X lower

their papers to stare at her. Audrey bats her eyelashes at Stanley, and then saunters up to front desk.)

Audrey: Hey there. Can I get some service here?

(Baji is blowing her nose down somewhere behind the desk and Greta just keeps singing and staring at

Stanley.)

Audrey: (Hits the bell several times) Hey! Hey! (Baji pops up, turns off radio. Greta sighs and moseys

off slowly)

Baji: Good morning, Miss! (Sneezes) Sorry, flowers make my nose go kerchoo! (Sneezes again)

Audrey: Then why on earth do you have a full vase of them right in front of your work space! How

ditzy is that? I‘m Audrey Rochester; I‘ve already booked a room.

Baji: (Sniffles and snorts) Yes, Miss, please to sign guest book. (While Audrey is signing the book, Baji

takes a key out and lays it on the desk) I ask Mr. Clifford to show you to your room. (Rings bell several

times till Mr. Clifford appears) Mr. Clifford, please to show Miss Rochester to her room.

Mr. Clifford: Yes, of course. Wait, Baji . . . just a minute! That‘s your job! You take Miss Rochester

and case to her room.

Baji: No, no, sir. You say I not leave desk. You insist. I stay here.

Mr. Clifford: Baji, I did say that earlier. But now I‘m saying LEAVE the desk and SHOW MISS

ROCHESTER TO HER ROOM!

Baji: But Mr. Clifford, you say . . . .

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(They continue to pantomime argument about who stays and who goes. Stanley approaches desk and

introduces himself to Audrey.)

Stanley: Miss Rochester, Stanley Larson at your service. Please allow me to carry your case for you. It‘s

been a little crazy around here today. (Picks up the key that Baji left lying out and offers it to Audrey

with a flourish. She takes it with a smile.)

Audrey: Do you work here, Mr. Stanley Larson?

Stanley: No, but carrying your things wouldn‘t be work even if I did.

Audrey: Well, thank you then.

(They go off stage together. Baji and Mr. Clifford finally stop arguing and look around, puzzled.)

Baji: Where she go? (Sneezes)

Mr. Clifford: I shouldn‘t be surprised if she went home! (Notices flowers) These are the flowers for the

Fairfax‘s room. I‘ve been looking everywhere for them! Baji, did you see who put these here? (Baji

shakes her head vehemently. Beth and Delia enter, excited.)

Beth: Mr. Clifford, sir, we saw them!

Delia: We were cleaning one of the windows upstairs and we saw them pull up in their FAB limo.

Mr. Clifford: Who? Is it—

Delia: The Fairfax‘s—they‘ve arrived!

Mr. Clifford: Girls, go at once! Take these flowers to the Fairfax suite! Tell the staff to get the special

refreshments ready! Change into your French things and make sure Heimlich has a clean apron, or

Mrs. C will . . . will . . . have a cow! Oh, dear, Mrs. C! Yes, get Mrs. C right away! She won‘t want to

leave this moment to us!

(Ingrid enters and tugs at Mr. Clifford‘s sleeve.)

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Ingrid: Excuse me, Mr. Clifford, but we seem to be out of toilet paper, shampoo, towels, soap, and

those fancy bathrobes. I wonder if your maids forgot to stock our room?

Mr. Clifford: (Clutches his head) I don‘t have time for this. (Pulls himself together and tries to be

pleasant) Mrs. Ingrid, I‘m deeply sorry for this oversight—uh, these oversights. Baji here will provide

you with anything you need. (Baji looks surprised.) It‘s all right, Baji. I‘m officially relieving you of your

duties at the front desk.

Baji: (Sneezes) Please come with me, Mrs. Bright Bacon.

Ingrid: Bright HAM. It‘s Brighham.

(They exit just as the Fairfax‘s make a grand entrance – play intro snippet of ―All You Need Is Love,‖

the trumpets doing French National Anthem, very grand. Mrs. Clifford rushes in as the music begins.)

Mrs. Clifford: (Bowing slightly) Mr. and Madam Fairfax. I am sooooo happy for your safe arrival to

our humble establishment. We are delighted to have you honor us with your presence here at Shady

Acres. I assure you that you have chosen the right place to stay for the peace, quiet, and anonymity that

you so earnestly seek. Please, come with me to the front desk to sign our guest registry.

(The Fairfaxes follow Mrs. Clifford to the front desk. She takes out a large feather pen; they sign the

registry).

Mrs. Clifford: Splendid. We will have to frame this page! Now, I will ring for my staff to welcome and

assist you while I take your bags myself up to your room and make sure all is in perfect order!

(Mrs. C rings the bell. Mr. Clifford, the maids and the chef enter immediately, carrying trays of pastries

and champagne and a large corsage. Ingrid and Albert peer in from the wings. The staff ushers the

Fairfax‘s to the sofa, shooing the other guests off. The staff offers the refreshments; Mr. Fairfax takes

some, but not Mrs. Fairfax. Beth clumsily pins the corsage on Mrs. Fairfax‘s dress)

Mrs. Fairfax: Ouch!

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Edward: (To staff) Thank you for your kindness. It‘s just so quaint here. We have been seeking just

this kind of quiet weekend away from it all, haven‘t we, Blanche?

Blanche: (Sarcastically) Oh, yes, dear. Who would want to stay in London and go to fabulous shows

and attend glorious dinner parties when we could stay here in this little hole-in-the-wall hotel, in the

middle of nowhere, in the pouring rain? (Thunder crashes)

Edward: (To staff, a little embarrassed) Please don‘t mind Blanche. She gets tired when she travels.

She‘ll feel better after a little rest.

(Blanche glares; there‘s a long awkward pause; then, Beth flips on the radio to fill the silence. ―Yellow

Submarine‖ comes one. On by one, the staff starts snapping their fingers, then dancing in place and

finally they burst out singing. Mrs. X just observes silently. At first Mr. Clifford tries to shush everyone,

but then he joins in. Baji comes back in and is so exuberant, she gets Mr. Fairfax on his feet and he

starts dancing and singing with her. Mrs. Fairfax acts horrified. At the verse, ―And our friends are all on

board,‖ the Brighthams dance in, join for a minute, then dance out, taking the feather pen, the extra

champagne glass and the silver tray. Mrs. Clifford suddenly enters, stops aghast, and then rushes to the

desk to snap off the radio. Everyone falls back in place, frozen)

Mrs. Clifford: (Struggles to compose herself) My dear Mr. and Madam Fairfax, I am sincerely sorry for

the rude behavior of my staff. I usually maintain the strictest propriety in our establishment, even

though we are just a small country hotel. I promise you it will not happen again.( She tries to carry off

a little laughing shrug) They‘re all simply so excited you‘re here! I‘m sure it‘s just high spirits, so for this

once I‘ll just. . . ―Let It Be.‖ (She aims this Beatles reference at the maids and Baji and glares at them

agin. Next line to Fairfaxes--) Well, Sir and Madam your sumptuous suite awaits you!

(The Fairfax‘s stand up to follow Mrs. Clifford offstage, but Edward hangs back a little to tip the maids.

Delia, Greta, and Lavinia leave one by one, after getting their tips. Beth is the last one on stage. As

Edward‘s handing Beth a dollar and chatting with her, Audrey and Stanley enter, arm in arm.)

Stanley: And thus ends the tour of Shady Acres, Miss Rochester.

Audrey: Thank you, Mr. Larson. I appreciate all your attention.

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Mr. Fairfax: Well, goodbye, Miss. Thank you again! (Audrey starts at his voice and then rushes over to

take Edward‘s hand)

Audrey: Eddie! Eddie Fairfax! I don‘t believe it‘s you! (All the other people in the lobby shrink back,

embarrassed by the scene, except Mrs. X, who leans forward on the armchair, interested, and Beth,

who grabs a feather duster and tries to get as close as possible to hear every word.)

Mr. Clifford/Mr. Stanley: Eddie?

Edward: Ah, yes. . . . Miss Rochester and I are . . . acquaintances . . . from a few years back.

Audrey: Acquaintances? Acquaintances? Is that what I‘ve been reduced to in your memory? Eddie!

We were engaged almost a year before you took up with that woman—what‘s her name?

Edward: Blanche.

(Audrey turns to the group in the room, directing her comments to Mr. Clifford and Stanley who are

nearest to her.)

Audrey: You see, gentlemen, Mr. Fairfax and I were in love and engaged to be married. But I was not

from a family with money, so Edward‘s family members took it upon themselves to find him a wife

with a name and a fortune. So I, as they say, became history.

Edward: Audrey! It wasn‘t quite like that. I . . . I . . . .

Audrey: (Cuts him off and loops her arm through Stanley‘s) It‘s all water under the bridge now, Eddie.

Don‘t sweat it. I‘ve moved on with my life. Shall we go for a walk, Mr. Larson?

Stanley: I‘d be delighted to, Miss Rochester. (They go off together)

Mr. Clifford: (To Edward) Well, I bet that was a shock! You arrive for a quiet weekend of privacy and

run into an old fiancée. (Lowers his voice) If she‘s still hoping to marry for money, she‘s latching onto

the wrong fellow. He‘s as penniless as a pauper. He can‘t even pay his own hotel bill! He‘s been staying

here for a couple of weeks now, claiming that he‘s waiting for an advance from his brother.

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Edward: Why do you allow him to stay?

Mr. Clifford: Well, we like his company. We don‘t get that many guests these days. He lights up the

hotel a bit. (Chuckles) You see, he‘s a charming, friendly character—the maids all say he‘s ―hot.‖

(Lavinia enters in a fluster.)

Lavinia: Mr. Clifford, I—Oh, hullo Mr. Fairfax. I‘m sorry to interrupt, but Mrs. Brighthham is driving

me mad! She claims that her room didn‘t come with a shower curtain. I swear there was was in the loo

this morning when I cleaned it!

Mr. Clifford: All right, all right, Miss Crawford. Just bring her another shower curtain.

Lavinia: But we don‘t have extra shower curtains!

Mr. Clifford: Give her yours!

(Lavinia gapes at him shocked. Baji, Greta, Beth, and Delia enter, carrying towels, boxes of soap,

shampoo, toilet paper, and big fuzzy bathrobes.)

Mr. Clifford: Baji! Where are you going with all those things?

Baji: Sir, these for Mr. and Mrs. Brightlight.

(Mr. Clifford just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Just then, Heimlich enters, crawling, holding a fish

net. Blanche enters at the same moment from a different side)

Heimlich: (In a very thick accent) Come here, little mousie. I don‘t want to hurt you; I only want to

make you into appetizer for tonight‘s dinner.

Delia: What are you doing Heimlich?

Heimlich: (With huge gestures) Getting fresh ingredients! (Continues to look for mouse)

Dehlia: What?

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Chef‘s Assistant: (Mimics Heimlich) Get-ting FRESH In-gre-di-ents for an ap-pe-ti-zer for to-night‘s

big din-ner.

Lavinia: Why are you crawling on the ground?

Heimlich: (Thick accent, fast and animated) I‘m looking for a nice little mouse to use in my recipe—

the most delicious appetizer you will ever taste.

All Maids: (Look at assistant): Huh?

Assistant: (repeats with gestures) I‘m look-ing for a mouse to use in my re-ci-pe for the most de-li-

cious ap-pe-ti-zer you will e-ver taste.

All Maids: A mouse?!?!?!

Blanche: Mice! In this hotel? How disgusting!

(A mouse runs across the stage; confusion breaks out; everyone runs and shrieks; Mrs. X doesn‘t

scream but cautiously climbs onto the back of the armchair; blackout. Thief hides behind couch for

Scene Two)

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Act One

Scene Two

(Hotel Lobby. Friday evening. Storm sounds. Baji is sleeping at front des; she jumps in her sleep when

there‘s thunder; radio is quietly playing ―Let It Be.‖ Chef Heimlich is huddled on the armchair, his

assistant kneeling next to him and patting his arm. The four maids are sitting on the couch, gossiping

about the day‘s events. Music fades out)

Beth: How juicy is this? Mr. Fairfax and Audrey Rochester were once engaged and then he dumped

her for Blanche!

Lavinia: How do you know that about Miss Rochester and Mr. Fairfax?

Beth: I heard the whole thing in the lobby, after Mr. Fairfax tipped me! Audrey made quite a scene!

(Giggles) She called him Eddie!

Greta: Well, I wish she had STAYED engaged to him. Now she‘s making eyes at Stanley. (Sighs)

Stanley‘s so groovy, almost as hip as the Beatles.

Delia: Well, why did Mr. Fairfax dump Miss Rochester anyway?

Beth: Because she wasn‘t a rich chick. His family wasn‘t buying into any Cinderella story. They made

him dump her.

Greta: Dumped? Just because she didn‘t come from money. What‘s so big about dough, anyway?

(Starts snapping her fingers and chants next line) Well, I don‘t care too much for money—(sings next

phrase) Money can‘t buy me love.

(Beatles come on side stage aprons with instruments and begin intro to ―Money Can‘t Buy Me Love.‖

Maids sing refrain. Greta sings first verse, then Beth sings second verse; all join in for 2nd refrain. All

maids sing third verse – Baji plays air guitar on instrumental, pulls in Chef Heimlich and assistant; all

finish the song – Greta sings last 2 line by herself again. After song, everyone settles back down again.

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Heimlich and assistant slowly leave waving goodbye to the maids; Baji goes back to desk and starts

fighting off sleep, yawning, drooping, etc.)

Beth: Well, imagine those two meeting here, at Shady Acres, after all this time. Miss Rochester still

has the engagement ring.

Delia: And how do you know that?

Beth: She showed it to me—and warned me to watch out for men with money.

Lavinia: Speaking of money, did you see Mrs. Fairfax‘s necklace? I can‘t believe she‘d wear it out to

dinner in the country. Who‘s going to appreciate it?

Beth: She‘s just letting us peasants know how loaded she is. I‘m afraid I‘m not too fond of her.

Lavinia: None of us are, Beth. Did you see Chef Heimlich sulking in the chair earlier? After the

mouse incident in the lobby, Mrs. Fairfax refused to eat his food. That‘s why Mr. Fairfax had to take

her out to dinner. Heimlich started ranting and raving around the kitchen sharpening his knives, and

Mr. Clifford had to smooth his ruffled feathers—and lock the knives up!

Delia: Old couple Brightham didn‘t seem to have any trouble with the meal. Whatever they didn‘t eat,

they stuffed into their pockets.

Beth: Well, they must have eaten the silverware and glasses too. When I cleared off their table after

dinner they were missing.

Greta: Why were none of the guests who went on the English tea garden tour at dinner tonight?

Beth: Didn‘t you hear? Old Frederica Frumpet finally snapped and ordered Mrs. Rogers off the bus,

leaving her stranded in the middle of the road. Then she took the tour guide and the others hostage,

claiming she never wanted to see another ―bloomin‘ English tea garden‖ again as long as she lived.

Delia: Who told you that, Beth? Or are you just making up stories again?

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Beth: Oh everyone‘s talking about it—at least they will be tomorrow. (Smiles)

Lavinia: Beth, you know as well as I do that Abbey Street flooded out and the tour bus is stranded.

They‘re going to have to spend the night on the bus.

Delia: I liked the first version of the story better. (Beth pouts)

Lavinia: I‘m curious about this guest that Baji calls Mrs. X. She‘s always lurking around. It‘s like she‘s a

spy or something.

(Mrs. X enters from one side, peers around, exits another way)

Delia: She never speaks.

Beth: Or tips!

Greta: Speaking of tips: Mrs. Fairfax gave me just one rotten shilling for bringing her an extra pillow

and blanket for her nap this afternoon. I‘ll never get those new threads & boots for the Beatles concert!

Beth, did you see those go-go boots in the new Harrod‘s catalogue?

(Blanche calls out to Edward offstage.)

Delia: It‘s the Fairfax‘s! They‘ve finally returned from dinner. What time is it?

Lavinia: It‘s almost eleven!

(The maids jump up and run offstage. We hear Blanche‘s voice again offstage)

Blanche: Edward, are you coming inside? It‘s starting to rain again. You‘ll catch a chill. Oh, this damp

weather ruins my hair!

(The Fairfax‘s enter the lobby. Baji snaps to attention.)

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Edward: Blanche, dear, I was looking around for my pocket watch. I seem to have misplaced it. Maybe

it fell out in the car.

Blanche: The one I had engraved for your birthday? Well, for goodness sakes, go and try to catch the

chauffeur before he turns in for the night! That watch is irreplaceable.

(Edward exits. Blanche sinks to the couch, leans back tiredly and closes her eyes. Delia enters with a

cup of tea on a tray.)

Delia: Mrs. Fairfax. Mrs. Fairfax? I‘ve brought you a cup of tea at Chef Heimlich‘s request—

Blanche: Tea? That Heimlich prepared it, did he? In that filthy rodent-infested kitchen of his? No,

thank you! I do not want any tea.

Delia: (Timidly) No, ma‘am. Chef Heimlich didn‘t prepare it; I did. Chef Heimlich took the evening

off, but he left me instructions to prepare this tea for you, just the way you like it. I think he wanted to

make it up to you, you know, about this afternoon.

Blanche: A sort of peace offering, eh? (Softens a little) Well, then. You seem like a clean sort of girl. I

suppose a cup of tea would be nice before bed. It‘s so cold and damp here in the country.

(Delia hands her the tea, curtsies, and exits. Baji smiles at her as she leaves, and turns on the radio,

which begins to play ―Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds‖ softly. Baji leans on the desk sleepily and yawns

even more than before. Blanche takes a few sips of tea and begins to nod. Baji nods off, too. The tea

cups slips from Blanche‘s hand as she falls asleep. Baji also falls asleep, and drops behind the desk

with a thud. We hear a clock strike eleven. The audience sees a pair of gloved hands emerge from

behind the couch. The hands quickly unclasp the precious diamond necklace from Blanche‘s throat,

and then disappear. Baji struggles up from behind the desk. )

Baji: (Rubs head) I hate late shift at front desk! I so sleepy! (She paces back and forth, stretches, tries

some calisthenics, comes out from behind desk for more space, jogs around room, then collapses on

the arm of the couch, where she brushes against Blanche‘s limp arm, knocking it off the arm of the

couch. When Baji sees how unresponsive Blanche is, she tries to wake her. Blanche doesn‘t wake up,

so Baji begins screaming.) Oh no! Oh no! What I do?

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Edward: (Enters, speaking) Blanche, darling, we couldn‘t find my watch in the car. James and I

practically tore out the cushions. I— (Stops when he comprehends that there is some emergency going

on) What‘s the matter, Baji?

Baji: (Stutters) M – m – m – Mrs. Fairfax! She dead! (Lightening)

(Edward rushes to Blanche. Blackout. Thunder.)

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Act One

Scene Three

(LIGHTS UP. Hotel Lobby, Early the next morning. Storm sounds. Blanche is sitting in a chair with chief Dover Wickfield

crouching next to her as she relates details of the events. Lieutenant Thea Dorrit is standing in the background speaking with

Edward. Sergeant Holly O’Doyle is standing behind the couch questioning Mr. and Mrs. Clifford. Officer Nora Black is

sitting on the couch trying to comfort Baji who is in shock.)

Black: (Patting Baji on the back.) There, there, Baji. You’ve had a frightful shock. Mrs. Fairfax is all right now;

she was just unconscious. Everything’s going to be all right. When you’re feeling up to it, we’ll want to ask

you a few questions. Why don’t you just try to get a little sleep now? (Baji says nothing. She just nods at this

suggestion and exits, walking somewhat zombie-like. Black walks over to the front desk to examine it for fingerprints.)

O’Doyle: Well, thank you, Mrs. Clifford, Mr. Clifford—Henry, is it? You’ve been most helpful. That’s

about all I have for right now. We’d appreciate it if you could keep the guests out of the lobby for the next

couple of hours while we collect fingerprints and such. All guests have been informed that they must not leave

the premises today until they have been questioned. (Mr. Clifford nods and exits. O’Doyle begins searching for clues

with a magnifying glass.)

Dorrit: So, you’re saying that you recently took out a large insurance policy on this diamond necklace?

Edward: (Annoyed.) What are you insinuating, Madame Lieutenant? Of course I’d insure a million-dollar

necklace, especially before going on a trip.

Dorrit: But why bring it along at all? Surely it must be a lot of trouble worrying about it all of the time.

(Edward glares at her.) At any rate, where did you say you were when your wife’s necklace was stolen?

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Edward: I was checking our limo for my missing pocket watch. It wasn’t on me when we came in from

dinner. It’s expensive, and beside it has sentimental value.

Dorrit: Would the chauffeur verify this if I questioned him?

Edward: Why, you’re making it sound like I’m the crook! I’d think you people could be a little more

sensitive. I’ve just had a terrible shock! First I’m told me wife is dead, and now you’re treating me like a

criminal. (He heads to the couch.)

Dorrit: We’re just doing our job, Mr. Fairfax. One final question and then you can go. I understand from

one of the maids – Miss Beth Morgan I believe – that you were once engaged to Audrey Rochester, who is also

staying at this hotel. That you both ended up in the same remote hotel in the English countryside, all the way

from America, is quite a coincidence, isn’t it?

Edward: A coincidence is all it is, Lieutenant! What does that have to do with anything anyway?

Dorrit: (She begins writing something down in a notebook and speaks without looking up.) Oh, probably nothing. It’s

just that the maid thought it significant enough to mention.

Edward: That maid thinks everything is significant enough to mention—to everybody! What does an empty-

headed ―teenybopper‖ like her know about life? (He stands.) Can I go now?

Dorrit: I think that about wraps it up – for now. (Wickfield and Blanche walk over to join them.)

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Wickfield: Dorrit, I think we’ll let the Fairfax’s have a little rest from questioning for a while. (To Blanche)

Mrs. Fairfax, thank you for your time. (Blanche and Edward exit up ctr stage. Then, hushed and confidential to

O’Doyle) O’Doyle, what clues have you gathered?

O’Doyle: A few interesting items, Chief. (She holds up a gloved hand with several filled plastic bags.)

Wickfield: Place them here on the coffee table so we can examine them more carefully. (O’Doyle takes each

item out of its bag and places it on the table: one teacup and saucer, one lady’s ring, a handkerchief monogrammed S. A.,

and one gold pocket watch. The other investigators gather around.) The last thing Mrs. Fairfax remembers is drinking

a cup of tea which a maid, Miss Delia Benson, prepared and brought to her. There must have been a hefty dose

of a sedative in that tea. This doesn’t look good for Miss Benson. O’Doyle, put that teacup back in plastic.

We’ll take it to the lab to be examined.

O’Doyle: (Holds up a Ziploc bag for the other officers to marvel at as he seals it.) New from the lab – Ziploc! (Other

officers “oooh” and “ahhh” at this “new” invention.)

Black: (pointing to the handkerchief on the table.) You see how the handkerchief is monogrammed S. A.? When I

checked over the guest register and the staff list there was no one listed who has those initials. Where did you

find the handkerchief, O’Doyle?

O’Doyle: In between the cushions on the couch.

Black: Perhaps it was left behind by a previous guest.

O’Doyle: That’s doubtful, at least according to the hotel’s owner, Henry Clifford. He claims that the maids

clean thoroughly under the cushions every day. He says they habitually check for spare change under there.

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Black: Aha! Well, since no one’s cleaned in here since yesterday morning, this handkerchief is new. It could

belong to our thief!

Wickfield: All right, we’ll ask each of the guests and staff about the initials S. A. when we question them.

What else do you have there, O’Doyle?

O’Doyle: (Holds up the bag with the ring.) We have this rather expensive-looking diamond engagement ring.

(Others lean in to get a closer look.)

Black: We’ll that’s a beauty! Do you suppose it belongs to Mrs. Fairfax, Chief?

Wickfield: Not unless she has two engagement rings. She was wearing one just now when I questioned her.

Dorrit: (holding up the bag with the gold pocket watch.) This must be Mr. Fairfax’s missing watch. (Looks closer.)

Confirmed. It has his name engraved on the back. Where was this, O’Doyle?

O’Doyle: Funny thing, that. I found it just lying on the table over there, in plain view. You say Fairfax was

missing it?

Dorrit: Yes, he claimed that was the reason for his absence during the theft of his wife’s necklace. He was

searching the car for it.

O’ Doyle: Maybe he’s just absentminded.

Dorrit: We’ll see about that!

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Wickfield: Is that all the evidence, O’Doyle?

O’Doyle: That’s all I have at the moment, Chief.

Wickfield: All right, let’s scour this place one last time before we bring in the rest of the guests and staff for

questioning. (The four police simultaneously pull gloves out of their pockets and begin to search the lobby. While the police

have their backs turned to the audience, Albert and Ingrid hobble onstage. They mime surprise and excitement to see the four

items on the table and then quickly stuff them into their pockets and exit again undetected. Detective Philip Thornton and his

assistant, Emma Reid, enter the hotel lobby. O’Doyle, who is searching the floor with a magnifying glass spots Thornton’s

shoe.)

O’Doyle: (Excitedly) Hey Chief! I think I found something – it’s a really big shoe! (The other police glance over as

O’Doyle slowly raises his magnifying glass and realizes her mistake.) Oh, oops!

Thornton: (Flamboyantly.) Good day, fellow quenchers of injustice, crime and cruelty everywhere! Detective

Philip Thornton and Miss Emma Reid quite humbly at your service.

Wickfield: (Approaches.) Thornton, what are you doing here? This is our case and we don’t need your help –

or interference, rather. (He mutters behind his back to the police who are now standing behind him.) Actually,

incompetence is more accurate! (Police laugh. Wickfield then greets Emma Reid more politely.) On the other hand,

we’re pleased to see you, Miss Reid.

Emma Reid: (Confidently.) Thank you, Chief Wickfield. You should know that we did not come here

uninvited. Mr. Fairfax hired us to take the case.

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Wickfield: What?

Reid: He said he needed to hire someone to be on his side and –

Thornton: (Interrupting.) Yes, quite. He claims you treated him rudely and made him feel like a criminal.

Really, Chief, this is a very powerful and wealthy man you are dealing with. I’d think you could treat him with a

little more courtesy.

Wickfield: (Angry.) Now listen here, Thornton! We just conducted routine questioning. No one has been

treated rudely – at least not yet!

Thornton: There, there, Dover.

Wickfield: That’s Chief Wickfield to you, Thornton.

Thornton: All right, Chief. See here, I have a proposal for you. Why don’t we see who can solve this case

first. Sort of like a little contest, see. (Turns to Reid). I just love contests! If I win – I mean – if I solve the case

first, you will allow me to advertise my agency at your police station.

Wickfield: Never!

Thornton: Just wait – I’m not finished yet. (To Reid, who is frantically writing in a notebook.) Are you getting all

this down, Emma? (She nods.) If your department solves the case first then I will give you half of the salary that

Mr. Fairfax and I agreed upon for my services. And believe me, Mr. Fairfax is a very generous man, Chief!

Wickfield: Thornton, you know I can accept money from neither you nor Mr. Fairfax!

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Thornton: All right then, how about – if you solve the case first – I will agree to pay for your department’s tea

and crumpets for one whole year! (At this suggestion, the police excitedly start nudging each other.)

Reid: Please sign here then, Chief. (She hands him the notebook and a pen.)

Wickfield: What’s this?

Reid: It’s a copy of the agreement we just made. Please sign here.

Wickfield: Oh, all right then! (He signs.)

Thornton: Note that we agree to share all information amongst ourselves.

Wickfield: I didn’t agree to that!

Thornton: Wickfield, you’ve got to learn to read the fine print, man. (Reasoning with him) It’s only fair that we

start on the same footing.

Dorrit: You just want to take advantage of all the work we’ve done so far.

O’Doyle: I suppose you expect us to share our evidence with you as well.

Reid: (Innocent.) You mean evidence such as that ―big shoe‖ you discovered earlier?

O’Doyle: (Embarrassed) Never mind!

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Wickfield: All right, officers, let’s stop quibbling. We’ve got a case to solve. O’Doyle, why don’t you show

the detective and Miss Reid the clues we have so far? (The three of them approach the empty table.)

Reid: Hmm. . . . looks like you have a lot of clues, Sergeant.

O’Doyle: Oh no! (Looks around, panicked.) They’re gone! Chief, the evidence is gone!

Wickfield: What do you mean, it’s gone?

O’Doyle: I left it all here, on the table—and now it’s . . . . vanished!

Thornton: Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Wickfield: (Frustrated, but still trying to look impressive, he charges ahead to the next step) Officers Black, O’Doyle…

you two go and collect Miss Rochester, Mr. Larson, the Brighthams and Baji for questioning. And then search the

hotel for the missing evidence. Obviously, someone does not want us to examine these very important clues any

more than we already have. (Black and O’Doyle scurry away. Wickfield shakes his head and turns to Dorrit and says under

his breath.) Unbelievable! We’ve barely begun the case, and we’ve already lost the evidence. (In a normal voice to

the others, grudgingly--) I suppose we should conduct the interviews together?

Thorton: (Mutters to Reid.) Is it any wonder Mr. Fairfax decided to hire a professional? (Wickfield glowers at him.

Thornton takes out a mirror and curls his mustache.)

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Reid: Chief Wickfield, we certainly do want to participate in those interviews. And, in the meantime, I’ll need

a copy of the guest register and staff list. In addition, I’ll require copies of the testimonies you have already

procured as well as any fingerprints you have lifted from items in this room.

Wickfield: Indeed? (Smirks at THORNTON, who is still grooming himself and says to the audience--) There might be

some question about who the professional actually is around here! (Baji enters and shyly stands behind the front desk.

Wickfield approaches her.) Baji (Baji jumps), I trust you’ve recovered somewhat from your shock and are able to

speak with us now? (Baji nods uncertainly) I understand that you were the first one to find Mrs. Fairfax after the

robbery. (Baji nods.) Mr. Fairfax recalls that you were sleeping at the front desk when he left his wife in the

lobby to search for a missing pocket watch. (Baji nods.) According to his testimony, you were the only one in the

room with Mrs. Fairfax both before and after Mr. Fairfax left the lobby. You must understand this doesn’t look

good for you.

Baji: (Looks down at her clothes.) What? You no like it? But my mother give it to me for my birthday. (Wickfield

looks confused, then shakes his head, and they continue to mime a discussion at the front desk. Audrey Rochester enters and

hesitates for a minute. Serious thunder and lightning.)

Reid: (Approaches) You must be Miss Rochester.

Audrey: Who are you?

Reid: I’m Detective Thornton’s personal assistant. I need to ask you a few questions about your whereabouts at

11:00 last night. (They sit on the couch.)

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Audrey: I was in bed, sleeping, of course. I need my beauty sleep. But I woke up when I heard the commotion

in the lobby. The maids were running around screaming, ―Mrs. Fairfax is dead!‖ I thought maybe I was still

dreaming, but of course later Beth told me the whole story.

Reid: Hmm, I see. Audrey, I understand you had a previous connection to the Fairfax’s.

Audrey: Oh, don’t beat around the bush. You’ve obviously heard that I was once engaged to Eddie – Edward.

Let me guess- the maids told you. So, yes, I had a connection to Mr. Fairfax, but not to the Fairfax’s. I never met

Blanche, and, of course, I never wanted to.

Reid: Sounds like a bit of resentment there.

Audrey: Of course I was resentful when he threw me over. Wouldn’t you be? But that was ten years ago!

There are other fish in the sea.

Reid: How do you explain the fact that you ended up at the same hotel from all the way across the ocean? I

mean, Shady Acres is barely a pinpoint on the map.

Audrey: (Laughs loudly) Can you believe it? It’s a small world—after all. (Laughs again) But it was no more than

a coincidence. A mere coincidence. I’m on vacation from my secretarial position and I happened to like little out

of the way places. I think you should be asking what possessed Edward to drag his stuck-up wife here. She’s

acting bored to tears. I wouldn’t be surprised if she staged the whole robbery herself to create a little

excitement!

Reid: (Writing in a notebook.) I’ll be sure to tell her you suggested it.

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Audrey: (Impatient.) Look, if you really want to be helpful and do some good in the world, you could help me

find my diamond ring. It’s been missing since this morning. (Reid and Audrey continue to mime their conversation.

Wickfield ends his questioning of Baji. Baji exits and Wickfield writes notes at the front desk. Stanley walks in and Officer

Thea Dorrit approaches him.)

Dorrit: Mr. Larson, Lieutenant Thea Dorrit. I need to ask you –

Stanley: (Interrupting.) Say no more, dear lady. I know why I’m here. Ask away.

Dorrit: (Taken aback by his flirtatious manner) All right . . . where were you around 11:00 last night?

Stanley: I was in my room, reading Shakespeare’s sonnets and smoking my pipe.

Dorrit: You don’t sleep early, then?

Stanley: Not usually, no.

Dorrit: I understand from the hotel’s owner that you are a regular guest here. In fact, you seem to have taken

up permanent residence.

Stanley: (Laughs) Well, I wouldn’t call a few weeks permanent, but one never knows! Yes, I do rather like it

here. It’s a quaint little place, and the help is quite charming . . . and helpful, of course, as help goes.

Dorrit: Having stayed at Shady Acres several weeks, you’d be very familiar with the hotel’s routines and all the

ins and outs of things, wouldn’t you?

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Stanley: What are you suggesting, Lieutenant – that my intimate knowledge of the hotel’s inner workings

(Greta enters with a cup of tea and pauses to smile pleadingly at Stanley) and its staff (winks at Greta who goes weak in the

knees) makes me a likely candidate for theft? (Greta approaches, and offers Stanley the tea—Dorrit takes it. Greta

leaves.)

Dorrit: (Sips tea) I understand that you are in a bit of a financial bind right now, Mr. Larson. Mr. Clifford

claims that you cannot pay your hotel bill.

Stanley: I’m waiting for an advance from my brother . . . or for a rich . . . and intelligent (winks) wife.. (Dorrit

looks offended; they continue their conversation in mime as the Brighthams saunter in.)

Thornton: (Beckons the couple) Albert and Ingrid Brightham, I presume. I’m Detective Thornton. How do you

do? (He shakes their hands with enthusiasm.) Are you enjoying your stay at the hotel?

Ingrid: Oh yes, Detective. How nice of you to ask. Albert, wasn’t it nice of him to ask about our stay at the

hotel?

Albert: (Gazing around the lobby.) Eh? Oh, sorry, dear. I was just noticing how lovely that painting is over

there. Did you notice that painting, Ingrid? It may be an original Matisse!

Ingrid: (She looks at the painting, and they both become distracted.) Why, yes, that is a splendid painting. I can’t

imagine it’s the real McCoy . . . but the color would go nicely in our flat. I wonder. . .

Thornton: (Clears his throat to regain their attention.) Mr. and Mrs. Brightham, I pride myself in being an

excellent judge of paintings, and that is NOT a Matisse, but it is splendid. The color would go well in anyone’s

flat. I also pride myself on being an excellent judge of character. (Lowers his voice). And between you and me, you

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are the least likely suspects in the entire hotel. But we must go through the motions of questioning everybody.

(Raises his voice). So, where were you last night at 11:00 p.m?

Albert: We went to bed at 8:00 last night, as usual, Detective.

Thornton: (Rushed) Ah, well, that’s a splendid practice and a splendid answer. Good enough for me. Thanks

again for your time. (Directs them out, then speaks to Wickfield.) Chief, shall I gather the rest for interviewing?

(Wickfield nods. Thornton exits. Stanley and Thea Dorrit finish their conversation and Dorrit writes in her notebook while

Stanley walks over to Audrey and offers her his arm. The two exit.)

Wickfield: (Takes Dorrit aside, out of Emma Reid’s earshot.) That Thornton is such a fake! Did you notice he spent

less than a minute questioning the older couple? And he harasses me about my professional techniques!

(Beth, Greta, and Lavinia enter)

Beth: I’m Beth Morgan, Officer. This is Lavinia Crawford, and this is Greta Whyte.

Dorrit: Miss Morgan, Miss Crawford,, Miss Whyte, why don’t you come and chat with Miss Reid and me. We

have a few questions for you about last night’s events. But let’s just get to know each other first a bit, shall we?

First of all, do you like working here? (The maids look nervously around and don’t answer) Are you paid well? (The

maids glance at each other.)

Lavinia: Well enough, I suppose. We get tips from the customers . . . and from the cushions.

Beth: (Nudges Lavinia and tries to sound more professional) Ah-hem. The hotel has undergone some financial

difficulties recently. The Clifford’s haven’t been able to give us any raises in a couple of years, ma’am.

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Lavinia: (Excitedly butts in) That’s why Mrs. Clifford started her advertising campaign to promote Shady Acres.

She started writing to wealthy and famous people—

Greta: --personally inviting them to stay here at the hotel. That’s why the Fairfax’s are here.

Beth: She’s even invited the Beatles! I’m hoping they come when they’re on their Welsh tour next week.

(All the maids sigh and look hopeful)

(This conversation continues in mime. Thornton enters with Delia, Chef Heimlich the chef’s assistant. Wickfield approaches

them.)

Wickfield: Thornton, let’s interview these three together.

Thornton: Work together? Well, that’s quite amiable of you, Wickfield!

Wickfield: It has nothing to do with being amiable, Thornton. I’ve seen your interviewing skills. (Snorts) Miss

Benson, Chef Heimlich—Heimlich, do you have a last name?

Heimlich: Nein.

Thornton: (Takes over) Curious! Heimlich Nein. Miss Benson, Mrs. Fairfax claims that you brought her some tea

last night and that’s the last thing she remembers. We believe that someone slipped a strong sedative into that

tea.

Delia: (Nervously looks at Heimlich.) Sir, by making that tea for Mrs. Fairfax, I was only following Heimlich’s

instructions.

Heimlich: I didn’t instruct you to make tea for that woman! Why would I do that? She refused to eat any of my

food!

Thornton and Wickfield: (confused by accent) I beg your pardon?

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Assistant: I did not instruct you to make tea for that woman! Why would I do that? She refused to eat any of

my food! (Assistant repeats Chef’s lines slowly with exaggerated enunciation and gestures)

Delia: You left out the teacup and the tea leaves with a note instructing me to prepare tea and bring it to Mrs.

Fairfax when she arrived back from dinner. Your note said it was intended as a peace offering.

Heimlich: Peace offering! Ha! The only peace I would offer that woman is a piece of my mind!

Thornton and Wickfield: (confused by accent) Again?

Assistant: Peace offering! Ha! The only peace I would offer that woman is a piece of my mind! (Assistant repeats

Chef’s lines slowly with exaggerated enunciation)

Thornton: (Whispers to Wickfield.) He sounds guilty to me—obvious contempt for the victim! And that accent—

it’s a cover-up!

Wickfield: (Disregards Thornton.) So, Heimlich, you deny writing that note?

Heimlich: Strongly deny it!

(Assistant begins to repeat Chef’s lines but Wickfield and Thornton shush her and turn to the maid)

Wickfield: Miss Benson, do you remember what happened to that note?

Delia: (near tears) I might have thrown it away—or it could still be in the kitchen.

Thornton: Well, Miss Benson, I think you’d better come up with that note. Things don’t look too good for you

when you make such flimsy excuses. (Delia bursts into tears)

Wickfield: All right, all right, Miss Benson. Don’t be alarmed. I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this. Thanks

to you all for your cooperation. (Delia, assistant, and Heimlich start to exit.) Dorrit, are you finished there? (Dorrit

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nods and indicates for Beth, Greta, and Lavinia to go comfort Delia and all hotel staff exit together.) Miss Reid, you have

the guest and staff lists there. Have we questioned everybody now?

Reid: All but one guest, who has just signed her name with an X.

Wickfield: Dorrit, go and see if you can find this mysterious X character. (Dorrit exits. Black and O’Doyle enter,

each gripping one of the Brighthams who are holding their many suitcases and wearing huge overcoats.)

O’Doyle: Chief, we caught these two sneaking out the back door.

Black: We also found our missing evidence—and more. Look! (O’Doyle opens the suitcases to expose stolen items

from the hotel, while Black pulls stolen items from the Brighthams’ pockets: the missing evidence, silverware, champagne

glasses, shower curtain, bars of soap, shampoo, toothpicks, towels, toilet paper, a toilet seat, a painting. and a bedspread.

Ingrid and Albert are wearing the bathrobes under the overcoats)

Thornton: (Looks shocked.) Mr. and Mrs. Brightham! I am very disappointed in you!

Wickfield: Did you happen to find any diamond necklaces in all that loot?

O’Doyle: (Still going through the cases.) Not yet, but we’re still looking. (Dorrit enters.)

Dorrit: Chief, Baji says she saw Mrs. X leave the hotel about an hour ago.

Wickfield: Great! Just when we find our missing evidence, one of our suspects disappears! What else could

possibly go wrong today?

Heimlich: (Enters with Mr. Clifford, arguing loudly.) I quit! I get no appreciation around here! Mrs. Fairfax keeps

complaining about my food, sending it back with instructions, insulting me! That’s it, I’m through! Kaput!

Assistant: He quits . . . Kaput.

Mr. Clifford: Heimlich, you can’t quit now! Where am I going to find a cook on such short notice?

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Heimlich: I’ve taken care of that.

Mr. Clifford: Eh?

Baji: (Enters left wearing an apron, carrying a try of burnt food.) Everybody, lunch ready! (From stage right the English

Tea Garden tour Group enters, wearing raincoats and carrying umbrellas. Thunder.)

Cathy: (Sings.) We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine! (The others repeat

unenthusiastically—Miranda and Elizabeth have a crowns of flowers on their heads and are the only one smiling. Elizabeth

sings the verse “And our friends are all on board, many more of them live next door” and motions for the group to sing the

refrain one more time.)

Mrs. Rogers: Anything exciting happen while we were away? (Curtains close. During the scene break, set up for the

next entrances.)

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ACT ONE

Scene Four

(Spotlight up: Wickfield is alone in front of the curtain, pacing nervously and wringing his hands. He’s obviously distraught.)

Wickfield: What a day! First, we find evidence; then we lose it. Then, thorn-in-the-flesh Thornton arrives and

gets in our way. We question suspects and they all seem to have some kind of motive. Then we lose a suspect . .

. and Mrs. X is still missing. That nice elderly couple turns out to be a pair of petty thieves. The cook quits. And

finally, a singing tour group arrives to complicate matters.

Dorrit: (Enters down right.) Hey, Chief, are you coming to join us at the pub to discuss the case? We want to

figure this one out before that meddling Thornton does!

Wickfield: I’ll be there in a minute. (Dorrit exit. Wickfield acts as if he’s about to leave when he seems to notice the

audience for the first time. He steps to the edge of the stage and starts talking to the audience.) Hey, you—yes, you in the

audience! Maybe you can help us out. You’ve witnessed everything that’s happened here. Why don’t you try to

figure out who stole the diamond necklace? Can you determine the thief’s motive? Please pick up an Informant

Tip Sheet from one of the ushers, fill it out, and return it before the intermission is over. That would be a

tremendous help to us, I assure you! I’m off to join my staff at the Raining Rooster Pub where we’ll mull over this

case ourselves. I’ll check in with you after a bit. (He exits. Blackout.)

Intermission

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Act TWO

Scene One

Spotlight up: Wickfield enters right in front of the curtain, which is still drawn.

Wickfield: (Addresses audience.) So, did you get it figured out? (Removes notebook and pen from his

pocket as he speaks.) We‘ve been looking at it from every which way, and I must say there do seem to

be a number of possible scenarios. Right now, my staff is looking over your Informant Tip Sheets.

(Picks out a particular audience member and indicates, ―You, sir, in the red shirt there in the front

row,‖ or some such identifying comment.) Did you see who took the necklace? (Asks audience

members, repeating their answers aloud for all to hear, until he has gleaned the information that only

the white gloves were visible. Continues to interrogate the audience, singling out particular people for

each question.) Could you tell if it was a man‘s or a woman‘s hands? Were the arms hairy? Were the

hands delicate or big and beefy? Were the gloves tidy and pressed or were they dirty and crumpled?

(Finally, seeing that he is not getting anywhere with the limited physical information, he turns to

questions about character and motive. He continues to select audience members for each question,

pausing to hear their responses and repeating the gist of them if the whole audience cannot hear.) What

do you think or Mr. Larson? Does he seem a bit of a freeloader to you? And Mr. Fairfax? Do you buy

his story about the pocket watch? The ex-fiancée, Audrey Rochester—well, that‘s quite a coincidence,

her happening to be here right when Edward Fairfax shows up, eh? Does this trouble you? The older

couple, the Brighthams, Thornton gave them the kid glove treatment but did you see the cargo space in

their trench coats? Those two could load up a warehouse from their pockets! (He goes on like this for a

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few minutes, keeping the pace moving along briskly. The entire chat with the audience should be kept

to a maximum of ten minutes, with it being wrapped up more quickly if the audience response is

lukewarm.[See also production notes for more on this scene.) At the end, Wickfield finishes by

thanking the audience and might ad lib some comments about particular responses such as: ―Thanks

especially to this young woman over here for her insightful comments. We‘ll follow up that lead on

Mrs. X right away.‖ After thanking the audience, Wickfield exits. There is a brief pause, and then

Thornton peeks his head out from offstage right. He looks around to be sure Wickfield is gone and

then enters.)

Thornton: (Addresses audience directly, in an exaggeratedly friendly tone.) Hello, there. I couldn‘t help

but overhear that you were sharing some information with my, er, good friend, Chief Wickfield. That

was so good of you to help out. I wonder, if it‘s not too much trouble, if you could just spare me a

moment of your time so that I, too, could, er, pick your collective brain, as it were. (He suddenly drops

the saccharine tone and speaks more quickly, getting down to business.) So, then, what about the tour

bus group? Don‘t you think it‘s a bit too convenient that the bus just happened to break down and the

whole group gets this neat and tidy alibi? (Before the audience has a chance to answer, Emma Reid

enters briskly, ignoring the audience, and speaks to Thornton.)

Emma Reid: Detective, Thornton, what are you doing?

Thornton: (Starts when he hears her voice.) Oh, Emma! Here you are! I was just, er, just . . . (He

gestures ineffectually toward the audience.)

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Emma Reid: Wasting time? Pursuing false leads? Developing ridiculous theories?

Thornton: Well, I wouldn‘t really say that, I—

Emma Reid: (Interrupts) Come along, now. We‘ve got a case to solve. Unless you‘d rather that I just

complete the investigation myself? I certainly seem to do all the work around here. I‘m beginning to

think this agency should be called the Emma Reid Agency. I do rather like the ring of that. (She exits

right, not waiting for Thornton.)

Thornton: (Calls after her.) Emma! Emma, wait! (He looks at the audience sheepishly, shrugs.) Sorry

about that. I‘d better see if I can patch things up, then. Right, off I go. (He trots off right after Emma

Reid, calling as he goes.) Emma, come now, let‘s talk about it!

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ACT TWO

Scene Two

Hotel lobby. Saturday evening. Storm Sounds.

At rise: The English Tea Gardens Tour Group is recovering from the news of the recent theft . . . and

from the dinner Baji prepared.

Myrna: Imagine! Someone at this hotel, stealing a valuable necklace—Miranda & Elizabeth, don‘t climb

on the furniture. (Grabs at them as Miranda tumbles over the back of the couch. We hear a thud.)

That‘ll teach you!

Lois: It‘s disturbing to think that the thief is still here among us.

Geoffrey: The police ruled out that old couple—the Brighthams—when they didn‘t find the necklace

among all the other stolen items. (Miranda appears from behind the couch rubbing her head.)

Cathy: At least we weren‘t here when it happened. Otherwise we would have been under suspicion, too.

Patricia: (Nudges Frederica Frumpet.) See, Frederica, there‘s another good reason for going on that

tour—we missed out on being questioned by those detectives.

Frederica: At least it would have been more interesting then the singing on the bus, peering out through

the rain at peonies that looked like tattered flannel handkerchiefs! I say a little excitement might have

been refreshing. Anyway, perhaps with my observational skills, we might have nabbed the thief

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ourselves.

Mrs. Rogers: Come on, Miss Frumpet, our tour wasn‘t all that bad. You have to admit, the sleepover

was very bonding. Although I can‘t say the little bags of cocktail peanuts and the ginger beer made a

very good dinner last night.

Cathy: Speaking of meals—remind me to eat elsewhere until Henry hires a new chef. The lamb stew

was simply awful!

Baji: (Enters left wearing a complete chef‘s outfit, carrying a tray of desserts.) Everybody left dining

room before eating dessert. I bring to you here! (One by one each person mutters some excuse for

leaving or being full and exits up center, leaving Baji alone. Dejectedly, she sits on the couch.) Nobody

like my cooking. (She sniffs.)

Blanche: (Enters with Edward.) Edward, I want to leave this dreary hotel!

Edward: Blanche, dear, how many times do I have to explain to you that we‘ve got to stay here until

Detective Thornton is able to solve the case for us?

Blanche: Stay here? So the thief can steal something else?

Edward: I promise that when this is all over, I‘ll take you anywhere you want to go.

Blanche: (Glares at Baji.) In the meantime, I‘ll probably die of food poisoning. (Baji exits quickly. We

hear a crash and Mr. Clifford‘s voice off before he enters.)

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Mrs. Clifford‘s Voice: (Offstage) Baji, watch where you‘re going! (Mr. & Mrs. Clifford enter)

Mrs. Clifford: Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax, here you are. It‘s been such a hectic day, with the police and all—

I‘ve hardly had a chance to see how you are doing. Please, consider the rest of your stay here as ―on the

house.‖

Blanche: (Sarcastically) What a bargain!

Edward: That‘s very kind of you, thank you. (Nervously) Blanche needs a bit of fresh air so we‘re going

out for an evening stroll. Come along, dear. (They exit right as Mrs. X enters right.)

Mr. Clifford: Mrs. X—you‘re back. Where did you disappear to?

Mrs. Clifford: The police and that detective were looking all over for you.

Mrs. X: I didn‘t want to get involved.

Mrs. Clifford: We‘re all involved.

Mr. Clifford: It looked mighty suspicious when you left right when it came your turn to be questioned.

Mrs. X: (Mysteriously) All will be revealed in good time. (She pulls out a newspaper with the headline

on the front, ―Notorious Arsonist Still on the Loose.‖ She begins reading on the couch. Mr. Clifford

shakes his head and then begins to work behind the front desk.)

Thornton: (Enters) Mr. Clifford, sir! Go and gather up all of the guests and your staff. I‘ve solved the

case!

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Mr. Clifford: You have?

Mrs. Clifford: Where is your assistant, Miss Reid?

Thornton: Oh, she and I had a little disagreement about who was the theif, so she quit. She‘s decided

to start up her own detective agency. (Aside, snickers in a superior way) Without me, she‘ll never

survive.

Mr. Clifford: I see. (Sighs) I‘ll go and collect our guests and our staff. I guess we don‘t need to ask those

guests from the garden tour to join us? Unless you‘ve implicated on of them in the theft?

Thornton: Don‘t be ridiculous! What do you take me for—a fool? (Mr. Clifford rings the bell several

times to summon the staff, then exits up center. Thornton addresses Mrs. X.) Where did you disappear

to this afternoon?

Mrs. X: That‘s my business!

Thornton: Well, I could make it mine. You didn‘t show up for questioning this afternoon. Perhaps my

thief had an accomplice. Hmm . . . now that would be interesting! (Mr. Clifford enters with Stanley and

Audrey. The Fairfaxes wander in with the maids) Gather round, everyone, and listen to the genius of

Philip Thornton as he explains the mystery of the stolen necklace.

Edward: Right on. Thank you, good fellow! I knew you could do it!

Thornton: Think nothing of it. It was easy! (He winks at the audience; then speaks to the group.) Just so

you know, the police and I struck a deal this morning to see who could solve this case first. As you will

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testify to them later, I was the first here to explain the solution to you. Therefore I win the contest! I

have brochures and posters that advertise my agency, if in the future any of you find you need my

expertise and—

Mrs. Clifford: (Interrupting.) Thornton, just get on with it. We‘re all anxious to hear what you‘ve found.

Thornton: All right, it was . . . Baji! (He points to a very shocked Baji. All gasp.)

Baji: Me?

Thornton: Don‘t act so surprised, Baji. It‘s always the bellhop who‘s guilty. Or is that the butler?

Besides, hasn‘t it struck you people as suspicious that Baji is clearly a native the Zambeze Valley, and

yet she is working in a British hotel in the middle of nowhere? Baji is the mastermind behind the

terrible plot to steal Mrs. Fairfax‘s precious necklace.

Mr. Clifford: I‘d like to know how she did it.

Thornton: I‘m getting to that. According to your testimonies, you were all asleep at 11:00, but Baji

admitted that she was on late shift at the front desk. She was the only one in the room with Mrs. Fairfax

the whole time. There are six witnesses who have testified to this—Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax as well as the

very forthcoming maids. I submit that she only pretended she was asleep, waiting for Mrs. Fairfax to

drink the tea that she had laced with a sedative. Then she crept behind the couch and stole the

diamond necklace!

Blanche: I knew it all along! Sneaky little bellhop! (Baji cowers as Blanche points to her.) Did you find

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my necklace in her belongings, Detective?

Thornton: No . . . not yet. But . . . (He grabs Baji by the arm.) I‘m sure that she will now reveal its

whereabouts. Come along, Baji. (They exit.)

Audrey: Well, I‘m glad that‘s over.

Stanley: Me too. Imagine the little bellhop girl being a crook! What a bummer. And yet the local fuzz

just couldn‘t figure it out. (Shakes head)

Greta: (As Greta speaks, Wickfield enters right followed by Dorrit, O‘Doyle and Black.) I don‘t

believe it! I‘ve worked with her for three years. Baji would never do such a thing.

Black: I agree with you, Miss Whyte.

Greta: Thank you, Officer Black.

Wickfield: Baji isn‘t guilty! As usual, Thornton has the facts all upside down. It was a tough case to

solve, but we finally cracked it.

O‘Doyle: We were able to narrow down our list of suspects once we searched the Brighthams. We

realized that, while they had stolen just about everything else in the hotel, they hadn‘t stolen Mrs.

Fairfax‘s necklace.

Black: We retrieved our missing evidence and recommended that Albert and Ingrid get some

treatment for their compulsive thievery.

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Dorrit: Next, we examined the testimonials we had taken for any possible motives. Initially we looked at

financial need as a motive.

Wickfield: This motive pointed to the Clifford‘s because of their struggling hotel business and also to

Stanley Larson for his debt problem. Finances might also have been a motive for any of the hotel staff

as well, who have been poorly paid for several years.

O‘Doyle: But then we looked to other possible motives for this crime. Motives such as jealousy and

resentment, for example. This led us to examine a coincidence that was just too unusual to ignore—

Black: --the coincidence that Audrey Rochester and Edward Fairfax, formerly engaged and both from

the United States, would end up in the same remote hotel in England.

Dorrit: One more piece of evidence—a lady‘s diamond engagement ring—also led us to our final

conclusion.

Wickfield: Audrey Rochester, you are our thief!

Audrey: What? You haven‘t proven anything!

Wickfield: Confess, Audrey! Haven‘t you carried resentment towards Blanche ever since Edward

broke off your engagement ten years ago? Your bitterness grew over the years and you finally decided

to exact your revenge upon the Fairfaxes.

O‘Doyle: Audrey, there‘s no getting out of it. We found your engagement ring from Edward—the one

you always wear on a little chain around your neck—behind the couch. You probably didn‘t realize it

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was missing until the next morning. By then it was too late!

Black: It was very careless of you to show off that ring to the maids.

Edward: (Touched) Audrey, is this true—you still keep the ring I gave you? (Then suddenly realizes

with shock what she has done) Audrey—no, can it be true? You stole my wife‘s necklace?

Audrey: (Recklessly, when she recongnizes that she is caught) Yes, Eddie, it‘s true! Eddie, I am the

one who deserves the life Blanche lives now—the wealth, the fame, the travel, you! She took all that

away from me!

Edward: I can‘t believe it! Audrey, how could you?

Wickfield: And yet, she did. O‘Doyle, take her down to the station. Officer Black, go and search Miss

Rochester‘s room for the necklace. (O‘Doyle handcuffs Audrey and escorts her off. Black exits.)

There‘s only one thing we can‘t figure out and it‘s bothering me. There remains the question of the

monogrammed handkerchief with the initials S. A. on it. Who does it belong to?

Mrs. X: (Comes out from her hiding spot behind her newspaper.) I can answer that!

Wickfield: Ah, the mysterious Mrs. X. So, you‘ve come out of hiding, have you?

Dorrit: Maybe she‘s ―S.A.,‖ Chief!

Mrs. X: No, I‘m not S.A., but I‘ll tell you who is: Stanley Larson, or should I say Stanley L. Arson?

(Holds up her newspaper for all to see.) England‘s most notorious arsonist! He‘s set 587 fires across the

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country . . . and Shady Acres was to be the 588th

! (All gasp; Greta swoons)

Stanley: That‘s absurd!

Wickfield: Excuse me, ma‘am, but I think you‘d better explain who you are before you start handing

out accusations.

Mrs. X: I‘m Secret Agent X. I‘ve been following the activities of Mr. Arson here for several months. I

finally have enough evidence to put him away for a very long time!

Stanley: (Yawns.) You have a handkerchief with some initials on it, Mrs. X. You can‘t possibly

incriminate someone with that. Besides, have there been any fires since I‘ve been here, Mr. Clifford?

(Maids start whispering; audience hears ―broom closet‖)

Mr. Clifford: (nervously.) Well, only a few . . . kitchen fires, mostly; especially since Baji started

cooking (tries to laugh, looks around at others imploringly)

Mrs. X: Mrs. Clifford, if all had gone according to plan, there would have been more than a few

kitchen fires, now wouldn‘t there have been?

Mrs. Clifford: I‘m sure I don‘t know what you mean.

Wickfield: Mrs. X, stop stalling and explain your story.

Mrs. X: Chief Wickfield, can you state again Mr. & Mrs. Clifford‘s and Stanley Arson‘s possible

motives for stealing Mrs. Fairfax‘s diamond necklace.

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Wickfield: Ah-hem. During our investigation, it became apparent that the Clifford‘s hotel business was

under financial strain. And as for Mr. Larson—Arson, I mean—well, he was apparently in debt and

couldn‘t pay his hotel bill.

Mrs. X: Didn‘t it strike you as a bit odd that the Cliffords simply allowed Mr. Arson to stay at their

hotel, without requiring a cent from him, especially since they needed the money?

Wickfield: Well, yes, that did cross my mind.

Mrs. X: All right then. As you have stated, the Clifford‘s hotel business was going poorly. The maids

have told us they decided to invite famous and wealthy people to the hotel in hopes that this would

bring more business. When this didn‘t work, Mrs. Clifford hired Stanley Arson to set fire to the hotel

so she and her dear compliant husband could collect the insurance money and relieve themselves of a

struggling business.

Edward: But, look here. They didn‘t need to do all that! The advertising campaign did work. Blanche

and I are here, aren‘t we?

Mrs. X: Ah, yes, but they hadn‘t counted on that! No one responded for a very long time, so they gave

up on Plan A and moved to Plan B, or maybe we could say, Plan F. You threw a wrench in it. They

had already hired Stanley and then you showed up! They just had to wait out your stay—they couldn‘t

very well burn the hotel down while you were here, now, could they?

Edward: Well, certainly not. Decent of them to think of that.

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Wickfield: Well, it looks like we‘re going to have a full house down at the police station and tea and

crumpets to feed them all with compliments of Thornton. Dorrit, arrest the Cliffords. Mrs. X, I‘ll let

you handle Arson.

(Dorrit and Mrs. X exit with the Clifford and Stanley. Thornton and Baji enter)

Thornton: Baji! If you don‘t produce that necklace, I‘ll wring your neck!

Baji: I tell you, Detective, I no have necklace. I no come from Zambeze Valley.

Black: (Enters with necklace) Voilà, Madame! (She hands the necklace to Blanche Fairfax)

Blanche: Thank you. I was beginning to think I‘d never see it again.

Thornton: There, I told you we‘d find it, dear lady! Where did Baji stash it, Officer?

Black: It was stashed, Thornton, in the suitcase of the real thief: Miss Audrey Rochester. She was all

packed to leave the country.

Thornton: Miss Rochester‘s suitcase! What?

Edward: Thornton, you‘re a washout. I‘m giving your reward to the police department for their fine

work. They can purchase a year‘s worth of trifle to go with your tea and crumpets.

Thornton: No! What? Wickfield? I solved the case! Are your sure Baji wasn‘t involved? Perhaps she

was working with Miss Rochester!

Wickfield: Thornton, don‘t you realize when you‘ve lost? Give it up, man. Join us down at the station

and let bygones be bygones. We have a lot of work this evening, and you may as well share the

crumpets you‘re buying. By the way, we expect these delivered fresh daily.

Thornton: That‘s not in the contract!

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Wickfield: You‘ve got to learn to read the fine print, old fellow.

(Wickfield and Thornton exit arguing)

Edward: (Shaking Black‘s hand) Officer Black, thank you—I speak for my wife, too, when I say that

you have done a fine, fine job restoring our necklace. I know that you do not expect any reward—

Black: --No, we were just doing our job, sir.

Blanche: Edward, perhaps we could replace the police cars with American Ford convertibles?

Edward: That‘s a fine idea, Blanche!

Black: (Smiling to herself) Well, ‗er, thank you Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax. Patrolling the roads will be much

more entertaining now! I shall go inform Wickfield of your generous offer.

(Black exits)

Edward: Blanche, shall we go collect our limo? (Peeks out the window) Well, finally! It‘s stopped

raining. Blanche, we can put the top down on the limo! The sun‘s out; we‘ll have a lovely drive in the

countryside while we look for another place to stay for the weekend. (Blanche picks up her purse and

sweeps off the stage. Before leaving, Edward turns to the maids.)

Edward: I say, girls, you are out of luck now! What will you do? Where will you go?

Delia: I‘m sure I don‘t know, sir!

Lavinia: (Looks like she‘s about to cry) There‘s nowhere else to work around here. Oh, my poor old

mother!

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Edward: We can always use good help around our mansion. I . . .I‘m sure Blanche would be . . .

thrilled to have real English maids serving tea to our important and wealthy guests. Sort of a souvenir of

our trip to England.

(The maids look appalled and helpless. Just then the Beatles enter the lobby, striding Abby Lane

fashion. The maids almost fall over in shock and back off. John Lennon goes to the front desk and

starts hitting the bell.)

John: I say, can we have some service here?

(Greta and Beth quickly run up behind the desk)

Greta: Oh, HELLO! Um, the owner is, um, tied up right now. (Brightly) But I‘m sure we can help you

with anything you need! (Baji bounds in with chef‘s hat on and shakes all the Beatles‘ hands)

Ringo: (Approaches desk, pulls out letter) Do you mean Mrs. Clifford? I have an offer here from her to

stay her for free during our Welsh tour.

Beth: (To the audience, almost hysterical) I knew it! I knew it! I knew they would come!

Greta: (Shushing Beth) Well, lads, I‘m sure that will be just fine! Let us show you around. And, by the

way, the hotel is closing after you leave—do you boys need maid service on the tour? (The maids each

take a Beatle by the arm and walk off. ―Here Comes the Sun‖ plays for a moment than fades.

Frederica enters)

Frederica: Hey, where is everyone? You can‘t ever get any decent service in this hotel.

(Curtain closes. ―Here Comes the Sun‖ turns up again. After clapping fades, slowly fade down music;

brief pause then begin intro to Ob-la-di.‖ Curtain call takes place in context of Ob-la-di; maids wear

hippie clothing; characters sent to jail wear jailbird clothing; Officers and Detectives carry teacups;

Albert and Ingrid wear trench coats and open flaps to reveal pockets stuffed with items, Myrna carries a

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sign saying ―I quit‖ and the English tour people carry flowers. Frederica comes on left, arm in arm with

Patricia at the very end and smacks the line of actors off the stage right with her cane. . . . )

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