Clue Page #2

19 -- EXT. HILL HOUSE--FRONT--DRIVEWAY -- 19

The man and woman exit their car and run for the front door.

The man shields the woman from the now heavy rain.

MAN:

What a godforsaken place!

He squeezes one of the woman's buttocks.

She shakes his hand off, looking disgusted.

The door opens, revealing Wadsworth.

WADSWORTH:

Professor Plum! And Miss Scarlet. I didn't realize you were acquainted.

SCARLET:

(glancing at Plum)

We weren't.

They enter.

20 -- INT. GROUND FLOOR--LIBRARY -- 20

The doors open to reveal Prof. Plum and Miss Scarlet.

WADSWORTH:

May I present Professor Plum . . . and Miss Scarlet.

Nods all around.

Plum and Scarlet receive wine glasses from Yvette, whom Plum eyes.

Prof. Plum clinks glasses with Miss Scarlet, who looks annoyed.

WADSWORTH:

Of course, since you've each been addressed by a pseudonym,

you'll have realized that nobody here is being addressed by their real name.

The guests glance around suspiciously.

21 -- INT. GROUND FLOOR--THE HALL -- 21

Mrs. Ho bangs a bong once, fiercely.

22 -- INT. LIBRARY -- 22

The gong is heard a second time.

Mr. Green jumps at the sound, dumping his champagne on Mr. Peacock.

WADSWORTH:

(calmly, as always)

Ah. Dinner.

GREEN:

(hands Peacock his glass, starts to mop her up as she clucks)

I'm sorry . . . I'm a little accident-prone . . .

23 -- INT. GROUND FLOOR--THE HALL -- 23

The guests cross to the Dining Room.

24 -- INT. GROUND FLOOR--DINING ROOM -- 24

The dining room is elegant, in similar decor to the Hall, but it is

somewhat more comfortable.

However, the room is still small.

At one end, there is a door and a metal partition, both leading to the kitchen.

The guests file in.

WADSWORTH:

You'll find your names beside your places. Please be seated.

The guests, except for Col. Mustard, find their places and sit.

Wadsworth sets Miss Scarlet's drink on the table, to her pleasure.

MUSTARD:

(indicating the head of the table)

Is this place for you?

WADSWORTH:

Oh, indeed, no, sir. I'm merely a humble butler.

MUSTARD:

And what exactly do you do?

WADSWORTH:

I buttle, sir.

MUSTARD:

Which means what?

WADSWORTH:

The butler is head of the kitchen and dining room.

I keep everything . . . tidy. That's all.

Col. Mustard attempts to continue but is interrupted by Mrs. Peacock.

PEACOCK:

Well, what's all this about, butler; this dinner party?

WADSWORTH:

"Ours is not to reason why . . . Ours is but to do and die"

PLUM:

"Die"?

WADSWORTH:

(smiling)

Merely quoting, sir, from Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

MUSTARD:

(now seated next to Miss Scarlet)

Hm. I prefer Kipling, myself.

"The female of the species is more deadly than the male."

(to Scarlet)

You like Kipling, Miss Scarlet?

SCARLET:

Sure, I'll eat anything.

Yvette enters carrying a tray.

YVETTE:

(to Peacock)

Sharks' Fin Soup, Madame.

MUSTARD:

(again indicating head)

So is this for our host?

WADSWORTH:

No, sir. For the seventh guest, Mr. Boddy.

WHITE:

I thought Mr. Boddy was our host?

The guests all concur.

WHITE:

So who is our host, Mr. Wadsworth?

Wadsworth chuckles with a closed smile.

PLUM:

Well, I want to start, while it's still hot.

PEACOCK:

Oh, now shouldn't we wait for the other guest?

YVETTE:

I will keep somesing warm for eem.

SCARLET:

What did you have in mind, dear?

Silence.

Prof. Plum slurps soup from his spoon.

Mrs. White disapproves, then does the same.

Mustard, Scarlet, and Green stare at them, spoons poised near mouths.

They do it again.

Silence.

PEACOCK:

(breathlessly)

Well, someone's got to break the ice, and it might as well be me.

I mean, I'm used to being a hostess; it's part of my husband's work,

and it's always difficult when a group of new friends meet together

for the first time to get acquainted, so I'm perfectly prepared to start

the ball rolling . . . I mean, I have absolutely no idea what we're doing

here, or what I'm doing here, or what this place is about, but I am

determined to enjoy myself and I'm very intrigued and oh, my, this

soup's delicious isn't it?

Everyone sits bewildered.

WHITE:

You say you are used to being a hostess as part of your husband's work?

PEACOCK:

Yes, it's an integral part of your life when you are the wife of a. . .

oh, but then I forgot we're not supposed to say who we really are,

though heavens to Betsy, I don't know why.

MUSTARD:

Don't you.

GREEN:

I know who you are.

SCARLET:

Aren't you going to tell us?

PEACOCK:

(removes glasses nervously)

How do you know who I am?

GREEN:

I work in Washington, too.

PLUM:

Oh, so you're a politician's wife.

PEACOCK:

Yes, I-I am.

MUSTARD:

Well, come on, then. Who's your husband?

Suddenly, Wadsworth opens the door from the kitchen.

PEACOCK:

(to Mrs. White)

So, what does your husband do?

WHITE:

(almost cutting her off)

Nothing.

PEACOCK:

Nothing?

WHITE:

Well, he . . . just . . . lies around on his back all day.

SCARLET:

Sounds like hard work to me.

Yvette, in the kitchen, opens the partition suddenly.

The noise coincides with a crash of thunder.

Mr. Green, jumpy as ever, spills his drink again, this time on Miss Scarlet.

GREEN:

I'm . . . sorry. I'm afraid I'm a little accident-prone.

He starts to wipe off her upper chest.

SCARLET:

Ah--watch it.

He stops.

Yvette starts serving food.

YVETTE:

Excuse moi.

The guests start eating.

PEACOCK:

Mmm! This is one of my favorite recipes!

WADSWORTH:

I know, madam.

PEACOCK:

So, what do you do in Washington, D.C., Mr. Green?

No answer.

PEACOCK:

Come on, what do you do? I mean, how are we to get

acquainted if we don't say anything about ourselves?

SCARLET:

(angrily)

Perhaps he doesn't want to get acquainted with you.

PEACOCK:

(bothered)

Well, I'm sure I don't know, but if I wasn't trying to keep the conversation

going, then we would just be sitting here in an embarrassed silence.

PLUM:

Are you afraid of silence, Mrs. Peacock?

PEACOCK:

Yes! What? No, why?

PLUM:

Oh, it just seems to me that you seem to suffer from

what we call pressure of speech.

SCARLET:

"We"? Who's "we"? Are you a shrink?

PLUM:

I do know a little bit about psychological medicine, yes.

WHITE:

Are you a doctor?

PLUM:

I am, but I don't practice.

SCARLET:

Practice makes perfect. Ha. I think most men need a little

practice, don't you, Mrs. Peacock?

Mrs. Peacock shrugs, very uncomfortable.

WHITE:

So what do you do, Professor?

PLUM:

I work for UNO, the United Nations Organization.

MUSTARD:

Another politician. Jesus!

PLUM:

No, I work for a branch of UNO. W.H.O., the World Health Organization.

PEACOCK:

Well, what is your area of special concern?

PLUM:

Family planning.

(to Mustard)

What about you, Colonel? Are you a real colonel?

MUSTARD:

(seriously)

I am, sir.

SCARLET:

You're not going to mention the coincidence that you also live in

Washington, D.C.?

MUSTARD:

How did you know that? Have we met before?

SCARLET:

I've certainly seen you before. Although you may not have seen me.

GREEN:

So, Miss Scarlet, does this mean that you live in Washington, too?

SCARLET:

Sure do.

PEACOCK:

Does anyone here not live in Washington, D.C.?

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