Sleuth Page #5

I learned about explosives for the

Diary of the Dynamited Duchess.

Ready ? Stand by for the countdown.

Five, a-four,

a-three, a-two, a-one,

a-blastoff.

I've got it. I've got it !

What are you shaking it for ?

It's a jewel box, not a maraca.

I thought it might have a secret

catch. It's locked, you see.

Well, smash it open ! Jesus, you

have all the killer instinct...

of a 20-year old seal'yham.

- It's a very pretty box.

It seems such a waste.

Dear God.

Moses looks upon the promised land.

They're fantastic.

- Look at this ruby necklace.

- Never much cared for it myself.

Always thought it made Marguerite

look like a blood sacrifice.

I wish my old man could see these.

He never knew what it was all about,

sitting there every night,

hunched over those watches of his,

squinting his eyesight away, and for what ?

To give me an education at

a second-rate public school.

I suppose he thought he had to,

that he owed it to me...

And the brand-new anglo-saxon

world he'd adopted.

Silly old bugger.

Never thought his son...

would be tucking a fortune

away into his pocket then.

Family reminiscence,

no matter how touching,

is something we just haven't got time

for at the moment, do you mind ?

Now, this is the fun bit,

where the householder,

wrenched from his dreams

by the sound of the explosion,

surprises the burglar, and,

in the ensuing fight,

the house is sacked.

Why is it necessary for you

to surprise me at all ?

Because, if I've seen you at close quarters,

I can always describe you to the Police.

Wrongly.

"Did you get a good look at

the intruder's face, sir ?"

"Yes, Inspector, I did.

I don't know if it was a trick of the

light, but somehow his face seemed...

not wholly human--"

- How much sacking do you want done ?

Oh, a decent bit, I think--

a few chairs upturned,

ornaments put to the sword,

that sort of thing, you know.

Convincing but not carthaginian.

Surely you don't call that convincing.

Milo.

Let literature fly to the four winds !

Let the contents of drawers

be strewn like autumn leaves !

Hey, that's my new manuscript !

Let my secretary sort it out.

- Enough ?

- For a starter.

Now let's see what accident does to

artifice seconds out of the ring.

- What seconds ? What for ?

- The ensuing fight, remember ?

- Hey !

- Well, you're the underdog, aren't you ?

Got the support of the crowd, haven't you ?

What more do you want ?

My wife's gonna have a baby.

Now, listen, don't get het up.

This fight is fixed, remember ?

This is where I take a dive,

and you knock me out cold !

- For real ?

- Naturally.

When the Police come, I have

to show them a real lump.

Yes, I thought you'd like this bit.

You're dead right.

Now, what shall I use ?

Not my opaline, if you don't mind.

There it is !

The original blunt instrument.

- The poker. Right. Now,

where do you want it ?

- Now, steady.

Don't get carried away. It's not a murder

weapon we're talking about, you know.

- No ?

- No ! We're discussing an object...

from which I receive in the classic

formula a glancing blow...

which will raise a lump without

actually cracking the cranium !

Why don't I just keep tapping

you lightly on the head with the

poker until the lump comes up.

Quite frankly, I've rather gone off

the whole thing now. I know !

You can always tie me up and gag me and

leave me to be found by the cleaning woman.

"Lords a' mercy, Mr. Wyke !

Whatever do we be doin' there ?

All trussed up like a turkey !

Mm-mm-mm."

"Oh, God bless ya, sir. You're

tryin' out somethin' for one

of them creepy books of yours."

"I know ! Don't you mind me.

I won't disturb ye.

I'll just be gettin' on with me dustin'."

- Andrew,

If I don't knock you out,

- How have I tied you up ?

- That's a very good question.

Come to think of it, you could

always hold a gun on me.

But we professional burglars don't fancy

firearms much. We are English, after all.

You could always conquer

your anglo-saxon scruples.

Besides, it would be my own revolver that

you'd taken from me during the struggle.

- Is that loaded ?

- Well, of course. What'd be

the use of it otherwise ?

And I think it ought to go off

once or twice as we tussle,

blowing to smithereens the usual

priceless heirlooms, hmm ?

- Why ?

- To lend credence to my story

of your holding it on me...

While you gagged me and

tied me up, all right ?

Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so.

There. Right.

Now, what to sacrifice ?

What about this old codger up here ?

Put that down at once !

That's my Edgar Allan Poe award,

given to me by the Mystery

Writers of America...

for one of Merridew's greatest triumphs,

the Slaying of Jack Spratt.

Ironically enough, for

one who could eat no fat,

he was murdered by an injection

of concentrated cholesterol.

Now,

what do you say to the demolition of

that gaudy old swansea puzzle jug ?

- Puzzle jug ?

- To solve the puzzle,

pour some water out of it.

Very funny.

Marguerite thought it clever, which ought

to tell you something about Marguerite.

Let us expose its shortcoming.

Well, you might have said

"good shot."

You bloody maniac !

You could have killed me !

Tosh ! Not dead-eye Wyke,

The demon gunman of Cloak Manor.

Now, what next ?

Ah ! The last tender memento

of our venetian honeymoon.

I will not resist the temptation.

Shucks, gosh-darn it if I ain't

missed the doggone critter.

- You hit what you were

aiming for, all right.

- Don't be peevish, Milo.

There's nothing like a little

bit of mayhem to cheer one up.

- Did you ever know Charlie Begby ?

- You know damn well I didn't.

He was the very finest

shot I ever did see.

I once saw him bag six ducks with

one shot when he was blind drunk.

Only thing was, they were china ducks

in his Auntie's drawing room.

And I said,

"Charlie, you can't do that.

It's the closed season."

Told you, he always laughs at my jokes.

Even the bad ones.

True. It's not as funny as all that.

There's an open season all year

round for some creatures,

seducers and wife stealers, for example.

Now, that's a bad italian joke.

You should know. It's your

country of origin, is it not ?

No, actually, I'm English.

I was born here, in England.

Were you now, actually ?

Where ? In dear old cradle-

of-the-parliamentary-system,

Who-screws-my-wife-merits-

a-large-pink-gin England ?

Sense-of-humor-fair-play

England, I mean.

Oh, don't you believe it.

That's the way a foreigner talks.

What he really thinks in private is,

"Filthy, wet country.

Ugly, red, cold men...

who don't know how to treat

their pale, pink, cool women."

What brought all this on then ?

- What are you doing with that gun ?

- Obviously pointing it at you.

I can see that, but why ?

Because I'm a-gonna kill-a you.

You're a-gonna kill-a me ?

Jesus ! Here we go again with

another one of your games.

Another one ? No, it's the same one.

We've been playing it all evening.

It's called

"you're going to die, and

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote