Sleuth Page #9

in the shade of that cedar tree.

- I can't see anything.

- Well, it's there, all right.

I saw it before I rang your bell.

I think we'd better go and have a look at it.

Together, sir.

Here we are, sir. Now,

would you say that had

been freshly dug, sir ?

How do I know ?

Probably something that the

gardener's been doing. Ask him.

You'll find him somewhere, maundering about,

aching for an opportunity to slander

his employer-- they all do.

All for my part, I've always found...

that gardeners make excellent witnesses.

They're slow, they're methodical,

and they're positive.

Inspector, I've had just about

enough of this farce.

Do you really think I'd be fool enough

to bury Tindle out here in the garden...

leaving all that newly-turned

earth for everyone to find ?

If you weren't expecting us, sir, yes.

In a couple of weeks, with a little

grass seed or a few bulbs,

it'd be very difficult to tell

it had ever been disturbed.

We in the Police force know just how fond...

murderers are of their backyards, sir.

One's as near a murderer's heart in

a garden as anywhere else on earth,

eh, Inspector ?

- Excepting the bedroom, sir.

I think you'll find that's still the favorite.

There's no mistaking whose

room this is, eh, sir ?

My wife showers. I bathe.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.

Clothing all screwed up...

on the floor of the wardrobe.

That's not like you, sir.

Oh ! Here's an interesting monogram--

"I-W."

Or have I-- Oh, I've got this the wrong way up.

Aha. "M-T."

Let me see that.

"Made by owen and tan credy of Percy Street...

for Mr. Milo Tindle, November 12."

Tell me, sir, when Mr. Tindle

"lurched off," as you put it,

did he lurch naked ?

And did he subsequently lurch naked

through the streets of the village ?

He changed back before he

left into these clothes.

Do you still maintain, sir,

that Mr. Tindle changed into the

clown's costume in the cellar ?

- Yes !

- Another part...

of the humiliation process, I suppose.

Then someone must have carried his clothing...

up from the cellar and

placed them in this wardrobe.

- I did.

- Why ?

Because I felt they'd be better off in

a wardrobe than in a dusty old cellar.

More convenient.

All screwed up on the floor

of a wardrobe ? Why ?

I didn't think it'd be long before he'd

be changing back-- it's all so baffling.

Not at all, sir.

You threw those clothes on

the floor of the wardrobe...

because you knew that Mr. Tindle would

not be needing them again... Ever !

That's right, sir, isn't it ?

- He changed back before he left...

and wore them when he went away !

I think you started this...

exactly as you say you did--

as a game in order to play a

diabolical trick on Mr. Tindle--

but that it went wrong.

Your third shot was not a blank,

as you had supposed,

but a live bullet that killed

Mr. Tindle stone dead,

spattering blood on the bannisters

in the process !

Then, when you realized what you'd done,

you simply panicked, like a

thousand murderers before you,

and buried the corpse in the garden.

It was very silly of you...

not to clean the blood properly off

the bannisters and burn his clothes.

I swear, Tindle left here alive !

At the risk of appearing facetious, sir,

you had better tell that to the judge.

Look, there's only one way

of dealing with this.

If you think Tindle's out in

the garden, for Christ's sake,

why don't you go and dig him up !

- We don't need to find him, sir.

If Mr. Tindle is not beneath

that newly-turned earth,

it will merely go to indicate

that in your panic,

you first thought of putting him

there, changed your mind, and

buried him somewhere else.

- Where ?

- Oh, that's not important, sir.

He'll turn up sooner or later.

And if he doesn't, it scarcely matters.

We have your note summoning Mr. Tindle here,

shots were heard, bullet holes made,

blood is on the bannisters and the carpet,

his clothes were hidden in your wardrobe,

and he had disappeared.

Who needs a body ?

Sir, come along, then.

It's time to go.

- No ! I can't believe--

I'm afraid-- I'm afraid, sir,

that I must insist.

There is a Police car at

the end of the driveway.

I don't care if you've got a fleet of

Police cars ! I'm not bloody well going !

Now, let's have no problems, sir.

Please don't make it difficult.

- Christ ! You're hurting my arm !

You give me no alternative.

If you'll just come quiet.

Can't I get my lawyer ? It's my right !

We can make a call from the Police station.

We wouldn't wanna do anything unconstitutional.

Come now, sir. Don't despair.

You may get off with as

little as seven years.

Seven years ?

Seven years to regret the playing

of silly games that go wrong.

Spare me the sentiment ! It didn't go wrong !

It all went bloody well right !

You think so, do you, sir ?

We real-life policemen...

are not as stupid as we

are sometimes portrayed...

by writers like yourself.

We may not have our monocles...

or our orchid houses or our deerstalkers...

or our shovel hats,

but we are reasonably effective

for all that, sir.

You seem to know a hell of a lot about

detective stories, Inspector !

Yes. I have read quite a few in my time, sir.

And in recent years,

I have come to believe

that the detective story...

is the normal recreation of noble minds, sir.

Who or what the hell are you ?

Detective Inspector Doppler, sir.

It is spelled like "Dopple,"

which, as I'm sure you know,

means "double"...

in German.

And for those whose minds...

run to these things,

it is virtually...

an anagram...

of the word "plodder."

So...

Inspector Plodder...

becomes Inspector Doppler,

if you see what I mean...

sir.

- Milo.

- The same !

You sh*t !

Grazie mille.

You all-time, knockdown,

champion bastard, Milo !

You're too kind.

I'm not saying it wasn't well done.

It was extremely beautiful.

It was very-- it was brilliant.

Incidentally, you forgot

to take out your left eye.

Now he knows I'm funny.

"Do have a drink, Milo." Mmm.

I'm sorry. Do help yourself.

I'll have a wash first. I'm

covered in makeup and spirit gum.

- Use the kitchen.

- No, I prefer the master bathroom.

Your very good health, sir.

Cheers.

I must say,

I must congratulate you, Milo.

It was first class.

You sure had me going there for a while.

For a while ?

Well, it was quite a while, I concede.

But I got a bit suspicious

towards the end, you know ?

You did go on a bit, I thought.

What did you think of my performance ?

The anguish of the innocent man,

trapped by circumstantial evidence.

- It wasn't a performance.

- Of course it was. It had to be convincing.

Apparently, I succeeded.

You just don't know how to lose

at all, do you, Andrew ?

All that crap you gave old Doppler...

about the gentry losing gracefully.

Jesus.

Why, I told you, you-you did well.

It was really good.

I loved your Inspector Doppler.

I'm glad you view...

the trifling masquerade in that light, sir.

Your makeup was damn good-- first-class.

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote