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#905 - Dnner s Served

by Ken Bradbury

A murder mystery in Three Acts: Salad, Entrée, and Dessert.

The cast: Edith ………………………………………………….… a maid Kensington McPike … a rich, spoiled, and irritating young man Inspector Holmes ……………………..………of Scotland Lawn Penelope Flibberjibbet ……………..……… an aspiring actress Periwinkle Smithmore ………………………..…… a dead man Mrs. Ptomaine……………………………….……..…...the cook Grandma Peevish……………………….……..the grandmother

The setting: The Smithmore/McPike Estate, somewhere in the hills of Northbrumptonshire, just south of Southwarwicktown, and a bit down the road from Easthamptonwith.

Act I: Salad

(Mysterious Music comes in under.) (It is a dark and stormy night, We are in the drawing room of the Smithmore/McPIke estate. A day bed or fainting couch is at center. Other assorted items of Old English bric-a-brac are also present. )

(The room is lit only by a candle. All else is in shadows. A clock is ticking. The tuxedoed figure of Smithmore enters. He goes to table, picks up a bottle of Brandy and pours himself a drink. We can almost make out his face in the candlelight. Unbeknownst to him, a second figure enters stealthily. Smithmore pours another drink and as he is about to drink again, the figure stabs him from behind. Smithmore screams and falls as the second figure retreats into the shadows. The ticking of the clock becomes louder.)

EDITH: (entering and turning on the lights) Oh, dear, someone’s dropped something on the carpet! (sees the dead body of Periwinkle) What the …! Blimey! He’s dead! Help somebody! (she screams) He’s dead! (she begins jumping up and down going into something of a fit) He’s dead! He’s dead! He’s dead! KENSINGTON: (entering) I say, what’s all the ruckus? EDITH: He’s dead, Master McPike! Mr. Smithmore is dead! KENSINGTON: (looks at the body) Dear me. So he is. And right before dinner. You think we should do something? EDITH: It’s too late! He’s dead! KENSINGTON: I can see that, dear girl. After all, I’m his brother. I should be the one screaming and jumping about. EDITH: Then why don’t you? KENSINGTON: Very well. (and he goes into a similar fit, jumping and screaming) He’s dead! He’s dead! He’s dead! PENELOPE: (entering, a very posh young lady whose every move is studied and affected) I say! What’s all the ruckus? KENSINGTON: (screaming) He’s dead! He’s dead! Periwinkle Smithmore is dead! PENELOPE: I hardly see any need to make a scene. KENSINGTON: (calmly, to Alice) See. I told you. EDITH: But he’s my employer! And someone’s killed him! Whatever shall we do? KENSINGTON: What say we begin by getting him up off the carpet? Look … there’s a bit of blood starting to trickle out of his left vestibule. Come on now, let’s have at it, shall we? (The three of them bend down and laboriously pick up the dead body.) EDITH: Oh, he’s all squishy. KENSINGTON: It’s the blood. Think of it as raspberry jelly or something. PENELOPE: (dropping her end in horror) Ooooo! KENSINGTON: Oh, now look what you’ve done, Penelope. You’ve dropped your end. Not at all sporting. PENELOPE: I can’t touch a dead body! KENSINGTON: Of course you can. Think of it as a live body that doesn’t complain. After all, you’re an actress. PENELOPE: But when I’m acting I just … you know … act. This is so … real. KENSINGTON: Then act like he’s alive but pretending to be dead. PENELOPE: You think that would work? KENSINGTON: I’m sure of it. Heave ho, now. (the three again lift Periwinkle, this time plopping him onto three chairs set up to resemble a sofa) There we are. Safe on the sofa. EDITH: He looks terrible. KENSINGTON: Death does that occasionally. Can you hold dinner for a few minutes? PENELOPE: Oh, how can you think of dinner at a time like this!? KENSINGTON: Quite easily, actually. I’m hungry. PENELOPE: Quite so. Perhaps we could eat then deal with dear Periwinkle after dessert. KENSINGTON: Smashing idea. EDITH: I … I can’t eat with a dead body lying about in the drawing room! KENSINGTON: We’ll be eating in the dining room. EDITH: I mean … mean it’s all too horrible! PENELOPE: We must call the police. KENSINGTON: I’m sure they’ve already eaten. PENELOPE: I mean to investigate, Kensington! Ring them up, Edith! Quick! EDITH: (picking up a phone) Hello? Scotland Lawn? There’s been a murder! And the dead body is quite deceased. KENSINGTON: We suspect foul play. EDITH: We suspect foul play! Yes, you have a good day, too. KENSINGTON: Edith, you’re my brother’s most efficient maid. (moving close to her, romantically) I can’t tell you how much you mean to me at a time like this. PENELOPE: There’s someone at the door! KENSINGTON: Drat! EDITH: I’ll get it! KENSINGTON: They always say that. HOLMES: (entering) No need. I let myself it. PENELOPE: I say. Jolly quick. HOLMES: I had a strong tailwind. (offering his hand to each of them) Inspector Watson Holmes of her Majesty’s Royal Scotland Lawn. On loan from the Beardstown, Illinois rescue squad. You are? KENSINGTON: Kensington McPike, brother of the deceased Periwinkle Smithmore. HOLMES: Your last name is different. KENSINGTON: McPike is quite a common name. HOLMES: I mean different from his. KENSINGTON: By jove. That does seem curious. HOLMES: That’s why I’m a detective. I notice these things. And you? EDITH: Edith. Master Smithmore’s humble, obedient, and extremely excitable maid. HOLMES: Charmed. And you? PENELOPE: Penelope Flibberjibbet, engaged to be married to the deceased … and part-time actress in several amateur but promising productions. HOLMES: Ah, yes. Lady Conchitta Bonita in Son of Henry the Third part Four, The Sequel, Part Two. PENELOPE: You know my work! HOLMES: (rubbing his finger on her face and examining it) No. I’m an expert in cheap theatrical makeup. And this … this must be Periwinkle Smithmore, lately of Stately Manor. KENSINGTON: My word. He is sharp. HOLMES: Well, he was the only one in the room not breathing. KENSINGTON: Ah! Astute! Astute! PENELOPE: (throwing herself onto Smithmore and sobbing) Oh, I did love him so, inspector! EDITH: (throwing herself onto Smithmore as well) As did I! As did I! KENSINGTON: (looks around a bit, shrugs, then) He was my brother! (throws himself down in a similarly mournful pose) HOLMES: I see. But which one killed him? (Kensington, Edith, and Penelope freeze in their positions) SMITHMORE: Bit of a puzzle, isn’t it? HOLMES: Indeed. I don’t suppose you could be of any help? SMITHMORE: (carefully easing himself off the couch, moving a hand of the frozen actors out of the way to work himself into a standing position) Well, they all had their motives. And it did hurt quite remarkably. (turns to show his back) See the knife? Quite uncomfortable. HOLMES: Ah yes. Stabbed right through, weren’t you? Painful? SMITHMORE: For a moment, then … how did Shakespeare put it? “All is nothingness?” HOLMES: Well said. SMITHMORE: Thank you. HOLMES: Now … as to the murderer. I assume you know these people. SMITHMORE: Quite well, actually. (as he points them out) She was my most trusted maid and also named in my will. He was my dear brother set to inherit my estate, and she was to marry me next Tuesday but had been having thoughts of running away with the hugely expensive diamond I bought her last week. HOLMES: Anyone else? SMITHMORE: No, she was the only one I planned to marry. HOLMES: I mean suspects. SMITHMORE: Oh. Not really. I’m actually quite popular … and of course death only improves one’s standing. HOLMES: Where were you standing when you felt the blow? SMITHMORE: (pointing to a spot) Just there. Sipping a brandy. Napoleon the Third. Quite good actually. Care for some? HOLMES: Perhaps later. I should get to the questioning. SMITHMORE: Do hurry if you can. Dinner’s at eight and the cook is an absolute terror. MRS. PTOAINE: (a frumpy and unkempt cook, entering and growling) Dinner is served! (she exits, scratching) HOLMES: (to Smithmore) Thanks much. (She exits.) SMITHMORE: (getting back into his dead position) Don’t mention it. Glad to help. (as he lies down, the others come to life) PENELOPE: Oh, it’s so bloody awful! I feel faint! KENSINGTON: Come to me, Penelope. I can’t tell you how much you mean to me at a time like this. HOLMES: (stepping between them) He was stabbed. KENSINGTON: Drat. HOLMES: What’s that? KENSINGTON: They always say that. HOLMES: Smithmore was stabbed in the back. PENELOPE: With a knife? HOLMES: Sharp girl. Here, let’s get him up. I’ll show you. (Alice helps Holmes raise Smithmore to a sitting position.) There now. See the knife? (the move to look) EDITH: A kitchen knife! PENELOPE: Oh, I don’t think I can eat supper now. KENSINGTON: Of course you can. We have plenty of other knives. PENELOPE: The sight! The thought! The tragedy of it all! SMITHMORE: (opens eyes only long enough to speak and only Holmes hears him) Lovely girl. Dreadful actress. HOLMES: Quite. KENSINGTON: I certainly hope no one suspects me! SMITHMORE: I would. He’s an idiot. A spoiled, selfish idiot. HOLMES: I agree. EDITH: Well, don’t look at me! SMITHMORE: Why not? Isn’t it usually the maid? I don’t have a butler. HOLMES: Indeed. So! Three suspects! Three different motives. (to Alice) The maid, who has conveniently been written into poor Smithmore’s will. (to Kensington) The grieving brother who stands to inherit most of the estate. (to Penelope) The bride to be, who now happens to own a very large diamond ring. KENSINGTON: But Inspector! How can you know all these things? HOLMES: There’s much that a dead body can tell you, Mr. Kensington. (Smithmore giggles) PENELOPE: What was that? HOLMES: I coughed. Forgive me. Three suspects. Three potential murderers. KENSINGTON: What about the gardener? EDITH: We don’t have a gardener. KENSINGTON: Oh. Pity. Should we get one? HOLMES: (to Alice) You! EDITH: Me? SMITHMORE: Ask her about the dusting. HOLMES: What about the dusting? EDITH: How did you know that? Master Smithmore never liked the way I dusted the rhododendrons. KENSINGTON: What? HOLMES: Vireya Rhododendrons, grown in over 300 varieties across South East Asia, principally New Guinea, Borneo, Sulawesi, Sumatra and the Phillipines. Quite lovely, actually. KENSINGTON: I mean, how did you know that? HOLMES: I went to Lincoln Land. KENSINGTON: I mean that the dear deceased disdained Edith’s dusting! HOLMES: What was that? KENSINGTON: How did you know that the dear deceased disdained Edith’s dusting? HOLMES: (smiles knowingly) I’m a detective. (to Penelope) And you! SMITHMORE: The cigars. She could never stand my cigars. HOLMES: The cigars! PENELOPE: Oh! That was between dear Peri and I! I hated the smell of those things! HOLMES: (to Kensington) And finally … you. (a long stare … Smithmore says nothing) (to Smithmore) Well? SMITHMORE: Oh, sorry. I was dead. Ask him about the rocking horse. HOLMES: The rocking horse! KENSINGTON: Dear me! No one but Periwinkle and I knew that he once broke my hobbyhorse! That’s astounding! SMITHMORE: He deserved it. He stole my jump rope. HOLMES: You stole his jump rope! MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering, still frumpy and even more disagreeable) Dinner---is—served! (she exits) KENSINGTON: (grabbing his heart) Be still, my heart! No one knows that! PENELOPE: But we always eat at eight. KENSINGTON: I mean about the jump rope. (he sits next to Smithmore, knocking him over) Oh, dear. Sorry Periwinkle. EDITH: Now look what you’ve done. You’ve knocked over Master Smithmore! HOLMES: You okay? SMITHMORE: Fine. Still dead. Thanks. HOLMES: I now I shall announce the murderer! (All three living people gasp!) The murderer is… (looks at Smithmore. He says nothing) ... the murderer is …! (to Smithmore as the others freeze) I say, I don’t suppose you could be of some help here? SMITHMORE: Sorry. My back was turned when it happened. I say, this is quite uncomfortable. I don’t suppose you could … HOLMES: Oh … sorry. (tipping him back up) SMITHMORE: Thanks. And I think I know the murderer. I mean it’s quite obvious. (he begins to tip into Kensington’s lap) Oops. Here I go again. HOLMES: (as the three unfreeze) The murderer is…. KENSINGTON: (sees his dead brother in his lap) Oh, heavens! I have a dead brother in my lap! EDITH: (quickly sitting on Smithmore’s other side and pulling him upright) There’s a good Master. HOLMES: The murderer is …! (but Smithmore now falls into Edith’s lap) EDITH: Crikey! He’s on me now! PENELOPE: Oh, bother! (she stands in front of the three, reaches down to get Smithmore, and once he’s upright, he falls onto the floor on top of her) Help me! Help me! KENSINGTON: Dear me! (they freeze) HOLMES: I don’t suppose you’d want to name the murderer? Dinner’s waiting and the cook does seem a bit of a terror. SMITHMORE: She’s my mother. HOLMES: Oh. Sorry. SMITHMORE: So am I. It’s purely biological. HOLMES: She’s Mrs. Smithmore or Mrs. Kensington? SMITHMORE: Ptomaine. Mrs. Ptomaine. HOLMES: But how…. SMITHMORE: The English are a randy group. I’ve never understood how it all sorts out. HOLMES: I suppose not. Now if you could just … GRANDMA PEEVISH: (rolling in on her wheelchair, a decrepit old bit of wrinkled spitefulness) Noise! Noise! Bother and noise! And not a drop to eat! HOLMES: Who’s…? SMITHMORE: My Grandmother. Excuse me, won’t you? (he resumes his dead position) KENSINGTON: Grandmother Peevish! Periwinkle is dead! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Before dinner? EDITH: He had no choice, Madame Peevish. He was murdered! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Impossible! No one in our family has ever been murdered! KENSINGTON: What about Uncle Greenbriar? GRANDMA PEEVISH: Maybe one. PENELOPE: Your Aunt Fanny? GRANDMA PEEVISH: Two, then. EDITH: And the gardener? KENSINGTON: And your brothers: O’Reilly and Gerhardt? GRANDMA PEEVISH: Oh. PENELOPE: And your Doberman Fritz? GRANDMA PEEVISH: Fritz died a natural death. KENSINGTON: A knife in his throat? GRANDMA PEEVISH: We were playing fetch. When’s dinner? MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering, if possible even more disagreeable than before) Dinner ---is---served! (she exits) GRANDMA PEEVISH: Who was that? KENSINGTON: Your daughter, Mrs. Ptomaine, the cook. GRANDMA PEEVISH: (squints in the direction of Ptomaine’s exit) All three? HOLMES: Please! Please! We have a murder on our hands. GRANDMA PEEVISH: (wheeling her wheelchair around) I’m going. HOLMES: No one may leave this room! GRANDMA PEEVISH: I feel like a pee. When I feel like a pee, I pee. See? HOLMES: Go. Go on. (she exits muttering about dinner) PENELOPE: Oh, what’s to be done? EDITH: Oh, the poor dear has fallen again. (reaches down to him) KENSINGTON: Here…let me help..(Kensington, Edith, and Penelope struggle to right Smithmore into a sitting position) HOLMES: Ladies and gentlemen, the murderer is still among us! Dead men tell tales! The murderer is! (looks to Smithmore for help … nothing) …The murderer is! (Kensington, Edith, and Penelope all gasp in anticipation of the announcement, and in doing so they turn slightly away from Smithmore.) … none other than..(Holmes gives Smithmore’s leg a kick, Smithmore opens his eyes, smiles slightly and raises a finger to point at …) (The lights go out …There are screams.) KENSINGTON: (in the darkness) The lights! Someone’s snuffed the lights! EDITH: Help! Oh help! Oh help! HOLMES: Do not panic! Do not panic! I am in complete control of the situation! KENSINGTON: Oh, Inspector, I can’t tell you how much you mean to me at a time like this! (There is the sound of a gunshot in the darkness. More screams) HOLMES: Don’t move! Don’t move a muscle! (The lights come up to reveal Kensington hugging Edith, Holmes standing apart from the rest, his gun drawn, Penelope lying face down across Smithmore’s lap, and Mrs. Ptomaine standing in the doorway.) EDITH: Dear me! What was that? HOLMES: Everyone stay where they are! EDITH: (ignoring him and rushing to Penelope’s body) She’s dead! Miss Penelope is dead! HOLMES: Not another! MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering) Dinner … is … HOLMES: Oh, please! KENSINGTON: (indicating Penelope) She’s moving! EDITH: She’s alive! Dear Penelope is alive! PENELOPE: (removing herself from Smithmore’s lap) Oh, drat. Terrible sorry. KENSINGTON: But what were you … PENELOPE: Tripped in the dark. Terribly clumsy of me. EDITH: But the gunshot! MRS. PTOMAINE: That was your Grandmother. Somebody turned off the lights just as she was sitting on the loo. Fell onto the cat. Cat escaped. Ran through the kitchen. Knocked over the soup and completely mucked up the kitchen. All I’ve got left is the salad. KENSINGTON: Oh, thank goodness. Mother, I can’t tell you how much you mean to me at a time like this. MRS. PTOMAINE: You’re loony. HOLMES: Don’t leave this room! (she leaves) KENSINGTON: I say, Inspector, I know that my dear brother’s dead and all, but I am frightfully hungry. EDITH: As am I. PENELOPE: How can you eat at a time like this? KENSINGTON: Well, first we have a little blessing, then I take my fork and … PENELOPE: You’re right. (to the Inspector) Perhaps we could continue this over dinner? MRS. PTOMAINE: (shouting from offstage) Salad. That’s all, just salad. PENELOPE: Over salad? HOLMES: (turning his gun to the audience) No one leaves this building! You take my meaning? No one! (to those onstage) Very well. Let’s go to … salad. (they begin to exit) PENELOPE: What about poor Periwinkle? KENSINGTON: I doubt he’s hungry. HOLMES: Bring him. EDITH: What? HOLMES: Bring him along. We can’t just leave him lying about. (the three pick up Smithmore … awkwardly … and begin hauling him to the dining room) Mrs. Ptomaine! MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering) Salad … is served! (The group exits, carrying Smithmore with them. After they’ve exited, Grandma Peevish comes zipping in via her wheelchair, a piece of toilet paper streaming from her dress. She takes a quick look around them zips off after them into the dining room.) (Mysterious music comes in under.)

Act II: Entree

(Mysterious music comes in under.) GRANDMA PEEVISH: (her voice offstage) Out of my way! Out of my way! (she comes buzzing across the acting area in her wheelchair) (entering) Get out of my way! (stops her wheelchair in front of an audience member and speaks directly to them) Sure. Laugh now. Wait ‘til your teeth are worn down to stubs, your bowels have retired to the seashore, and your bladder shrivels to the size of a thimble! Then laugh! Then laugh! Out of my way! (and she’s off) EDITH: (running in and shouting off) Which way did she go? GRANDMA PEEVISH: (shouting, from offstage) Any way I can, dearie! Any way I can! KENSINGTON: (running in) Did she make it? GRANDMA PEEVISH: (shouting from offstage) Yes! Yes! May the saints be praised! Yes! HOLMES: (running in) You can’t keep running about like this! This is a murder investigation! PENELOPE: (shouting from offstage) A bit of help out here? HOLMES: (to Kensington) Help Penelope with the body. KENSINGTON: Me? EDITH: He’s your brother. KENSINGTON: But I mean … he’s dead. That rather ends my obligation, don’t you think? PENELOPE: (shouting from offstage) Help me! KENSINGTON: Very well. (he exits) HOLMES: I’m afraid the crime scene is now a complete mess. GRANDMA PEEVISH: (from offstage) You should see this one! EDITH: I’ll go help Madame Peevish. (begins to exit) HOLMES: No one may leave this room! (she leaves) At least you shouldn’t. KENSINGTON: (entering with Penelope as they both lug the body of Smithmore into the room) He’s gained weight. PENELOPE: And he hardly touched his salad. KENSINGTON: (tugging at Smithmore, finally plopping him down onto the couch) I swear the old boy’s put on weight. HOLMES: On the contrary! He’s lost weight! PENELOPE: What? HOLMES: The knife! The knife is gone! PENELOPE: Oh, dear. KENSINGTON: (beginning to exit) Perhaps he dropped it! HOLMES: Stop right there! (he does) The knife was inserted directly into his anterior prenatal posthumous! That’s solid bone! It could not have dropped out on it’s own! KENSINGTON: The anterior prenatal posthumous! That’s where dear daddy was stabbed! HOLMES: Your father was murdered? KENSINGTON: Yes. Drinking brandy. PENELOPE: Oh, that must have been awful! KENSINGTON: Hardly. Napoleon the Second. Quite expensive. And he dropped the bottle. PENELOPE: Oh, whatever did you do? KENSINGTON: We salvaged what we could and wiped up the rest. PENELOPE: I mean … you lost your father! How dreadful! (hugs him and begins to sob) KENSINGTON: Penelope, I can’t tell you how much you mean to me at a time like this. EDITH: (entering) She’s done. KENSINGTON: Drat. They always say that. HOLMES: Wait a moment! I remember that case! Do you mean Kensington Smithmore Periwinkle McPike? KENSINGTON: That was Daddy. We called him Junior. HOLMES: What a coincidence! I was just reviewing that case yesterday. There was something particularly fishy about … PENELOPE: Oh please, Inspector … one case at time. EDITH: I need to help Mrs. Ptomaine. HOLMES: No one may leave this room! EDITH: (exiting) Be back in a jiff. PENELOPE: (to Holmes) How could you have misplaced the knife? HOLMES: I didn’t touch the knife! It was the murderer! KENSINGTON: You touched the murderer? HOLMES: The murderer touched the knife! The murderer stole the knife! What else could possibly complicate this bloody business? GRANDMA PEEVISH: (rolling in) That was a relief! (to the member of the audience she spoke with earlier) And get that smirk off your face! PENELOPE: Madame Peevish! Where have you been? GRANDMA PEEVISH: It doesn’t matter … as long as I’ve gone. MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering) Dinner is served! HOLMES: No, it is not! Not as long as this murder is unsolved! GRANDMA PEEVISH: I’m hungry. Are you going to be terribly long? HOLMES: As long as it takes, Madame. As long as it takes! (Grandma Peevish takes out an apple and knife then begins cutting off pieces and eating them … the others ignore her) MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering) Dinner is …. HOLMES: No, it is not! (Mrs. Ptomaine growls and exits) Now, if you would all just … EDITH: (entering) Why is Mrs. Ptomaine growling? KENSINGTON: Distemper, I would suspect. Dear mummy missed her last shot. HOLMES: Why didn’t you tell me your father was murdered in exactly the same manner as your brother? KENSINGTON: He wasn’t. HOLMES: He wasn’t? KENSINGTON: Not at all. Daddy was drinking Napoleon the Second. Periwinkle was sipping Napoleon the Third. HOLMES: What’s the bloody difference?!! KENSINGTON: (grabbing at his heart, as does Penelope) Ahh! Oh, say I didn’t hear that! PENELOPE: The man is a barbarian! HOLMES: Brandy is bloody brandy!!! KENSINGTON: I feel faint. (he swoons onto the floor) PENELOPE: Madame Peevish! What are you doing? GRANDMA PEEVISH: (mumbles, her mouth full of apple) PENELOPE: What was that, dear? GRANDMA PEEVISH: (plainer now) Eating an apple. I’m starving. EDITH: The knife! She’s eating with the murder knife! (Grandma Peevish coughs and spits bits of apple onto the floor as the others recoil in horror.) KENSINGTON: (getting up and wiping apple pieces from the back of his neck) What the bloody … HOLMES: The murder weapon! You’ve got the murder weapon! GRANDMA PEEVISH: (looking around on the floor) Anyone see where my teeth went? MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering) Dinner is … HOLMES: It is not! (to Grandma Peevish) Where did you get that knife? (Mrs. Ptomaine exits) GRANDMA PEEVISH: I don’t remember. Where have I been? HOLMES: From Periwinkle’s back? GRANDMA PEEVISH: Not sure. Have I had dinner? Let’s see, I was trying to cut my lettuce and…. PENELOPE: You grabbed the murder weapon! The fingerprints are destroyed! (All but Holmes suddenly gasp and hold their positions.) SMITHMORE: Just a bloody minute! (gets up, to Holmes) Are you going to solve this case or not? HOLMES: Your family is impossible! SMITHMORE: Of course they’re impossible! They’re murderers! At least one of them! Inspector, in all due honesty I must say that you are the sorriest excuse for a detective that I have witnessed in my life! (a pause, then) Make that … death. HOLMES: How can I …? SMITHMORE: Tut! Tut! Tut! Excuses! Excuses! Look around you, man! (to the frozen Penelope) She hardly touched her salad! It was like she’d just murdered someone! HOLMES: I thought it was the ranch dressing. SMITHMORE: (indicating the frozen Kensington) And he’s trying to divert your attention by talking about brandy! HOLMES: Oh. I suppose so. SMITHMORE: And Edith! Inspector, do you have any idea how many times she has conveniently left the room whilst you were trying to question her? HOLMES: I didn’t want to be rude. SMITHMORE: (going to behind the frozen Grandma Peevish) And dear Grandmama Peevish … who just happens to smear her wrinkled old fingerprints all over the murder weapon … and coincidentally took the aforementioned weapon into the loo with her! HOLMES: She seemed so harmless. SMITHMORE: Harmless? Inspector, behind this wrinkled old face lies a … lies a … looks at her more closely) … wrinkled old mind. You’re right. Harmless. But you are forgetting one important suspect! HOLMES: How’s that? They’re all accounted for. SMITHMORE: Not quite! What about me? HOLMES: You? You mean suicide? SMITHMORE: Precisely! HOLMES: By jove. (Smithmore lies down, the others come to life) MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering) Dinner is … HOLMES: Not yet! (Mrs. Ptomaine humphs a grand humph and exits) Suicide! KENSINGTON: What? HOLMES: What if Periwinkle Smithmore committed suicide?! PENELOPE: How awful! EDITH: That’s impossible! You can’t stab yourself in the back! HOLMES: Really? SMITHMORE: (coming to life as the others freeze) Of course, I could have stabbed myself in the back! HOLMES: Seems unlikely if you don’t mind my saying so. SMITHMORE: (taking the knife from Grandmother Peevish’s hands) Don’t be daft, man! You grip it (he does) …You wind your arm around a bit like this … (he does) … and then you … (just as he goes to stab himself he stops). You know, this is quite preposterous. What would this prove? I’m dead. HOLMES: Quite. SMITHMORE: (holding the knife out to Smithmore) Here. You try it. HOLMES: You want me to kill myself? SMITHMORE: No! No! Just wrangle it around a bit to see if it can be done. HOLMES: (takes the knife) But what if I … SMITHMORE: Don’t! Stop just before you get to your anterior prenatal posthumous. HOLMES: (flailing around, trying to reach his back with the knife) This is bloody impossible! I can’t possible … reach … I mean … SMITHMORE: (trying to help him) No, no. You take the knife just so and you … Oh dear. HOLMES: (stops flailing. Smithmore has stabbed him in the back) Was that a …? SMITHMORE: Yes. Terribly sorry. HOLMES: I’m stabbed? SMITHMORE: Indeed. HOLMES: Thought so. Dreadfully painful. SMITHMORE: Fatal, I suspect. HOLMES: Well? What’s to do? SMITHMORE: Nothing, I suppose. If you’ll excuse me … (he begins to recline again) HOLMES: You’re leaving me here? SMITHMORE: Not much use, I’m afraid. HOLMES: You might pull it out. SMITHMORE: Too deep. Punctured the exterior prenatal posthumous and heading right for the anterior. Trust me. I know the route. HOLMES: Yes. I suppose you would. (Smithmore reclines into his dead position and Holmes falls flat onto his face across Grandma Peevish’s lap, the knife in his back.) PENELOPE: (as the group comes to life) Madame Peevish! You have a man in your lap! GRANDMA PEEVISH: (throwing her hands in the air) My prayers are answered! EDITH: But he’s dead! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Don’t quibble. KENSINGTON: It’s Inspector Holmes! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Is he married? PENELOPE: He’s dead! MRS. PTOMAINE: (enters) Dinner … is served … GRANDMA PEEVISH: (as she moves her wheelchair toward the dining room, the dead inspector still on her lap) Good. I’m famished. EDITH: You can’t go to dinner like that! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Quite right. Where’s my bib? (Edith quickly gets a bib from Grandmother’s wheelchair assembly and puts it around her neck) Dinner … is … served! (Edith wheels her into the dining room.) PENELOPE: (as Kensington heads out after them) Aren’t you forgetting something? KENSINGTON: Oh, dear yes. (turns to her) How’s my tie? PENELOPE: Your brother. KENSINGTON: He has his own tie. PENELOPE: (looking at the corpse of Periwinkle) What do we do with him? KENSINGTON: (as he starts to lift Periwinkle and Penelope joins in to help) He was never this much of a problem when he was alive. I wonder what’s for dinner? PENELOPE: (as they begin to tote him out) Smells like tripe. KENSINGTON: That could be Periwinkle. He’s been dead for some time now. PENELOPE: No. It’s tripe. That would be “ripe.” Come on. Mrs. Ptomaine will be … MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering) Dinner … MRS. PTOMAINE, PENELOPE & KENSINGTON: is … served! (They carry him out and dinner …is served.) (Mysterious music comes in under.)

Act III: Dessert (Mysterious music comes in under.)

(Edith enters, pushing Grandmother Peevish in her wheelchair. The dead Inspector Holmes still lies sprawled across her lap, she still wears her bib, and she’s still eating from a plate she’s placed atop Holmes’ back.) GRANDMA PEEVISH: Out of my way! Out of my way! PENELOPE: (running in behind them) Madame Peevish, I have never been so embarrassed! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Oh, think a moment. Surely there was time. KENSINGTON: (running in) Has she still got him? GRANDMA PEEVISH: He made the perfect side table for the tripe. Now out of my way. The loo is calling! PENELOPE: (moving to stand in front of her wheelchair as she begins to head for the loo) Madame Peevish, you are not taking Inspector Holmes to the loo with you! GRANDMA PEEVISH: (looking at him) ‘Twould make things a bit difficult. Get him off then. (Penelope reaches to remove the Inspector) … but don’t forget where you put him. That’s the first time my legs have been warm all winter. (Penelope plops Holmes to the floor.) (to Edith) Hurry girl. Vesuvius is about to erupt! (Edith hurries Grandmother offstage.) MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering, pulling the dead Periwinkle in behind her…groan and grunting and backing her way into the room) A bit of ‘elp ‘ere! PENELOPE: Oh, we forgot Periwinkle! MRS. PTOMAINE: I can’t ‘ave this bloke mucking about in the dining room when I’m preparing dessert! (to Kensington) ‘E's your brother! Do something! KENSINGTON: (running to help her) But he’s your son! MRS. PTOMAINE: I know. A joke of the gods. (brushing her hands) Dessert in five minutes. (she exits) KENSINGTON: (looking at Smithmore’s body) Well, Periwinkle, this has been quite an evening. SMITHMORE: (opening his eyes) It certainly has. (he jumps up and hugs his brother) We did it! PENELOPE: Quiet! Grandmother and Edith are in the next room and Mrs. Ptomaine has the ears of beagle. KENSINGTON: And the disposition of a wolfhound. SMITHMORE: (Xing to the body of the dead Inspector) Well, Inspector, you played your part well. KENSINGTON: He never suspected a thing. PENELOPE: You actually got him to stab himself? SMITHMORE: With a bit of help. Public servants are such dolts. (to Holmes) So, Inspector, you decided just yesterday to poke your insipient little nose into the case of our father’s murder, did you? KENSINGTON: A good thing an old college chum at Scotland Lawn called and told me. Stupid bloody Yank. PENELOPE: But how did you get him to swallow that old convention of us (she hits a pose) “Freezing” while you came to life and talked to him? SMITHMORE: (indicating the audience) They believed it, didn’t they? KENSINGTON: Smashing! PENELOPE: What do we do now? SMITHMORE: We tell the truth! He was trying to reenact a suicide and he became one! KENSINGTON: To think we came that close to losing Daddy’s inheritance. (to Holmes’ corpse) Well, you shan’t meddle anymore, dear Inspector. PENELOPE: Someone’s coming. KENSINGTON: It’s Grandmama Peevish. (to Smithmore) Do be dead again, won’t you? SMITHMORE: Nay brother. Step two of the plan. Why settle for only part of the inheritance? The old girl’s ticker is nearly pooped out. Let’s let the sight of her dead Grandson finish the job! Besides, she’s old and out of sorts. PENELOPE: Brilliant! KENSINGTON: You know, Penelope, I can’t tell you how much you … GRANDMA PEEVISH: (entering) Ah the simple joys of a good tinkle! (sees Smithmore) Periwinkle! SMITHMORE: Grandmama! GRANDMA PEEVISH: (clutches her chest) Oh! My heart! SMITHMORE: (eagerly) Yes, Grandmama! GRANDMA PEEVISH: My heart! KENSINGTON: Yes! Yes! GRANDMA PEEVISH: My heart … PENELOPE: Go heart, go! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Is … PENELOPE, SMITHMORE, & KENSINGTON: Yes?! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Is … PENELOPE, SMITHMORE, & KENSINGTON: Yes?! GRANDMA PEEVISH: It’s overjoyed at seeing you alive! (The three groan their disappointment.) But how … SMITHMORE: Well … GRANDMA PEEVISH: Nevermind. I may not last that long! Let’s celebrate! KENSINGTON: (still quite discouraged) Yes, let’s celebrate! Edith! Bring my brandy! SMITHMORE: Are you sure you’re feeling quite well, Grandmama? GRANDMA PEEVISH: Are you joking? I just peed! EDITH: (entering from the kitchen) Did you mean the Napoleon the Second or … (stops, sees Smithmore) Master Smithmore! (she makes a distinct cardiac sound and falls to the floor, the bottle of Brandy flying into the air… caught just in time by Kensington) PENELOPE: (bending over Penelope) She’s dead! It was her heart! GRANDMA PEEVISH: She’s no trooper. SMITHMORE: Oh, how awful! KENSINGTON: Yes. She nearly dropped the Brandy. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Deal with her later. Let’s celebrate Periwinkle’s return from the grave! SMITHMORE: Smashing idea. (he begins to pour drinks) Oh, Grandmama, it’s so good to have the family together again. (seeing Edith) but I’m afraid we’ll be without a maid for the rest of the evening. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Not to worry. All we have left is dessert. (looking at the bodies of Holmes and Edith) The place is becoming a bit cluttered. SMITHMORE: (all have been served, he holds his glass aloft) To the joys of a loving family! KENSINGTON: To my brother’s resurrection! PENELOPE: To a prosperous future! (The three conspirators drink…Grandmother Peevish does not) GRANDMA PEEVISH: To the joys of regularity! KENSINGTON: You’re not drinking, Grandmama? GRANDMA PEEVISH: No dear. After supper liquids shoot through me like a fire hose. It’s enough joy to simply see my grandson’s reap their rewards. KENSINGTON: (offering the bottle to Smithmore) Another? SMITHMORE: (holds out his glass) Please. This is a night to remember! (Kensington also replenishes Penelope’s glass and his) Sure you won’t take a nip, Grandmama? GRANDMA PEEVISH: The heart says yes but the bladder politely declines. Drink up! Drink up! (they do) PENELOPE: I say … (holding her head and getting a bit woozy, as do Smithmore and Kensington) That’s good Brandy. KENSINGTON: (beginning to stagger around a bit) The room … the room seems to be misplaced. Is the fireplace dancing? SMITHMORE: (having trouble breathing, dropping to his knees) I hate to be a bother but I seem to be choking … PENELOPE: (to her knees, gasping for air) Funny you should mention it. KENSINGTON: I say. You two seem to be … (suddenly drops to his knees and begins to choke) ... choking to death. Grandmama? I don’t suppose you could be a bit of help in this? GRANDMA PEEVISH: Well, I could, but that would be a bit of a contradiction. You see, I’m the one who poisoned you. PENELOPE: You! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Please try to overlook it. I’m old and out of sorts. KENSINGTON: But Grandmama! Your own grandsons! GRANDMA PEEVISH: My own grandsons who killed their father, killed the detective about to solve the case, caused the death of a perfectly good maid and would love to see me dead. Yes, those dear grandsons. With all that’s going on it would have been a lousy Christmas anyway. But there is a bit of good news. SMITHMORE: Yes? GRANDMA PEEVISH: (pulling a small bottle from her gown) I do have the antidote. KENSINGTON: Grandmama! I can’t tell you how much you mean to me at a time like this! Please! I must have it! (all three reach out for the bottle) GRANDMA PEEVISH: First! Sign this! SMITHMORE: What is it? GRANDMA PEEVISH: You’re signing your inheritance over to me. Don’t worry. I’m nearly dead and then you can have it all back again. KENSINGTON: (grabbing the paper and signing) Anything! Anything! SMITHMORE: Yes! Yes! (he quickly signs the paper and the three of them greedily drink from the bottle) GRANDMA PEEVISH: Oh, don’t rush. You still have a few seconds. PENELOPE: Oh, you are a dear! A genuine … (she suddenly makes a terrifying “Akkk!” sound and grabs her throat) KENSINGTON: Akkk! SMITHMORE: Akkk! KENSINGTON: (barely audible) Grandmama! What was that? GRANDMA PEEVISH: More poison, I’m afraid. Sorry … I lied. (the three drop over dead … really) (looks at the body-strewn floor) Well … get up! It’s safe now! Up you go! HOLMES: (rises) Good show, old girl. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Thank you, Inspector. And may I say you make an absolutely delightful corpse? HOLMES: Thank you, Madame Peevish. GRANDMA PEEVISH: And the stabbing! Absolutely theatrical! HOLMES: The old board up the back trick. I it up in a bar in Murrayville, Illinois. (adjusting the board) Although I must say it’s made for an uncomfortable evening. I think I may have picked up a splinter. But you’re a genius, m’love! You get the entire estate and I go back to London having solved … (counting the bodies) let me see … one, two, three, four murders. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Surely you won’t blame me! HOLMES: Not after you let me onto this scheme! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Then whom shall you accuse? HOLMES: Who else? Mrs. Ptomaine! The motive? She’s the boys’ mother and in line to inherit the estate. The means! … She’s the cook! And the opportunity! … She serves the drinks! Viola! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Viola indeed, Inspector! Viola indeed! And with her in prison, the entire estate shall me mine! I say … all this excitement has made me a bit peckish. What would you say to dessert? HOLMES: Splendid! Let’s repair to the dining room … GRANDMA PEEVISH: Oh, no. Our dinner crowd seems to have dwindled a bit. Let’s enjoy it here amid the spoils of our labor. HOLMES: Madame, you have a most splendid sense of the moment. (calling off) Mrs. Ptomaine! We’ll be having dessert in the drawing room! (turning back to Grandmother Peevish) I really can’t tell you what this will mean to my career. Gaining a promotion just one week before retirement! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Perhaps we can work together again some day. HOLMES: God willing. GRANDMA PEEVISH: I doubt that, but let it go. MRS. PTOMAINE: (entering holding two desserts… the very desserts that are being served to the audience that evening) Dessert is … (she sees the bodies strewn about the floor) … If this ain’t a hell of a mess. GRANDMA PEEVISH: We’ll tidy up later, Mrs. Peevish. What’s for dessert? MRS. PTOMAINE: (names the actual dessert for the night) _______________. (indicating the carpet of corpses) I suppose they won’t be eating. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Turned in early, I’m afraid. The young lack stamina, don’t you think? MRS. PTOMAINE: Very well. (she exits) HOLMES: A drink to our success? GRANDMA PEEVISH: By all means! Let the rivers flow! HOLMES: (grabbing the bottle of Brandy…looks at Grandma Peevish and they both laugh) What say we avoid the Brandy this evening? GRANDMA PEEVISH: Good idea. HOLMES: (reaching into his coat) Luckily I brought my own.(brings out a flask, grabs two glasses and begins to pour) GRANDMA PEEVISH: I don’t suppose you’d have any poison hidden away in your whiskey, Inspector? After all, we haven’t had a murder in nearly two minutes. HOLMES: Perish the thought! GRANDMA PEEVISH: (taking the glass from Holmes) To your health! HOLMES: (toasting) May good fortune follow us through the New Year! Cheers! GRANDMA PEEVISH: Cheers! (she chugs hers in a gulp then notices that Holmes has not tasted his) You’re not drinking? HOLMES: Sorry. Stomach problems. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Then I suppose that means I’m about to die. Damn. HOLMES: Not at all! GRANDMA PEEVISH: I mean, look around you, man. It’s the theme of the evening. HOLMES: I would never…. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Oh, you probably would. That’s why I poured it down the front of my shirt. HOLMES: You didn’t…? GRANDMA PEEVISH: (looking down at her chest) Bosom seems to be dying a bit but that’s old news. HOLMES: Sorry. You can’t blame me for trying. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Not at all. I applaud your imaginative spirit. HOLMES: Thank you. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Would you hand me my cane? I feel like stretching a bit. (grabs cane from the back of her wheelchair.) HOLMES: (recoiling a bit) Hello! I seem to have stuck myself on a splinter. (puts his finger to his mouth … then it hits him. He looks at Grandma.) You didn’t? (she nods) A poison splinter? (she nods again) Good show. Clever. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Don’t mention it. It should be taking effect any moment now. HOLMES: Why leave any witnesses, eh? (she nods and chuckles) GRANDMA PEEVISH: The poison seems to be taking its time. I don’t suppose you’d consider pricking your finger just once more for good measure? HOLMES: No. In fact, I didn’t prick it that time. GRANDMA PEEVISH: You knew about the poison splinter? HOLMES: You forget that I spent the entire main course draped over your lap. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Oh, I didn’t forget that. It was the highlight of my winter season. HOLMES: That’s when I saw the splinter … then I looked in the corner and noticed that a leaf of your Dieffenbachia was missing. The deadliest plant in the garden GRANDMA PEEVISH: Good show! HOLMES: My pleasure. Look, what say we call a truce, old girl? Stop trying to knock each other off. I’ll retire happily with a fat commission and you’ll enjoy the death benefits of your deceased relatives. GRANDMA PEEVISH: I quite agree! (seeing Mrs. Ptomaine enter) Ah! Our just desserts! HOLMES: And just in time! (Mrs. Ptomaine gives each their dessert on a plate.) GRANDMA PEEVISH: (to Mrs. Ptomaine) And by the way, thank you, Mrs. Ptomaine, for putting up with all this messiness tonight. You are a dear. HOLMES: She is a dear. (looks at the dessert) Scrumptious! My compliments, Mrs. Ptomaine. (he looks at the audience) Look at them. They all expect the dessert to be poisoned. GRANDMA PEEVISH: Thought we were that daft, did they? HOLMES: (offering his plate to Mrs. Ptomaine) Here Mrs. Ptomaine… perhaps you’d better taste it first. MRS. PTOMAINE: Oh, I couldn’t. HOLMES: (grabbing her threateningly) Of course you could! (Mrs. Ptomaine sticks her finger in the dessert and tastes…Holmes and Grandmother look on expectantly) Well? MRS. PTOMAINE: Too much sugar. But tasty. Tasty indeed. HOLMES: (to the audience) Thought we were fools, did you? (he takes a bite, as does Grandmother) (his plate flies into the air, he grabs his throat) Gaaak! (he dies) GRANDMA PEEVISH: (looking at the Inspector’s truly dead body now at her feet) My word. You think there was too much sugar? (to Mrs. Ptomaine) How did you pull that off, old girl? MRS. PTOMAINE: Poison forks. GRANDMA PEEVISH: (her plate flies into the air, she grabs her throat) Gaaaak! (and dies) MRS. PTOMAINE: (looks at the body of the Inspector, then at Grandmother Peevish’s corpse, smiles, turns to the audience and announces) Dessert … is … served! (she exits) MUSIC UNDER [One by one the cast get up, bow, and exit .] END

The Author Kenneth W. Bradbury Ken Bradbury (B. A. Illinois College) is arguably the most performed author in the nation’s speech and drama competition, having authored over 100 selections including 50 plays. He is an active syndicated newspaper columnist and has published three books, Coonridge Digest, Around the World With Freida Marie Crump and Coonridge Devotions. Ken is a national speaker on writing for the theatre and co-author of “Shadow of Giants,” the Lincoln courtroom drama aired on PBS-TV in 1991. He has won the Illinois Lincoln Library Award as Outstanding Author of the Year, the McGaw Citation in the Arts awarded by Illinois College, and other recognition. He is a teacher of Creative Arts at Triopia High School and currently resides in Arenzville, Illinois.

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