Play

Ok so this is a play I'm writing for a class and I wanted to see what you guys thought, enjoy!

PS. This isn't all of it! I have to get the rest typed up!:) Also I haven't come up with a name for it yet... any ideas?

(Graveyard. Large, old, bare trees, misty grey quality like before a rainstorm, large grey stone pillars holding black on gates up [gates are open] newer gravestones and older gravestones scattered about. The newest is on the right A young woman with dark blond hair pulled back in a bun {probably early twenties} clad in a knee length 1940’s style black dress, black heels, a black rain coat, black hat with a net veil, and black gloves stands beside this grave staring at it, seemingly deep in thought. Thunder suddenly rumbles in the distance startling her out of her revelry. She glances up {most likely calculating the distance of the storm} and then crouches beside the grave using the headstone for balance {remains there}, viewed from the profile by the audience. When she speaks her voice is firm but she seems to be holding back tears.)

YOUNG WOMAN:I still love you. (swallows and forces a watery smile) But I’ve got to move on. I’m going to get a job… I know you didn’t want me to, but I’ve got to make the choices now. I’m going to the Big City, (eagerly) just like we planned! I’ll try for a reporters job first and if that doesn’t work out I’ll play the piano in one of those fancy restaurants. (hand tightens on grave stone} I’ll…I’ll… I’ll be fine. (Attempts to sound cheerful doesn’t succeed very well) Really! (head droops and she grimaces holding back tears)

(Behind the girl a young man a little older then then herself rides up on a bicycle hardly making a sound as he slides off without actually stopping and stops quietly leaning his ride against the tree behind her. He is wearing the 1940’s style clothing too, a newsboy cap cocked at a rakish angle on his head, with neatly cut dark blond hair as well. He looks at the girl then folds his arms and leans nonchalantly against the tree. As he does so the girl stiffens as if realizing she is not alone, and quickly pulls of her gloves, slips a handkerchief from her sleeve dabbing at her eyes before tucking both into a pocket and—giving the stone a familiar pat—before standing and turning. The two reguard each other for a moment, her without expression or emotion him trying for a little smile. She doesn’t return it.)

YOUNG MAN: I’m sorry about, um…er… Davy.

YOUNG WOMAN: Danny.

YOUNG MAN: (slightly embarrassed) Right. Danny. He was in the army right?

YOUNG WOMAN: Air force.

(The girl turns away again and begins walking towards the gates. He grabs the bike runs a few steps to catch up with her pushing the bike before falling in step beside her.)

YOUNG MAN: How long?

YOUNG WOMAN: (gazing steadily ahead) Six months.

YOUNG WOMAN: I’m going to the Big City.

YOUNG MAN: (whistles softly) Big City’s a big, bad place. Why don’t you just sell that? (gestures at the diamond ring on her left hand)

YOUNG WOMAN: (Looks at him mouth half open as if she’s going to tell him off. Then apparently changing her mind faces forward again expressionless) It’s just tin and glass. Danny was going to buy me a real one when we could afford it. It’s not worth much. (She extracts the gloves and pulls them on again)

YOUNG MAN: Oh, you could pass it off as real.

YOUNG WOMAN: Not happening, Jim.

YOUNG MAN/JIM: Well you know if you don’t want to sell it and still want to stay I have a little job I could use your expertise on—

YOUNG WOMAN: No, Jim.

YOUNG MAN/JIM: Ah, come on sis! Help a brother out! (she doesn’t reply or even acknowledge this and the young man leans toward her. Coaxingly) It’s a simple job, Susy—

YOUNG WOMAN/SUSY: (Stops suddenly spins to face him on one heel) NO!

YOUNG WOMAN/SUSY: (stumbles to a stop with a yelp of pain as he hits his calf on the bicycles peddle. Susy ignores it.) And it’s Susan. You know I hate the name Suzy just as much as you hate James. (Her expression darkens) And I’m not helping you with any jobs. I got out of that sort of business and I’m not going back! I’ve worked too hard to get to this side of the tracks and I’m not going back! Now, (Digs a hand into one pocket and pulls out a roll of bills.) you take this, (grabs hand and slaps money into palm) and you leave me alone. Don’t you ever come around asking for money or my help again. (She releases him blinking at the sheer force of her words)

JIM: (Stares at money for moment before looking up a little awed) You knew I would come.

SUSAN: (Shrugs while nodding and taking a deep shaky breath)

JIM: (With a practiced hand unrolls the bills flicking through it expertly, eyes widening at the amount. Then he carefully counts out half and presses it into her hand. Still holding it as he closes her fingers around it he looks up, he speaks voice a little rough but gentle.) You need it more than I do. And I really am sorry about… him.

SUSAN: (automatically) Danny Green.

JIM: Right. You be careful. The City’s got lots a big, bad criminals.

SUSAN: (Susan blinks quickly and nods. Then impulsively she steps forward and hugs Jim. He hugs her back and un-noticed by Susan slips the other half of the money into her coat pocket. Then he lets go grabs his bike and rides off through the gates. She watches him go. Then another crack of thunder makes her jump and she shivers slipping hands into pockets. Immediately she stops eyes widening. Slowly she pulls out the money. Then she looks up after Jim.) Oh, you sly devil…

(SCENE REOPENS, to a T shaped street viewed from the side. {Actors will need to be
taking their places as they set up} On the left is a long line of nice old
style buildings. The closest has a stone stair case leading down to a well-kept
sidewalk with a tree growing in front slightly to one side of the staircase {further
from the audience} ringed by a small fence. There is a sign on this fence that
says ‘Rooms to let.’ Followed by a smaller sign: ‘Filled’ which is followed by
another sign that reads: ‘Wanted a secretary. Please ask for room 1.’ The tree is covered with green leaves and is a
fairly decent sized tree reaching halfway up to the second story of the house
it stands next to. On the other side of the street is a café with a respectable
little awning over its corner street door and windows. Three nice little round
tables with umbrellas sit on the sidewalk outside a couple at one {sharing a
soda and making eyes at each other}, three business men in suits at another
{drinking little cups of coffee and talking}, and the third is empty. The café
is cut in half so the audience can see in, and there is a bar with stools and
several small tables inside as well. Three tables are occupied [by a grey
haired professor-like man in a tweed suit and glasses reading a book while
eating a sandwich, a man reading a newspaper and sipping coffee, and two tables
have been shoved close together where a group of five middle aged women are
gossiping}. There are two stools occupied by one by a girl draped across the
counter, chatting with a young male waiter across the counter while he makes
her ice cream {She flips her bobbed blond hair a lot and flutters her eyelashes
at the young man, red lips puckered} and one near the window is occupied by a
man in a black trench coat and hat despite the heat reading a newspaper. Across
the street from the café [still on the left], is another line of buildings much
like the ones on the right and as the lights come on the street is already
filled with people riding bicycles {both men and women though admittedly more
men}people walking on the sidewalks in
everything from business suits to casual work hands. A man with a chestnut cart
is selling his wears across the street on the left from the café keeping up a
continually stream vendors jargon, a few men are carrying heavy crates and
barrels and a mail man is sliding letters through doors slots. In the middle of
the swirl of the bustling street Susan stands holding a newspaper and stares up
at the establishment with the sign. She looks tired and a little discouraged
and she glances doubtfully between the sign and the newspaper. She is wearing a
woman’s grey business outfit and has her hair in the same bun, minus the hat,
and the same heels, and in hand has a small black hand bag. She glances one
last time between the newspaper and the building, and sighs as she pulls a
pencil from the bag, marks something off on the paper, sticks it under one arm
and marches across the street and up the steps with a determined expression.
She raises her hand pulls the bell. She waits for a few moments before trying
again. Finally with a frown she puts her hand to the knocker but just before
her hand touches it the door pops open and she almost topples in. Then she
staggers back as a tall broad shouldered young man in his early twenties, a
black business suit, with black hair neatly trimmed but a little tousled
looking presently hurtles out. She wavers on the edge of the stairs blocking
his way and he frowns picks her up around the waist and easily moves her to one
side of the stairs.)

YOUNG MAN: Sorry Miss, didn’t see you there. Hope you aren’t hurt.

SUSAN: (Stunned but alright.) I’m fine, thanks.

YOUNG MAN: Good, good. (he closes the door with a bang and hurries down the steps as if his life depended on it) Have a nice day!

SUSAN: Oh, please, wait a moment sir!

YOUNG MAN: (With a confused look the young man stops, frowning at her as she hurries after him.) Yes miss? (he is polite but there’s an edge in his tone)

SUSAN: Do you know who it is who wants a secretary? (Gestures at the building)

YOUNG MAN: Secretary?

SUSAN: (A bit surprised) Yes sir, see here in the ad (She opens the newspaper and points. He looks over her shoulder still frowning) ‘Secretary Wanted. 452 Harbor St. Ask for room no. 1—

YOUNG MAN: (With recognition dawning) Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes. I’m the one who put that ad in. Roger Magnus at your service. (Holds out hand. She cautiously takes it and he shakes it before drawing it through his arm much to Susan’s obvious discomfort. She attempts to speak but is interrupted) So you wish to apply? Splendid, splendid. We’ll discuss it over lunch.

(With that he bears her across the street and Susan is clearly trying talk or protest but he keeps up a running dialogue until they enter the café. He is remarking about the heat [The crowd noise fading away] and the people in the café don’t really pay them much attention as he pulls out a chair for her facing the bar and sits down across from her after adjusting her {Susan sits, hands clutching the purse nervously in her lap as she waits for a chance to speak nodding politely} with his back to it where he can look out the window. Finally just as the last of the crowd noise fades away and the waitress comes over Magnus to take their orders.)

YOUNG
MAN:Sorry miss, didn’t see you there. Hope
you aren’t hurt.

SUSAN:(Stunned but alright.) I’m
fine, thanks.

YOUNG MAN:
Good, good. (he closes the door with a bang and hurries down the steps as if his
life depended on it) Have a nice day!

SUSAN: Oh, please, wait
a moment sir!

YOUNG MAN: (With
a confused look the young man stops, frowning at her as she hurries after him.)
Yes
miss? (he is polite but there’s an edge
of hurry in his tone)

SUSAN: Do you know who
it is who wants a secretary? (Gestures at
the building)

YOUNG MAN: Secretary?

SUSAN: (A bit surprised) Yes sir, see here in the ad (She opens the newspaper and points and he looks over her shoulder still frowning) ‘Secretary Wanted. 452 Harbor St.
Ask for room no. 1—

YOUNG MAN: (With
recognition dawning) Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes. I’m the one who
put that ad in. Roger Magnus at your
service. (Holds out hand. She cautiously
takes it and he shakes it before drawing it through his arm much to Susan’s
obvious discomfort. She attempts to speak but is interrupted) So you wish
to apply? Splendid, splendid. We’ll discuss it over lunch.

(With
that he bears her across the street and Susan is clearly trying talk or protest
but he keeps up a running dialogue until they enter the café. He is remarking
about the heat [The crowd noise fading away] and the people in the café don’t
really pay them much attention as he pulls out a chair for her facing the bar
and sits down across from her after adjusting her {Susan sits hands clutching
the purse nervously in her lap as she waits for a chance to speak nodding
politely} with his back to the bar. Finally just as the last of the crowd noise
fades away and the waitress comes over Magnus to take their orders.)

MAGNUS:
Ah, yes. (To Susan.) What would you
like?

SUSAN: Oh I couldn’t possibly-

MAGNUS: Nonsense!
Of course you can. That will be-

SUSAN: Sir, really-

MAGNUS: --a Cola for me and a
sandwich with all the trimmings. Wrap it up in extra paper please. And whatever
the lady wants.

SUSAN: Sir please-

MAGNUS:Actually change that Cola to a
coffee and—

SUSAN:SIR!

(Magnus
the waitress and everyone else in the building turn to stare. Susan blushes and
ducks her head. After a moment the customers resume their meals and Susan
continues more quietly.)

SUSAN:Sir please, I—I can’t
afford to pay you back.

MAGNUS:Oh, is that what’s bothering you?
Well consider this payment for your time. (To
waitress.) A cola for the lady and a turkey sandwich.

(Waitress nods and walks behind
counter.)

SUSAN:You are very kind sir. That
is not a fair trade, and you know it as well as I.

MAGNUS:(Smiles
kindly.) It’s hard your first month in the Big City. Had a
rough time of things?

SUSAN:A little—How did you
know I’ve only been here a month?

MAGNUS: You just told me. Pretty brave of
you to come all the way out here and try for a reporter’s job. The newspapers
are notorious for being hard to get into.

SUSAN:So I’ve found. (Blinks.) Wait, how did you know that?

MAGNUS:A guess again. Your middle right
hand finger has the slight but unmistakable callous of a writer on the side.

SUSAN:But the reporter part…I
could have been a secretary or something like that.

MAGNUS:Unlikely. They use typewriters more
now and almost always have ink stains they’ve tried to wash off in the shapes
of tiny lettersall over their hands. The
lack of that combined with the fact you have a newspaper with several job ads
that have been crossed out sticking out of your purse and the inescapable
matter you are looking for a secretary job immediately pronounce you a reporter
who has been turned away repeatedly to the point where you must seek another
line of work. Now what is the man in the black trench coat and hat sitting at
the bar over my right shoulder doing?

(Susan blinks at this sudden change
of subject, then starts to look at the man.)

MAGNUS:Don’t make it obvious!

SUSAN:Oh.
Sorry.

(She
pulls a mirror from her bag and turns sideways poking at her hair, but angling
the mirror so she can see the man.)

SUSAN: He’s reading a
newspaper. Wait… he just took out a section, folded it and laid down beside
him. (Suddenly frowning, lays the mirror
down.) Why?

MAGNUS: Long story. Now Miss Johnson,
for your own safety please stay exactly where you are.

SUSAN:What?

(Leans across the table to whisper
in her ear. Susan stiffens and her hand slides into her bag.)

MAGNUS: Please, play along Miss Johnson.
Lives may be at stake, and they depend on how we handle this. I have reason to
believe that the man at the counter is a smuggler working for a criminal who is
worse than Al Capone. The police should be here any minute but the man at the
counter’s early and I may have to detain him and the man he’s meeting. Understood?

(Susan nods slightly.)

MAGNUS: Excellent. Now would you be so
kind as to laugh? We’ve been quiet far too long.

SUSAN:(Emits a girly giggle.) You actually said that to him?

MAGNUS:(Winks.) I did.

SUSAN:(Smiling,
and giggling.) You sly devil! What did he say?

MAGNUS:He didn’t. He turned purple and
then left.

(Susan
dissolves in helpless giggles until the waitress comes over with the food.
Suddenly a sweaty rat-like man in a business suit comes in and sits down beside
the one in the trench coat. Magnus gives Susan a meaningful glance. They both
studiously pretend not to notice. Then the men in the trench coat starts fold
his paper and stand preparing to leave.)

MAGNUS: Blast.
Where are the police? Well there’s no help for it.

(He
slips a hand into his jacket.)

SUSAN: What
are you—

(He
stands and crosses the room in three easy strides pulling a pistol from his
jacket. He levels it at the two at the bar.)

MAGNUS:Alright Sharkey, Maxwell. The line
ends here. Put your hands in the air and don’t try to go for your guns. You’re
caught. I can put a bullet in each of you before you get halfway there.

(Gasps
arise, a couple of women scream, Susan’s right hand slides into her bag again,
and the two crooks glance at each other. Then the Rat puts his hands in the
air. Trench Coat however whirls and pulling out a pistol. In one motion Magnus
catches Trench Coat’s wrist and knocks him out with the handle of his (Magnus’s)
weapon. The Rat goes for his own gun and Magnus punches him in the jaw
rendering him unconscious as well. The café’s customers sit in shocked silence
for a moment and then the front door bursts open and five burly police officers
pile in.)

MAGNUS: Ah,
the ever present law, late as always.

POLICE OFFICER 1:Magnus. I ought to
arrest you for police interference. I would, except Ferguson would kill me.

MAGNUS: Here’s the proof that
I’m right. And you’re welcome, by the way.

(He
grabs the paper section laying on the counter flips it open and holds out a
note to the first police officer the man snatches it, reads it and then jerks
his chin at his men. They haul the two crooks up and start out the door. The
first one lingers for a moment.)

POLICE
OFFICER 1:Ferguson
will be hearing about this Magnus.

MAGNUS:Fine. But when you
tell him, make sure you don’t leave out

the
part about you being late.

(Police
officer glares then leaves. Magnus glances around at the customers shrugs, puts
the gun away, and sits back down across from Susan who sinks back in her chair
and takes a shaky sip of her soda. The moment he sits down every customer but
the professor [still absorbed in his book] mobs the cash register and then
leaves. Silence.)

MAGNUS:Well, you’re hired.

SUSAN:I’m
sorry?

MAGNUS:(Takes
sip of coffee.) I said, you’re hired. You can start
tomorrow, eight o’clock.

SUSAN:Sir? Am I to understand you
wish to employ me for more work like today’s? More… Detective work? That’s what
you are isn’t it? A detective?

MAGNUS:Didn’t I mention that?

SUSAN:No I’m afraid you
didn’t, sir.

MAGNUS:Oh. Well I am. And yes, I will
occasionally require your assistance with work like todays. But mostly what I
need is someone to get a lot of paperwork in order and take calls while I’m
out. Someone I can trust. You’re the candid, frank sort. Honest. And your
level-headed. I’ll pay you extra for the extra work. Say five dollars an hour?

(Susan practically chokes.)

SUSAN:That’s too much!

MAGNUS:Would you like me to lower it?

SUSAN:Well…

MAGNUS:(Smiles.) I thought not. So eight o’clock sharp tomorrow morning
the house across the street. Ask for room one. Cheerio!

(He
snatches sandwich stuffs it in pocket, slaps some bills on the table, and heads
for the door. Pokes head back around the it on his way out.)

MAGNUS:Oh,
and bring an umbrella if you have one!

(Then
he’s gone. Susan sits back staring after him. The waitress comes over.)

WAITRESS: Are you alright, sweetie? You look
as if you’ve just been hit by a motor bus. Magnus can do that to people. But
he's a good man all the same.

(Waitress
leans down.)

WAITRESS: If he a likes
you, you should snap him up.

(Susan
blushes and shakes her head.)

SUSAN:
No,
no! We aren't together, I'm just his secretary. I just got the job.

WAITRESS:Really? That's interesting. You’re the
sixteenth girl he's interviewed for the job. You got what it takes I guess.

SUSAN:The
sixteenth...?

WAITRESS:Oh yes. He always takes them on
whatever job he's on and interviews them on the way.

SUSAN:Is
he a trustworthy sort?'

(The
waitress gives her a smile and pats her hand.)

WAITRESS: His daddy was a judge and Magnus is
as honest as the dawn. You won’t have any troubles from him.

(The professor goes to the cash
register and the waitress leaves to wait on him. SCENE ENDS.)

(SCENE
REOPENS. Two rooms connected together by a door. One is a study converted into
an office and it is presently a bit of a mess. The shelf-lined walls are
crammed full of papers and files instead of books. A desk sits in the center of
the room with two chairs placed across from each other on either side of the
desk, and these are also covered in papers and files. A small unlit fire place
is sunk deep in one of the shelf-lined walls and the mantle is covered in more
files, and several stacks of boxes full of files are scattered about the floor
in towering piles. A path has been cleared between them to the door into the
second room, which is much different. Three wingback chairs form a half circle
around a low coffee table with a bare surface except for a newspaper and a
coffee cup. The far wall is covered with a floor to ceiling, wall to wall map
of a city. It is covered with tacks holding newspaper articles scraps of paper
with things scribbled on them and occasionally a small odd trinket. Every tack
is attached by the same piece of red thread which crisscrosses all over the map
creating a huge ‘spider’s web’ of information. The rest of the room is
curtained off. Magnus is standing in front of the map adding another tack to
it. He wears a business suit much like the one he wore the day beforethough his black hair is neater now. Audience
door opens and a tiny woman in her late seventies leads two men in business
suits in. She has frizzy grey/brown hair cut short, a pair of glasses perched
on her nose with a gold chain connected to them, a 1940’s style brown skirt,
white blouse, a knit sweater died a hideous shade of green, dark green, yellow,
and brown striped stockings, and sturdy but clumping shoes. The first man in
line behind her is very small though not quite as tiny as her though probably
close to her age. He wears a pinstriped iron grey suit, and carries a matching
iron grey hat, and has a drooping grey mustache. He carries himself with the
air of a very gentleman though his shoulders are a bit stooped and he looks
like he has seen much in life and it has made him wiser. In contrast to him the
second man is huge. Gigantic. He is probably in his late forties and wears a
plain light grey suit. He’s bald and it adds to his totally deadpan,
emotionless expression and blank eyes. She leads them up the stage stairs to a
black door with a large 1 painted on it that leads into the file room. She
opens it and weaves her way through the stacks of boxes the two men following
along. She stops at the door and taps.)

MAGNUS:Come
in!

(Woman
pushes door open.)

WOMAN:
(Has an Irish accent.) Police Inspector Ferguson and Assistant Police
Inspector Floyd to see you, Magnus dear.

MAGNUS:Ah, I was expecting you. (To
woman) Thank you Mrs. Donnelley. I don't suppose you'd care to join us?

MRS. DONNELLEY:
No thank'e luv. I haven't the
head for such things, nor the stomach. Shall I bring tea?

MAGNUS:Only if you feel like it. But
if you do, make it coffee and bring an extra cup. I'm expecting a Miss Johnson
soon and she's to be my secretary.

(She
nods and takes her leave and the two visitors seat themselves.)

MAGNUS:I assume this is about the little episode at the cafe?

FERGUSON:(Nods matter of fact-ly.) Magnus,
you've got to stop interfering with police business.

MAGNUS:You came to me for help.

FERGUSON:And gave you firm orders to stay out
of it after that.

MAGNUS:That man would have gotten away
if I hadn't come in.

FERGUSON:That's not the point!

(Magnus
looks away jaw clenching stubbornly.)

FERGUSON:(More gently.) Magnus, I know how
you feel about this. But ‘The Operator’ is not behind every little smuggling
ring you break up.

MAGNUS:(Turns passionately.) They’re
connected! They have to be. The rate of smuggling crime is higher in this city
then in any other one! He has to be here! He’s out there somewhere… I know he
is. (Magnus turns to look at the board.)
I’m getting closer. I know I am.

FERGUSON:(Sighs.
Then stands and walks over putting a hand on Magnus’s shoulder.) Magnus,
your dad was my best friend. He was a good man and an intelligent one. But you
have to admit his idea that the millions of smuggling rings in this area all
answer to one person is just a bit out there.

MAGNUS:(Turns to face Ferguson.) You used to believe him.

FERGUSON:(Frustrated.)
I wanted to believe it! Your dad and I spent almost twenty years trying to
catch someone we weren't even sure existed before I finally had face the music
and admit there wasn't and I'd been chasing an illusion for two decades. I had
to quit. But your dad just wouldn't let it go. He never could get his mind
completely off of it. It was an obsession. Magnus, you can't spend your life
trying to prove something that doesn't even exist. No matter how much you love
someone it doesn't make what they did or believed, right.

MAGNUS:
(Tone level but shaking with anger.) My dad was not crazy or
obsessed! He was right. And I'm going to prove it, Ferguson.

(Puts
hand on Magnus’s shoulder again. Magnus frowns like someone anticipating
something that he’s heard often before but still refuses to believe, and
thrusts his hands deep in his pockets, stewing.)

FERGUSON: Son, ‘The Operator’ is just a code
name for a bunch of different smuggling rings. Not just one big crook who
controls the criminal underworld. ‘The Operator’ doesn’t exist in the physical
sense. I’m sorry. Now promise me you’ll stay out of police business unless I
give you the go-ahead?

MAGNUS:(Still
glaring at carpet, mutters something incomprehensible.)

FERGUSON: What?

MAGNUS:(Strangled.)
I said, alright.

FERGUSON:(Suspiciously.)
You’ll give up the search, and stay out the laws way?

MAGNUS:(Suddenly
looks a sly smile creeping across his features.)
Sure. I’ll stay out of your business. And I’ll quit searching.

(Ferguson looks relieved but still
suspicious.)

MAGNUS: I’ll stop searching and I’ll
start catching ‘The Operator’. I will attend to my business --which is catching 'The Operator' and if he happens to be connected with one of your cases, well it's hardly my fault is it?

(Ferguson’s
shoulders slump and Magnus—his good humor restored—steps around him and throws
himself into the nearest chair. Ferguson takes another.)

FERGUSON: One of these days you’re going to
get yourself into a scrape that I won’t be able to help you out with. You know
that don’t you?

(Magnus
laughs and the two continue talking though not where the audience can hear them
and Mrs. Donnelly comes through the audience door again carrying a tea tray and
leading Susan. Susan is dressed pretty much the same way as the day before.
They talk as they mount the stairs and enter the file room pausing
occasionally.)

SUSAN: Can I help you
with that? (Gestures at tray.)

MRS.
DONNELLY: Aren’t
you a sweet soul? But no thank’e, luv. I can manage.

(They
reach the first door and Susan reaches past and opens it for the elderly
woman.)

MRS.
DONNELLY: Why
thank’e deary! You’re a right lady you are.

SUSAN:(Embarrassed.) Oh no ma’am, not really.

MRS. DONNELLY: I can see why
Magnus hired you instead of one of them other lassies.

SUSAN:(Staring
in awe at the mess as they weave their way to the door.) Have
you worked for Mr. Magnus long?

MRS. DONNELLY: Bless you! I was
his nanny when he was just a wee thing. Now lassie could you just give the door
a tap?

(Susan
taps on the door. The three men look up.)

MAGNUS: Come in!

(The
two women enter and the men stand.)

MRS. DONNELLY:(Walks
forward and sets tray down.) Miss Susan Johnson to
see you, Magnus.

MAGNUS: Thank you, Mrs. Donnelly. Miss
Johnson your promptness is admirable. And may introduce you to Chief of Police
Inspector Ferguson, and his Assistant Inspector Floyd. (To Ferguson and Floyd.) Gentlemen this is Miss Johnson, my new
secretary. Please, Miss Johnson, won’t you sit down?

SUSAN:(Glancing
nervously at the huge silent Floyd.) Thank you, but um,
perhaps I should return another time when you aren’t so, er, busy.

FERGUSON: No need Miss Johnson, we were just
leaving. It was nice to meet you. Good day.

(The
two inspectors leave. Moment of silence, as Susan sits down on the edge of the
chair ankles crossed to the side, posture ram-rod straight and handbag resting
on knees. Mrs. Donnelly finished arranging the tray with draws quietly. Magnus
pours and hands her a cup, then takes one himself. They drink as they talk.)

SUSAN:Is it the files in back
through there you want me to get in order, sir?

MAGNUS: You don’t waste time do you
Miss Johnson? I apologize for the mess. Yes, they are. Most of them are my
father’s cases. He was a judge you see. I have the ones that are of importance
to me on the desk and I want them separate from the rest. My own cases are on
the mantle and in the desk drawers, and I may have one or two boxes full. The
ones in in the right hand desk drawers I want with the ones on the desk. The
rest you may catalogue however you think best. If you need anything to help you
get them in order just let me know and I’ll get it for you. And you’ll need
more room in there undoubtedly. Don’t worry, there’s closest down the hall I
asked Mrs. Donnelly if I could use. Any questions?

SUSAN: Just one. You mentioned
that you would occasionally require my help with a case. Who will take care of
the office when I’m gone?

MAGNUS: That’s the thing about being a
private detective. The people who come to you either have already gone to the
police and gotten less the satisfactory results, or they can’t go to them. So
if you’re not here to meet them then they almost assuredly wait for you or come
back later. I rarely lose clients from being absent.

SUSAN: Um, ok.

MAGNUS: Oh, I nearly forgot.

(Reaches
under his seat and pulls out a box. He opens it and takes out a small pistol.
Holds it out to Susan, careful not to point it at her.)

MAGNUS: Do you know how to use one of
these?

(Susan nods.)

MAGNUS: You struck me as the type who
would. You keep one in your handbag don’t you?

SUSAN: Yes, sir.

MAGNUS: Granted you’ll probably never need
to use it, but just the same I ask you to keep it in the office.

(She takes it, and he stands. She
does the same.)

MAGNUS: Now, I see you brought that
umbrella. You don’t mind if I borrow it do you? It’s a nasty day out there.

SUSAN: No, sir.

MAGNUS: Please, just call me Magnus. I feel
older then Ferguson when people call me sir. Now if you could make a list of
whatever you need to get you started in the office, I’ll go out a find it.

SUSAN:Yes sir- I mean of course…Magnus.

(SCENE ENDS)