Dramatis Personae
(in order of appearance)
KURT Cross, the face of Sunset Investigations. Male, early 30s, New York accent.
Detective Chief Inspector ISKANDAR Meshkia, erstwhile believer in a just world. Male, late 30s, strong Turkish accent.
Chief Superintendent Winston PEMBROKE, Sr., an authority figure more interested in results than process. Male, early 60s, English accent with audible mustache.
Eloise “ELLIE” Westmont, private investigator and avid photographer. Female, mid 20s, posh English accent.
A local SWITCHBOARD OPERATOR, brief and professional. Female, probably 20s or 30s, London accent.
Dr. ERNEST Wilde, intellectual out of his element. Male, early 30s, Northern English accent.
Sebastian MILTON, dealer in rare books and rarer secrets. Male, mid 50s, London accent.
The FIRST CULTIST at the scene, an all-around ruffian. Male, any age, London accent.
Scene 1: Int. London tenement – Day
MUSIC: OPENING THEME.
It’s early morning, and wind shakes the glass doors of the building lobby, accompanied by a splatter of rain.
ISKANDAR is on the telephone. The line rings on the other end. He fidgets with his locket, running the chain through his fingers.
On the other end of the line, the receiver picks up.
KURT:
(Sleepily; filtered through the phone)
Sunset Investigations.
ISKANDAR:
Mr. Cross?
Iskandar Meshkia. You left a message for me last night. You said it was urgent.
KURT:
(Filter; more alert now)
Yeah, where were you? I called the precinct, I called your building, finally got a hold of your landlady—
ISKANDAR:
I was returning my assistant’s bicycle.
What happened?
KURT:
(Filter)
Nigel’s been arrested.
ISKANDAR:
(A measured pause)
It wouldn’t be the first time.
KURT:
(Filter)
Just tell me honestly.
Did you have something to do with it?
ISKANDAR:
What?
No, of course not. He lives in the City. The London Police would handle him.
KURT:
(Filter)
No, this guy was from the Met.
He arrested Nigel for the professor’s murder.
ISKANDAR:
The professor—?
No, that’s impossible. Mr. Blackthorne was in jail the night Ragnarsson died.
KURT:
(Filter)
I know that, and Nigel knows that.
The officer clearly didn’t.
ISKANDAR:
A friend of mine was the one who arrested him for attacking the dishwasher.
I believe he was released the next morning. After Ragnarsson was found.
KURT:
(Filter)
Well, tell it to the constable.
ISKANDAR:
I will. I’ll—I’ll take care of it.
KURT:
(Filter; a little gentler)
I just thought it might have been you.
You know. Your whole thing with Nigel.
ISKANDAR:
My whole—?
Never mind. Whatever else Mr. Blackthorne might be doing, he wasn’t responsible for Professor Ragnarsson’s death.
KURT:
(Filter)
Then why arrest him?
If it wasn’t you, who decided to bring him in?
ISKANDAR:
I don’t know.
KURT:
(Filter)
He was acting like he saw it coming. Talking about doom and limited time and that sort of thing.
ISKANDAR:
Well, perhaps—
(Thinking better of it)
No. Blackthorne believes unseen forces are working against him. It just so happens that this time he was right.
KURT:
(Filter; yawning)
All right. What can I do to help?
ISKANDAR:
Nothing. Let me handle this.
KURT:
(Filter)
Okay, okay. Heard you the first time.
Ellie’s planning a trip up to Edinburgh. Going to see if we can find our missing assistant.
ISKANDAR:
All right. Thank you for letting me know.
KURT:
(Filter)
Yeah, sure thing.
Scene 2: Int. Scotland Yard – Day
MUSIC: BRIDGE.
A tense, fast-paced interlude.
The Metropolitan Police headquarters is undergoing its usual process of waking up in the morning. A phone rings, and the chatter of typewriters and quiet conversation creates a quiet buzz in the background.
ISKANDAR crosses the room, footsteps hurried. The phone rings again, closer this time. He knocks on a door.
PEMBROKE:
(Muffled by a closed door)
Come in.
The door opens.
PEMBROKE:
Meshkia. You’re in early.
The door closes, quieting the background noise.
ISKANDAR:
No earlier than usual, sir.
I’m sorry to trouble you, but there’s been a mistake.
PEMBROKE:
(With mild interest)
Oh?
ISKANDAR:
Nigel Blackthorne.
PEMBROKE:
I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the name.
ISKANDAR:
He was arrested last night for Professor Ragnarsson’s murder.
PEMBROKE:
Ah, yes.
Constable Taylor brought him in last night.
ISKANDAR:
Mr. Blackthorne had been detained by the London Police at the time of Ragnarsson’s death, sir.
PEMBROKE:
You’ll have to take it up with Taylor, Inspector.
Or with Inspector Parker—I think he received the tip.
ISKANDAR:
Blackthorne’s the wrong man, sir.
PEMBROKE:
I wasn’t involved with the arrest, Meshkia.
And neither were you.
ISKANDAR:
Sir, I—
PEMBROKE:
(Cutting him off)
Give it a rest, Meshkia.
You got what you wanted, didn’t you?
ISKANDAR:
Sir?
PEMBROKE:
I’ve indulged this particular obsession long enough.
You have other cases, Inspector. Get back to work. Leave the matter of the professor alone.
That’s an order.
ISKANDAR:
(A long pause)
Yes, sir.
PEMBROKE:
You’re dismissed.
ISKANDAR leaves the office. The background noise of the office resumes as he opens the door and closes it behind him, and grows louder as he walks across the room.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
I’m missing something.
A telephone rings in the background.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
It’s like I’m being thwarted at every turn. Almost as if—
(Cutting himself off)
No. I sound like Blackthorne.
It’s easy to suspect he had something to do with the professor’s death. I might have, for a while.
He’ll go to trial, the judge will hear his alibi, and he’ll go free.
Unless—
Following orders, he arrives at his desk and pulls the chair out.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
No. If I worry about what might be, I’ll miss what is.
Someone called in the tip.
Either they believed Blackthorne was dangerous, or they wanted us to look away from something else.
I can’t know until I talk to them.
He shuffles through a stack of papers.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
If I can get away, I might be able to find the call.
The switchboard operators keep records. Somewhere around here, there’s a note about when the tip came in.
Footsteps pass by his desk.
ISKANDAR:
(Narrating)
But for now—back to work.
The background noise increases, as though it’s swallowing him up.
Scene 3: Int. Sunset Investigations office – Day
We resume with the sound of a suitcase unlatching, its hinges protesting as it opens. Objects drop into it with a series of muffled thumps.
ELLIE:
We can go through Oxford first, see if anyone can give us a description.
It’s barely been a year since she left the university. Someone will remember her.
KURT:
Sure.
Maybe someone got her a lead on a job. Should we check the boarding house again?
ELLIE:
We might as well. Anything to narrow it down.
I don’t want to have to stay in Edinburgh too long.
KURT:
She can’t be that hard to find.
But maybe it might be good to get out of town for a while.
ELLIE:
Is the inspector coming?
KURT:
I’m going to say no.
ELLIE:
Hmm. That’s a shame.
KURT:
Well, he has to get Nigel sorted out. He’s probably busy.
ELLIE:
Hand me that flashbulb, will you?
The telephone rings. KURT rushes across the room to answer.
ELLIE:
Hey! Careful with that bulb!
The receiver picks up mid-ring.
KURT:
Sunset Investigations.
ISKANDAR:
(Filtered through the phone)
Mr. Cross?
KURT:
(Pretending he didn’t just run to pick up the phone in the hopes that this exact person would be on the line)
Inspector. Hello.
How’ve you been?
ELLIE:
(A sigh as an audible roll of the eyes)
KURT:
Did you break old Nigel out of jail yet?
ISKANDAR:
(Filter)
Not yet.
Listen, I only have a minute.
The tip that led to Blackthorne’s arrest came from a pay phone on the South Bank.
The caller gave his name as Milton.
KURT:
The bookshop owner?
ISKANDAR:
(Filter)
Yes.
KURT:
What did he say about Nigel?
ISKANDAR:
(Filter)
I don’t know. I can’t get access to that information right now.
KURT:
All right. We can pay Milton a visit, see if he’s got anything to say.
ISKANDAR:
(Filter)
If you would.
And don’t mention my name.
KURT:
Sure thing.
ISKANDAR:
(Filter)
Thank you.
Through the phone, a confusion of muffled voices arises. The line abruptly cuts.
KURT:
Inspector?
Silence. KURT hangs up the receiver.
ELLIE:
Everything all right?
KURT:
(With grave seriousness)
We have to go to the bookshop.
ELLIE:
What is it?
KURT:
Milton set Nigel up. He called in the tip that got him arrested.
ELLIE:
What? Why?
KURT:
I guess we gotta go find out.
ELLIE:
Hold on.
He’s going to recognize us. We went to the back room and everything.
KURT:
You’re right.
ELLIE:
Can you call the inspector back?
He’d really be the best one to, well, inspect.
KURT:
I can try, but he said not to mention his name.
Something’s wrong.
ELLIE:
See if you can get a hold of him.
I’ll call Dr. Wilde. He hasn’t been to Milton’s yet—we can send him in and watch the doors from outside.
KURT:
Right.
ELLIE:
I’ll take the Brownie. Ernest can carry my pocket camera.
The two of them resume their preparations, opening camera cases and unpacking the suitcase. KURT calls the switchboard.
SWITCHBOARD OPERATOR:
(Filtered through the phone)
Number please?
Scene 4: Ext. South Bank market – Day
At the close of the evening, KURT, ELLIE, and ERNEST pull up to the market in the car. The engine shuts off. A thin, dry wind blows over the street, and the sound of the river is soft in the background.
ERNEST:
So, what exactly do you want me to do?
KURT:
Just go in there, act natural, try to bring the conversation around to Nigel.
ERNEST:
How often does Nigel come up in the conversations you’re having?
KURT:
You’d be surprised.
ELLIE:
Nigel bought a lot of his books here.
ERNEST:
Books about fish people?
KURT:
Exactly.
ERNEST:
Shouldn’t the inspector be doing this?
I’m a botanist, not a detective.
KURT:
We can’t get a hold of the inspector.
I left several messages, but he hasn’t called back.
Unless he’s doing that while we’re out here, I guess.
ELLIE:
He knows where to find us.
ERNEST:
Maybe we should wait for him.
ELLIE:
It’s getting dark. We don’t have much time.
One car door opens.
ERNEST:
What happens if he doesn’t like my line of questioning?
I’ve already been mugged once.
KURT:
He’s not going to attack you. You’ll be fine.
Just be casual. You’re just another customer.
ELLIE:
We’ll be right outside.
ERNEST:
I still think we should wait for the inspector.
KURT:
We can’t. The shop’s going to close in thirty minutes.
ELLIE:
Dr. Wilde, there’s an innocent man in jail, and right now you’re the only one who can find out why.
This could be the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for.
ERNEST:
Right. No pressure on me at all.
He gets out of the car, his shoes scraping against the pavement.
KURT:
We’ll be right here to pick you up.
ELLIE:
Do you have the camera?
ERNEST:
I’ve got it.
ERNEST closes the car door and walks across the street to the shop.
Scene 5: Int. Milton’s Rare Books – Night
The door to Milton’s opens with the chime of a small bell.
MILTON:
(Off mike)
Welcome, welcome.
ERNEST:
Evening.
The door closes. ERNEST walks across the wooden floor toward the back of the shop.
MILTON:
Just browsing this evening, or are you looking for something in particular?
ERNEST:
I’m…looking for something. For a friend.
MILTON:
And what interests this friend of yours?
ERNEST:
Er, actually, it’s for me.
You see, I met this chap in London Town the other day. Name of Blackthorne. He said he bought some books here.
MILTON:
Ah, yes. I know Mr. Blackthorne.
He has some…particular interests, but I might have something for you.
ERNEST:
Oh, you do?
I just thought it might be good for a laugh, is all.
MILTON:
(With a chuckle)
In that case, first editions are out of the question, then?
Far too expensive for a laugh.
ERNEST:
Oh, um, I suppose so.
(Awkward pause)
Did you hear that Blackthorne got arrested?
MILTON:
I did. It’s a terrible business.
ERNEST:
What happened?
MILTON:
I don’t know how much you’ve heard.
ERNEST:
Not much.
He just wasn’t in his usual place, you know, by the Cross and Coin, and someone told me he got taken in.
MILTON:
(Measured pause)
I’m sure Mr. Blackthorne would tell you that he was arrested in order to silence him.
ERNEST:
I haven’t heard from him since.
MILTON:
I should tell you: Nigel Blackthorne is a deeply troubled man.
He and the real world that you and I live in parted ways some time ago.
ERNEST:
I sort of figured that.
MILTON:
Well, if you’ve spoken to him for any length of time, it’s not hard to tell.
I think that Blackthorne’s condition has deteriorated such that he’s a danger—mostly to himself, but also to others.
It’s for the best that he’s in custody.
ERNEST:
What makes you say that?
MILTON:
(With forced lightness)
Is this an interrogation, my good sir?
Did Blackthorne send you?
ERNEST:
No, not at all.
I was, um, I was just curious.
MILTON:
Of course.
Well, judging by your line of questioning, you already know that I was the one who alerted the Met to Blackthorne’s…condition.
ERNEST:
(Trying very hard to sound natural)
You were?
MILTON:
Let’s drop the ruse, shall we?
I don’t know what you’re doing here, sir, but I only sell books. I reported Blackthorne because I was a concerned citizen.
Another of my customers, and an acquaintance of Blackthorne’s, died recently under unusual circumstances.
Given the state of Blackthorne’s mind, I thought it would be best if the police looked into his possible involvement.
ERNEST:
I—I didn’t know he was so dangerous.
You think he killed someone?
MILTON:
I don’t know. I’m not a detective.
That’s for the police to figure out.
ERNEST:
What happens if they find him guilty?
MILTON:
He’ll go to prison, I suppose.
I only regret that I may have contributed in some way to Blackthorne’s madness. Reporting him was mostly to ease my own conscience.
ERNEST:
Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think anyone became a murderer just from reading a book.
MILTON:
You’d be surprised.
There have been some religious texts that have inspired a lot of deaths.
No offense meant.
ERNEST:
Oh, I’m not religious. Not really.
I’d say it’s not just from reading a book. You have to have a lot of people agreeing with you before you start doing something drastic, and a whole lot of time, but I’m a botanist, not a theologian.
From what I can tell, Nigel Blackthorne doesn’t even really have any friends.
MILTON:
You’re a botanist?
ERNEST:
Um. Yes. Just an adjunct.
MILTON:
I might have some books that might interest you.
ERNEST:
Oh.
Weren’t you closing soon?
MILTON:
I have time.
There’s a volume on rare botanical diseases that just came in.
ERNEST:
(A pause; he’s glancing back and forth between Milton and the door, trying to decide what to do)
All right. I’ll take a look.
MILTON walks toward the back room, and ERNEST follows.
MILTON:
Right this way.
ERNEST:
(To himself)
This is fine. Everything is fine.
MILTON:
I’ve also come into some early edition copies of The Origin of Species, if you’re a collector.
ERNEST:
Not really. I don’t have the space, and my copy was a gift.
It’s got, you know, sentimental value.
MILTON:
Of course. The best books always do.
MILTON unlocks the door to the back room and opens the door.
ERNEST:
(Attempting to lighten the mood)
The inner sanctum. I’m honored.
MILTON:
(Chuckling)
I thought you said you weren’t religious?
I keep the rarest volumes here, out of the light.
As ERNEST walks into the back room, their footsteps cross from wooden floor to carpet.
ERNEST:
(Off mike)
So, what was this book you wanted to show me?
The key turns in the lock again.
MILTON:
Right this way, Dr. Wilde.
Scene 6: Ext. South Bank market – Night
Back outside, KURT and ELLIE wait in the car. Rain falls on its roof. A pocket watch ticks for a couple of seconds and snaps shut.
KURT:
He’s been in there too long.
ELLIE:
Give him some time. Five minutes.
KURT:
That’s what you said five minutes ago.
ELLIE:
The shop’s only just closed.
KURT:
And he’s not back yet.
Something must be wrong.
ELLIE:
Or he’s having an enlightening conversation with Mr. Milton.
KURT:
We should have waited for Iskandar.
ELLIE:
It’s going to be fine.
KURT opens and closes the pocket watch again.
KURT:
The lights are still on in there, at least.
ELLIE:
Can you see anything?
The suspension creaks briefly as they try to see in the shop windows.
KURT:
Nothing.
I think they went in the back.
ELLIE:
Let me take a look.
She shifts in her seat again and opens the passenger-side door a crack. We can hear rain on the pavement as well as the roof of the car.
KURT:
Wait. Someone’s coming.
In the distance, footsteps across wet pavement. The back door to the shop opens.
KURT:
Who is that?
ELLIE:
(Whispering)
Quiet.
KURT:
(Whispering)
I don’t recognize him.
The shop door closes.
ELLIE:
(Speaking, but still quiet)
Now, who would that be at this time of night?
The shop is closed.
KURT:
Oh, now you’re worried.
ELLIE:
I’m going to go take a look round back.
KURT:
Be careful.
ELLIE:
It’s dark enough. No one will see me unless they’re looking—
A loud knock on the car window cuts her off. Both KURT and ELLIE exclaim in surprise.
ISKANDAR:
(Off mike, muffled)
Sorry.
Are you all right?
One of the rear doors to the car opens fully.
KURT:
Evening, Inspector. Come on in.
ISKANDAR:
What’s going on?
KURT:
Well, this is sort of a stakeout, so if you wouldn’t mind getting in the car before someone sees you—
ISKANDAR:
A stakeout?
The suspension creaks again as ISKANDAR climbs in the car and closes the door.
KURT:
Dr. Wilde went in about half an hour ago.
ISKANDAR:
Why? What is he doing?
KURT:
Well, the two of us have been in there before.
We figured Milton would recognize us.
ISKANDAR:
He and Milton are in there alone?
ELLIE:
There’s at least one more. He just arrived and went in the back.
No one we’ve met.
ISKANDAR:
I don’t like this.
KURT:
That’s fair.
I was about to go around to the back door, see if I can see anything.
ELLIE:
Here, take the camera.
ISKANDAR:
I’ll go with you.
KURT:
Better not.
More people are more visible. Even if everything’s good in there, we don’t want Milton to know we’re watching.
ELLIE:
With any luck, he’s telling Dr. Wilde exactly why he thinks Nigel killed the professor.
KURT:
That’s the hope, anyway.
Scene 7: Int. Milton’s Rare Books – Night
Inside the shop, the back door opens and closes.
ERNEST:
(Nervous)
Look, I don’t want any trouble.
MILTON:
And yet, here you are.
ERNEST:
I was just leaving.
MILTON:
No, Dr. Wilde, I think you should stay for a spell.
ERNEST:
How do you know my name?
MILTON:
I’ve been following your work very closely.
ERNEST:
Oh, well, that’s—
Why?
MILTON:
For the same reason I followed Ragnarsson’s.
To see if you were a threat.
ERNEST:
I’m really not a threat to anyone. I’m just a botanist.
Do you know something about the blight?
Approaching footsteps on the wooden floor.
FIRST CULTIST:
All clear.
MILTON:
What about the others?
This one isn’t working alone.
ERNEST:
Others? There aren’t any others.
FIRST CULTIST:
It’s still early.
Smith will check the perimeter again when he gets here.
ERNEST:
I’m alone, I swear.
The university doesn’t have enough adjuncts to put anyone else on the project.
MILTON:
This will be a lot easier for you if you cooperate, Dr. Wilde.
ERNEST:
I am cooperating.
MILTON:
Has there been any word from Whitmoor?
FIRST CULTIST:
Nothing yet.
ERNEST:
(Panicking)
Look, just let me go, and I’ll—I’ll tell the university that I can’t work on the blight anymore.
All right? There’s no need to do anything drastic.
MILTON:
Take this one upstairs.
A scuffle ensues as the FIRST CULTIST seizes ERNEST. As they struggle over the carpet on the floor, one footstep results in a muffled, hollow thump.
ERNEST:
What was that?
More scuffling. The FIRST CULTIST goes through ERNEST’s pockets.
FIRST CULTIST:
Look at this.
ERNEST:
Give that back!
MILTON:
A camera, Doctor?
ERNEST:
Don’t—
MILTON opens the camera, exposing the film, and drops it on the floor.
MILTON:
The others must be close.
Take him upstairs, and then go search the area.
ERNEST:
All right, all right. I’ll tell you the truth.
My, uh, associates know I’m here, and they’ll be calling the police. There are probably constables on the way here right now.
Just let me go, and you can do…whatever it is you’re doing here, and I won’t be a problem for you.
MILTON:
You are correct. You won’t be a problem.
Come along, Dr. Wilde.
ERNEST attempts an escape: he kicks the FIRST CULTIST in the shin and scrambles for the door.
FIRST CULTIST:
(Cry of surprise)
His footsteps cross the hidden trapdoor again with another hollow thump. The FIRST CULTIST pursues him. He reaches the door, his fists striking the wood, and rattles the latch. It’s locked.
The FIRST CULTIST strikes ERNEST several times in the ribs and seizes him.
ERNEST:
(Strained exclamations)
The FIRST CULTIST begins dragging the semi-conscious ERNEST toward the stairs.
MILTON:
Enough.
Come along, then.
I have one regret, Dr. Wilde, and it is that after all your efforts, you will not bear witness to the birth of the world to come.
Footsteps recede as the FIRST CULTIST drags ERNEST away.
MUSIC: OUTRO.
Back to Episode 5: And There Is Nothing Green That Remains
Forward to Episode 7: The Souls of the Heathens
Next episode will be the dramatic confrontation, and I am working on it! Then we’ll have a quieter interlude before everyone piles in the car again (sorry, Iskandar) to start Act Two. Thanks for reading!
Space Whales Press 
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