Hardboiled Ep6 - “The Hired Hand”
ANNOUNCER: Empress of Blandings Productions presents radio’s newest detective—Jack Cassidy, PI—and her thrilling adventures, in—HARDBOILED!
MFX: Opening theme
SFX: A beat-up, elderly car going putt putt putt down a country road.
EFFY: You see? I told you she ran perfectly well.
JACK: How much did you say you paid for this rust bucket again?
EFFY: Don’t call her a rust bucket! You’ll hurt her feelings. Don’t listen to my boss, Pauline, she’s just jealous.
JACK: “Pauline”?
EFFY: I named the car Pauline.
JACK: Well, this certainly feels perilous.
EFFY: Jack Cassidy, I have been putting away a couple of extra smackers every week for months now so I could save up to buy my very own automobile, and I refuse to let you ruin her first outing to the country by razzing her.
JACK: Hey, Pauline should take it as a compliment of the highest order that I agreed to join you on this little venture at all, given that every minute we rattle along takes us further from the nearest garage. I presume you only asked me to join you for Pauline’s inaugural spin through the canola fields on a weekend when neither of us is meant to be working so I could help you out if, or rather when, she breaks down?
EFFY: Excuse me, I am perfectly capable of fixing a broken-down engine myself, thank you very much. I wouldn’t trust you to muck about under Pauline’s hood. Remember what happened when the knob on the office door fell off last month?
JACK: Yes, Miss Euphemia.
EFFY: Were you able to fix it when you tried?
JACK: No, Miss Euphemia.
EFFY: And who did fix the problem in three minutes flat?
JACK: You did, Miss Euphemia, although you never told me why you were carrying a screwdriver around in your purse that day.
EFFY: No good Smoky Lake girl leaves the house without a screwdriver in her purse. You never know when you might need a screwdriver. And I’ve added some more tools since Pauline came into my life, in case I need to give her a little extra care and attention on the road—
JACK: You mean, in case she breaks down.
EFFY: My point is that if she did, which she won’t, I wouldn’t bring you along to save me. I just wanted to show her off to you. Anyway, don’t you think it’s a nice day for a drive in the country?
JACK: Sure. Nice day for a bicycle ride, too.
EFFY: O.K., well, when you invest all the money you’ve been setting aside into a bicycle built for two, you get me on the horn and we’ll do an outing your way. Whyn’t’cha own a car, anyway?
JACK: We’ve got a perfectly good streetcar system, don’t we? What’s anybody need a car for? I’m telling you, Eff, in fifty years nobody in Edmonton’ll own a car anymore. Public transportation is the way of the future, doll.
EFFY: Even when it’s forty below?
JACK: Oh, they’ll figure out some way to make the buses and things always come on time, so you never have to wait in the cold.
EFFY: Well, I’m going to take good care of Pauline until that day comes. Hey, what’s that?
JACK: What’s what?
EFFY: Over there. Looks like smoke. Somebody having a really big bonfire?
SFX: distant sirens
JACK: That’s way too much smoke for a bonfire. Turn left up here, let’s get a little closer.
EFFY: Looks like it’s a farmhouse.
JACK: Looks like it was a farmhouse.
SFX: Distant scream
EFFY: You think there were people inside?
JACK: Pull up by this fence. Let’s go see if there’s anything we can do to help.
SFX: Car brakes, engine turns off, car doors opening and shutting
EFFY: Hey, look, Jack—Mounties!
JACK: Looks like they’re taking statements. I wonder if it was arson?
EFFY: Maybe. Coulda just been a haystack caught fire in the sun or something.
JACK: I dunno, Eff. It’s been a pretty wet fall for spontaneous hay combustion.
EFFY: Gee, that’s a hell of a blaze. Think they got everyone out in time?
JACK: Look—up there. That guy’s trying to get back in the house, but they’re holding him back.
JOHN: (shouting, in the distance) Let me go—let me go! My mother’s still in there!
(JACK breathes in sharply)
EFFY: Oh, no. That poor guy. No chance anyone who’s in there now is getting out alive.
JACK: Maybe we’d better be going. I don’t see that there’s anything we could do to help—
SOHAN: Excuse me! Excuse me, sir?
JACK: Who? Me?
SOHAN: Yes, I—oh.
MRS. B: See? I told you she wasn’t a sir.
JACK: Nope. Not technically.
SOHAN: Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought—I thought. Well, I’m very sorry.
JACK: That’s quite all right. Anything I can do for you?
SOHAN: Oh, well—I’m sorry, I’d thought perhaps you were some kind of detective, or—or someone in charge.
MRS. B: Just because she’s a woman doesn’t mean she’s not someone in charge, dear. Are you someone in charge?
JACK: Not around here, I’m not, although I am some kind of detective. If you’re looking for the RCMP, I think I still see them over there—
SOHAN: Oh, yes, yes, we know.
MRS. B: That’s just it. My husband, here, tried to speak to them already, but none of them would take his statement.
SOHAN: That’s why I was hoping you might be with the police, or something. You did say you were a detective?
JACK: A private detective. Jack Cassidy, PI. This is my secretary, Effy.
MRS. B: Effy, did you say? What a charming name.
SOHAN: How do you do, Miss Cassidy? My name’s Bhullar—Sohan Singh Bhullar—but you can call me Sam, everyone does. And this is my wife—who is also called Effie.
MRS. B: Were you called up to investigate this?
JACK: No, we just happened to be passing. Why? Is there something to investigate?
SOHAN: We think this might have been a murder.
MRS. B: But of course the RCMP took one look at us and shooed us away.
SOHAN: Well, they said they had their investigation under control, and they didn’t want civilians poking around, and told me to run along back where I came from. (beat) I think by that they meant my farm next door, and not the Punjab, but I didn’t quite like to ask them to clarify.
JACK: So you saw something happen?
SOHAN: It’s not so much what we saw, as what we heard.
MRS. B: Do you think you might be able to talk to them? Would they listen to you?
JACK: Well, they might not be any keener to pay attention to a broad, but I’ll give it a try. What was it you heard?
SOHAN: Gunshots. Two of them, just before the fire started.
MRS.B: My husband and our daughter and I were in the kitchen at home when we saw the house go up—and it went up very sudden. Glanced out through the window one minute and everything looked like normal, glanced over the next minute and whooom!
SOHAN: That’s right—like an explosion or something. And just before it happened, we heard two gunshots from the property. Well, I admit I didn’t think too too much of it at the time, figured maybe they just had an old horse or something they were putting down—
MRS. B: But then the fire broke out—and it seems old Mr. and Mrs. Baker didn’t get out in time—it’s all a bit sinister, isn’t it?
JACK: Mr. and Mrs. Baker own the place?
SOHAN: Yes.
MRS. B: Or rather, they owned it.
JACK: They lived here long?
SOHAN: Long as anyone around here can remember.
JACK: And that’s their son, over there? The one the cops are trying to hold back.
SOHAN: Yes—and that’s their daughter, standing off to the side.
MRS. B: Poor girl, she looks like she’s in shock.
EFFY: So you knew the family?
SOHAN: Not well. Mr and Mrs. Baker—well, frankly, we don’t much care for them and they don’t much care for us. Didn’t much care for us, rather.
MRS. B: Actually they tried to prevent me and my husband from buying our farm when we moved in. They thought an Indian man and his Black wife would bring down property values.
JACK: In so many words?
MRS. B: Mmhmm. They were happy to tell us so, many times. Would’ve blamed us for the whole Depression, if they could’ve.
JACK: And the children?
SOHAN: Oh, they’re both pleasant enough. The daughter especially has apologized for her parents more than once. And the son doesn’t exactly go out of his way to be friendly, but he’s reasonably polite when we meet him.
EFFY: So the son and daughter were able to escape, then?
MRS. B: Oh, they weren’t in it. I think they’d driven up to town for the afternoon—I only just saw their car arrive back ten minutes ago, after the blaze was well underway.
JACK: Did you see anyone else around?
MRS. B: No. No one. We live the next farm over, as I say, but apart from us there’s usually no one around for miles.
SOHAN: There’s their hired man. I haven’t seen him since this broke out, have you? I hope he’s all right.
MRS. B: Oh, yes, Gabriel. He’s probably out in the fields somewhere. I’m sure he’s fine.
EFFY: Did the Bakers have a good relationship with him?
SOHAN: They treated him appallingly. But I can’t picture him doing this. He’s a very nice young man. I can’t imagine anyone who could have done such a thing.
JACK: The Bakers don’t seem to have been particularly pleasant people.
SOHAN: Well, no. But that doesn’t mean they deserved to be burned to a crisp. It just doesn’t seem right—for them to be murdered like that—even if we didn’t exactly get along.
MRS. B: I guess. But it definitely won’t seem right if it turns out there’s a crazed killer on the loose who comes after us next.
JACK: Well, we’ll go see what we can find out from the cops. C’mon, Eff.
SFX: Feet walking across grass again, and, gradually increasing in volume, the sound of some crackle crackle
EFFY: Kinda seems like less of a tragedy now, don’t it?
JACK: Come on, Effy, horrible people getting shot and then French fried is still people getting shot and then French fried. Especially when they leave behind orphan children.
EFFY: They’re not orphans. They’ve both gotta be at least in their twenties.
JACK: Doesn’t make them not orphans. I mean, by definition, orphans are people with no parents, right? There’s no age limit.
EFFY: Don’t split hairs. I mean they’re not orphan children. Anyway, maybe they did it.
JACK: They’ve both got alibis, remember?
EFFY: (darkly) The best ones always do.
JACK: Jiminy.
EFFY: Look, here are the mounties.
JACK: Excuse me, officer?
MOUNTIE: Yeah?
JACK: Jack Cassidy, PI. I was wondering—
MOUNTIE: Aw, what the hell? Who hired you?
JACK: No one. I just came to ask—
MOUNTIE: Look, doll, this is what we real police officers call an open-and-shut case. We don’t need some dick from the big city poking her nose around.
EFFY: “Big city?”
JACK: I’m not looking to poke my nose anywhere. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of some witness reports of gunshots just before the fire broke out.
MOUNTIE: (bored) Well, thanks for your help, but we don’t need a broad in a fedora to tell us this was a homicide. Like I said—open and shut—bing bang boom. The guy who done it wasn’t exactly a genius. But that’s Indians for you.
EFFY: Wait—Mr. Bhullar is the murderer?
MOUNTIE: Huh?
JACK: I thought he said you shooed him away when he tried to talk to you?
MOUNTIE: Shooed him away—? Oh! No, no, not him. I mean real Indians. Indian Indians. The ones that live here.
JACK: Oh. So not Indian Indians.
MOUNTIE: We found their hired boy two fields over with the gun still in his hand. Don’t know where the hell he thought he was going. But then, those people can’t really think things through like we do. Anyway, we got him, so if you’re quite satisfied, Miss City Dick, maybe you can be on your way.
EFFY: How do you know he did it?
MOUNTIE: What d’you mean, how do I know he did it?
JACK: Did he confess?
MOUNTIE: Of course not. Insists we’ve got the wrong man, he’s innocent, blah blah blah. But it’s all obvious. I don’t know what the folks who lived here were thinking, hiring that kind of trash. Now, if you ladies wouldn’t mind clearing off—
JACK: It’s just, and of course I could be misinterpreting your use of phrases like “those people” and, uh, “trash”, but I think what prompted my secretary here to inquire was the fact that you seem to be displaying just a soupçon of what we in the Big City call prejudice—
MOUNTIE: Look, girlie, we found him on a stolen horse, with the gun in his hand, and there’s no one else who could possibly have had motive or opportunity to do it. Also, you know what?
JACK: No, what?
MOUNTIE: I don’t actually have to explain a goddamn thing about this case to a couple of interfering broads pokin’ themselves into somebody else’s business. Hey, Bill! Could you escort these ladies off the property, please?
JACK: We’re going, we’re going! Sheesh…
SFX: More footsteps
EFFY: Hey, Jack?
JACK: Yeah?
EFFY: You ever see My Man Godfrey?
JACK: Sure.
EFFY: You know the bit where the police think the maid stole some necklaces, and the one detective says to her “You got a passion for jewellery, eh?” and she says “Yeah, and I got a passion for sockin’ cops” and he says “Where are they?” and she says “Most of em are in cemeteries”?
JACK: Yeah, why?
EFFY: I don’t know, something about the conversation we just had made me think of that scene for some reason.
JACK: I think it’s the silly hats that make Mounties believe they’re more important than they actually are.
EFFY: D’you reckon he’s guilty?
JACK: The farmhand? I don’t know. We don’t have any evidence that he’s not.
EFFY: But you’ve got a Jack Cassidy Hunch, don’t you?
JACK: Even if I do have a Jack Cassidy hunch, and I’m not saying I do, it’s a moot point. He’s been arrested already, hasn’t he? It’s in the hands of the lawyers now. Anyway, just because the guy says he’s innocent—and just because his arresting officer happens to be a wet smack—it don’t necessarily mean he didn’t do it.
EFFY: I still think we should try to find out more if we can.
JACK: Eff. What’s the office rule?
EFFY: Jack Cassidy Only Takes On Cases For Paying Customers—Unless It’s For A Really Good Cause—
JACK: Now hold on. That last bit isn’t part of it.
EFFY: Such As True Love In Chinatown, Or A Possible Wrongful Arrest.
JACK: And how would we fit all of that on the window?
EFFY: I’m going to watch the papers for news about this, anyway. Here’s Pauline waiting for us. D’you want to drive on the way back?
JACK: Hell, no.
MFX: Transition
JACK: (Narrating) In spite of what Effy said, I’d thought that might have been the last we heard of Mr. and Mrs. Baker and their burned-up house. But the very next day, a familiar-looking dame tapped on the office door.
EFFY: Come in!
SFX: Door opening
MILLIE: Good morning.
EFFY: Good morning. What can I do for you?
MILLIE: Is this, um—? Are you the detective who was there at the fire yesterday?
EFFY: I was at the fire yesterday, but I’m just a lowly secretary. Hey, Jack?
SFX: Door opening
JACK: Yeah?
MILLIE: Oh—oh yes, it was you, wasn’t it? Who was talking to the RCMP officer yesterday?
JACK: At the fire? Yeah, I—hey. You’re the daughter, aren’t you?
MILLIE: Yes. Yes I am. I’m Millie—Millie Baker. I asked the officer who you were, and he said you were some private detective who was poking around, and I hoped—I hoped you could help me.
JACK: Well, I’ll be glad to do what I can. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. Bad way to go. But—if you’ll forgive my saying it—the Mounties yesterday gave me to understand that the case was more or less wrapped up.
MILLIE: They arrested our hired man. But I don’t think they have enough evidence to convict him.
JACK: So you want me to find proof that he did it?
MILLIE: No. I want you to find proof that he didn’t.
JACK: You think he’s innocent?
MILLIE: I know he’s innocent.
JACK: So who did set the house on fire?
MILLIE: I don’t know. I don’t know who else possibly could have or would have. And they found Gabriel with the gun.
JACK: Gabriel?
MILLIE: Gabriel Cardinal. The farmhand.
JACK: Well, what makes you think he didn’t do it?
MILLIE: He just didn’t.
EFFY: But how do you know?
MILLIE: (Beat. Deep breath) Because I’m in love with him.
(Beat)
JACK: Ah.
MILLIE: And he’s in love with me. We’re lovers.
EFFY: (delighted) Oh!
MILLIE: We’ve been secretly pledged to one another for the past two years.
EFFY: (thrilled to bits) Did you fall in love at first sight?
JACK: Effy—
MILLIE: No—not exactly. I don’t think we really noticed each other at all when my parents first hired him.
EFFY: So what was it that brought you together?
MILLIE: Well, actually, um—golf.
JACK: I’m sorry, did you say golf?
MILLIE: My brother and I have a sort of tradition where every Sunday we drive into town and spend a few hours running errands or seeing movies or eating out in restaurants and so on—and I’d started spending my Sundays at Tom Thumb’s Miniature Golf. Do you know it?
JACK: Miniature…golf? What, like with tiny little clubs?
EFFY: Oh, come on, Jack, everyone’s wild about miniature golf! You must have seen the little Tom Thumb courses—they’ve been springing up all over the city—it’s terrific fun. Like regular golf, only—
JACK: Miniature?
EFFY: Yeah. You know, regular-sized clubs but you putt the balls through itsy-bitsy windmills and things. I went there on a date with Winston last week.
MILLIE: My brother’s a great one for movies, so he’d go off to the Strand or the Capitol for the afternoon and I’d spend the day putting. Anyway—one day I saw Gabriel putting there too. He told me later he’d gone to just sort of have a laugh at the things white people dream up, and then he’d gotten rather addicted. He’s a kind of miniature golf savant, you know. You should see how fast he can go round the course… Anyway. We recognized each other, and we started chatting, and he offered to buy me a soda. It all started off very polite and casual. And then one day…it stopped being casual.
JACK: Did your parents know?
MILLIE: No one knew. If my parents had found out I was seeing the Métis hired man, they would have fired him and thrown me out of the house and probably tried to get him arrested, too. I didn’t even tell my brother. It was all a secret. But we’d both been saving money, and—and we were going to elope next month.
JACK: And what would your parents have done about that?
MILLIE: Oh, refused to see me ever again, probably. I didn’t care. I was sick of living under their rules—and sick of the way they treated Gabriel. We were going to hop on the first train out of here and never come back. It was all arranged. And then this happened.
JACK: You said they treated Cardinal poorly?
MILLIE: Miss Cassidy—I know I shouldn’t stand here and tell you that my parents were terrible people, and that I hated them. They were my parents. And now they’re dead. And it seems wrong to speak ill of the dead. But I don’t see any way to get around the fact that living in that house was hell. They were cruel to me and my brother—they treated Gabriel like a slave—they alienated our neighbours. In other circumstances—I—I think I would be glad to see them die.
JACK: You know, if the RCMP could hear all this it might distract them a mite from Mr. Cardinal.
MILLIE: Look, I know how this sounds. If you are to help me I think I have to be absolutely honest with you. In some ways both Gabriel and I would have every reason to murder my parents. But I didn’t, and he didn’t, and I need you to find out who did.
JACK: Can you think of anyone else who might have reason to want your parents dead?
MILLIE: No. Well, not exactly.
JACK: Care to elaborate?
MILLIE: I know Father was standing in the way of some business deal going through—he’d refused to sell his land to someone who wanted to buy it, or something. But I don’t know all of the details.
JACK: Well, that’s a lead, of a sort.
MILLIE: My brother would know more. My father didn’t really take me into his confidence on matters of business, but he told John everything.
JACK: Mind if we have a chat with John about it?
MILLIE: Of course. We’re staying at the Cecil Hotel for the moment—my brother thought it would cheer me up, because it backs onto one of those Tom Thumb courses. You can find him there now if you’d like—Room 106, right on the first floor. Only—would it be all right if I didn’t come with you—and if you didn’t tell him I’ve hired you?
JACK: Sure. Client confidentiality, and all that. (beat) Would your brother really disapprove of Gabriel that much?
MILLIE: I don’t know. We’d decided to hide it from everyone, just to be on the safe side. But—well—John and I used to be very close, but we’ve grown apart a little since I had to start keeping such a big secret from him. I feel like I don’t know him as well as I once did. And—I wouldn’t like for him to find out I’ve been lying to him for this long, on top of everything else.
JACK: Of course. Well, I’ll be very discreet.
MILLIE: Thank you. Thank you so much, Miss Cassidy. I really didn’t know what else I could do.
EFFY: You can count on us, Miss Baker. We’ll prove Mr. Cardinal’s innocence.
JACK: (warningly) Well, of course I can’t guarantee anything. But I’ll do my best. And my secretary here gets remarkably efficient when true love is at stake. You give us a call here if you find out anything else, O.K.?
MILLIE: I will! I will. Thank you.
SFX: Door closing
JACK: In all seriousness, Eff—I know you’re dizzy for star-crossed love stories, but two people have already been plugged full of holes and then set on fire, and another innocent man might swing for it. That business a few weeks ago wasn’t a fairy tale, but this definitely ain’t a fairy tale.
EFFY: I know, I know! I’m taking this case very seriously.
JACK: Good.
EFFY: And I’m going to do everything I can to help, but in a proper secretaryish way. And I won’t ring up clients to arrange their marriages, and I definitely won’t fill the roof with paper lanterns again.
JACK: Swell.
EFFY: Yep.
JACK: And when you say a proper secretaryish way, you mean you’ll stay right here in the office and not run around bringing picnic baskets and listening at doors and getting yourself shot at and things?
EFFY: I mean, I can’t guarantee that you might not need me somewhere—
JACK: Effy…
EFFY: O.K., O.K! I will stay right here and answer phones and type things until you get back. Happy?
JACK: Jumping with joy, angel.
MFX: Transition
SFX: Knock knock knock, then door opening
JOHN: Can I help you?
JACK: Mr. Baker?
JOHN: Yes.
JACK: I’m sorry to bother you here. My name’s Jack Cassidy, and I’m a detective. I’ve been sent to investigate the events of last night.
JOHN: Oh! Are you with the RCMP?
JACK: I work here in the city, but I’ve been asked to look into things. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?
JOHN: Of course not. Do come in. I must say, though, I’m a bit surprised. The RCMP gave me to understand that it was a fairly straightforward case. They’ve already taken the culprit into custody.
JACK: Sure. There’s just a couple of question marks hanging over things that we’d like to get cleared up.
JOHN: Oh, of course. Well, if it’s a question of securing a conviction, I’m all too glad to help out. I’d like to do everything I can to make sure that sonofabitch gets what’s coming to him.
JACK: You don’t have any doubts, then, that Mr. Cardinal is guilty?
JOHN: Well, of course not. Who else could it have possibly been?
JACK: Did you notice him behaving at all suspiciously that morning?
JOHN: Can’t say that I did. Millie and I were gone most of the day—I think she’d gone to buy some new stockings at Woodward’s, and I caught an afternoon showing of Dracula’s Daughter over at the Strand—and we arrived back only just too late. He could have gone in and shot both my parents quite easily.
JACK: Were you surprised when you found out?
JOHN: Was I surprised when I came back from a movie theatre to find both my parents brutally murdered and my home reduced to rubble? Yes, Miss Cassidy, I guess “surprised” would be one word for what I felt—
JACK: No, I’m sorry, I meant—did Cardinal seem like a suspicious character before this happened? I mean, were you gobsmacked at the betrayal of a loyal old retainer, or did you say to yourself that you should have seen it coming?
JOHN: Well—not exactly either one—but I must admit I never really liked Cardinal. Would I have pegged him for a cold-blooded killer? No. But then one never does in these scenarios.
JACK: What didn’t you like about him?
JOHN: He was a perfectly adequate employee. But that’s about the best I could say for him. He was always very sullen. Occasionally downright rude. And I didn’t care at all for the way he made up to my sister.
JACK: Oh?
JOHN: He was always very familiar with her. Following her around, wanting to talk to her. He spoke to her...I don’t know, like he thought she was his equal or something. It gave me the creeps. Anyway, I don’t know what else I can tell you. They found him with a stolen horse, making away with the gun in his hand. Seems to me that’s plenty of evidence to convict him.
JACK: We’d just like to find out all the information we can, Mr. Baker. If you don’t mind answering just one more question—I did hear that your father was involved in some kind of business deal when he died. Can you tell me more about that?
JOHN: Business deal?
JACK: Somebody wanting to buy his land?
JOHN: Oh! It’s got nothing whatever to do with what happened, but yes. The city’s been buying up all the farmland in our area to build a new neighbourhood. And everyone around us has agreed to sell up and will probably make a mint once the deal goes through, but dad wouldn’t agree to it. He said his father had lived on that land before him, and his father had lived there before that, and no government could muscle in and budge him off of land that was rightfully his. A crime and a travesty, he called it.
JACK: Huh.
JOHN: Lord knows we’ve had trouble making any kind of profit off of that land for years now. But dad just dug in his heels. He was very proud—very loyal. And very stubborn. But unless Mayor Clarke paid Gabriel Cardinal to put a hit on him, I don’t think you’ll find anything useful pursuing that line of inquiry.
JACK: What about the neighbours? They wouldn’t get paid their mint unless your dad sold up, right?
JOHN: No, I guess they wouldn’t. But a gruesome murder, over a subdivision?
JACK: This town takes its subdivisions very seriously, Mr. Baker.
JOHN: Anyway, there wasn’t anyone else anywhere nearby at the time of the shooting. Just Gabriel.
JACK: (to herself) Yeah, no one else…except—
JOHN: Miss Cassidy, if you’ll excuse me I’m afraid I must be going. I’m meeting with dad’s lawyer this afternoon. But if there’s anything else I can do to help—anything at all to advance the investigation—please do let me know, won’t you? I—I’ve been feeling so helpless. Every time I remember that at the moment my parents died, I was sitting in a comfortable chair staring at Bela Lugosi—(deep breath) I—I’m sorry. I can’t save my parents now. But I can try to make sure they’re avenged.
AD BREAK
ANNOUNCER: The thrilling adventures of Jack Cassidy will return in a moment. But first, we’d like to share some important information with you. Located right on Whyte ave and just off Gateway is a historic building that houses dozens of local Albertan artists. The Old Strathcona Arts Emporium is a space that welcomes anyone who wants to showcase their art with affordable rates and retail support. Inside you will find that it has become home to painters, photographers, crafters, jewelers, furniture artists, upcyclers, and makers of all kinds. Within the first 60 days of being open, 50 artists have signed up to be a part of this market-style, open-6-days-a-week Emporium - and more sign up everyday. It is a magical place. The artists that sign up can feel it right when they walk in, and, folks, they can’t wait to share that magic with you. There is truly something for everyone in the Old Strathcona Arts Emporium and new artists move in every Monday! See you there soon!
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SFX: Door opening
JACK: Eff, I’m back! And Mr. Baker told me—oh!
EFFY: Jack! See, I told you she’d be back any minute. Jack, this is Gabriel Cardinal.
JACK: Glad to meet you, Mr. Cardinal. Forgive my asking it, but aren’t you supposed to be—well—in jail?
GABE: Yeah. I busted out.
JACK: You did what?
GABE: Sure. Piece of cake. Broke the lock of my cell with my bare hands, bopped the guard outside on the noggin, and stole a motorcycle to make my way here.
JACK: You’re not serious.
GABE: Of course I’m not. Millie managed to bail me out with some of what we’d been saving. Come on, Miss Cassidy, you really think I’d go on the run with the whole RCMP out after me?
EFFY: Aw, see, you got her all excited about the prospect of harbouring a fugitive.
GABE: Sorry to disappoint.
JACK: You know, not every PI would appreciate such a display of wit, Mr. Cardinal.
GABE: Sorry about that. I’m trying to distract myself from the cheery fact that I might be about to be hanged for a crime I didn’t commit, but so far it doesn’t seem to be working.
EFFY: See, he does this thing where he distances himself from the horrible thing he’s confronting by being all sarcastic and cracking jokes. Have you ever heard of anybody doing anything like that, Jack?
JACK: You’re not going to be hanged for a crime you didn’t commit if we can prevent it.
EFFY: I told him you were the best in the biz and he shouldn’t worry because you were doing everything you could to find out who really done it.
GABE: Yes. And I told her that I couldn’t help worrying on account of I seem to be the only possible person who could have done it.
JACK: They found you with the gun and a horse—is that true?
GABE: I’d been given instructions to put the horse down—she was lame—and I was supposed to get far away from the house to do it so the shots didn’t frighten the chickens, or the neighbours. Only by the time we’d gotten a fair distance away, it seemed like she was walking fine, and I was standing there trying to decide what to do when the RCMP arrived. I know it looked bad. But I swear I had no idea what had happened until they were putting me in handcuffs.
JACK: Oh, I believe you. But if somebody else did it—which somebody else did—there’s gotta be some sort of evidence that’ll lead us back to them.
GABE: That’s fine and dandy, Miss Cassidy, but they’ve already got their ideal killer, and I kind of doubt that any amount of evidence rustled up by a lady dick working freelance is going to convince the cops to change their minds.
EFFY: She is a very good lady dick.
GABE: It’s not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, ma’am. But the RCMP were created to snuff out people like me, and they’re still damn good at it. Well, here I am looking like I’ve just murdered two white folks and torched their house. They’re not going to let me slip through their fingers unless you present ’em with a replacement criminal all set to confess.
JACK: Well, then, that’s just what we’ll have to do. Look, Mr. Cardinal, I know you don’t have any particular reason to trust me. But I’m pretty good at my job. Somebody is responsible for this, and it’s my job to find out who that somebody is.
EFFY: You haven’t managed to rustle up any other suspects, have you?
JACK: As a matter of fact, I might have. What can you tell me about the Bhullars?
EFFY: That nice man and his wife from yesterday? They didn’t do it!
JACK: How do you know? They had means. They had opportunity. And, as it turns out, they had motive. They might’ve stood to get quite a lot of money if Mr. Baker and his stubbornness conveniently disappeared. Also, seems to me the Bakers treated them more or less like dirt.
GABE: Well, sure. But if you say that every person the Bakers treated like dirt has a motive to murder them then damn near everyone they ever met could’ve offed them, their own children included.
JACK: Both their children? John seemed like he was a bit more broken up about their death than Millie was.
GABE: Maybe. From what I saw he never got on too well with his parents either. I know John wanted to sell the farmland, and his father just refused to let it go. John never could manage to stand up to him. They did everything in their power to drain their children dry, if you ask me—like a couple of vampires.
(pause)
JACK: What did you just say?
GABE: (uncertain) Er…John didn’t get on too well with his parents either—?
JACK: No, no. Vampires. Vampires! That’s it!
EFFY: What are you talking about?
JACK: When I spoke with John just now, he said that at the moment his parents were murdered, he was sitting in the Strand, watching Dracula’s Daughter.
GABE: So?
JACK: So then a few minutes later he said he couldn’t believe that while his parents were dying, he was busy staring at Bela Lugosi.
(EFFY gasps)
GABE: I’m still lost.
EFFY: Bela Lugosi isn’t in Dracula’s Daughter! He never appears!
GABE: I thought Bela Lugosi was Dracula.
EFFY: Yes, yes, but he’s dead now, remember?
GABE: (baffled) Bela Lugosi?
EFFY: Dracula! They staked him at the end of the first movie. Only now his daughter still walks and thirsts for blood. The movie doesn’t star Bela, it just stars Otto Kruger—
JACK: And Gloria Holden—the point is, if he’d really been at the theatre, he would know that.
EFFY: And if he wasn’t watching a movie—maybe he was doing something else—
JACK: Like committing murder, for instance. Who was it who told you the horse was lame? And to take it far away to shoot it?
GABE: He did. He did! Oh, my God. I should have realized—and of course he gets the land now!
JACK: Bingo. He can sell it to the city for as much money as he wants. And he gets out from his father’s thumb, pins the murder on an easy target, and saves his beloved sister from the attentions of someone unsuitable. And he could’ve easily driven back up to the house—shot his parents—set off the fire—and made it back to pick up his sister and return—just too late to save them.
EFFY: Ooh! Diabolical!
GABE: But is it enough?
JACK: What do you mean?
GABE: Well, the horse thing—that’s my word against his. And Bela Lugosi not being in Dracula’s Daughter—it’s not exactly a smoking gun.
JACK: No, it’s not. But you know what would be a smoking gun?
EFFY: A gun!
JACK: A gun. Yours didn’t actually do the killing—so he must have had one that did.
EFFY: He’s probably dumped it already.
JACK: Maybe. Maybe not. There’s got to be something that definitely ties him to the crime. Maybe…
EFFY: Where are you going?
JACK: I’m going to do some detecting. You—stay here and try to think of shifty things you’ve seen John do in your time working there. I’ll be back in a bit.
GABE: Wait—can’t I come with you?
JACK: Come with me?
GABE: I feel stupid just sitting here thinking when it’s my life at stake.
JACK: Your life isn’t at stake.
GABE: I’m accused of a double homicide.
JACK: Yeah, but it’s 1936. It won’t be a stake, it’ll be a gallows.
EFFY: Jack!
JACK: Sorry. What I meant was, your life isn’t at stake because we’re going to save it. Do you trust me?
GABE: Yes.
JACK: Really?
GABE: Nope.
JACK: Well, then instead you sit here and think about finding a good lawyer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a murderer to hunt down.
MFX: Transition
SFX: Knock knock knock, door opening
JACK: Hey there.
JOHN: Miss Cassidy! I didn’t expect to see you again today.
JACK: Well, I spent the afternoon talking to quite a number of people, and I decided I had just a few more questions to ask you.
JOHN: I see. I—was actually just on my way to get some dinner—perhaps you could ask me these questions some other time.
JACK: Nope, I think now is a pretty good time. I’ll come in, if you don’t mind. Thanks.
JOHN: Miss Cassidy, I’m really not sure if I can tell you anything more.
JACK: No? Well, then maybe I’ll tell you a few things. I went down to the morgue today. Paid a call on the late Mr. and Mrs. Baker.
JOHN: My sister is just in the next room—she was about to join me in here. I must insist that you refrain from saying anything that would upset her. She’s still very fragile.
JACK: Uh-huh. Want to know what I learned down there from my friend the coroner?
JOHN: Not especially.
JACK: See, whoever set that fire assumed that everything in the house would be more or less reduced to ash. But the firefighters managed to get it put out in enough time that it was still possible to learn something from the autopsy—not much, mind you, but something. I’ll spare you all the gory details, but to make a long story short—
JOHN: It’s a bit late for that.
JACK: —it seemed like your parents were shot from a close range, with a handgun. Which is a little odd, ain’t it, given that the man who was accused of the crime was found fleeing the scene with a big ol’ shotgun?
JOHN: Well, perhaps—perhaps he used a different gun to commit the crime.
JACK: Sure. Could be. Anyway, then I went over to the Strand theatre. It’s a nice place, isn’t it? I know some of the folks who work there, and when I asked around, they told me that a man who sounded like he looked an awful lot like you said good-bye to a girl out front of the theatre, walked in, bought a ticket for an afternoon showing of Dracula’s Daughter, and then walked right out again and got into his car and sped away. Isn’t that a funny thing?
JOHN: Why are you telling me all of this?
JACK: Oh, I just wanted to give you a clear picture of the events of my day. I thought you might be interested. Oh—I should also add that I spoke to a couple of guys from the RCMP, and they’re on their way. See, they want to ask you a couple of questions too.
JOHN: No.
JACK: No?
JOHN: No. You can’t do this.
JACK: I think I already did most of it.
JOHN: I did what needed to be done. It was an act of necessity.
JACK: I think a lot of people wouldn’t see it that way.
JOHN: You don’t understand, Miss Cassidy. When that piece of scum dared to put his hands on my sister—
JACK: You knew?
JOHN: Of course I knew! I always knew! But there was nothing I could do about it, until—
SFX: Door opening
MILLIE: John? What’s going on? I—(shrieks)
JACK: Hey! Get away from her!
JOHN: Stay back!
MILLIE: John! Let go of me! What are you doing?
JACK: Put the gun down, Mr. Baker.
JOHN: No.
MILLIE: John!
JOHN: (deadly calm) You’re going to let me walk out of here, right now, before the cops arrive. Or I’m going to blow her brains out.
MILLIE: John!
JACK: Mr. Baker. There’s no need for this.
JOHN: There’s every need for it. I’m not going to prison for doing my moral duty.
MILLIE: You! It was you?
JOHN: As if you hadn’t wished for their deaths a million times over.
MILLIE: Yeah, but there’s a big difference between wishing your parents would drop dead and going out and arranging it!
JOHN: Besides, I needed to protect you.
MILLIE: Me?
JACK: You know, a lot of people would say that the best way to protect somebody is not shooting them in the head. Just a thought—
JOHN: I’d rather see her dead than in the arms of an Indian.
JACK: O.K., I really don’t want to attack the priorities of the man holding the gun, but it seems to me--
JOHN: I’m going to give you until three to get the hell out of this room and tell the RCMP to turn around.
MILLIE: John, you can’t really—
JOHN: One—
JACK: Mr. Baker. Please. Let’s talk—
JOHN: Two—
SFX: Shattering glass, thud, groan, sound of a body hitting the floor
JACK: (narrating) Just before he could pull the trigger, something small and hard came flying through the french doors and connected solidly with John Baker’s head. He swayed where he stood for a moment, and then slid to the floor, unconscious.
MILLIE: Oh, my God.
JACK: What the hell was that?
MILLIE: It looks like…a golf ball.
JACK: A golf ball?
MILLIE: How could a golf ball come flying through the window from nowhere?
JACK: I don’t think it came from nowhere.
MILLIE: What?
JACK: It seems like there’s somebody coming through the back way who didn’t want to stay in my office after all.
SFX: Approaching footsteps at a run
GABE: Are you O.K.?
MILLIE: Gabriel!
SFX: Hug, kiss
JACK: Impeccable timing, Mr. Cardinal.
MILLIE: How did you know to come here?
GABE: Well, partly because of—hang on. (calling) Mr. Bhullar! Mrs. Bhullar! I found them! It’s O.K., they’re O.K.!
MILLIE: The Bhullars?
SFX: Approaching footsteps
SOHAN: Miss Baker! Oh, thank god!
MRS B: See? We’re not too late. I told you we wouldn’t be too late.
MILLIE: What are you two doing here?
GABE: Apparently this afternoon their daughter happened to mention that she’d seen John’s car tearing away from the house just as the fire broke out—
SOHAN: So then of course we realized at once who really must have committed the crime—
MRS. B: Stupid of me not to have seen it before. I always knew that boy was no good.
SOHAN: We came tearing into town to find Miss Cassidy and tell her we knew who the real culprit was, only you weren’t in your office, Miss Cassidy—
MRS. B: So we just told Effy, the other Effy, I mean, and Gabriel here—
SOHAN: And they told us where you and Millie were—
GABE: And then Mrs. B said to me, “You mean to say you went and left the woman you love alone with a murderer, you boob?”
MRS. B: I’m sure I didn’t call you a boob. I just suggested that perhaps it would be wise if we went to check on her.
GABE: And it’s a good thing I did! Seems like you were about to let her get shot!
JACK: I had everything under control.
MILLIE: Oh, Gabriel, you’re a marvel. Didn’t I tell you, Miss Cassidy, that he had the finest swing in Edmonton?
GABE: Well, I’m not a perfect golfer yet.
MILLIE: No?
GABE: No. I forgot to yell “fore”.
MFX: Transition
SFX: Twittering birds, distant shouts and chatter
EFFY: I still can’t believe you took down the bad guy by hitting a golf ball at him.
JACK: And I still can’t believe the three of you talked me into coming here. The only thing more ridiculous than regular golf has got to be this itsy-bitsy version of it.
EFFY: Come on, it’s a celebration! It’s not every PI whose clients invite them to join them in a game of miniature golf.
JACK: You can say that again.
MILLIE: We just wanted to thank the two of you again for helping us.
GABE: And help you develop some new, useful PI skills. It turns out you never know when you might need to hit a golf ball with deadly accuracy.
JACK: I seriously doubt any more situations in which this will come in useful will arise.
MILLIE: But it’s very addictive, isn’t it? We’ve been thinking about opening our own.
JACK: Your very own miniature golf course?
MILLIE: Now we’ve got the money from selling the farm, plus the insurance settlement—sure. It’s a fitting tribute to the game that saved my life.
GABE: And an even better tribute to the man that saved your life. I think we should finish it off with a tremendous statue of me—raising my golf club of righteous justice above my head—
MILLIE: Why not? The fine only ate up a tiny portion of the money.
JACK: Fine?
GABE: Didn’t you hear? I was charged with mischief for breaking the window at that hotel.
JACK: What?
EFFY: They pressed charges? For the single most heroic use of a golf ball in the history of ever?
GABE: Hey, the justice system had to exonerate an Indian and convict a salt-of-the-earth white boy in his place. They couldn’t just let me get away a perfect hero. Might upset the order of things.
JACK: Jeez!
GABE: But, hey. They let me off with a fine, and I can afford fines now that I’m marrying the girl of my dreams and she happens to be loaded.
EFFY: So when’s the wedding? Will you carry a bouquet of tiny golf clubs down the aisle?
GABE: No, we’re doing everything very traditional. Mostly to appease my kokum. Although she’s been much more dubious about my passion for golf than my marriage to a white woman. She thinks it’s a stupid game for moniyâw.
JACK: She’s right.
GABE: Of course she’s right. But I’d like to think it’s one of those things that you invent and we’ll perfect. You know, like bannock.
EFFY: White people invented bannock?
GABE: Well, you like to think you did.
MILLIE: Oh, you should see him in his regalia. He looks even handsomer than he does in plus-fours. You girls aren’t married, are you?
EFFY: No!
JACK: No.
MILLIE: Well, you should try it some time. It’s the best thing in the world. If you meet the perfect person, I mean.
EFFY: Yeah.
JACK: Yeah.
ANNOUNCER: This episode of Hardboiled featured the voices of:
Ceris Backstrom as Jack Cassidy
Lauren Hughes as Effy Strembitsky
Tej Swatch as Sohan Singh Bhullar
Helen Belay as Effie Bhullar
Trevor Duplessis as Gabriel Cardinal and the mountie
Monica Maddaford as Millie Baker
Damon Pitcher as John Baker
And Michael Vetsch, as always, as your announcer.
Hardboiled is written and directed by Celia Taylor and edited and produced by Tegan Siganski, with an original score and sound design by Dave Clarke.
Hardboiled is presented in association with the Edmonton Pride Centre,and with the support of the Edmonton Heritage Council, the Edmonton Community Foundation, and the Edmonton Arts Council. Tune in next week, when we’ll return with another thrilling installment of - Hardboiled!