ANNOUNCER: Empress of Blandings Productions is proud to present radio’s newest detective, Jack Cassidy, PI, and her thrilling adventures, in—HARDBOILED!
MFX: Opening theme
SFX: Door opening and closing
EFFY: Mail call!
JACK: Anything interesting?
SFX: Paper rustling
EFFY: Hm. Bill…’nother bill…this week’s free tickets from the Strand—ooh, it’s the new Mae West! Don’t you just love her? (as West) “Why don't you come up sometime and see me?”
JACK: I thought it was “why don’t you come up and see me sometime”?
EFFY: No, that’s what people always say but they get it wrong. Ooh!
JACK: What?
EFFY: There’s an invitation to a party!
JACK: A what?
EFFY: (reading) “Miss Primula Dell requests the pleasure of the company of Miss Jacqueline Cassidy at her residence for dinner, amusing conversation, and a competitive battle of wits. She is desirous of your expertise to solve a murder, which she judges will take place sometime after eight o’ clock on Friday evening. Attendees are welcome to bring a guest. R.S.V.P.”
JACK: What the hell?
EFFY: You don’t know what this is about either?
JACK: Not a clue. Who is this Primula dame? I’ve never even heard of her. Is she telling me she’s fixing to commit murder this Friday and wants me to be there to sort it out?
SFX: Phone ringing
EFFY: Jack Cassidy Detective Agency. Oh, hi, Sergeant. Yes, she’s here. I’ll hand her over.
JACK: Hiya, Sarge. What can I do for you?
McGREGOR: (filter) Hey, Jack. Have you got ahold of your invitation yet?
JACK: My what? Sarge, did you send this missive?
McGREGOR: Christ, no! But I’ve got one too. “Mrs. Primula Dell requests the pleasure of your company—”
JACK: You’re kidding. What’s going on?
McGREGOR: Well, Jack, if you had all my police-academy training under your belt, maybe you’d already have solved this mystery, and gone ahead and called this dame yourself. But, since you don’t—
JACK: Cripes, Sarge, I only just opened the letter this minute. Well, who is she? Did you know her?
McGREGOR: Primula Dell? Only slightly. Oldish broad who lives in one of those mansions around Alexander Circle. Completely bananas, from what I understand, only she’s filthy rich enough that we call her eccentric. I worked a break and enter for her a while back—simple case, just a kid who thought she looked like an easy mark. But I guess she remembered me.
JACK: So what’d she tell you when you called her up? What’s this about a murder?
McGREGOR: It’s her way of inviting us to a Murder Game Party. You know the Murder Game?
JACK: I’ve been working in the Murder Game on and off for the past ten years.
EFFY: No, no—you know, Jack, the Murder Game!
McGREGOR: Is your secretary doing that thing where she sticks her noggin right up against yours to listen to the phone call?
EFFY: So what if I am?
McGREGOR: It ain’t very professional.
EFFY: The Murder Game’s a thing you do at parties. You know—all the lights go out, and when they come back up somebody’s lying on the ground pretending to be “dead”, and somebody else at the party is the “murderer”, and all the guests have to work out who it is. Right?
McGREGOR: Right.
JACK: Sounds like a damned waste of time. Well, why didn’t she invite her rich socialite friends? Don’t you and I have real murderers to worry about?
McGREGOR: (sighs) Apparently she wants some honest-to-god dicks there—so her rich socialite friends can see how the business of murder-solving is really done. And she wants to pit all the dicks against each other—see whose method is best.
JACK: What a dippy notion. Well, why bother getting me on the blower, Sarge? Why didn’t you just drop this thing in the wastebasket and get on with your day?
McGREGOR: Well…
JACK: You’re not going, are you?
McGREGOR: The problem is the third detective she’s asked to be present. Well, I say detective—technically he’s a psychic.
JACK: A psychic?
McGREGOR: Do you remember the Booher murders, back in ’28?
JACK: Vaguely.
McGREGOR: Well, I don’t know if you heard about this part, but we only solved that case because of this psychic fella who was in town at the time—name of Adolphe Maximilian Langsner.
JACK: You’re telling me some Jerry carnival grifter solved your murder for you?
McGREGOR: He claimed to be able to look into people’s minds and see the guilt flowin’ out of their brains. Well, I admit I thought it was a lot of hooey at first. But he fingered the guy who done it easy as you please, and told us where we he stashed the gun. Booher confessed—and the gun was right where Langsner said it was.
JACK: And you believe this bunk, Sarge?
McGREGOR: I saw it all go down with my own eyes, Jack! Look, I’m not saying I believe in psychics—maybe this guy just has some talent for reading body language. I don’t know. The point is, the Chief thinks he’s the cat's pajamas and now that he’s back in town we’ve been trying to get him to come work with us on some more cases. I figure, if I go to this party, make small talk, butter the guy up…
JACK: (laughs) Well, I hope you have a swell time of it, Sarge. You can tell me all about it next time I see you.
McGREGOR: She’ll pay you, you know.
JACK: What?
McGREGOR: Sure. Just like a regular job. She asked me to tell you, just in case there was any doubt. And she can pay you pretty handsomely.
JACK: Oh, O.K. So this is not so much an invitation to a nice dinner, as it is a commission to come and be entertainment for the evening?
McGREGOR: Don’t get all up on your hind legs. I’m just telling you to think of her as a client like any other. A little screwier than most clients, maybe, but still a client with good Canadian money in her wallet. So, might I see you there?
JACK: I’ll have to think it over.
McGREGOR: And if I do, will I get the privilege of seeing Jack Cassidy in a dress?
JACK: Bye, Sarge.
SFX: click
(pause)
EFFY: Ja-ack…
JACK: I know we could use the money.
EFFY: We could always use the money. Anyway, doesn’t this sound like fun?
JACK: Let me think that one over…No, it doesn’t.
EFFY: Oh, come on! It’s just a dinner party. We’ll go, you can prove to everyone you’re the most brilliant of all of them, and we’ll have a good laugh about it afterwards—
JACK: What’s this ‘we’?
EFFY: Well, it says you can bring a guest. Who else would you bring? Have you been seeing some other secretary behind my back?
JACK: Ha, ha.
EFFY: Oh, and I have the most perfect dress for it. I suppose she’ll expect formal evening wear. (beat) Will you—
JACK: (firmly) Tails.
EFFY: It just might not be what Mrs. Dell is expecting.
JACK: She’s the dame who hired me for this crummy affair and if I have to be formal I’ll go in tails and a tie or I won’t go at all. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll have to lump it.
MFX: Transition
JACK: Narrating The day of the dinner party dawned grey and grim, and by seven-thirty it was fifteen below and there was freezing rain pelting down steadily. It was the sort of weather designed to put the kibosh on my reliance on streetcars and bicycles, so I set aside my principles for the evening and took a cab. When I arrived at Mrs. Dell’s residence, I found my secretary shivering on the front steps.
EFFY: Finally!
JACK: What’ve you been waiting around out here for? It’s freezing.
EFFY: I didn’t want to go inside without you. You’re the one who’s been invited, after all.
JACK: Well, well. Euphemia Strembitsky, finally cowed in the face of high society.
EFFY: Oh, shut up and ring the doorbell, would you?
SFX: Ding-dong
JACK: (narrating) A butler took our coats and led us into a brilliantly lit sitting room, where we found McGregor chatting with a small man in dark glasses. Near him there were two men who looked like they’d stepped out of a Leyendecker print, talking to a woman in a dress with leopard-print trim and a loud purple turban, who could only have been—
PRIMULA: Ah, our final detectives have arrived! Such a delight to have you here, my dears—how are you?
JACK: We—
PRIMULA: I am, of course, your hostess, Primula Dell—you, I suppose, are the famed Jack Cassidy, and this must be—?
JACK: My secretary. Effy Strembitsky.
EFFY: Hi.
PRIMULA: Of course. Of course. Such a pleasure. (SFX: air kisses) A glass of champagne?
EFFY: (quite eager) Yes, please.
SFX: Champagne being poured
PRIMULA: Now, introductions! Let us begin with your competitors for the evening. Sergeant McGregor, I understand, you already know—
McGREGOR: Glad to see you here, Jack.
PRIMULA: And this, of course, is the great Herr Doctor Adolphe Maximilian Langsner, of whose talents you have no doubt heard—
JACK: Pleasure.
LANGSNER: (German accent) The pleasure is all mine, Fraulein. I am delighted to see that I have such worthy competitors for this evening’s entertainment.
JACK: Uh-huh.
PRIMULA: And perhaps you are also familiar with the work of my dear friends, Monsieur Jean de Montesquiou and Monsieur Edmond Joly, the playwriting team?
JACK: I don’t know if I…
PRIMULA: Their most recent piece, L’entregent des cordonniers, premiered to tremendous acclaim in Montreal just a few months ago. I had the privilege of attending a matinee—and, oh, c’etait magnifique, monsieurs!
EDMOND: (Franco-Albertan accent) Madame Dell is too kind.
PRIMULA: But even faced with such tremendous fame and success, they have not forgotten their Alberta roots—eh, gentlemen?
JEAN: (Ditto) Ah, but we could never forget those.
EDMOND: Especially with the charms of Madame Primula Dell to welcome us back.
(PRIMULA simpers)
JEAN: We are currently at work on a new play—concerning a group of people who are trapped at a dinner party with a murderer. Madame Dell was so kind as to organize a simulation of such a dinner party for our research purposes.
EDMOND: And to bring in real live detectives, so that we could see for ourselves how real live detectives talk. The evening has already been most illuminating.
JEAN: Oh, very, very useful, yes.
JACK: Uh…swell.
JEAN: “Swell.” Did you get that, Edmond? “Swell”.
EDMOND: “Swell”, yes. Superb.
JEAN: Un exemple authentique de l’argot utilisé par les détectives privés.
EDMOND: Oui, cher, évidemment. C’est pas nécessaire de tout décortiquer.
JEAN: C’est juste pour dire…
SFX: Ding-dong
PRIMULA: Ah, the last guests!
EDMOND: Who else is joining our little soiree?
PRIMULA: Oh, I invited the Redesdales as well—they live just next door.
JEAN: (beat. Fake casual) The—Redesdales?
EDMOND: (Ditto) Jean, you remember--that British expat, and his charming wife.
PRIMULA: Ah, you know each other?
JEAN: Only slightly.
PRIMULA: I’ve been meaning to invite them over for weeks now, but it kept slipping my mind. You should see their property, my dears, it’s just scrumptious—I’ve been trying to buy it up myself for years now, but they snatched it out from under me.
SFX: Door opening
PRIMULA: Ah, here they are! Roderick, Eulalie, how are you?
RODERICK: (Posh English accent) Oh, mustn’t complain, mustn’t complain. Beastly weather, this, isn’t it?
EULALIE: (Ditto) I’m just so excited about this evening, Miss Dell, I can’t tell you. It’s like stepping inside a real-life Agatha Christie novel. Ooh! Are you one of the detectives?
PRIMULA: May I present Mr. McGregor, a sergeant with the Edmonton police—
(murmured greetings from McGREGOR, RODERICK, EULALIE)
PRIMULA: And Miss Jack Cassidy, a local private investigator, and her secretary, Effy Strembitsky—
RODERICK: A lady detective, eh? How dashed modern.
PRIMULA: And this is Herr Doktor Adolphe Langsner, a psychic detective.
LANGSNER: I really prefer the term “mental telepathist.” And I am glad to say that I have already had the pleasure. Mr. Redesdale and I were introduced some weeks ago at the dinner of a mutual friend.
RODERICK: Ah, yes, you’re the chap who did the seance! Fascinating stuff—fascinating. Old King just adores that kind of thing, doesn’t he?
JACK: King?
EULALIE: My husband and Mr. Langsner are too modest to come right out and drop names, Miss Cassidy, but their mutual friend is of course our Prime Minister.
LANGSNER: Mr. King, as my friend Mr. Redesdale correctly observes, is a great admirer of my humble talents.
PRIMULA: And here are our other guests—Monsieur Joly and Monsieur de Montesquiou—who tell me they already know you.
(Slight but palpable tension)
RODERICK: Ah, yes. Yes, we have had some correspondence in the past, haven’t we?
EDMOND: Bonsoir, Mr. Redesdale.
JEAN: How do you do, Mr. Redesdale?
(strained silence)
PRIMULA: Well! Shall we all move through to the dining room?
MFX: Transition
SFX: Chink of crockery, drinks being poured, etc—continues under the following
McGREGOR: So, Herr Langsner, how long have you been practicing your—uh—talents?
LANGSNER: You mean my service for humanity? About sixteen years.
JEAN: And do you find it enjoyable, Herr Doktor?
LANGSNER: Enjoyable? No, not quite enjoyable—but wonderfully fulfilling. It is not an easy calling, mine. All my life I have to fight. Official science, for instance, it fight me. But what can one say? One does it—one proves it—and then one makes friends of the honest skeptics.
EULALIE: What about you, Miss Cassidy? Do you enjoy your work?
JACK: Well, that really depends on the day.
EULALIE: I heard somewhere you had the opportunity to thwart a gang of Bolshevists a while back. That must have been satisfying.
JACK: It wasn’t exactly the Bolshevists I thwarted.
RODERICK: Damn nuisance, Bolshevists. All those lunatics on the left are what’s sending this country to hell in a hand-basket. Wouldn’t you say, Miss Strembitsky?
EFFY: Erm…
RODERICK: Strembitsky. That’s not a Jewish name, is it?
EFFY: Uh…no, sir.
RODERICK: Jolly good. So many people who seem perfectly pleasant when you meet them turn out to be either Jews or Bolshevists, and in my personal experience when you have the one you have the other as well. Not that, under normal circumstances, I’d go out of my way to have a Polack at my dinner table, but there are certainly worse things, eh? Ha, ha!
EFFY: I’m…actually Ukrainian—
PRIMULA: More champagne for you, Miss Strembitsky?
EFFY: Yes, please.
EDMOND: So, Herr Langsner, it was the Booher murder you helped the police solve some years ago, yes?
JEAN: We remembered reading about it in the papers. How did you do it?
LANGSNER: Oh! It was an easy job. The police were so good, so co-operative. If all policemen were so willing to cooperate with me, I could clean up Chicago in a year!
JACK: Right, but—how exactly did you solve the murder, Herr Doktor?
LANGSNER: Aah, Miss Cassidy. My processes are not so simple that I can distill them into a few words of dinner party chatter. My allies—they are invisible, strong forces, all silent. I do not see them, do not know them. They know me, I think. All I can do is keep myself right and ready. I must not worry—I must keep my nerves open—I must be ready that my invisible allies may use me.
(pause)
EFFY: Gee.
JACK: So, when is this murder scheduled to take place exactly?
PRIMULA: Oh, if we told you that, my dear, it would spoil all of the fun!
EDMOND: Which of the three competitors do you have the most confidence in, Madame Dell?
EULALIE: Ooh—maybe we should take bets!
JEAN: I think I would place my money on Herr Doktor Langsner.
EDMOND: Jean has the utmost faith in the supernatural.
JEAN: I just tremendously admire his spectacles. One can always trust a man in dark glasses.
LANGSNER: I hope you all forgive my rudeness in wearing these at the table. I find bright light to be a great strain on my ability to keep my nerves open for communication from the World Beyond.
RODERICK: Well, if I may be absolutely candid, Mr. McGregor here is the only one of you I’d consider hiring if I ever needed a crime solved. Nothing personal, of course, but I find I really can’t stand this sort of eccentric affectation from hired professionals.
EDMOND: (undertone, dry) Now, how could they possibly take that personally?
JACK: I think the Doktor here has me pretty well beat in the eccentricity department.
RODERICK: Really, Miss Cassidy? I’m sure you must be considered at least something of an original by your colleagues in Edmonton. From personal experience, I only ever see women who look like you do hanging around particularly louche nightclubs when I visit Berlin.
JACK: Hey, thanks, Mr. Redesdale. Nobody’s ever called me “louche” before. I hope you boys are taking notes—“louche nightclubs” is a great turn of phrase for that play of yours.
RODERICK: May I ask, Miss Strembitsky, does your employer make a point of going about in trousers and a tie all the time? Does it aid her, in her profession?
JEAN: I think her tailcoat suits her very well.
RODERICK: (a little nasty) Oh, I’m sure you do. My question is, Miss Cassidy—I’m truly curious—is it a strategic choice? In the hopes, I mean, that if your clients see you looking like a man, they will treat you like a man? You must know that it’s a very unattractive look for a woman, so is it purely for the sake of your career?
JACK: Well, I -
RODERICK: Please understand that I merely ask in the spirit of scientific curiosity. I was just saying to Eulalie the other day—wasn’t I, dear?—it seems like ever since the great war the world has just been overrun with men who think they’re women and women who think they’re men, and I just can’t understand it at all. Now, if this were what your clients wanted from you, perhaps that would make some sort of sense. But what I can’t fathom is why those who suffer from congenital inversion, for instance, don’t make more of an effort to seek treatment for it, instead of forcing everyone to be exposed to their degeneracy—
EFFY: (SFX: glass being set down on the table with a bang) Hey, mister, why don’t you shut up!
RODERICK: I beg your pardon?
EFFY: What’s the big idea, showing up to dinner parties just to pick on the other guests? Jack doesn’t need to pretend to be anything to get clients, she gets clients because she’s great at what she does, and just because she’s wearing a tie doesn’t mean you can sit around jawing about her like there’s something wrong with her, because there’s nothing wrong with her, and saying it don’t make her look attractive is a lot of bunk because I see her in those clothes every day and I think she looks more attractive in them than any man ever could do, so there!
(Slightly shocked silence. I guess we can’t see Effy realize that everyone is staring at her, but we hear it in her voice when she says—)
EFFY: Um. And—and that’s all. Say, is this parsley sauce? Because it is…delicious.
RODERICK: (nasty) Miss Strembitsky. I wonder if you ever—
MFX: Chord!
(Little shrieks, a small clatter, “Oh!” and “oops!” and “here we go”, and other standard responses to the lights suddenly going out)
JACK: (narrating) Either by good luck, or because the servant Primula Dell had stationed by the light switch had an acute sense of how and when to save a social gathering from disaster, it was at that moment that all the lights went out, and from the dazzling brightness of Primula’s dining room we were suddenly plunged into total darkness.
McGREGOR: I guess this is it.
EULALIE: Oops! Is that your elbow?
JEAN: (histrionic scream) Oh no, I am being murdered! Help, help, someone is murdering me!
(Appreciative chuckles from other guests. A creak and a thump, and then another thump.)
PRIMULA: Oh, heavens! Someone has been tragically murdered in the dark! Jenkins, the lights! Get the lights!
SFX: Click
PRIMULA: How dreadful! Poor, dear Jean, cut down in the prime of life.
JACK: Now, no one told me there were two murders planned for this evening.
PRIMULA: Two murders?
EULALIE: Why, Roderick, you sly thing! You didn’t tell me Miss Dell picked you to be murdered too.
PRIMULA: What?
JEAN: Parbleu, Madame Dell, you told me I would be the only victim. What are you doing pretending to slump over like that, Mr. Redesdale?
EULALIE: You can get up now, you know, Roddy. You don’t have to pretend to be dead for the whole rest of the evening. (Pause) …Roddy?
EFFY: (softly) Oh, my God.
EULALIE: (screams) RODDY!
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!
If you’re enjoying this tale of high stakes and high society, please take a moment to subscribe to Hardboiled, to make sure you don’t miss the next thrilling installment. And leave a rating, and perhaps a friendly review, on the platform where you’re enjoying this program. Unless, of course, you aren’t enjoying this program, in which case, keep your feelings to yourself.
We now return you to the episode in progress: Murder by Invitation!
McGREGOR: I tried to get through to the station, but it looks like the phone lines are down in this storm. I could try to drive over—
JACK: Look outside, Sarge, it’s coming down in sheets now. You won’t be able to see two feet ahead of you.
EULALIE: (slightly hysterical) So what am I supposed to do? Just sit here next to my husband’s corpse, making pleasant conversation with his murderer?
McGREGOR: Oh, come now, Mrs. Redesdale…
EULALIE: What? What? He was stabbed—stabbed—when the lights went out. That’s what you said, isn’t it, Sergeant, when you examined the body? A knife wound? Someone in this room murdered my husband!
PRIMULA: Oh, this is really too dreadful.
EDMOND: Peut-être un peu plus réaliste que ce qui est préférable.
LANGSNER: If I may say so, Frau Redesdale, I would point out that even without the rest of the police here to assist, you are in the best possible company for such a situation. After all, here you are in a room with three trained investigators, and all possible suspects gathered in one room together.
EULALIE: Oh!—do you really think you could work out who the killer is? Right here, right now?
LANGSNER: I have found my little talents are very useful in circumstances like these.
JACK: You been to a lot of dinner parties like this one, Herr Doktor?
LANGSNER: If you all will allow me a few moments to concentrate, and to reach out to the spirits—
JACK: Uh-huh, swell. You see anything around the body, Sarge? Doesn’t seem like any of the knives on the table are missing.
McGREGOR: No. And none of them are sharp enough to have made a wound like this. Whoever did this came prepared.
JACK: Well, the weapon’s gotta be around somewhere.
McGREGOR: Could be a pocket knife. Someone could’ve tucked it away.
JACK: Yeah. O.K., everybody empty your pockets and evening bags—
LANGSNER: Miss Cassidy, please. I am sure there is no need for such unpleasantness.
JACK: You know a man was just stabbed to death, right?
LANGSNER: What I mean is—perhaps, if you would be so kind, you would be willing to let me try my method of investigation before embarking on yours.
JACK: And what method is that? You going to summon Mr. Redesdale’s ghost and ask him who he felt breathing in his ear during his last moments?
LANGSNER: I simply wish to suggest that before we submit everyone to the indignity of a physical examination, I could take a moment to ask everyone some questions. You may ask some questions, too, if you wish, but I feel that some conversation with the assembled group will better enable me to reach out to reach out to my allies and receive their input.
McGREGOR: (sighs) O.K., Langsner. We’ll try it your way first.
JACK: (undertone) Sarge! You can’t be serious.
McGREGOR: (undertone) Listen, I don’t know how he solved that murder back in the twenties, but he did solve it! The worst thing that’ll happen is he waves his arms and spouts some more bunk and we don’t know any less than we did when we started.
LANGSNER: If I could please to get everyone to arrange their chairs in a circle, and be seated—? Yes. Yes, just so. Ideally, of course, one does this sort of thing by candlelight—
PRIMULA: My dear man, I am most certainly not shutting off the lights a second time, thank you very much! I think one murder is quite enough for one evening.
LANGSNER: Very well, very well, just as you like. We will dispense with the usual formalities. Mrs. Redesdale, my good woman—may I begin by asking just a few questions of you? Do you feel that you are strong enough?
EULALIE: Yes—yes, I suppose so.
LANGSNER: Very well then. Do you know if your husband had any enemies?
EULALIE: I imagine so, yes. One doesn’t become as politically powerful as my husband without making some enemies.
LANGSNER: He was a rich man too, yes?
EULALIE: I—I suppose he was.
PRIMULA: Oh, certainly, my dear, Roderick built up a tremendous fortune over the years.
EDMOND: (a little nasty) Yes, Mr. Redesdale was a very canny businessman.
LANGSNER: Did you have children?
EULALIE: No. No we didn’t. Why?
LANGSNER: And you, Frau Dell, may I enquire about your knowledge of Herr Redesdale’s tremendous fortune? How did you come to learn of it?
PRIMULA: How? Darling, it’s common knowledge. His name would appear in the papers every so often. He was a diplomat and businessman, he travelled all over the world…well, Eulalie, the two of you just seemed too terribly glamorous.
EULALIE: Herr Doktor, why did you ask me if I had children?
McGREGOR: It’s natural enough, Miss Redesdale, to wish to get all of the details—
EULALIE: Why did you ask me if my husband was rich, and then ask me if I had children? Are you trying to imply that I might have a motive?
LANGSNER: (soothing) Frau Redesdale—
EULALIE: How dare you, sir! I loved my husband. I would gladly have given up my life for his. The moment I realized—realized what had happened—was the worst moment of my life.
LANGSNER: I simply wished to acquaint myself better with everyone in the room.
EULALIE: Well, if that’s what you want, perhaps you should be talking to them.
JEAN: Who? Us?
EULALIE: They were the ones who wanted this dinner party as inspiration for their degenerate writings. What could give them a better sense of what it would be like to experience a real murder than to actually commit one?
EDMOND: Elle est malade!
JEAN: C’est de la folie! Comment osez-vous proposer—
McGREGOR: Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. Mrs. Redesdale is distraught. And we have to face the fact that anyone in the room could have done this terrible thing.
JEAN: I could not have done this terrible thing!
EDMOND: Nor could I!
McGREGOR: How did you two know Mr. Redesdale?
JEAN: Pardon?
JACK: Well, you all knew each other, but it seemed to me all three of you got a little shifty-looking when you shook hands.
(Pause)
McGREGOR: Well?
JEAN: Il faut leur dire.
EDMOND: Il ne faut absolument rien faire.
JEAN: Ah, donc tu préfères qu’on t’accuse de meurtre?
EDMOND: Ils n’ont aucune preuve! Pas une seule! Et—
LANGSNER: (delicately) Blackmail?
(beat)
EDMOND: What?
LANGSNER: Mr. Redesdale was blackmailing you, is that not correct?
JEAN: How did—how did you—?
LANGSNER: It comes out of both your minds in very strong waves.
EULALIE: Blackmail!?
EDMOND: (bitter) Do not distress yourself, Madame Redesdale, your husband never did anything quite illegal. It was all very professionally executed.
JEAN: Oh yes, he was very careful to never actually threaten us. But he made it very clear that our reputations depended on the increasingly large sums of money we wired to him every month.
McGREGOR: So? What’s the big secret?
EDMOND: What?
McGREGOR: What did he find out about you, that he was blackmailing you over? Some scandal? Something about a woman? What?
JEAN: Uh….no.
EDMOND: No, nothing about a woman.
McGREGOR: Well, then?
PRIMULA: (undertone) My dear, what did they teach you at detective school?
JACK: Come on, Sarge, they don’t need to spill their secrets, do they? That’s not the important thing.
JEAN: Thank you, Miss Cassidy.
JACK: The important thing is, these boys have a crystal-clear motive.
EDMOND: (muttering, dry) Yes, thank you, Miss Cassidy.
JEAN: Perhaps we did have a motive. But we are innocent!
EDMOND: Jean, remember, was the fake victim. He was busy collapsing to the floor at the moment Monsieur Redesdale was stabbed!
EULALIE: And what about you? You weren’t busy doing anything, monsieur.
LANGSNER: Please, Frau Redesdale. I understand that you are overwrought. But we must not let our anger run away with us.
EULALIE: Oh, I’m overwrought, am I? Overwrought, you say, after my husband is stabbed to death in front of me, and I am trapped in the house with his murderer, and accused of the crime myself?
McGREGOR: Mrs. Redesdale, please—
EULALIE: Well, while we’re on the subject of letting our anger run away with us, suppose we talk about the young woman who directed an unprompted outburst of rage at my husband just moments before his death?
EFFY: Me?
EULALIE: Who else? You shriek at him to shut up—minutes later, he is shut up for good.
EFFY: Oh, gosh. Mrs. Redesdale, I’m awfully sorry about that. I can’t think what came over me—I just got so mad all of a sudden. Jack’s the best employer a girl could wish for, and when I heard him laying into her like that—
EULALIE: “Employer”, she says. The best “employer”! Ha!
EFFY: (confused) Well…yeah. I mean, I’m her secretary.
EULALIE: Oh, her “secretary”, are you!
EFFY: (still confused) Didn’t Miss Dell tell you that earlier…? Yeah, I’m her secretary. I, you know, take her calls and things—anyway, I just didn’t like the way your husband was talking to her. But, gee, I wouldn’t scrag the guy for it!
JEAN: Est-ce qu’elle a dit “scrag”? Est-ce que ça veut dire “meurtre”? C’est bon, ça.
EDMOND: Alors là c’est vraiment pas le bon moment, Jean.
(LANGSNER suddenly groans loudly)
PRIMULA: Herr Doktor! Are you all right?
LANGSNER: The spirits! The pull of the spirits is upon me! I feel…I feel that the answer will soon be imparted to me. Could I ask, perhaps, that we all join hands?
JACK: (undertone) This is officially the dippiest murder investigation in history.
LANGSNER: And join a circle once more. Yes. Just so. (deep breath) Now. Two of you in this circle were being blackmailed by the man who is now dead. One of you wished desperately to purchase property of which he was the owner—
PRIMULA: Oh, I must say, my dear, I really don’t—
LANGSNER: Sh! One of you stood to inherit his tremendous fortune. And two of you felt yourselves to be deeply insulted by Herr Redesdale over the course of dinner. But only one mind has been sending out clear thought waves of guilt.
JACK: “Thought waves”?
LANGSNER: I do not fault you for your skepticism, Fraulein Cassidy. But you will yet see. You will for yourself judge. When I studied in Vienna with Herr Doktor Freud, I learned it is perfectly scientifically reasonable for a well-attuned human mind to receive signals from a mind under stress.
McGREGOR: Well, spit it out, man. Whose mind is sending out these guilty waves?
LANGSNER: (sighs) I am deeply saddened to say this. It is tragic indeed to think that a man could meet this fate at the hands of his own dear wife, but—
EULALIE: WHAT! Me! You accuse me! You—you charlatan, you German quack! Are you mad?
LANGSNER: Even had I not been receiving help from my allies, it would have been impossible not to notice your desire to accuse everyone in the room—except yourself, madam.
McGREGOR: That’s true.
LANGSNER: And, of course, you were sitting next to him at dinner. It would have been very easy to turn to the side and—
EULALIE: Sergeant! You are surely not going to convict me on the dubious accusations of this humbug lunatic?
LANGSNER: The Edmonton Police have been glad of my advice before.
McGREGOR: Well…last time the guy confessed, Langsner. And you led us to where the weapon was.
LANGSNER: May I suggest, perhaps, that you take a look inside Frau Redesdale’s evening bag?
EULALIE: (laughs) Oh yes, you do that! By all means! I have nothing to hide. Here, take it!
SFX: Rusting fabric
A collective gasp goes up
JEAN/EDMOND: C’est le couteau!
PRIMULA DELL: Merciful heavens!
EFFY: Eurgh, it’s still all bloody.
EULALIE: I—I don’t understand. How—how could that have gotten there?
LANGSNER: I imagine, Frau Redesdale, that that is where you chose to replace it, once it had served its purpose.
EULALIE: No. No! I—this is—this is some plot—I could never—I would never—
McGREGOR: Mrs. Redesdale…I’m afraid, in light of this, I’m going to have to place you under arrest.
EULALIE: No!
JACK: No.
McGREGOR: What?
JACK: She didn’t do it.
McGREGOR: Jack, I know you’re skeptical about Langsner’s powers, but she had the murder weapon right on her.
JACK: That’s why I say she didn’t do it. Come on, Sarge. Why would you murder your husband with a knife and then stash it back in your purse? Why not just leave the thing sticking in him?
McGREGOR: How the hell should I know? Folks ain’t always thinking clearly at the moment they plunge a knife into somebody.
JACK: Sure. But she woulda had to fumble in the dark to get the thing back in, and she wouldn’t’ve known how much time she had before the lights came back on. Nah. Somebody put that knife in her bag because they wanted her to be accused.
JEAN: But who?
EDMOND: Yes, who?
JACK: You all see how bright it is in this room? I had to practically squint when I came in from the street. Miss Dell doesn’t cut corners when it comes to lighting her home, I guess—
PRIMULA: (proudly) I was an early adopter of electric light.
JACK: —so when they all went out, none of us could see a damn thing. Our eyes couldn’t adjust. (beat) Except for the man who was wearing dark glasses all night.
(general murmuring)
LANGSNER: (slightly nervous laugh) What on earth do you mean?
JACK: I mean that once you whipped those specs off, you would have been the only person who could have seen anything once the lights were out. The rest of us couldn’t see enough to find our own fork, much less draw out a knife and plunge it into the man sitting across from us. But for you, it would’ve been easy.
LANGSNER: Absurd.
JACK: Now, I can’t say as I know why you did it. Seems to me you’re just about the only one in this room who didn’t have a swell reason for bumping off the late Mr. Redesdale. But in my opinion, you’re the only person in this room who coulda done it.
LANGSNER: My dear Fraulein, I must say this all seems very far-fetched.
JACK: Maybe. But now we’ve got ahold of the murder weapon, thanks to your miraculous knowledge of its location, it doesn’t actually matter. I suggest the Sarge takes the whole lot of us into custody and collects our fingerprints.
PRIMULA: Fingerprints?
JACK: Sure. No possible way that whoever did it had time to slide a pair of gloves on and off. Hey, Langsner, your “allies” told you where the knife was. D’you reckon they’d tell us whose prints’ll be on it?
(Pause)
McGREGOR: Langsner?
LANGSNER: (calmly) Mine.
McGREGOR: What?
LANGSNER: My prints. (chuckles) You’re quite right. No point drawing things out.
Reaction from everyone
McGREGOR: Is this—an admission of guilt?
LANGSNER: I thought I might as well do the thing properly by trying to pin it on the wife. But if I cannot, I cannot. It is really no matter. I accomplished what I meant to accomplish. If I must be hanged for it, well, so be it.
EULALIE: You—you! You murdered my husband!
LANGSNER: I did.
EULALIE: And you tried to frame me!
LANGSNER: Yes, Frau Redesdale, I believe we’ve all grasped this point now.
EULALIE: You filthy swine!
SFX: Clatter and overlapping talk and exclamations
McGREGOR: Hey, stop, stop! All right, this is nuts. The rain looks like it’s starting to let up—I’m going to go see if I can get my car to start, and then you and I, Herr Doktor, are heading down to the station. Jack, are you packing heat?
JACK: No, Sarge, curiously enough I leave the old equalizers at home when I go to society dinners.
McGREGOR: Well, take mine—don’t give me that look, I came here straight from work! Anyway, as it turns out you never know when you might need to be armed. Stay here and make sure our psychic friend doesn’t try any funny business. I’ll be right back.
SFX: Door closing
LANGSNER: Mental telepathist.
JACK: What?
LANGSNER: The term is “mental telepathist”—
EULALIE: Oh, shut up!
JACK: I still don’t get why you did it. Still seems to me like you’re the only bird in this room without a motive.
LANGSNER: I did what was necessary.
JACK: See, Langsner, in my years as a dick I’ve found that bumping someone off is almost never a necessary solution to a problem.
LANGSNER: It is a question of politics, Fraulein. Frau Redesdale mentioned that her husband made many enemies in his career—let us simply say that I am one of those enemies.
JACK: Care to elaborate?
EULALIE: (snorts) Of course. You’re probably just another one of those anti-fascists, aren’t you?
EFFY: Anti-fascists?
EULALIE: My husband’s political enemies often disapproved of the friends he made in high places. I daresay this Langsner has some fixation on the very close friendship my husband and I had with the dear German Chancellor.
(Pause)
JACK: Oh. You…have a very close friendship with the dear German Chancellor?
EULALIE: Oh yes, he and my husband were very fond of each other. We’ve dined with him on many occasions—of course, one doesn’t wish to boast—
JACK: Of course.
EULALIE: In fact, my husband was acting as a sort of liaison between Herr Hitler and Mr. King.
PRIMULA: Mr King…the Prime Minister?
LANGSNER: William Mackenzie King, you know, is also quite fond of Herr Hitler. The late Roderick Redesdale was working very hard to persuade Mr. King that Canada would be very well situated, politically speaking, if he were to help convince Britain to sign a peace pact with Germany.
EULALIE: And he had very nearly succeeded, too! After all, anyone who knows anything about the world just now can see there’s a war coming, and friendship with Germany would be the best way to ensure the continued safety and prosperity of Canada.
EDMOND: ….Would it?
EULALIE: But now, I daresay, Mr. King will be obliged to turn towards other advisors, less astute than my husband—
JACK: That’s why you did it? In order to remove someone who might have been instrumental in getting Britain and Canada to play nice with Germany?
LANGSNER: Quite so, Fraulein Cassidy. Of course, organizing political alliances was not the only little task with which Herr Redesdale was only too pleased to help the Führer. During his travels he compiled extensive notes on any politically powerful persons who might prove…troublesome, for instance.
EULALIE: Why, certainly. Wouldn’t anyone wish to be informed if the people they trust as leaders are Jews, or Communists, or Sodomites? Frankly, I think we all know that the world would be a much better place if certain people could be simply - eliminated.
LANGSNER: Yes. Eliminated. That was the sort of task your husband loved to help Herr Hitler with, wasn’t it? Some marvellous work he did up at Dachau, last year.
EULALIE: Oh, the Chancellor’s opponents love to harp on these “camps” he runs. They’re really quite necessary for the running of an efficient government. My husband was saying to Mr. King only the other day, Herr Hitler’s model is much the best one for dealing with criminals and degenerates—
LANGSNER: I have been working against the allies of the German Chancellor for some time now. When Fraulein Dell mentioned that he had been invited to dinner, I saw the perfect chance to rid the world of a very dangerous man.
EULALIE: Dangerous man! Listen to him! Dangerous! What is taking that Sergeant so long?
JACK: No easy thing, getting a car started in weather like this.
JEAN: (fascinated) Are you really a psychic and an anti-fascist secret agent?
LANGSNER: Mental telepathist, if you please. But of course. My little talents have been very helpful to me.
EULALIE: Didn’t see your own hanging when you and your allies were peering into the future, though, did you?
EFFY: D’you really think they’ll hang him?
EULALIE: Of course they will! What other outcome could you possibly expect? And it will bloody well serve him right.
LANGSNER: I have always known my calling was a dangerous one. If I am truly caught at last, I will face death with only one regret.
JACK: What is that?
LANGSNER: That I utterly spoiled your charming dinner party, Frau Dell.
PRIMULA: Oh, not at all, darling boy. Really this has been a very thrilling evening, all things considered—
EULALIE: Excuse me?
PRIMULA: Well I said thrilling, dear, not pleasant.
(EULALIE harrumphs. Pause)
PRIMULA: I am just a little worried though—
JACK: What about?
PRIMULA: Well, the, ah—murderer—is standing so close to that back window. It would be quite easy for him to leap out and make a run for it down the alley, wouldn’t it, and reach his own car before we could alert the Sergeant that he’d escaped.
EULALIE: Nonsense. Even he wouldn’t be foolish enough to do any such thing, not with Miss Cassidy pointing a gun at him.
JACK: Yes. Although I must say, I’m not as handy with these things as I used to be. You have to stay in constant practice, don’t you? Yes, I certainly hope the Sergeant hurries up, otherwise this man could escape quite easily.
(Pause)
SFX: Sound of shattering glass. EULALIE shrieks
PRIMULA: Oh, dear me, there he goes.
EULALIE: Why didn’t you shoot him?!
JACK: Finger cramp. Trigger finger just cramped right up. That’s what happens when you don’t keep in shape.
EULALIE: Well, what are you waiting for? Go and tell the Sergeant! Go after him!
JACK: Yes. Yeah, I’ll do that. Miss Dell, d’you know where I’d find my coat?
PRIMULA: Oh, let me think. I never remember where the butler puts these things.
EULALIE: You don’t need a coat! Just go!
JACK: Well, sure I need a coat. It’s awfully cold out there.
EFFY: Yeah, and she gets real crabby when it’s cold. You can’t expect her to do anything without a coat.
PRIMULA: Now let me see. Perhaps he put the coats upstairs. Shall we have a look upstairs?
SFX: Engine turning over and car driving away
EDMOND: Well, it seems he had much better fortune with his car than the sergeant is having.
JEAN: The Germanic peoples are very good at machinery.
EULALIE: What is wrong with all of you? A murderer is escaping! Does that mean nothing to you?
SFX: Door opening
McGREGOR: Escaping! You let him escape?
EFFY: Jack had a trigger finger cramp.
McGREGOR: Damn it! My car won’t start at all. I’ll have to find a cab, and by the time I get to the station he’ll be long gone. How could you have let him get away, Jack?
JACK: Sorry, sir. I just don’t have the crackerjack police training you do.
McGREGOR: Well, I’d better hurry if I want to have even the tiniest chance of finding him. Gosh, you’d think a whole roomful of people could keep one little psychic murderer from jumping out the window…
JACK: I think the term is mental telepathist.
EULALIE: (loudly) I am going HOME. If I am no longer being falsely accused of any murders, I refuse to remain in the same room with any of you for one more moment.
Retreating footsteps, door closing
EFFY: You’re going to be hearing about that one from the Sarge for a long time.
JACK: Hey, when a lady has a trigger finger cramp, she has a trigger finger cramp.
EDMOND: Of course. Nothing any of us could have done.
JEAN: Such a dreadful shame.
PRIMULA: Dreadful. Dreadful.
(beat)
JACK: Well, Miss Dell, thanks for a swell dinner.
PRIMULA: You’re going? Can’t I persuade you to stay for pavlova?
JACK: No, I think I’ve had about all the excitement I can take for one evening. Pavlova might just push me over the edge.
EFFY: Me, too.
PRIMULA: All right, darlings, if you’re quite sure. Miss Cassidy, you come with me and we really will find your coats. And on the way you can tell me about some of the cases you’ve had. I meant to ask you about them all evening, everything I’ve heard sounds too thrilling. Is it true that at the Strand Theatre…
SFX: Her voice fades out, and the door closes.
EFFY: Well. I guess you boys got lots of good copy out of tonight.
EDMOND: Oh, did we! I can already feel the muse stirring.
JEAN: Have a little tact, cherie. The man’s body is not even cold.
EDMOND: I suppose you are used to excitement such as this, in your life with Miss Cassidy?
EFFY: I have to admit I’ve never been to a dinner party quite like this one.
JEAN: How long have you been with her?
EFFY: Huh? Oh, I’ve been her secretary for a couple of years.
EDMOND: And you are…just her secretary?
EFFY: Oh, no. I also help her solve a lot of the crimes.
EDMOND: You seem to care about her very much.
EFFY: Well sure. Like I said, she’s the best employer a girl could want.
EDMOND: And…that’s all?
JEAN: Chéri, sois sage.
EDMOND: Je le suis! C’est juste que cette fille est bete.
EFFY: What do you mean, ‘that’s all’?
JEAN: Nothing. He doesn’t mean anything.
EDMOND: “La meilleure gérant.” Personne pense à son gérant comme cette fille pense à Mamzelle Cassidy.
JEAN: Chut. T’es malpoli.
SFX: Door opening
JACK: Hey, Eff. You want to share a cab downtown?
EFFY: Sure! Good-bye, um, Monsieurs. It was lovely to meet you.
JEAN: Yes, likewise. Au revoir.
EDMOND: A bientot.
SFX: Door closing
JEAN: After all, Edmond. You were young and bete once too, you know.
ANNOUNCER: This episode of Hardboiled featured the voices of:
Ceris Backstrom as Jack Cassidy
Lauren Hughes as Effy Strembitsky
Murray Farnell as Sergeant McGregor
Rory Turner as Primula Dell
Émanuel Dubbeldam as Edmond Joly
André Prevost as Jean de Montesquiou
Dave Clarke as Roderick Redesdale
Kate Sheridan as Eulalie Redesdale
And Michael Vetsch as Herr Doctor Adolphe Maximilian Langsner, and, as always, your announcer.
SOME QUICK HISTORICAL NOTES: