TWO-FACED DEATH

A BLUEPRINT
Black.
Shadows which dont belong to the objects casting
them.
Crisp light illuminates the scene of the crime.
Two men: INSPECTORS LENNON AND ESSEX stand amid the
disarray.
Lennon wears a suit and carries a suitcase.
Essex wears a towelling bathrobe and carries a
toothbrush and a towel.
A silenced pistol in the middle of the floor.
A desk with the body behind it, its legs protruding.
(On the desk are desky things or nothing at all. A
diary, a phone, a paper-bag).
An overturned chair.
A bloody palm-print is clear on the wall.
LENNON:
Theres a gun on the floor and a dead
man covered in white powder behind the desk. And we
have a suitcase full of ironed non-sequential bills.
Do you realise what this means, Essex?
Drugs?

ESSEX:

LENNON:
Paperwork. Accountability. We could
easily deny the existence of this case and I could
retire quietly to the Bahamas and spend the rest of my
days and this money drinking alcohol from funny shaped
glasses with umbrellas in them. I would have a
wonderful tan and beautiful fully figured women waving
their grass skirted behinds in my, no-doubt leering
face. I can see it now.

ESSEX:
Why tell me, Sir?

youre mine.

LENNON:
Every perfect plan has its flaws and
ESSEX:
There was a struggle.

of it.

LENNON:
And quite a fantastic one by the looks
ESSEX:
Ill get the gun.
Pistol.

LENNON:

ESSEX:
Ill get the pistol, then.
LENNON:
No! No one can disturb the scene until
the lab-boys and girls get here. Just let me get
ready.
Lennon opens the case he is holding and puts on
rubber gloves. He then begins to assemble a camera.
Essex examines the room. He double-takes when he sees
the palm-print. He smears it into unrecognisable
oblivion using the towel, which he folds to hide the
stain.
Lennon doesnt see.
Lennon starts taking photos and describing the scene.
Essex stands by, innocent as can be.

Snap!
man, dead.

LENNON:
Lets review: Man; dead.
Silenced pistol, presumably fired into

Snap!
Snap!

Chair, overturned.
Bag on desk, contents unknown.

Snap!
Hand print; bloody.
Snap!
You may collect the pistol now.
Lennon begins to disassemble the camera.
Essex picks up the pistol by the handle.
LENNON:
What the fuck are you doing!?
Essex drops the pistol.
Use the toothbrush and then get yourself
printed! You useless . . . you . . . fuck!
Lennon returns to the camera.
Essex tries repeatedly and unsuccessfully to insert
the toothbrush haft into the barrel of the gun.
Essex gives up and places the pistol by the handle
onto the toothbrush.
LENNON:
You were first at the scene?
ESSEX:
I live in the building.
LENNON:
You heard the shots and cameESSEX:
-No, I heard screams, then gunfire.
LENNON:
Male or female.
ESSEX:
Well, female. The pitch indicating
extreme distress and an approximate age

of about twenty-five. The length of the

scream suggests a woman with a large
lung capacity. Not a foreigner to
anaerobic exercise. A runner perhaps.

Pause

Perhaps.

LENNON:

Tell me - have you ever heard of an

audit?
ESSEX:
Tax audit?
LENNON:
EmotionalESSEX:
Nope. Never heard the word before.
LENNON:
I ask purely out of personal self
interest.
ESSEX:
What interest?

Snap!

LENNON:
I have no idea whatsoever - it was
written on a pad on the desk.

An emotional audit . . . religious

perhaps? Or something altogether a
little bit more . . . sinister. You
never know what these creative types do in their own
time. More than likely they call it art. More than
likely its just perversion and decadence.
Snap!
impressions?

So you were first on the scene - first

ESSEX:
I had to calm Miss Centrems down.
LENNON:
I thought you were first on the scene.

ESSEX:
We arrived mere nanoseconds apart.
LENNON:
First equal then. Who No.
What?

ESSEX:
LENNON:

ESSEX:
We were second equal.
LENNON:
First being the Human Target here I
suppose.
Yes.

ESSEX:

LENNON:
Why are your reports always this
laboured, Essex?
ESSEX:
I get nervous, Sir.
LENNON:
Youre a member of the Amateur dramatics
society, arent you?
Yes, sir.

ESSEX:

LENNON:
You act for god's sake, Essex! This job
is no different.
ESSEX:
But Im me, Sir. When Im on stage, Im
someone else. Its as if I am freed from
myself, and can pursue, and do things I wouldnt
normally do.

LENNON:
Well, at least act like a detective
then. Go and get dressed.
Essex leaves, handing Lennon the gun-brush
Blackout.
INTERLUDE ONE

CLEAN SCENE
Lennon puts his camera back in the case and begins to
unpack.
A black tarp is placed over and tucked under the
corpse.
A thermos is placed on the desk.
The chair is righted.
Several glade air fresheners are placed around the
corpse.
A picture-frame is placed around the bloody
handprint.
Lennon sits down at the desk, picks up the phone,
poises to dial, reconsiders, and hangs up.
He steeples his hands.
LENNON:
Come in - the doors open.
Silence, nothing, no one.
He opens the paper-bag on the desk and takes out an
opaque jar.
He studies it.
He tries to open it - he cant.

He places it on the table and stares at it.

He holds it to the light.
He shakes it.
LENNON:
Just as I feared. Nothing.
The phone rings.
Lennon pauses before picking it up.
LENNON:
Hello? - No, Im not him - me? Inspector
Lennon. - Yes, Police. - No. Hes . . .
not . . .available to the phone. - Yes,
it is a police matter. - I cant say
that I know. - Could be. - No. - Thats
rather forward of you. How did you know
that? - Cream filled. South Island
blend. - Why, yes. A Dunedin bean
fields man through and through. - I can
see you through the window? Why would I
spoil the surprise? - No, you come on
up- Dont be coy. - Cheeky ... okay: Im
wearing a sky-blue silk gown; it
shimmies over my skin; my nipples are
hard. I like the sensation of me moving
in my clothes. What are you wearing? How short? - Black? Red? - Red. - I like
long black stockings with suspender
belts. - No, Im chained to the desk. Yes, I have several sets of handcuffsseveral years of collecting. I also have
a sizeable baton. - No, I dont use it
much, only to force submission; a little
submission goes a long way. - No, Im
not laughing . . .
Essex returns.
Could you call back? - You sure? Great! See you later.
He hangs up.
Youre looking much more presentable.
ESSEX:
Thank you sir. Any developments?

LENNON:
Victims name is Thomas Middleton.
ESSEX:
The English renaissance playwright, Sir?
LENNON:
So it would appear.
ESSEX:
Whats a dead literary great doing dead
in my building?
LENNON:
Hes not that great.
ESSEX:
Admittedly - but he is one of the few
playwrights to sort of survive in the
shadow of Shakespeare.
LENNON:
He was damned lucky to last this long I wouldve shot him.
ESSEX:
Does that make you a prime suspect then,
Sir?
LENNON:
In your wildest dreams Essex. If being a
suspect involves lying near a puddle of
your own vomit in a comatose inebriated
state, then make me Prime. Other than
that: shut up.
ESSEX:
Do we have any subjects? I mean,
suspects?
LENNON:
Ill add you to the Death of the English
Language case, but for this one? No,
none.

ESSEX:
So were waiting for an act of God?

Pause.

LENNON:
Or at least a major piece of
improvisation.

Now what?
We wait.
For what?

ESSEX:
LENNON:
ESSEX:

LENNON:
For photos to develop, prints to run,
ballistics tested, known acquaintances
to be drawn, horoscopes cast, biorhythms
charted, tarots read, psychic searches,
psychic searchers, divination and a
touch of ouija board.
ESSEX;
Eht Rekees has disappeared.
LENNON:
You have got to be joking ESSEX:
Disappeared without trace, car left in
her car park at the police station.
When?

Pause

LENNON:

ESSEX;
Last night. Her timetable and movements
unknown.
LENNON:
Very convenient.
ESSEX:

Yes, sir. A murder and a disappearance

in the same town is too much of a
coincidence, even for Serendipity city.
LENNON:
Your arse-hole sarcasm is duly noted
Essex.
Pause.
ESSEX:
Whats the time o venerable master?
Lennon does not refer to a clock
LENNON:
Nine forty-five.
Cuppa?

ESSEX:

LENNON:
With this workload?
ESSEX:
Come on, its only one murder.
LENNON:
True. Perspective becomes skewed in this
job. I've become jaded, fuzzy.
ESSEX:
Age and excessive alcohol abuse will do
that. Sir.
LENNON;
Are you taking the piss?

Silence

ESSEX:
I wont lie to you, Sir.

Yes?

LENNON:

ESSEX:
I said, I wont lie to you, Sir Sir.
LENNON:

You could have at least tried you lazy

bastard.
ESSEX:
I have ethics.

Pause

Blackout

LENNON:
You jumped up, self-important mother
fucker.
ESSEX:
Your mother?
INTERLUDE TWO

COMPLICATIONS
Lennon alone at the desk.
Revolver is on it, an envelope under it.
Lennon goes to the door.
He gets a corkboard and places in on the wall. On it
are photos of the crime-scene.
He sits and opens the envelope.
He examines the contents: To wit: A sheaf of papers;
A couple of photos; Another sealed envelope; A
cassette tape.
He flicks through the papers.
The phone rings.
He picks it up and then hangs up.
He begins to read the papers in more detail.
Idiot.
The phone rings.

LENNON:

He picks it up and hangs up.

He spreads the photos over the desk.
He frowns.
He holds the envelope to the light.
He opens it.
He pulls out a slim slip of paper.
He reads it.
LENNON:
In a pickle, in a jam, Saints preserve
us, there I am. Love Eht.
He places the note on the table.
LENNON;
Eht? Darling disappeared Eht? Nothing
for eht.
The phone rings.
He picks it up. Pause.
LENNON:
Yes- Lennon here. - Why, hello. Youve
been in my thoughts all day. - Ah no,
couldnt really drink with you in a bar.
- I said nothing about a cafe. How about
it? - Coffee? . I like my coffee as it
comes - the excitements in the not
knowing what someone will see me as:
Short and black. Sweet and blonde.
Blonde on two legs. Blonde and standing
on its own. Black and bitter. - Two
oclock tomorrow? - Good. Be seeing you
then.
He hangs up, the phone rings instantly.
Hello? - Yes, Sir. The case is trundling
along. - Yes, sir. New developments
every second. In fact: also a lead into
our missing Seeker. - Yes, Ms. Rednif. A note, of all things. Riddles. Most

confusing. Most irritating. - Suspects?

One or two.
Essex enters carrying two cups of coffee.
Yes, sir. He's being a great help. Yes, sir. He is in the room. - No,
nothing but the highest praise for him.
(cont.)
LENNON(cont.)

- Im quite free with the truth around

Inspector Essex. - Certainly, Sir. First
thing Monday. - On a personal level,
Frank. Deirdre and I were wondering if
youd like to come around for a drink? Friday? - That is a shame. Maybe some
other time, then. - Certainly. Sir. Good bye.

He hangs up and crosses to Essex, who hands him the

cup. Lennon raises to sip, but before he can Essex
butts in.
ESSEX:
Any progress?
LENNON:
Im taking a break.
Again with the butting before he can sip.
ESSEX:
But- any progress?
LENNON:
Essex - I find it a hell of a lot easier
to think . . . to ruminate with a
quantity of caffeine stimulating my
nervous system.
ESSEX:
Sure, Sir, but what about the case?
LENNON:

The Case?
He puts his coffee down.
The case, I find, Essex, is like one of
those Magic-eye puzzles. Its made up

of all these strange parts that make no

sense. So you stare at it for an age,
you hold it up at arms' length and
stare. You bring it closer. You blink,
you lose it. You almost give up and then
your eyes go slightly out of focus and
your mind wonders. And then . . .
something clicks, shapes lock, colours
merge and the hidden image leaps out at
you. Thats what the case is about.
Pause.
ESSEX:
I can never get those things.

Silence.

LENNON:
It takes patience.

With great deliberation Lennon raises his cup of

coffee to his lips. He stops. A second. He sniffs.
Further seconds.
LENNON:
Are you trying to poison me?
Sir?
Almonds.
Almonds?
Cyanide.
Cyanide?

ESSEX:
LENNON:
ESSEX:
LENNON:
ESSEX:

LENNON:
Are you trying to poison me?
ESSEX:
Good God! No!

LENNON:
So why does my coffee have cyanide in
it.
ESSEX:
It doesnt.
LENNON:
So why does it smell like almonds?

pause

ESSEX:
Ill swap you.
I said Ill swap you.
LENNON:
Youve poisoned both.

He drinks.

ESSEX;
I fucking well have not! Look!
See! Am I dead? No. Still want to swap?
LENNON:
Youve drunk from it.

Pause. Lennon puts his cup down.

ESSEX:
Theres something not quite right about
you - Anyway, its a fallacy.
What is?

LENNON:

ESSEX;
Thinking clearer after a coffee. Its a
fallacy.
LENNON:
It is, is it?
It is.

ESSEX:

LENNON:
You must be under the influence of
coffee, then.
ESSEX:
Ill get you.
Oh, yes?
Yeah.

LENNON:
ESSEX:

LENNON:
Cyanide in my coffee?
Essex shakes his head. Lennon picks up the cup of
coffee.
Drink it.
ESSEX:
Get off it.
LENNON:
Go on, Essex, drink it: prove me wrong.
ESSEX:
I dont have to prove anything you
wanker.
LENNON:
Only when Im off duty. Drink it.
No.

ESSEX;

LENNON:
Drink it, Essex.
ESSEX:
Make me. Sir . . .
LENNON:
If youre sure.
Lennon picks up the revolver.
I said drink it,

Mark.

ESSEX:
Like fuck, John.
Lennon cocks the gun.
Black out.

Lights up. Essex stands in the space.

The phone rings.
No reaction from Essex.
It keeps ringing.
Eventually.

Pause.
Pause.

Pause.
He hangs up.

Hello.

ESSEX:

Who is this?
I dont care what you say, you sick
bitch. Im a police officer and I can
have this call traced.
How dare you!

The phone rings again.

It rings ten times and stops.
Pause.
The phone begins to ring again.

pause

ESSEX:
Just fuck off!
Im sorry, sir. No, Lennon isnt in at
the moment. - No - an obscene phone
caller pestering us. - Sorry, Sir. Lost
my temper. - Ill try not to let it get
the better of me in future. - Ill tell
Inspector Lennon you rang.

Essex hangs up.

He sits down at the desk - adjusting the seat.
He picks the jar out of the bag.
He tries to open it - failure.
He opens the drawer and frisks it. He slips something
from the drawer into his pocket.
He knocks the jar lid against the desk edge a couple
of times.
He tries to open it: failure.
Noise off stage.
He quickly puts the jar back in the bag and shuts the
drawer.
He returns quickly to the center of the room.
Lennon enters.
LENNON:
Were there any messages?
ESSEX:
No-one rang. It was as quiet as the
grave. - How was lunch?
LENNON:
I didnt eat lunch.
ESSEX:
Where did you go?
LENNON:
To a little franchised fast food
restaurant on the main street. She ate
burger while I charmed the panties off
her.
ESSEX:
Did you fuck her?

Lennon sits down at the desk - notices the seat

adjustment.
LENNON:
No, it was just an innocent sort of
thing. Fast food and innocent
conversation. We were babes in the wood.
ESSEX:
You fucked her, didnt you?
LENNON:
We held hands and I escorted her to her
car. She kissed me on the cheek and
whispered in my ear,
ESSEX:
You fucked her.
LENNON:
Ill see her tomorrow night.

Silence.

ESSEX:
Whats in the jar?
LENNON:
You adjusted my seat.
ESSEX:
Whats in the jar.
LENNON:
Its confidential.
ESSEX:
As confidential as cheating on your
wife?
LENNON:
Youre being a tad accusational right at
this moment in time.
ESSEX:
Why are you hiding things from me?
LENNON:

Thats confidential.
The phone rings.
Pause.
ESSEX:
Answer it.

He answers it.

LENNON:
Think I wont?

Hello, inspector Lennon speaking. - Hi.

- I did too. Still on for tomorrow
night? - Good, good.
Essex reveals the revolver.
Thats interesting. - No, no Im not not
interested its just Essex . . .
Essex waves the revolver in his face.
. . . has an urgent need for my help. I will call back. - Hear you soon.
He hangs up.
LENNON:
What the hell are you doing? Youre the
one arent you. - Your palm print . . .
Your finger prints on the gun.
ESSEX:
Im going to shoot you in the face and
then send your genitals to your ladyfriend.
LENNON;
She wont recognise them.
ESSEX:
Or your wife? Im not sure which. Maybe
a testicle each?
LENNON:
Im not married either.
ESSEX:
Ill just shoot you in the face then.
LENNON:
May I ask why?

ESSEX:
Thats confidential.
LENNON:
Do you want to know whats in the jar?
ESSEX:
Not really. Do you still want to know
why I did it?
LENNON:
Not really. Im just assuming that
youre a dull little psychopath.
ESSEX:
I resent the implication.
LENNON:
Tough. I received a tape yesterday.
So?

ESSEX:

LENNON:
May I play it before you shoot me?
ESSEX:
So you can have two seconds of comfort
in hearing whats on the tape?
LENNON:
Every second counts.
ESSEX;
Not really.
LENNON:
Its all relative: every second I still
live is sweeter than honey. My time is
obviously short and the longer that I
survive past that knowledge the more I
appreciate the time that that is.
ESSEX:
Ever played murder in the dark?
LENNON:

Are you going to blindfold me, then

shoot me in the face?
ESSEX:

Close.
He turns the lights off, and fires the revolver
blindly in the direction of the seated Lennon.
Flash!
Flash!
And then . . .
Click!
Followed by . . .
Several more Clicks.
LENNON:
You are thick. its not reloaded. And
you missed by a mile.
There is a thud as Lennon clubs Essex with the jar.
Lennon turns on the lights. Essex is on his knees
cradling his head.
ESSEX:
Ow! What did you do that for? That hurt.
LENNON:
It was intended to stave in your
incredibly thick skull.
ESSEX:
Thats not fair.
LENNON:
Life never is. Especially when youre a
dull little psycho with no social graces
and a mother fixation.
ESSEX:
Your mother, motherfucker?

Lennon takes the revolver and reloads it with shell

from his pocket.
LENNON:
Thats amusing. Yes, I do enjoy slipping
my mother the odd length. One of the few
perks to having a step mother late in
life. Technically its incest. But
really, it isnt. I wouldnt worry about
it too much if I were you.
ESSEX:
I wont. I dont worry.
LENNON:
Not even about your impending arrest?

Lennon dials.

ESSEX:
Not now that your prints are on the
revolver.
LENNON:
Yes, could I please have units to ...
yes, thats correct . . . on their way
already? Thank you very much.
ESSEX:
Youd do that to your own partner?
LENNON:
Shut up and go and stand in the corner.

Essex goes and stands in the corner.

Lennon returns to the desk and produces the tape and
a tape player.
He plays the tape.
Blackout.