A Dinner Theatre Murder Mystery

by
Cheryl Barrett

Published by Lazy Bee Scripts

Script
 Blue Murder at Bluestone Hall
Copyright 2021 by Cheryl Barrett

Characters
Lady Constance Dunne-Wittering – Lady of the manor, late 50s
Tia Maria – the maid, 21
Fetchitt – the butler, 40s
Victoria Sponge – cook, 60s
Henrietta Soufflé – the Vicar’s wife, 40s
Lady Dorothy Dunne-Wittering – Lady Constance’s daughter, 23
Anna Conda – Lady Constance’s personal secretary, 38
Major Freddie Dunne-Wittering – Lord Henry’s brother, 55
Ivanna Foxtrot – the Major’s fiancée, 30s
Detective Inspector Mayday – a bumbling detective inspector, 40s

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© 2021 by Cheryl Barrett Page 1 www.lazybeescripts.co.uk

 Blue Murder at Bluestone Hall
Act 1
Scene 1 – You Just Can’t Get the Staff…
(LX 1 – lights up. Mid-morning. The drawing room at Bluestone Hall. Lady Constance is
addressing Fetchitt, Tia, and Victoria.)
Fetchitt: You summoned us, your Ladyship?
Constance: Indeed, I did. Nothing gets past you, does it, Fetchitt?
Fetchitt: Not if I can help it, Madam.
Constance: As you are all aware, his Lordship is recuperating after the recent fall from his horse and
will remain in his rooms for a few days.
Tia: I know I’m only a housemaid, and it’s not my place to have an opinion, but I hope the
poor horse is okay.
Fetchitt: You must only speak to her Ladyship when addressed, Tia.
Victoria: Is Lord ’Enry alright, Milady? Only I wus ever so worried about ’im. It doesn’t do to be
’avin’ falls at ’is age. The older you get, the longer it takes for your bones to knit. My sister ’ad a
terrible time of it when she fell orf a ladder. Mind you, gettin’ ’er foot stuck in the bucket
underneath didn’t ’elp. It took ages for ’er ’usband and neighbour to pull the bucket off ’er foot.
She’s never walked in a straight line since.
Constance: His Lordship is in good spirits, thank you for your concern.
Fetchitt: We all are concerned about ’is Lordship, your Ladyship, he has had quite a run of bad
luck, lately.
Constance: Thank you, Fetchitt. (To Victoria.) Cook, his Lordship particularly asked if you would
prepare his favourite meal tomorrow evening.
Victoria: (Smiles.) Did, he, Milady? Oh, that’s luvvly that ’e was thinkin’ of me, lyin’ up there on
’is sickbed. (Dabs eye with handkerchief.) Now then, ’is Lordship’s favourite meal – let me
think. We’ve plenty of seasonal vegetables growing in the garden, but I shall ’ave to send out for a
few other special ingredients, mind.
Constance: Excellent, it’s been a while since we dined on pheasant under glass.
Fetchitt: Is there anything in particular you would like me to attend to, your Ladyship?
Constance: (To Fetchitt.) His Lordship will require his meals at the usual times, these are to be taken
in his rooms until further notice.
Tia: In his room, righty-o, Ma’am.
Constance: Tia, you will approach and leave his Lordship’s room at a sedate pace, not at one hundred
miles per hour.
Tia: I am learning how to close the door more quietly and trying not to run up and down the
stairs so fast, Ma’am.
Constance: Quite!
Fetchitt: Will the Major and his intended be leaving as planned, your Ladyship?
Constance: Under the circumstances, the Major and Ivanna will stay a few more days, until his
Lordship is fully recovered. (To Fetchitt.) As you know, I have a meeting this afternoon with the
Reverend’s wife and my secretary, to discuss arrangements for the village fête.
Fetchitt: (Aside.) More pesky people to fetch and carry for – as if I haven’t got enough to do.
Constance: Did you say something, Fetchitt?
Fetchitt: I was just making a mental note to meself of what I need to do, your Ladyship.
Constance: My guests will be staying for afternoon tea.
Victoria: I took the liberty of baking a few cakes for afternoon tea, Milady, and I’ve made a few
nice treats for Lord ’Enry. I know ’ow much ’e loves my egg custard.
Fetchitt: Cook’s been experimenting in the kitchen, your Ladyship. Her Brussel sprout, cherry and
hand-picked mushroom scones are to die for. Mind you, (wafts hand in front of nose) those
sprouts certainly hit the spot. (Slight pause.) They make good doorstops as well.
Constance: On this occasion, cook, I think one of your delightful sponges and a few simple fancies
should suffice.

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Victoria: (Puffs up with pride.) Thanks ever so much – nice of you to say, Milady.
Constance: Thank you, Cook. (To Tia.) I realise that you are a new member of staff, Tia, and
appreciate your continued efforts not to charge around like a bull in a china shop. Might I also
remind you that one’s maids do not whistle or sing on duty, certainly not modern ditties and
certainly not in his Lordship’s presence – is that understood?
Tia: Yes, Ma’am, ever so sorry, Ma’am. It was just that his Lordship had heard me singing as
I worked. He asked if I could sing him a few lively songs to cheer him up, I didn’t mind.
Fetchitt: (To Tia.) What on earth were you thinking, girl? (To Constance.) I’ll keep a close eye
on her, your Ladyship. If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a thousand times.
Constance: Very well, you may leave.
Fetchitt: (To Victoria.) Come along, Cook. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. It will be
time for lunch soon. I could murder something hot and savoury.
(Fetchitt, Tia and Victoria exit. LX 2 – lights fade to blackout.)
(Music 1.)

Scene 2 – Everything Stops for Tea

(LX 3 – lights up. Mid-afternoon. Lady Constance and her daughter Lady Dorothy are sat with
their guests for afternoon tea, Henrietta Soufflé and Anna Conda. Tia Maria, the maid, is
attending Lady Constance.)
Constance: (To Tia.) What are you dithering for, girl?
Tia: Was you wanting anything else, Ma’am?
Constance: That’s all for now. You may go.
Dorothy: We may need more tea, Mama. Ivanna and Uncle Freddie aren’t here yet, they’ll be in
need of refreshment after their chat with Daddy.
Tia: Would you like me to bring more tea, Ma’am?
Constance: No need to bother just yet.
Tia: Oh, it’s no bother, Ma’am.
Constance: I’ll ring when I want something, Tia.
Tia: As you wish, Ma’am.
(Tia exits and slams the door. The door bursts open again and Tia bursts in.)
Tia: Sorry for the door, Ma’am. It won’t happen again.
(Tia exits and closes the door slowly.)
Constance: You just can’t get the staff these days…
Anna: Not as many people want to go into service these days – the war liberated people.
Constance: No good will come of being liberated. (Briskly.) Now then, ladies, where were we?
Anna: We were discussing arrangements for the village fête.
Constance: So we were. What will the church be doing this year, Henrietta?
Henrietta: The vicar and I will be organising the horticultural competition again.
Constance: We can but hope it has changed format.
Henrietta: Whatever do you mean, Lady Constance?
Dorothy: It’s frightfully tedious, isn’t it, Mama?
Constance: Dorothy, where are your manners?
Dorothy: Sorry, Mama, but the flower and produce show is overly long. There is a limit to how
many chrysanthemums and prize marrows a person can look at.
Henrietta: The vicar thought it best to include as many categories as possible.
Constance: I realise the Reverend has only been in our church for a year and applaud the church’s
continued involvement in the village fête.
Henrietta: My husband and I will endeavour to support the fête in any way we can, your Ladyship.
Constance: Very commendable. However, I saw nothing amusing about the inclusion of a funny
shaped root vegetable category last year. Some of the exhibits verged on the obscene.
Dorothy: Nonsense, that was the best part of the whole show, Mama.
Constance: (To Anna.) Anna, make a note to reduce the number of categories, following discussions
with the Reverend, of course.
Anna: Very well, your Ladyship. Shall we make the usual arrangements for refreshments?

© 2021 by Cheryl Barrett Page 3 www.lazybeescripts.co.uk

Constance: Of course, afternoon tea will be served in the grounds as usual.
Henrietta: You have such beautiful gardens here at Bluestone Hall.
Constance: The gardens are very well tended by myself and my gardeners. My roses always win best
of show. One could hardly have a beautiful garden and not exhibit.
Dorothy: I think it would be rather splendid if we had a jazz band at the fête, Mama. Jazz is all the
rage.
Constance: A jazz band? I think not! We must uphold tradition, Dorothy. A brass band has served
the village fête well for years and will continue to do so.
Anna: (Makes notes.) Will Lord Henry be judging entries this year, your Ladyship?
Constance: Of course, Anna. His Lordship will have made a full recovery in time for the fête, it will
be business as usual.
Dorothy: Wild horses wouldn’t drag Daddy away.
Constance: That remark is in very poor taste, Dorothy, your father has had a rather nasty riding
accident.
Dorothy: Sorry, Mama, I wasn’t thinking.
Constance: You never do, child.
Henrietta: I was hoping to see his Lordship today.
Constance: I’m afraid that’s out of the question, Henrietta. I expect his Lordship will be tired after his
visitors.
(SFX 1: Loud knocking on door,)
(Fetchitt the Butler enters.)
Fetchitt: Sorry to bother you, your Ladyship, seein’ as how you’re busy sitting there, drinking tea
and having your meeting.
Constance: What is it, Fetchitt?
Fetchitt: The Major said to tell you that he and his fee-yonss are still chattin’ with his Lordship and
will join you shortly.
Constance: Thank you, Fetchitt. How is his Lordship?
Fetchitt: In fine form, your Ladyship. He’s been recounting a few stories – quite humorous they
were, too. I hadn’t heard the one about the brigadier, the bishop and the actress before.
Dorothy: Dear Daddy, he remains upbeat, despite his injuries.
Constance: I hope his Lordship is drinking plenty of water, Fetchitt.
Fetchitt: Well, I don’t know about that, your Ladyship. He was sitting up in bed drinking whisky
and smoking a large cigar when I last saw him. His Lordship might have added a drop of water to
his whisky, but I very much doubt it.
Constance: Smoking a cigar in bed? I despair of him. Is it any wonder there was a fire in his
Lordship’s study last week!
Dorothy: You know how much Daddy enjoys his cigars.
Constance: Yes, I do, but he’s irresponsible and reckless. He could have burnt the house down.
Antique paintings and heirlooms can’t be replaced.
Dorothy: It was only a small fire, Mama. Thank goodness Uncle Freddie is staying and heard
Daddy’s cries for help.
Anna: A stroke of luck the Major being on the spot, as it were, or poor Lord Henry would have
perished. It doesn’t bear thinking about.
Constance: Quite. Now then, Fetchitt, why are you still lurking?
Fetchitt: (Affronted.) Lurking? I was waiting for further instructions, your Ladyship. You
usually give me a long list of things that need fetchin’ and carryin’.
Constance: Instruct the maid to bring more tea and cakes, Fetchitt.
Fetchitt: As you wish, your Ladyship. (Mutters as he leaves.) Fetch this, carry that, shift this,
fetch that. No wonder my shoes wear out so quickly.
(Fetchitt exits.)
Henrietta: I am sorry to hear about the fire, your Ladyship. If there’s anything the Reverend and I
can do…
Constance: Thank you for your concern, Henrietta.
(Ivanna and the Major enter.)
Major: Ah, Constance, there you are, and Dotty, looking delightful as always.

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Dorothy: Thank you, Uncle Freddie.
Constance: Ever the charmer, Freddie.
Major: Not too late for afternoon tea, are we, old gel? Dashed thirsty work keeping your husband
amused.
Constance: I took the liberty of ordering more tea and cake in anticipation of your arrival.
Ivanna: I forgot you had guests.
Constance: Ivanna, this is my secretary, Anna. Anna, this is the Major’s fiancée, Ivanna.
Anna: Pleased to meet you, Ivanna. I heard the Major was engaged to be married – I understand
congratulations are in order.
Ivanna: Thank you, Anna. That is most kind.
Henrietta: (To Ivanna.) How did you meet?
Ivanna: Dotty introduced me to the Major. It was love at first sight.
Henrietta: Dotty?
Ivanna: Lady Dorothy.
Constance: Dotty, indeed! I detest this modern fashion of using nicknames.
Major: Nonsense, nicknames all the rage in the army – most of the chaps have ’em. Fine chaps
Basher Briggs and Lofty Lyndhurst. Speccy Stevens was a dashed fine fellow too, bought it at the
Somme though – didn’t see the enemy approaching.
Dorothy: (To Henrietta.) Ivanna is Russian, and such a good egg. I met her at a super party in
Mayfair and she taught me to dance the Charleston – it really is all the rage.
Ivanna: (Stands and approaches Dorothy.) Come, Dotty, we must show them how to dance the
Charleston.
(Music 2.)
(Ivanna and Dorothy dance the Charleston. Henrietta reacts by tapping her feet, swinging her
hands, etc.)
Henrietta: (Shouts above the music.) It’s jolly good fun.
(After the dance, Ivanna and Dorothy return to their seats.)
Major: Bally good show, chaps. (Rubs his leg.) Dashed shrapnel on the move, or I would have
joined you.
Henrietta: It was certainly a lively dance.
Anna: I dare say we’ll all be dancing the Charleston before long.
Constance: (Disdainful.) I sincerely hope not, it is far too frenzied for my liking.
Dorothy: It’s a great hoot, Mama – everyone who’s anyone is dancing the Charleston.
Constance: Well, I’m not!
Ivanna: You are a natural dancer, Dotty.
Henrietta: How did you meet the Major, Ivanna?
Ivanna: Lady Dorothy and I discovered we had a love of dancing, became friends and then she
invited me to Bluestone Hall.
Major: Dashed glad she did, what. I was visiting my brother Henry, saw this gorgeous filly, and
Bob’s your uncle.
Ivanna: Freddie proposed yesterday and gave me his grandmother’s engagement ring. (Holds
hand out briefly.) Isn’t it beautiful, see how brightly the diamonds sparkle.
Major: Just like you, sweetie.
Ivanna: It was love at first sight. Dear Freddie and I are to be married soon.
Henrietta: What a romantic love story.
Major: Absolutely, dashed lucky chap, eh?
Ivanna: (To Henrietta.) Thank you…?
Constance: (To Ivanna.) I forgot to introduce you to Henrietta. Her husband is the new vicar.
Major: Remember cutting a rug with a Henrietta a few years ago at the regimental ball. Dashed
charming gal.
Ivanna: Behave, Freddie, you’re making her blush. Pleased to meet you, Henrietta.
Major: No offence meant, old girl.
Henrietta: None taken, Major. Are you enjoying your stay at Bluestone Hall, Ivanna?
Ivanna: Yes, it is a beautiful place. Freddie was born and raised in this house and gave me a grand
tour – so many stairs and doors.

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Major: Hide and seek was always great fun when Henry and I were lads. Know the hidden
passageways like the back of me hand, what.
Henrietta: I understand that you and Lord Henry are twins, Major.
Major: Henry is the older twin by five minutes. Dashed inconvenient, eh?
Henrietta: In what way, Major?
Major: If I had been the first-born twin, I’d have been heir to Bluestone. The house, title and the
estate would have been mine.
Anna: Life can be so unfair. Why should anyone have to settle for second best and playing
second fiddle?
Henrietta: (To Anna.) Sorry, what did you say, Anna?
Anna: Erm… I said I need a rest. I think I have one of my headaches coming on. Do you mind
if I go for a walk in the garden to get some fresh air, Lady Constance?
Constance: Of course not, Anna. We can continue the meeting afterwards.
(Anna exits.)
Henrietta: Should I go after her, to check that she is okay?
Constance: I am sure Anna will be fine. She suffers from headaches, so a breath of fresh air should
do the trick.
Dorothy: I know Anna can seem a bit off at times, but what was all that business about settling for
second best?
Major: Probably referring to me being the younger brother.
Dorothy: Don’t worry, Uncle Freddie – you’re still my favourite uncle.
Major: (Laughs.) Gadzooks, I should hope so, Dotty, I’m your only uncle.
Constance: I must go and see how Henry is faring.
Major: Wouldn’t bother the old chap just yet, old girl.
Ivanna: Henry was sleeping as we left.
Major: Best to let sleeping Lords lie – forty winks and all that, eh. Besides, Henry can be a bit of
a grouch if he doesn’t get his rest.
(Ivanna looks around for her handbag.)
Ivanna: I was sure I had it with me.
Major: Lost something, old girl?
Ivanna: My handbag – I must have left in my bedroom. I’ll just fetch it.
Major: Summon Fetchitt, he’ll fetch it.
Ivanna: It is no trouble, Freddie. I’ll be back in a few minutes.
(Ivanna exits.)
Constance: Now then, Freddie, I hope you haven’t been leading my husband astray with whisky and
cigars. You know the doctor gave strict instructions that Henry was to have rest and recuperation.
Major: Dashed doctors – spoilsports and quacks, every last one of them. Live each day as though
it’s your last, I say.
Dorothy: That’s exactly what my chums say, Uncle Freddie. You’d adore Binky Winthrop and
Bunty Featherington-Smythe, they host the best parties. Everybody who’s anybody goes to Bunty’s
parties.
Constance: I don’t, nor do I want to.
Dorothy: Hosting a theatrical fancy dress party is the current craze in my circle. I must ask Daddy
if I can host a masked midsummer’s eve ball. I can just picture the grounds full of people playing
croquet and dancing on the lawn to a jazz band. It would be simply divine. Cook could make
devils on horseback. There would be oodles of champagne. It’d be such a jolly wheeze.
Constance: I despair of those giddy young people you associate with, Dorothy.
Major: Poppycock! Good to see the bright young things dressed up and enjoying themselves. If I
were twenty years younger and a darn sight fitter, I’d be dancing and partying until dawn as well.
Dashed inconvenient having shrapnel in your legs. Good of you to accompany Ivanna to parties,
Dotty. She loves to dance and shouldn’t let an old stick like me cramp her style.
Henrietta: (Wistfully.) I used to dance.
(Anna enters.)
Henrietta: How are you, Anna?
Anna: I beg your pardon, Henrietta?

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Henrietta: Are you feeling better? You said you had a headache.
Anna: Did I? Ah yes, that’s right. Truth be told, I’ve been feeling a bit muzzy all day. I just
needed to stretch my legs and get a breath of fresh air to clear my head. It’s made all the difference.
Major: Good show! Fresh air usually does the trick, what.
Constance: We must look at my social diary next week, Anna.
Anna: Certainly, Lady Constance. I was thinking – with two family weddings to organise, you’ll
be kept busy for quite some time. I’d be quite happy to sit with Lord Henry in your absences.
Constance: (Brusque.) That won’t be necessary, Anna.
(Ivanna enters. She is breathless.)
Major: That was quick, Sweetie – must have dashed up those stairs, what.
Ivanna: I told you I wouldn’t be long, Freddie.
Dorothy: Couldn’t you find it, Ivanna?
Ivanna: Find what, dear?
Dorothy: Your handbag.
Henrietta: You left the room to get your handbag, remember?
Ivanna: (Flustered.) My handbag? Ah yes, so I did. It wasn’t where I left it, so I came back for
tea. I’ll look for it later.
Constance: Speaking of tea, where is that maid?
Anna: Fetchitt has probably forgotten to tell her. He may be your new butler, but he seems a bit
rough at the edges.
Major: Dashed decent fellow, Fetchitt. Plays a mean hand at cards, laughs at all of me jokes and
Henry’s tall tales. Doesn’t say no to a drop of whisky, either.
Constance: Not another one! I had to let the last butler go because he drank on duty.
Henrietta: The demon drink has a lot to answer for.
(SFX 2: Tray clattering and crockery smashing)
Major: Sounds as though cook has dropped afternoon tea. Dashed inconvenient – chap needs a
cuppa, spitting feathers and all that.
(Victoria screams offstage.)
Anna: What on earth was that?
Major: Sounds dashed frightening, whatever it was. (Stands.) I’d best go and investigate.
Henrietta: Be careful, Major.
(The door bursts open as Tia enters.)
Constance: What is the meaning of this noisy intrusion, Tia?
Tia: (Distraught.) Murder! Murder! Oh, it’s dreadful, Ma’am.
Major: I’ll say. Screaming blue murder and dropping afternoon tea. Dashed poor show.
(Fetchitt enters.)
Constance: Ah, Fetchitt, what was all that commotion?
Fetchitt: Commotion, your Ladyship?
Constance: What seems to be the problem, Fetchitt?
Fetchitt: Well, it’s more of a dilemma than a problem, your Ladyship. Cook is beside herself as
she’d just sent out for a plump pheasant.
Constance: Just get to the point, Fetchitt.
Fetchitt: Yes, Milady. Well, it was Cook, see, she took a bit of a turn when she saw the body. It
was all meself and Tia could do to get her to calm down. Then she would go on about that pheasant
in glass and what a waste of a pheasant if Lord Henry couldn’t enjoy it. That’s when we noticed the
knife sticking out of the body and Cook started screaming blue murder. (Rubs his ear.) My poor
lug ’oles bore the brunt of ’er screams.
Major: Dashed confused. What is the dilemma? Just spit it out, man.
Fetchitt: Lord Henry has only gone and got himself murdered.
(Music 3.)
(Anna faints.)
(LX 4 – lights fade to blackout.)

(Interval.)

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Act 2
Scene 1 – A Hapless Inspector Calls
(LX 5 – lights up. Later that afternoon. Everyone is present. Henrietta is fussing over Anna.)
Constance: This waiting around is too unbearable. I don’t see why we all have to stay in this room.
Major: Rum do, this murder business, old girl. Police chappies know what’s what, though.
Henrietta: Are you sure you’re alright, Anna?
Anna: Yes, thank you, Henrietta.
Henrietta: You went quite pale when Fetchitt announced Lord Henry had been murdered. I’ve never
seen anyone faint before.
Anna: I don’t make a habit of fainting. It must have been the headache, what will all the
commotion…
Tia: (Tearfully into a handkerchief.) I’ve never heard of anybody being murdered before.
Why Lord Henry? I’ve only known him a few weeks, but he was such a lovely man.
Constance: Pull yourself together, girl.
(SFX 3: Knock on door.)
Constance: See who it is, Fetchitt.
Fetchitt: Righty-o, Milady.
(Music 4.)
(Detective Inspector Mayday enters. He is carrying a notepad and pencil.)
Mayday: Stay where you are – I am the police.
Constance: You’re not our local chap, Constable Constable!
Mayday: That is very observant of you, Madam. Constable Constable is busy rounding up sheep,
so you’ve got me instead.
Constance: Why aren’t the local constabulary dealing with this murder? How do we know that you
are not an imposter? How do we know you’re not the murderer?
Mayday: Hold on, I ask the questions around here.
Constance: I shall make a formal complaint in the morning.
Mayday: And you are?
Constance: Dunne-Wittering.
Mayday: You may well have done wittering, Madam, but I still need to know your name.
Constance: I am Lady Constance Dunne-Wittering, Lord Henry was my husband.
Mayday: (Makes a note.) I see.
Anna: (To Inspector.) What is your name?
Mayday: Watt is not my name. I am Detective Inspector Mayday. I was in the area and have been
called in by the local constabulary and Scotland Yard.
Dorothy: Scotland Yard, how exciting.
Mayday: Yes, Madam.
Dorothy: It’s Miss, actually.
Mayday: Then I stand corrected, Miss Actually.
Dorothy: No offence, Inspector, but its dashed unfair sending you to investigate Daddy’s murder. I
was expecting Poirot.
Mayday: Pierrot? That French clown?
Tia: Can I get you a drink, Inspector?
Mayday: No thank you, it is against police policy for a police inspector to ’ave a tipple whilst he is
on duty, Miss…?
Tia: Tia Maria, Inspector.
Mayday: I just told you that I do not drink on duty.
Tia: My name is Tia Maria.
Constance: (Harshly.) That will be all, Tia.
Tia: (Subdued.) Ma’am.
Ivanna: You don’t mind if we drink, Inspector…
Mayday: As you wish – and you are…?
Ivanna: I’m Russian.
Mayday: Well, you need to slow down, Madam.

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Ivanna: Ivanna Foxtrot.
Mayday: That’s as maybe, Madam, but I must urge restraint. I would have expected a bit more
decorum at this sad time, someone has just been murdered.
Ivanna: Really, Inspector, you waltz in here…
Mayday: (Interrupts.) Madam, if I had wanted to waltz or foxtrot, I should have gone to the local
palais, not a country mansion out in the middle of the sticks.
Major: (Introduces himself.) Major Dunne-Wittering, Inspector. You’ve met my fiancée,
Ivanna Foxtrot.
Mayday: Don’t start all that nonsense again. I do not dance on duty.
Constance: So glad to hear it, Inspector. Now, can you please get on with the job of investigating my
husband’s death?
Mayday: (Looks at his notepad.) I am here to investigate the suspicious death of Lord Henry
Dunne-Wittering.
Anna: Get on with it, then.
Mayday: No one is to leave this room. The local plod are making a thorough search of the
premises, and although I cannot disclose the cause of death at this moment in time, (taps side of his
nose) my copper nose tells me that foul play was involved. On closer examination of the body,
there were no outward signs of violence, apart from a large bump on his head, a blue tinge on his
lips, and the knife sticking out of his back.
Henrietta: That could have been a plant, inspector.
Mayday: No, it was definitely a knife.
Anna: What does this mean, Inspector?
Mayday: It means that you are all suspects under suspicion.
Dorothy: How absolutely spiffing.
Henrietta: (Animated.) I’ve never mixed with murderers and ne’er do wells before. Are you going
to handcuff us, Inspector?
Mayday: I need to ascertain a motive for murder, Miss…?
Henrietta: Henrietta Soufflé.
Mayday: Oh, did he now? (Checks notes.) There’s nothing in my notes to suggest that Lord
Henry choked to death. Why wasn’t I informed of this? It was probably the soufflé that killed him.
Victoria: Bloomin’ cheek! There’s nothing wrong with my cookin’, Inspector.
Major: Cook’s soufflé is to die for, old chap.
Mayday: Aha, so Henry ate a soufflé and now he’s brown bread. It all sounds highly suspicious if
you ask me.
Constance: Really, Inspector, Henrietta Soufflé is the vicar’s wife.
Mayday: (To Henrietta.) Trying to put me off the scent, eh, Madam? It is an offence to give
aliases and misleading information to the police. Now then, who found the body?
Fetchitt: I did, Inspector.
Mayday: And who you are?
Fetchitt: Butler.
Mayday: Well, that changes everything. The case is closed.
Dorothy: What do you mean, Inspector?
Mayday: It’s as plain as the nose on my face – whenever there is a murder, nine times out of ten, the
butler did it. Mister Butler, I am hereby arresting you for the murder of the deceased body.
Fetchitt: I didn’t murder nobody, I’m innocent.
Mayday: They all say that, Mister Butler.
Fetchitt: FETCHITT!
Mayday: Fetchitt yourself!
Fetchitt: My name is Fetchitt – I’m his Lordship’s butler, valet and general dogsbody.
Mayday: So, masquerading as a butler, eh? I’ve got my beady eye on you, sunshine.
Constance: I apologise for my butler in advance, Inspector.
Mayday: (To Fetchitt.) So what exactly do you do?
Fetchitt: Fetch it.
Mayday: So what exactly do you do, Fetchitt?
Fetchitt: Fetch it.

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Mayday: Are you taking the mick?
Fetchitt: That’s what I do, Inspector – her Ladyship tells me to get something, and I fetch it.
Mayday: (Makes note.) Glor-ee-fied go-pher.
Constance: If you don’t get on with this investigation, then I shall report you to your superiors,
Inspector.
Mayday: (To Fetchitt.) Right, Fetchitt, did Lord Henry have enemies?
Fetchitt: Not to my knowledge – he was as regular as clockwork.
Victoria: Always regular – I saw to that. I gave him prunes three times a week and always put a bit
of bran in ’is porridge.
Dorothy: Daddy was a pussy cat, Inspector, of course he didn’t have enemies.
Mayday: (Makes note.) Puss-ee cat.
Henrietta: We have a church cat called Tiddles.
Mayday: My cat tiddles all over the garden. The missis gets quite cross when it goes amongst the
cabbages and peas.
Anna: (Stands.) Inspector, if you don’t need me, can I go? I need to tend to my mother and
time is ticking on.
Mayday: And you are?
Anna: Tired and hungry.
Mayday: What is your name, Madam?
Anna: Anna Conda.
Mayday: (Starts to write, then jumps in fear.) Anna Conda? Where? You didn’t tell me you
kept snakes in the house, your battleship. If I’d known, I’d have worn my bicycle clips. The
slippery blighters get everywhere.
Constance: This is Anna Conda, my secretary. She is not, and never has been, a snake.
Mayday: Quite so, your fellowship.
Major: (To Mayday.) Dash it, old chap, this is a rum do. Any chance we can wrap it up soon? I
have an important meeting to attend.
Fetchitt: Yes, we know all about your meetings, Major.
Victoria: Orf to gamble away Lord ’enry’s fortune, no doubt.
Constance: Cook!
Victoria: Did I say that out loud? (To Lady Constance.) Sorry, Mum, I was forgettin’ meself.
Constance: I’ll speak to you later, Cook. (To Mayday.) Can we get back to the investigation,
Mayday?
Mayday: Ah yes. I have reason to believe that the deceased was murdered.
Anna: (Sarcastically.) You don’t say.
Mayday: I do say. I just said it. Not only was the deceased murdered, but he was murdered by
someone in this very room.
Victoria: Blimey, he’s good.
Mayday: What do you say to that?
Anna: (Sarcastically.) Well, it’s a start, Inspector.
Mayday: I want you all to tell me about your relationship with Lord Henry. I’ll start with Miss
Anna Conda.
Constance: Really, Inspector. Anna is my secretary. Where is this line of inquiry taking us?
Mayday: It’s taking us to the motive.
Anna: Henry had it coming. He was a charmer, a lady’s man. I don’t know why I continued our
affair – Henry wasn't even a good lover. I only took the job of secretary to Lady Constance so that I
could be near Henry.
Constance: That’s enough, Anna.
Anna: It isn’t nearly enough, Constance. Henry loved me, not you.
Major: Dashed poor show, old girl.
Mayday: Carry on, Miss.
Victoria: Sounds like a right carry on if you ask me, and carryin’ on right under our very noses.

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Anna: I fell in love with Henry when I was eighteen. I was totally smitten with him and he felt
the same way about me. I have wasted the last twenty years. My whole life is a sham. I’ve been
hiding in the shadows for too long. Over the years, Henry always promised he would leave his wife
and marry me, but the time wasn’t right. A few weeks ago, Henry told me that I was just one of a
string of lovers. It shook me to the core. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that
Henry was a cad, schmoozing the ladies and with no thought for anyone but himself. I had enough
of playing second fiddle.
Mayday: Have you tried the cello?
Constance: I knew about my husband’s sordid affairs, and that you were one of them, Anna. Henry
would never have left me – except in death.
Dorothy: Poor Mama, how could you bear knowing that Anna was Daddy’s mistress and do nothing
about it?
Mayday: Thank you, Miss, but I shall ask the questions here.
Constance: I live by the old adage, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Mayday: So, you have a motive for murder, Miss Conda.
Henrietta: Anna did leave the room to get some fresh air, Inspector. She could easily have crept
upstairs and murdered Lord Henry.
Anna: Yes, Inspector, I did leave the room and I have a motive. However, I’m not the only
person in this room with a motive to murder Henry. His brother stands to gain more than I ever did.
Major: Now listen here! Dashed cheap shot. Murder me own brother? Thought never crossed
my mind.
Mayday: Oh, I dunno, fratricide is as old as time. What with Cain and Abel and that fellow in
Hamlet, not to mention those two Roman blokes.
Dorothy: Romulus and Remus.
Mayday: I said not to mention them.
Henrietta: You were with your brother before joining us for afternoon tea, Major.
Major: Enjoyed a chat and whisky with Henry, but didn’t kill the old chap.
Henrietta: Ivanna left the room to go and get her handbag, but came back down without it. They
could easily have killed him.
Mayday: Thank you, Agatha Christie. I am quite incapable of conducting a murder investigation.
Constance: You go too far, Henrietta!
Anna: Henrietta’s right, though. The Major and Ivanna have been staying here for a couple of
weeks. Is it a coincidence that Lord Henry’s study caught fire and he almost perished in the flames?
Dorothy: Daddy has had a run of bad luck lately. Last week, a rather heavy stone figure crashed to
the ground from the second-floor balcony, just missing him by inches. Daddy was pretty shook up,
I can tell you.
Major: Rum do, that. I rushed out of the house to see what all the hoo-ha was about.
Dorothy: Then there was that awful business with his horse, Beauty.
(Music 5.)
(Comedy business as they all exaggerate horse riding motions. Major gallops around the stage as
the music is played. Lady Constance is more refined and gently bobs up and down in her chair.)
Mayday: Right, back to the investigation. What was the awful business?
Constance: The accident…
Mayday: The accident?
Dorothy: More than an accident, Inspector. Daddy was thrown off his horse because the girth of his
saddle had been cut through.
Major: Dashed lucky to be alive. We were riding with a couple of chaps. Beauty was running
like the wind. Then Henry took a tumble. Stopped me horse – comrade down and all that. Then
the other chaps helped me to get Henry to hospital, where they fixed him up. Bally horse bolted but
was soon rounded up.
Dorothy: Thank goodness Daddy survived the fall. (Visibly upset.) But now he’s been killed. It’s
all too upsetting.
Major: Chin up, old girl. At least Beauty is still in fine fettle.
Henrietta: Whoever cut the girth of the saddle intended to harm someone.

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Mayday: (To Henrietta.) You read my mind, Miss. (To all.) And so the plot thickens. We have
three suspected attempts to murder Lord Henry. Death by horse, death by fire, and death by stone
ornament. The fact remains, Lord Henry was done away with.
Henrietta: Lord Henry’s murderer could be anyone from upstairs or downstairs.
Mayday: Thank you for stating the obvious, Madam. I was just coming to that. Now then, who are
the downstairs staff?
Constance: We are short-staffed at the moment, so only have three in residence. The butler, cook and
maid were all working today. We have casual staff and gardeners who live in the village.
Victoria: (Drying a tear with her apron.) I’ve been feeding Lord Henry for years. He loved my
gooseberry fool.
Mayday: I am not a fool, Madam. I shall have to have a serious word in your mother’s shell-like if
you ridicule the police. I’ll have you know that the business of murdered dead bodies is a very
grave matter indeed.
Victoria: Ever so sorry, Inspector.
Mayday: And you are?
Victoria: Victoria Sponge, Inspector.
Mayday: Don’t try to get in my good cookbooks by offering me a bribe, Madam. I’m not allowed
to eat cake on duty, unless it’s a special occasion. I’m trying to watch my waistline. On second
thoughts, as long as it hasn’t got a soggy bottom, I’ll have a slice. I don’t suppose there’s any
chance of a cuppa with it?
Victoria: That’s me name, Inspector – Victoria Sponge. Father thought it was funny when he
named me. My brother Treacle changed his name as soon as he was old enough.
Mayday: (Makes a note.) Tree-call sponge.
Victoria: Why are you writing my brother’s name in your notepad, Inspector?
Mayday: That’s my shopping list, Madam. (To everyone.) Now then, it is my belief that Lord
Henry was also poisoned as well as bashed over the head with a large heavy object and stabbed with
a sharp knife.
Victoria: So that’s where it went. I’ve been missing a knife from me knife drawer.
Henrietta: So, the cook could have poisoned Lord Henry’s food and stabbed him to death with the
kitchen knife, Inspector.
Mayday: For the last time, Missis Soufflé, If you keep interfering with this murder investigation, I
shall have to caution and arrest you. Now then, who is responsible for preparing food on these
premises?
All: (Pointing.) Cook!
Victoria: Why are you pointin’ your finger at me? I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me what killed ’im, your
Ladyship. I wouldn’t ’arm an ’air on Lord ’enry’s ’ead. I love ’im and the Major as if they was me
own sons.
Major: Jolly decent of you, old girl.
Anna: (Visibly upset.) Well, somebody murdered poor Henry.
Mayday: I have a highly quantified team of officers searching the rooms for incriminating evidence
as we speak.
Tia: It wasn’t my fault, Inspector. Fetchitt blackmailed me. I didn’t help him steal all those
things, but I did turn a blind eye to what he was doing. I feel so ashamed.
Fetchitt: Shut up, Tia. They can’t pin anything on us.
Constance: I knew there was something going on. Things have been disappearing, Inspector.
Mayday: What things – rabbits out of a hat?
Constance: A number of valuable items have gone missing. I thought nothing of it, until now.
Dorothy: Gosh, burglars and vagabonds living under our own roof, Mama. We could have been
murdered in our own beds.
Ivanna: Your father was.
Mayday: You’ve been very quiet, Miss Foxtrot. What do you stand to gain from Lord Henry’s
death?
Major: (Affronted.) Now look here, old chap.
Ivanna: I have nothing to hide, Inspector.

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Mayday: I shall be the judge of that, Madam. Did you or did you not go cap in hand to Lord Henry
for money to pay off the Major’s gambling debts and your increasingly high spending lifestyle?
Ivanna: The Major and I have certain standards to maintain, Inspector.
Constance: (Loftily.) We don’t talk about money, dear – it is the hallmark of inadequate breeding.
Mayday: So is cold blooded murder, your oneupmanship.
Victoria: Ivanna could have done it. She comes across as butter wouldn’t melt.
Tia: I heard Ivanna arguing with his Lordship earlier. I couldn’t quite make out what they
were saying, but she was angry and there were raised voices.
Mayday: (Makes a note.) Raised voices. What have you got to say to that, Ivanna?
Ivanna: I want to see a lawyer.
Mayday: (Takes photo from his pocket.) There you are, that’s my son, Thaddeus, he’s a lawyer.
Handsome chap, just like me. (Puts photo back.)
Ivanna: They’re trying to pin the blame on me, Inspector. I’m not the only one with a motive to
murder Lord Henry.
Mayday: Trying to shift the blame, eh, Miss?
Constance: Can we get back to business, Inspector?
Mayday: Certainly. Lady Dorothy, what was your motive for killing your father?
Constance: Really, Inspector, you go too far.
Dorothy: I couldn’t have murdered Daddy, Inspector. I never left this room.
Mayday: I understand that you are engaged to the Duke of Rutherfordshire, Lady Dorothy?
Dorothy: Yes, I am. Is it relevant to this inquiry, Inspector?
Mayday: I leave no avenue unturned, Miss. Lady Constance Dunne-Wittering, I put it to you that
your husband’s extra-marital affairs were about to become public knowledge. This scandal would
then put the kibosh on your daughter Lady Dorothy’s forthcoming marriage to the Duke of
Rutherfordshire.
Constance: Inspector, if infidelity were a motive for murder, then half the landed gentry in England
would have been, as you so eloquently put it, done away with. Admit it – you haven’t got a clue
who murdered my husband.
Mayday: Oh but I have, your championship, I have. On occasion, a super sleuth detective inspector
like myself needs to interrogate and suspect everyone. Of course, (taps side of nose) I know who
the murderer is, that’s my job.
(LX 6 – lights fade to blackout)

Scene 2 – A Different Line of Questioning

(LX 7 – lights up. Everyone is on stage. Mayday is pacing up and down. He addresses the
Audience.)
Mayday: Now then, all you out there, I want you to consider whether one or more persons
perpetrated this heinous crime. I hope your little grey cells have been recalling the events of the
evening and that you have made vital notes, like what I have. Think about whodunnit, how they
dunnit, but most importantly, why they dunnit. I will ask a few of you to put your questions to the
suspects. As far as you lot are concerned, they are all suspects, though if you ask me, some of this
lot look more suspect than others.

INTERROGATION
 Mayday invites a few audience members to raise their hand if they want to ask a question.
 He repeats the question as he puts it to the suspects.
 Suspects answer the question.
 Mayday responds with various comments – ’Thank you, Sir, that was most helpful/unhelpful’,
’Don’t give up your day job, Madam’, etc.

Once a few questions have been answered, Mayday addresses the Audience again…

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Mayday: Thank you for those questions. The interrogation is now over. Before you point the
finger at the wrong person, I want you to think about the following. How was Lord Henry Dunne-
Wittering murdered? What was the cause of death? Was he fatally stabbed or was it the poison
what finished him off? If so, who administered the fatal dose? Was the murderer working alone or
were they in cahoots with someone else? Is Anna Conda a slippery snake in the grass? Did Ivanna
Foxtrot deliver a flaming Sambuca to Lord Henry? Was Lord Henry’s murder a crime passionnel,
money-related, or a burglary that went tragically wrong? Is your money on a member of Lord
Henry’s family, the downstairs staff, or one of Lady Constance’s visitors? Whilst you’re thinking
about whodunnit, how they dunnit and why they dunnit, there will be a short interlude and you will
be asked to hand your whodunnit forms in. Make sure you have written your team name on your
answer sheet. There may or may not be a prize for the person who gets it correct – it depends very
much on the budget…
(LX 8 – lights flash, then out.)
Mayday: Has anyone got a shilling for the meter?
(Music 6)

Act 3
Scene 1 – Whodunnit. How they dunnit. Why they dunnit.
(LX 9 – lights up. Everyone present. Detective Inspector Mayday enters stage left. He is
carrying a notebook and pencil.)
Mayday: Stay where you are – oh, you have. Well done. (Addresses suspects.) I have now
finished questioning you all and am ready to make an arrest. (Checks his pockets.) Once I find my
handcuffs. (Takes a biscuit from his trouser pocket.) Ah, I wondered where that went. Right,
will the murderer please stand up.
(Major stands.)
Dorothy: Uncle Freddie?
Mayday: (Rips up one of his notes.) Well, that has certainly put the cat amongst the cabbages.
Dorothy: My own uncle a cold-blooded murderer? Who would have believed it? Oh, Uncle
Freddie, whatever will become of me when Sebastian finds out you’re a murderer?
Constance: How could you put Lady Dorothy’s future in jeopardy?
Major: What? No, it wasn’t me.
Mayday: Then why did you stand up, Major?
Major: I stood up because me shrapnel’s on the move. Dashed pain keeps giving me gyp.
Mayday: Then kindly sit down, Major – this is the serious part of the proceedings.
(Major sits down.)
Mayday: (To suspects.) If you lot don’t stop messing about, I shall have to caution you for wasting
police time. Do not stand up because you have gyppy knees. Do not stand up for the national
anthem. Do not stand up because you have shiftin’ shrapnel. Do I make myself clear?
Anna: Yes, crystal clear, Inspector. As I understand it, you won’t stand for any random standing
up.
Mayday: Quite, now then – one of you lot must have a guilty conscience and want to confess.
(Tia stands.)
Constance: Tia? I thought with a bit of training and self-discipline you’d prove to be a good
housemaid. It seems I was wrong.
Mayday: (Rips up another of his notes.) Join the club.
Tia: I have a confession to make, Inspector.
Mayday: Do you, indeed, Miss?
Tia: I’m not really a maid. I got a job here so that I could be closer to Lord Henry. He is
(slight pause) he was, my father. I confronted Lord Henry about my mother, Rose. She worked in
service here before I was born.
Constance: Henry’s daughter? What nonsense, you have no proof.
Tia: Oh, but I do, Ma’am. I have letters that Lord Henry sent to my mother after you sacked
her. He admits to being my father. My mother moved away, and it was only after her death that I
discovered the letters.

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Fetchitt: It’s true, Inspector. Tia showed me the letters and took me into her confidence. I’m
ashamed to say, I blackmailed her into keeping quiet when she found out I’d stolen a few trinkets to
pay my gambling debts.
Mayday: A few trinkets? Look what was found under your bed, Fetchitt.
(Mayday holds up a chamber pot and a pair of slippers.)
Fetchitt: You can’t begrudge a poor hard-working butler a few home luxuries like a pair of comfy
slippers and a gazunder.
Mayday: It’s what’s in ’em that matters, Fetchitt. (Shakes the chamber pot.) It puts a whole new
meaning on having a tinkle. (Takes items from pot and slippers.) A silver hip flask, a diamond
necklace, a gold framed miniature of her flagship’s father, an emerald necklace, a silver trinket…
The list goes on.
Dorothy: So, Tia is my sister? I always wanted a sister, but Mummy bought me a pony instead.
I’m sure Tia wouldn’t set out to kill her father, and Fetchitt was Daddy’s trusted batman during the
war.
Tia: It wasn’t me that killed Lord Henry. He said he would publicly acknowledge me as his
daughter once he’d recuperated from the accident. I had no reason to disbelieve him.
Constance: Typical Henry, leave everyone else to clear up after him.
Major: Another niece, eh? Welcome to the Dunne-Wittering family, Tia.
Anna: Inspector, do you have any idea who the murderer is?
Mayday: At this moment in time, your guess is as good as mine, Madam.
Fetchitt: (Stands.) I didn’t mean to kill him – it was an accident.
Victoria: Well, knock me down wiv a fevver – Fetchitt?
Fetchitt: I whacked Lord Henry over the head with a candlestick when he woke up and caught me
rifling through her Ladyship’s drawers. I was looking for that diamond necklace.
Henrietta: Well done, Inspector. You said the butler did it.
Mayday: In nine times out of ten, I’d say that was the case. However, I have it on good authority
that Lord Henry didn’t die from the bump on the head.
Henrietta: So, who, and what, killed Lord Henry?
Mayday: That, Mrs Soufflé, is the sixty-four-thousand dollar question, and I am about to answer it.
Henrietta: So, were there a few red herrings, Inspector?
Mayday: You could say that, Madam, but they didn’t fool me. Call it a stab in the dark if you wish,
but it is my belief that Lord Henry Dunne-Wittering was murdered, and the murderer is none other
than (slight pause for effect) Ivanna Foxtrot.
Henrietta: Gosh! It’s all rather thrilling.
Mayday: It wasn’t thrilling for the deceased, Madam. (Clears throat.) I have reason to believe
that it was a pre-meditated murder, and that Ivanna Foxtrot has led us all on a merry old dance.
Major: Dashed slanderous! You’re barking up the wrong tree, Inspector.
Mayday: Inspector training manual. In the first instance, the butler did it. If not, blame the spouse.
Failing that, blame someone shifty-looking.
Ivanna: (To Mayday.) You’re clutching at straws, you can’t prove anything, Inspector.
Major: Where’s your proof, old chap?
Mayday: I have plenty of proof. Ivanna Foxtrot, it is my belief that you put poison into Henry’s
whisky and then stabbed him with the knife that you had secreted under his Lordship’s mattress.
You took advantage of the fact that you knew Fetchitt the Butler was a petty thief. You could
blame and frame him for the murder.
Henrietta: What was the motive, Inspector?
Mayday: I was just coming to that, Miss Soufflé. The motive was greed and malice aforethought –
a toxic combination. It seems that Lord Henry was about to change his will, in effect cutting out his
brother, the Major. Lord Henry realised that the Major was in dire financial straits and refused to
bail him out any further. Knowing that Lady Dorothy was to be married and would be financially
secure, he was going to make Lady Constance his sole beneficiary.
Victoria: Blimey, oo’d ’ave thought it? Was she in cahoots with the Major?

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Mayday: No, Ivanna was in cahoots with her cousin. She tracks and hunts her prey, bleeds them
dry and goes in for the kill. The Major was a mere prawn in her game. She always had her sights
set on her next target. In fact, she had bigger fish to fry, especially as she was invited to Lady
Dorothy’s wedding.
Ivanna: (Claps slowly.) Very clever, Inspector. But how did you work it out?
Mayday: I thought it a bit strange that you just happened to meet Lady Dorothy at a party and
orchestrated a stay at her house. You had an ulterior motive, though. Major Dunne-Wittering isn’t
the first man you’ve taken to the cleaners, is he, Mavis Scroggins?
Major: Mavis Scroggins?
(Ivanna/Mavis speaks with a regional accent from now on.)
Ivanna: All’s fair in love and warpaint, Freddie.
Mayday: We’ve been onto you for quite a while now, Madam. You’ve left a trail of broken hearts
and empty bank accounts across the country.
Dorothy: Were you responsible for the fire in daddy’s study and other so-called accidents?
Ivanna: Of course I was. It would have been so much easier to have made Lord Henry’s death
look like an accident. But Freddie heard his cries for help and rescued him from the fire. Pushing
that ornament off the balcony was difficult. I mistimed it, so it missed him. As for the horse
accident – Henry surviving that was the last straw. I realised the only way to bump Lord Henry off
was to poison him. I added arsenic to his whisky when I visited him earlier.
Henrietta: And the handbag excuse?
Ivanna: That was just a ruse to go and finish the job. I stabbed Lord Henry as well, just to be
doubly sure that he was dead. I had to kill him before he changed his will and cut Freddie’s
allowance.
Mayday: That is exactly what I deduced as well. (Taps side of his nose.) I have a police nose for
these things.
Henrietta: Inspector, who was Ivanna in cahoots with?
Inspector: Her cousin – Fetchitt.
Anna: So, the butler did do it. Well done, Inspector.
Fetchitt: I didn’t stab his Lordship, that was all Ivanna’s doing.
Ivanna: Shut up, Bert. You’re in it right up to your grubby little neck.
Fetchitt: I never knew that she was going to murder Lord Henry. I was quite happy being a petty
thief…
Victoria: Well, blow me down wiv a fevver, Fetchitt. It’s a right to-do and no mistake.
Henrietta: Fetchitt must have tipped Ivanna off to the fact that the Major was an eligible bachelor and
engineered the meeting with Lady Dorothy.
Dorothy: So Ivanna and I didn’t meet by chance?
Mayday: I was just coming to that. It would appear that Mavis Scroggins and her cousin Bert
Scroggins, alias Fetchitt, have been fleecing people for years. Bert was a petty thief and told Mavis
that he’d been made butler of this here stately pile. It is my belief that when she found out there
were no eligible male heirs, she focused on schmoozing Major Dunne-Wittering.
Major: Dashed poor show to pull the wool over my eyes, old girl – but to hoodwink my niece is
unforgivable.
Ivanna: Sorry, Freddie. If it’s any consolation, I did have a good time with you.
Constance: How inconvenient. I shall have to employ a new butler.
Mayday: Mavis Scroggins, alias Ivanna Foxtrot, I am arresting you for the murder of Lord Henry
Dunne-Wittering. Bert Scroggins, alias Fetchitt, I am arresting you for being an accomplice to
murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention,
when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in
evidence in court. (To Audience.) Thanks to good old-fashioned policing, the murderer has been
apprehended. Rest assured, we always get our man – or woman. Evening all.
(Music 7 – Outro Music)
(Curtain.)

© 2021 by Cheryl Barrett Page 16 www.lazybeescripts.co.uk