DR BURNLEY … President of the Auckland Society of Arts.
HAROLD TILLET … businessman and philanthropist.
LADY RUBY KERR-BATES … an art lover.
BEATRICE PAGE … an art teacher.
BOB HEMMINGS … an artist.
DENNIS RAYBURN … an artist.
VIOLET CROSS … an art lover.
BRADLEY CREWES … Director of the Harold Tillet Gallery.
BIDDY THORNTON … secretary to Mr Crewes.
JILL WALKER … an art student.
MRS BURNLEY … the president’s wife.
NZBC TELEVISION PRESENTER.
NZBC TELEVISION INTERVIEWER.
A BARMAN.
A WAITER.
Police:
SUPERINTENDENT RODERICK ALLEYN … Scotland Yard.
SUPERINTENDENT DAWSON … Auckland Police.
INSPECTOR FRAMPTON … Auckland Police.
OTHER POLICE OFFICERS.
TEASER: THE GALLERY
(In this preview of Scene 14, the opening of the exhibition at the Harold Tillet Gallery is underway. The gallery is orderly. All the pictures are in place and a crowd of 25 people is listening to DR BURNLEY’s speech. During his speech we see HAROLD TILLET, a big aggressive businessman, looking very tense; RUBY, an infinitely well-dressed social lady, looking worried; BEATRICE PAGE, cool middle-aged and rather antiseptic; BOB HEMMINGS with long hair and a dour air of uncooperation; DENNIS RAYBURN, the artist on show, nervous, and JILL WALKER, concerned about Dennis; VIOLET CROSS, overdressed and vacantly pixilated is listening with a rapt attention. During the speech we cut to a female hand that slips into a masculine hand and squeezes it, then the masculine hand withdraws and we pan up to see that it was Dennis who did not respond and Jill who made the gesture.
DR BURNLEY: This building will be a magnificent addition to the Auckland art world and the man behind it deserves nothing but praise for his foresight, understanding and generosity. Mr Tillet, we are all extremely indebted to you.
(Applause)
I know only a little about the artist whose work has been chosen to open this gallery. But a glance has shown that he—er—has a talent worthy of careful study. Mr Rayburn, young as he is, is a painter of great promise.
(Applause)
He has in fact completed a portrait of Mr Tillet which will hang in the foyer of this gallery as a reminder of the man who made it all possible and which I have much pleasure in unveiling.
(Applause. He takes the string and pulls. It doesn’t work. He pulls again. There is an awkward laugh and giggle. Bradley bounds forward and tries to pull the string)
Oh dear, what do you do at a launching when the champagne bottle doesn’t break?
(General light laughter. Bradley takes out a knife and cuts the string leaving the knot intact. Burnley takes hold of the cut strings)
BRADLEY: I can’t understand it. It worked perfectly last night. It’s most embarrassing.
BURNLEY: Our thanks to Mr Tillet and best wishes for the gallery’s success.
(Burnley lets the cloth drop. We do not see the picture but we see the horrified reactions of Dennis, Jill, Ruby, Violet, Bradley, the ‘set’ look of Beatrice, Bob’s laughter, climaxing in:)
HAROLD: My God!
(Fade to black. Main credits.)
SCENE 1: FILMED INSERT
(On a TV screen, Alleyn is being interviewed at Mangere Airport, Auckland. for ‘Town and Around’[1])
INTERVIEWER: This is not the first time you’ve been to New Zealand is it, Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: No. I’ve been here twice before.
INTERVIEWER: And on each occasion you were caught up in cases?
ALLEYN: As it happened—yes.
INTERVIEWER: And this time?
ALLEYN: This time it’s strictly a holiday. I’m staying with friends and am hoping for a little fishing at Taupo. That’s all.
FRONTMAN: That was my colleague talking to Detective-Superintendent Roderick Alleyn at Mangere Airport this morning.
(Pull back from the screen to reveal:)
SCENE 2: DRAWING-ROOM
(Lady Ruby Kerr-Bates’ house, evening. Ruby turns off the TV set. Her drawing-room is expensively designed, vogue, modern, with elegant furniture, mostly reproductions. The pictures on the wall are ‘acceptable’—representational. Alleyn, Dr Burnley, his wife and Harold Tillet are having pre-dinner drinks. Ruby has a ‘Bloody Mary’)
RUBY: Isn’t it exciting having a celebrity to dinner?
DR BURNLEY: I thought you’d enjoy meeting Mr Alleyn, Ruby.
RUBY: Indeed, yes. Do you often go on television, Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: Thank the Lord, no. A terrifying experience.
RUBY: Oh, but you were so good—so natural. You’ll have to give Harold a few tips.
HAROLD: Me! Why?
RUBY: I’m sure they’ll want to interview you. It’s not every day somebody builds a new art gallery.
HAROLD: I’d break the cameras.
RUBY: (laughing) Oh, go on. (To Alleyn) It’s quite a new departure for Harold. There was an article in the paper the other day—‘Christmas Card King Turns Art Patron’. Harold didn’t like it at all, did you dear?
HAROLD: Young reporter with hair like seaweed wanted to know what I thought about pop art and spatial conflicts, for God’s sake. I told him straight—I might have built an art gallery but that didn’t mean I was going Bohemian. Not that it means much. Everybody knows Ruby bullied me into it.
RUBY: Bullied indeed. You make me sound like an ogre—or is it ogress?
HAROLD: Would you believe witch?
RUBY: (uncertain how to interpret Harold’s remark) Oh dear. (To Alleyn) The opening’s tomorrow. You must come. Everybody will be there. Doctor Burnley’s doing the honours.
DR BURNLEY: Yes, and I haven’t prepared a word. I hope it’ll come as a nice surprise—to all of us!
RUBY: I’m sure you’ll do it beautifully. And you’ll have plenty to talk about. It’s a lovely gallery. Harold never does anything by halves. He’s even brought a director over from Sydney to run it.
SCENE 3: THE GALLERY
(The Harold Tillet Gallery is new, fresh, well designed, with attractive textured walls and a number of wooden ‘sculptures’ designed to be permanent features. Quite a lot of bustle—pictures being hung, piles of packing, etc. There are two or three young people working who don’t interest us personally. The main people are the director, BRADLEY CREWES, a neat young man, precise to the point of being finicky. At the moment his striped shirt-sleeves are rolled up and he is wearing a patterned waistcoat and well-pressed suit trousers. We also see his neat, efficient young secretary, BIDDY THORNTON, and BOB HEMMINGS who is wearing jeans and a scruffy jersey and has his hair long. Bob and Biddy are helping to hang the pictures. Bradley is sorting through a small pile of canvasses. The work is almost finished)
BRADLEY: (looking at a very ordinary landscape) What the hell’s this? It’s not even numbered.
BOB: It’s new. I brought it from the flat. Dennis wants it hung.
BRADLEY: Where, for God’s sake?
BIDDY: With the other landscapes?
BRADLEY: What the hell does he think he’s doing? A new gallery—the full opening champagne jazz and what are we offering? A first exhibition by an unknown artist who doesn’t know the difference between pale puce and clockwork orange. He’s got something, I’ll give him that, but can you see it for the junk?
BOB: Could you say he’s changed his style?
BRADLEY: Changed his style! Bob, look at that. It’s fine—a first class piece of work. When I saw it I took it for granted they’d all be at that level. But look at that! It’s not even Kandy Krunch! This is not an exhibition—it’s a rag bag.
BOB: Yeah. Ruby Kerr-Bates can be very persuasive. As I well know.
BRADLEY: You mean she’s behind the Pretty Peep?
BOB: Well, Dennis didn’t do any pop stuff until Ruby started raving on about exhibitions.
BRADLEY: My God! The critics’ll crucify us.
BIDDY: I don’t know. They could say it’s promising.
BRADLEY: And they could say it’s crap. What possessed me to take this job? Don’t answer—money! Why is my life so full of wrong decisions? (He looks back at the landscape) And now this: It’s too much! I give up! He can supervise his own hanging. (Realises) What a delicious thought! Bob, where the hell is Dennis? You’d think an artist would take some interest in his first exhibition.
SCENE 4: THE STUDIO
(Dennis Rayburn lives in a scruffy old house converted to flats. A large window makes the room useful as a studio. The furniture is pretty threadbare and the wall is littered with unframed sketches and paintings. A major picture—the portrait—is propped on an easel. The door opens. Jill Walker comes in. She is young, attractive, an art student. She is surprised to see Dennis)
JILL: Hullo.
DENNIS: Jill! How marvellous!
JILL: (still at doorway holding up a wrapped bottle with a card on it) It’s a good luck present. I was going to leave it. I thought you’d be at the gallery.
DENNIS: No. Leave it to the experts. (He kisses her, takes the bottle) Thanks. Come in.
JILL: Why the glad rags? (They move into the room)
DENNIS: Going to Ruby’s for dinner. I’m late already.
JILL: I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dinner suit.
DENNIS: Ruby’s always been one to put business on a firm social footing. You know, I was beginning to wonder if I had leprosy or something. I haven’t seen any of the gang for weeks.
JILL: Perhaps we’re all a bit jealous.
DENNIS: And I haven’t seen you for ages.
JILL: I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.
DENNIS: Of course I wanted to see you. What on earth makes you say that?
JILL: Well, whenever I call you’re out, if I ring you’re busy—it gets embarrassing.
DENNIS: Nonsense. It’s just that I’ve been so tied up. There’s a hell of a lot of work involved in an exhibition like this.
JILL: You mean Ruby and The Christmas Card King don’t leave much time for your friends?
DENNIS: That’s unfair: If it wasn’t for Ruby and Harold where would I be now? I owe everything to them. I’ve got to make some sacrifices.
JILL: At whose expense—mine?
DENNIS: That’s ridiculous.
JILL: Dennis, I don’t enjoy being turned on and off like a tap when you happen to need sympathy. You’ve got to make up your mind—you can’t always have the best of both worlds.
SCENE 5: THE GALLERY
(Bob, Bradley and Biddy are still working)
BRADLEY: Where’s the portrait of Tillet? Bob, where’s the portrait?
BOB: At the flat. Or it was when I left.
BRADLEY: Hell’s teeth. Bloody portrait of bloody philanthropist to be unveiled to-bloody-morrow and we don’t know where it is. Isn’t it marvellous? Give him a ring will you?
BOB: He won’t be there.
BRADLEY: Why not?
BOB: He’s going to Ruby’s.
BRADLEY: What?
BOB: Dinner. ‘We dayne at nayne’, or used to in my day.
BRADLEY: I didn’t know Madam was having a dinner party.
BOB: Weren’t you asked, then?
BRADLEY: Good grief. It’s got nothing to do with me. She can invite whoever she likes to her mad tea parties. I don’t care.
(Beatrice Page enters. She is tall, middle-aged, antiseptic. Bradley sees her)
BRADLEY: I’m sorry, we’re not open yet.
BEATRICE: I know. But do you mind if I have a glance? I shan’t get in the way. Hullo, Bob.
BOB: (mumbling) Hi.
BRADLEY: Oh, but you’re Beatrice Page. You’re the wonderful influence I’ve heard so much about.
BEATRICE: How do you do?
BRADLEY: (to Bob) Why couldn’t you say so?
BOB: Influence? I wouldn’t mind sixpence for every time Beatrice’s bawled us out. Dennis never got away with second best when she was around.
BRADLEY: (laying on the charm) Do look, by all means. I’m afraid we’ll be closing soon. In fact all we’re waiting for is Mr Tillet’s portrait.
(During the following exchange Beatrice looks around the pictures with a cool eye)
Bob, do you think you could get it?
BOB: Won’t tomorrow do?
BRADLEY: How about now? We’ll be here for another half hour or so and even if we lock up, the key is behind that brick nonsense by the door. Take a taxi.
BOB: We’re not all rich and famous.
BRADLEY: (handing over a note to Bob) Here you are. Get a receipt.
BEATRICE: Could I come with you, Bob? Do you mind?
BOB: Okay by me.
(Beatrice and Bob start to go)
BRADLEY: (looking round) I dread to think what the portrait’s like.
SCENE 6: THE STUDIO
(The portrait of Harold Tillet is on the easel. Dennis is looking at it. He pours himself yet another glass of wine and looks back at the portrait)
SCENE 7: DRAWING-ROOM
(The dinner guests from Scene 2 are chatting)
RUBY: I’ve seen it. It’s wonderful. Such a sensitive piece of work and so like you, Harold. It’s quite uncanny.
HAROLD: He wouldn’t let me look at it, which seemed damn’ funny. I like to see what I’m paying for. Well, at least it’s a relief to know he hasn’t given me four eyes or two heads.
MRS BURNLEY: They do say two heads are better than one.
HAROLD: Yes, and better two-headed than two-faced. (They laugh)
SCENE 8: THE STUDIO
(Dennis, Beatrice and Bob are looking at the portrait)
DENNIS: Beatrice, it’s a map of his face. That’s the sort of thing he wants and that’s the sort of thing he’s getting. I did what I was paid for.
BEATRICE: And that’s enough?
DENNIS: Alright, alright, so you don’t like it.
BEATRICE: What do you think, Bob?
BOB: Leave me out of it, please. I have to live here.
BEATRICE: No, tell me, Bob, honestly. What do you think?
BOB: We all have to earn a crust.
DENNIS: (to Beatrice) There you are! That’s what I mean!
BEATRICE: Has he seen it?
DENNIS: No. I wouldn’t let him look.
BEATRICE: Don’t worry, he’ll eat it up. (Bob grunts) And the other work? (Dennis looks at Beatrice questioningly) I’ve been to the gallery.
DENNIS: Oh.
BEATRICE: Some of those things are fine, Dennis. The stuff you painted before—before Ruby Kerr-Bates got her hands on you—is first class. But this new stuff? Is this what all the midnight oil was burned for? All those arguments about honesty and artistic arrogance?
DENNIS: A lot of people are going to see that exhibition, Beatrice—a lot of different people—
BEATRICE: And you’re going to please them all?
DENNIS: If I can. An exhibition has got to have a wide appeal. It must have variety. To concentrate on one style, it’s artistically self—self-indulgent.
BEATRICE: Who said that? Ruby Kerr-Bates?
DENNIS: It doesn’t matter who said it.
BOB: Excuse me. I hate to break up a row but can I take it? Bradley’s waiting to close up.
DENNIS: Why not? It doesn’t seem to have found much favour here. (Bob picks up the portrait and goes) Beatrice, I’m a painter. I have to sell pictures to live. I have a certain talent. Some of that stuff is pop. Okay, but it’s well done, it couldn’t have been done by anybody else. What’s wrong with that?
BEATRICE: I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Your talent is not yours, Dennis. It’s other people’s, too. All the people who’ve worked with you, who’ve encouraged you, who’ve given you their time and their experience. People like me, Dennis. And when you prostitute your talent with that sort of muck you not only betray yourself, you betray me. That’s what I mean.
SCENE 9: THE GALLERY
(Bradley is placing the portrait on an easel in a prominent position and arranging a cover which will fall away when a slip knot is pulled)
BIDDY: I’ve checked the catalogue. Everything seems to be right—
BRADLEY: Don’t worry about tidying up. We can do that tomorrow. As long as the main junk is in the stack-room. The important thing at the moment is—will it work? (He pulls the string, the cover drops away) It does.
BOB: (clapping slowly) And what do you do for an encore?
BRADLEY: Very funny (He re-ties the string) Well, that’s it.
(Jill enters)
JILL: Hullo, who’s hungry?
BOB: Me for a start.
BRADLEY: Come on, let’s get out of here.
(We hold on Jill who looks round at the pictures with growing anxiety)
SCENE 10: DINING-ROOM
(At Lady Kerr-Bates’ house, Harold, Ruby, the Burnleys, Alleyn and Dennis are now at table in the dining-room. Soup is being served)
RUBY: We’d given you up for lost.
DENNIS: I’m terribly sorry. I was held up.
RUBY: Well, this time we’ll forgive you. After all, you’re the guest of honour.
HAROLD: You’re lucky you’re not in business, young man. You wouldn’t last long if this is how you keep appointments.
RUBY: Now, now, he said he was sorry.
DR BURNLEY: You’re sure you won’t have some wine, Ruby? It’s very good.
RUBY: No thank you. It’s an awful social sin, I know, but I just don’t like wine. One of my little quirks I suppose. I’m perfectly happy with my ‘Bloody Mary’.
HAROLD: How does the gallery look? Everything in the right place?
DENNIS: Yes, I think so.
HAROLD: Think so? What do you mean, ‘think so’?
DENNIS: Well—
RUBY: I’m sure it’s perfect. Now don’t worry the poor boy.
HAROLD: And what about this poor boy? It’s my gallery, after all.
RUBY: Well, if you’re so worried let’s go down after dinner and have a look.
DENNIS: I’d rather you didn’t.
RUBY: Why not? A sneak preview?
DENNIS: No, please. Anyway, they’ll have locked up by now.
RUBY: That doesn’t matter. We can always get in. The key’ll be behind that brick wall thing. It always is.
SCENE 11: THE FOYER
(Outside the gallery door a hand comes into view and finds the key behind a nook in the brick wall. It unlocks the door and an unrecognisable figure goes in)
SCENE 12: DINING-ROOM
(Same as in Scene 10)
HAROLD: You know this is going to be quite an eye-opener for Auckland. A new gallery and not one piece of four-eyed rubbish.
DR BURNLEY: Come now, that’s hardly fair. There’s a lot of fine work being exhibited in Auckland.
HAROLD: Don’t try to sell me that. When Ruby first got this bee in her bonnet about a gallery, I did a tour. Squiggles and lines and splurges. You call that art?!
RUBY: Oh, Harold, it’s only a phase. Dennis went through it too. He was painting all sorts of horrible pictures. But now he’s doing lovely work. And I might say I had a wee bit of influence in that—didn’t I, dear?
DENNIS: (bitterly) But an exhibition can’t be all Christmas cards.
HAROLD: And what’s that supposed to mean? You’re not putting rubbish up in my gallery, boy. You’ll get short shrift if you do.
RUBY: Now, Harold—
HAROLD: I’m holding you responsible Ruby, you know that.
RUBY: Harold—
HAROLD: My gallery is going to offer a real service—strike a blow for public taste. What do you say, Alleyn?
ALLEYN: I’m afraid only the usual things. A painter must be allowed a certain freedom. He has the right, even the responsibility, to express himself in his own way. Unless he does, how can art develop those sorts of things?
DR BURNLEY: I agree. An artist must—
HAROLD: So you’d give every beatnik with a brush the right to paint whatever cockeyed idea enters his head?
ALLEYN: Finally—yes.
HAROLD: Oh, for God’s sake!
ALLEYN: Anything else, to coin a phrase, is artistic prostitution. (To Dennis) What do you think?
(During this exchange we have been watching the growing tension in Dennis. At this point he breaks. He stands up, scraping his chair back. He grabs the table for a moment, sways, then turns and staggers from the room)
HAROLD: Good God.
ALLEYN: I’m sorry. I seem to have upset him.
RUBY: Not at all. It’s the exhibition tomorrow. He’s a very nervous boy. Very sensitive.
HAROLD: He’s been drinking too much!
RUBY: I’d better see what’s the matter. Will you excuse me? (She leaves the room)
HAROLD: God preserve me from sensitive artists.
SCENE 13: DRAWING-ROOM
(After dinner at Ruby’s house. Dennis is standing, tight and tense. He flops on to a sofa. Ruby enters)
RUBY: I understand, dear boy, I know what you’re going through.
DENNIS: Do you?
RUBY: Of course I do. I know how deeply you feel things. I do too.
DENNIS: Why can’t I be left alone? Everybody thinks they own me. God, I wish I was back six months ago.
RUBY: (a little hurt) That’s not very flattering to me, darling. (No reply) Is it? (Still no reply) You’re upset. Heavens, tomorrow you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about. (She sits beside him) Now don’t worry, I’ll be there to look after you. (She takes his head in her lap) To protect you from all those awful people who don’t understand. (She kisses him, then starts gently rocking him) We’re a team, remember. Just the two of us—a team. Darling … darling.
(As she rocks him, Harold comes in)
HAROLD: Is everything alright? (He sees them)
RUBY: Shsh.
(Harold looks at them as Ruby rocks on)
SCENE 14: THE GALLERY
(The opening is under way. Groups of people, much chatter. Wine is being served by waiters in jackets. We see Violet Cross peering through her opera glasses, Beatrice talking to Bob, Bradley Crewes on tenterhooks, Jill looking for Dennis who is trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible)
BRADLEY: What are you doing here? (with urgency) Come on. The new man from the Herald wants to talk to you. (Bradley notices Violet Cross. He turns to his secretary) Who’s that?
BIDDY: Violet Cross. She was very upset that we didn’t send her an invitation. She goes to all the exhibitions, she says.
BRADLEY: Really? Come on, Dennis.
(Shot of Beatrice and Bob together)
BEATRICE: Tell me, Bob, if someone offered you money and all this, would you paint a thing like that?
BOB: That’s the $64,000 dollar question—and for $64,000—(he shrugs) Everybody’s got a price, I suppose.
(Bradley spots Ruby and Harold and bounds forward to meet them in the foyer)
RUBY: Oh, it’s all so exciting. Is everybody here?
BRADLEY: Yes, dear lady, now you’ve arrived.
RUBY: (laughing) Any reactions?
BRADLEY: I don’t know about the pictures, but the champagne’s having its calculated effect.
HAROLD: (seeing one of the wooden sculptures in the foyer) And what’s that?
BRADLEY: Just a decorative piece.
HAROLD: Chi-chi nonsense.
(A waiter brings tray of champagne glasses)
WAITER: (to Ruby) Champagne?
HAROLD: ‘Bloody Mary’.
WAITER: I beg your pardon, sir?
BRADLEY: Lady Kerr-Bates doesn’t drink wine. Allow me.
RUBY: Thank you. (Bradley moves off) I can hardly believe it’s really happening at last!
HAROLD: Ruby, before we go in, will you tell me something. What took your fancy first, the gallery—or the artist?
RUBY: (as if about to say ‘what?’ and somewhat incredulous) —
HAROLD: (stares at her for a second) Think about it. (He strides off. Ruby follows)
(We thread through the crowd seeing all the main characters, picking up Bradley who is explaining a bottle of vodka and a jug of tomato juice to barman. He pours a glass and points out Ruby to second waiter who takes the glass and we follow him past Beatrice, Bob, Violet Cross, Alleyn, Dennis and Jill to Ruby who takes the glass automatically, her mind on the pictures, surprised by the abstracts and worried what Harold will say. Harold appears—furious)
HAROLD: Is this your idea of a joke?
RUBY: Harold, please! People are—
HAROLD: Look at it! Just look at it!
RUBY: Harold, I honestly didn’t realise.
HAROLD: A new artist you said! New artist—huh! I blame you for this Ruby.
RUBY: Be fair, Harold. I honestly didn’t know about these pictures.
HAROLD: Nobody makes a fool of me and gets away with it. (Bob comes up to them)
BOB: (stirring it) Enjoying the show?
RUBY: Oh, hullo Bob. Harold this is a young artist friend of Dennis’s—Bob Hemmings.
HAROLD: Do you do this sort of muck too? (Bob looks at the picture Harold is indicating, then back at him)
BOB: Yes, but I only wish I could do it as well.
HAROLD: Hah! (He moves off)
BOB: What’s biting him then?
RUBY: Bob, will you do me a favour? Will you keep an eye on Harold. I’m scared he might do something foolish.
BOB: Like what? String up Dennis among the artwork?
RUBY: Bob, I’m serious, Please, for my sake.
BOB: Ruby my love, I stopped being your errand boy a long time ago: Ask Dennis. He’s the obliging one—remember? (Bob goes off. Ruby moves towards Harold, who we see is at the bar. She brushes past Beatrice) Excuse me.
BEATRICE: Certainly: (We hold on Beatrice watching Ruby. Dennis is with Jill as Ruby comes up to them)
RUBY: Dennis, how could you do this to me? (Dennis gives an inimical look at her) Don’t I matter any more? You promised not to include those horrible old—you promised, and now look what you’ve done. You’ve ruined everything! (She moves on to the bar and rejoins Harold, also there. Her glass is empty. Bradley is hovering during the exchange between them. Ruby’s glass is taken by barman and refilled.)
RUBY: Harold?
HAROLD: What?
RUBY: There are some people I’d like you to meet.
HAROLD: So that they can laugh in my face instead of behind my back?
RUBY: (brightly, trying to wave off his bad mood) Harold, please.
HAROLD: Have you thought about the fun the newspapers will have—‘Christmas Card King Patronises Modern Bilge’.
RUBY! But darling, think of all the publicity.
(Bradley comes upon them, interrupting)
BRADLEY: It’s time for speeches. Stand by. (He moves off again)
VIOLET: (coming up and addressing herself to Harold) What a fine job you’re doing, Mr Tillet—and you too, Lady Kerr-Bates. It’s a lovely gallery, isn’t it?
HAROLD: Is it?
BRADLEY: (ringing a small bell) Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention, please. (We see him by the portrait with the doctor) As Director of the Tillet Gallery I have the honour to introduce Dr Burnley, the President of the Auckland Society of Arts.
(Applause. Dr Burnley clears his throat)
BURNLEY: Ladies and Gentlemen, what a great pleasure and privilege it is to be chosen to open this new and exciting gallery.
(Among the crowd are Alleyn, Jill, Dennis and Beatrice, who is looking at Dennis)
The art world here in Auckland never ceases to amaze me. The variety of fine work is really astonishing. These last 10 or 15 years have seen the rise of a new generation of artists who have richly contributed to the culture of this community. And equally important we have seen the development of a genuine interest from the public—the people who make it possible for artists to pay the rent. (Light laughter from crowd) This building will be a magnificent addition to the Auckland art world and the man behind it deserves nothing but praise for his foresight, understanding and generosity.
Mr Tillet, we are all extremely indebted to you. (Applause) I know only a little about the artist whose work has been chosen to open this gallery. (Dennis takes Jill’s hand but she pulls away) But a glance has shown that he—er—has a talent worthy of careful study. Mr Rayburn, young as he is, is a painter of great promise. (Applause) He has in fact completed a portrait of Mr Tillet which will hang in the foyer of this gallery as a reminder of the man who made it all possible, and which I now have much pleasure in unveiling.
(Applause. He takes the string and pulls. It doesn’t work. he pulls again. There is an awkward laugh and giggle. Bradley bounds forward and tries to pull the string)
BURNLEY: Oh dear, what do you do at a launching when the champagne bottle doesn’t break? (General light laughter. Bradley takes out a knife and cuts the string leaving the knot intact. Burnley takes hold of the cut strings)
BRADLEY: I can’t understand it. It worked perfectly last night. It’s most embarrassing.
BURNLEY: Our thanks to Mr Tillet and best wishes for the gallery’s success.
(Burnley lets the cloth drop. Instead of the portrait, a revolting cartoon of Tillet is revealed. It is clever but vicious. It has ‘A Happy Xmas To All Our Viewers’ scrawled on it. There is a stunned hush. The first reaction comes from Bob, who lets forth a peal of loud laughter)
HAROLD: My God.
RUBY: Harold!
BRADLEY: I didn’t put that there!
VIOLET: (quizzing cartoon through her glasses) Good heavens!
DENNIS: That’s not mine! I didn’t paint that! (The hubbub builds up. There is a startled cry and we see Ruby sink to the floor. Violet utters a little shriek. Dr Burnley hurries across and Alleyn also moves over. Burnley kneels beside Ruby, quickly examining her. Bradley kneels by him)
BRADLEY: Should we take her through to the office?
(Burnley looks up at Alleyn and shakes his head to signify she’s dead. From his attitude we realise the face is not a pretty sight. Alleyn looks at the body, then the glass that Ruby has dropped, then he looks at the group of people and we superimpose ‘END OF PART 1’ caption)
SCENE 15: THE GALLERY
(A few seconds later. Bradley has gone to the phone. Alleyn moves to kneel beside Dr Burnley)
ALLEYN: Did you happen to notice her before she fell?
BURNLEY: No, I didn’t.
ALLEYN: Neither did I. (Alleyn rises and moves towards the office. Bradley is in the office ending his request to the police. Dr Burnley’s wife intercepts Alleyn)
MRS BURNLEY: Is there nothing you can do, Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: Not at the moment, Mrs Burnley.
BRADLEY: (hanging up and coming to Alleyn) The police are on their way. They asked if you’d hold the fort.
MRS BURNLEY: There you are!
ALLEYN: Mr Crewes, make sure that nobody leaves, will you?
(Bradley moves to the centre of the gallery)
BRADLEY: Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention, please? This is Superintendent Roderick Alleyn of Scotland Yard. The police are on their way and until they arrive I suggest we do exactly as he asks.
ALLEYN: If you will remain precisely where you are for a few moments, ladies and gentlemen, it would be a great help.
VIOLET: The police? Why the police?
(During this time we see Bob move away from the scene of the crime. He stops when instructed by Alleyn. Dennis is ashen. The doctor has moved to the portrait and picked up the cover. He is about to spread it over the body)
ALLEYN: I’d rather you left that, Dr Burnley, if you would.
(The doctor moves off to get a tablecloth. Alleyn takes out a notebook and starts to make a plan of the positions that people are standing in. Dennis is white, Beatrice fixed, Harold staring, Bradley doesn’t know what to do, Jill is cool, Violet is gazing vacantly elsewhere. Alleyn moves to the bar)
ALLEYN: (to barman) Don’t touch anything, please, until the police arrive. (A uniformed policeman enters. He has a walkie-talkie. Alleyn sees him and goes to him) Ah.
POLICEMAN: Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: That’s right. Sergeant, if I ask everyone to move into the foyer, would you take names and addresses?
POLICEMAN: Of course, sir.
ALLEYN: Ladies and gentlemen, would you all move into the foyer, please? This officer will take names and addresses. Mr Crewes, would you and the barman stay behind? (As the crowd moves off, Alleyn threads his way to the bar, passing Dennis and Harold on the way. Both are still. They don’t seem to have heard Alleyn’s request) I’m sorry about this, Mr Rayburn. Mr Rayburn—? (Dennis responds) Would you mind waiting in the foyer? (Dennis moves off in a daze. Alleyn carries on to Harold) Mr Tillet, would you mind?
HAROLD: What’s this mean? Murder?
ALLEYN: The police will be here soon.
(Harold moves off. Alleyn approaches Bradley: he is still sketching his plan)
BRADLEY: (standing by the cartoon) Mr Alleyn, that string worked perfectly last night. I checked it.
ALLEYN: Have you an invitation list?
BRADLEY: Yes, in the office.
ALLEYN: Do you know how many of these people were intimately connected with Lady Kerr-Bates?
BRADLEY: I’m afraid I don’t. I only flew over from Sydney a few days ago—to take over the gallery. But a number of them, I guess. Dennis Rayburn, Bob Hemmings, Mr Tillet, of course. I wouldn’t know.
ALLEYN: Mr Crewes, I wonder, could you mark the names of people on the invitation list who you think have a special relationship with Lady Kerr-Bates? Perhaps your secretary could help you. Then give it to the police officer outside.
BRADLEY: Yes, of course. (He moves to the office) What a fine way to open a gallery.
(Alleyn moves to the barman)
ALLEYN: Did you serve Lady Kerr-Bates?
BARMAN: Yes, I did.
ALLEYN: A ‘Bloody Mary’?
BARMAN: Yes.
ALLEYN: Was it her first?
BARMAN: No. Mr Crewes mixed one and the waiter took it to her. I mixed the second. She was standing quite close to the bar. I passed it to her.
(Alleyn sniffs the vodka bottle and the jug of tomato juice)
ALLEYN: Did you leave the bar at any time?
BARMAN: No, not really. I stood over there for the speeches.
ALLEYN: Did anyone touch the bottle or the jug—besides Mr Crewes and yourself?
BARMAN: I didn’t notice. I don’t know.
ALLEYN: Would you join the others in the foyer, please?
(As the barman moves off, Alleyn turns to the cartoon. He picks up the cover and looks at the knot)
SCENE 16: THE FOYER
(In the gallery’s foyer, the uniformed policeman is taking names. There is a tense atmosphere)
POLICEMAN: (checking) Miss Violet Cross, 56b Harcourt Road, Grafton.
VIOLET: That’s right. Will we be long, do you think?
POLICEMAN: I can’t say. (He goes on to the next) Your name, sir? (A plain-clothes policeman, Dawson, his number two, Frampton, and two others bustle into the foyer. The policeman sees them) Superintendent Alleyn is in there, sir. (The plain-clothes men hurry through)
SCENE 17: THE GALLERY
(Alleyn is looking at the cartoon. The plain-clothes men hurry to him)
DAWSON: My name is Dawson. Detective-Superintendent.
ALLEYN: Alleyn. How do you do?
DAWSON: What happened, Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: Lady Kerr-Bates is dead. The climax to a very eventful few minutes, one way and another.
DAWSON: You were here, were you?
ALLEYN: Yes.
DAWSON: Any ideas?
ALLEYN: Well, to begin with I’d say that jug on the bar was worth looking at.
(Dawson glances at his number two, who goes to the bar with the other assistants)
DAWSON: I don’t have to say it’s a privilege to have you on the spot, Mr Alleyn.
ALLEYN: Oh, my dear chap—I didn’t see much, I’m afraid. At least, not till after the event.
DAWSON: I’d be very grateful if you’d co-operate.
ALLEYN: I’m supposed to be on holiday.
DAWSON: Make it a busman’s holiday?
ALLEYN: Alright. I’ll do what I can. But please tell me if I get in the way.
SCENE 18: THE FOYER
(In the assembled group, Dr Burnley and Bradley are giving the invitation list to a policeman. The taking of names and addresses progresses)
HAROLD: (looking hard at Dennis) Why, boy? Revenge? (Dennis just looks at him, dazed) Is that what you call it? (Beatrice is listening)
HAROLD: (carefully placing each word) Is it?
BEATRICE: What are you trying to say, Mr Tillet?
HAROLD: Ask our little gigolo. He knows—don’t you, boy? (Alleyn is on the edge of the group, listening)
BEATRICE: Accusations at this time are rather pointless, Mr Tillet.
HAROLD: You’ve got a real talent for twisting people round your little finger, haven’t you, my lad? But not this time. Mr Alleyn, can I have a word with you?
ALLEYN: No, Mr Tillet, I think you’d better wait for Superintendent Dawson—he’s handling the enquiries.
HAROLD: So it’s all going to be done according to the regulation red-tape, is that it?
ALLEYN: More or less. Yes.
HAROLD: Tell me one thing. Is any of this likely to get into the papers? I mean, before it’s all sorted out?
BEATRICE: What worries you most, Mr Tillet—the death of Lady Kerr-Bates or the cartoon? (Harold looks at her, starts laughing without mirth) May I set your mind at rest on one point? Dennis didn’t do that cartoon.
HAROLD: Oh?
BEATRICE: He wouldn’t be capable. I know him very well, very well indeed,
HAROLD: What’s your attraction, boy? You look ordinary enough to me.
BOB: My God. What a lovely mind you’ve got.
HAROLD: You involved in this, too?
(Bob hates him. Alleyn, listening, turns to have a word with the uniformed policeman)
SCENE 19: THE GALLERY
(Police at work. Alleyn joins them)
ALLEYN: I think your officer has completed the list of names and addresses.
DAWSON: I’d better start taking statements. Any ideas, Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: Not really, I’m afraid. But here’s a plan of the people who were nearby when Lady Kerr-Bates collapsed. It mightn’t be a bad idea to start there. Mr Crewes is the Director of the gallery. (Indicating) I’m sure he’d put his office at your disposal.
DAWSON: Will you join us?
ALLEYN: I think I’d rather nose around here, if it’s alright with you.
DAWSON: Just as you like. We’ll begin by taking preliminary statements at this stage. We can fill in the details later.
ALLEYN: Good idea. (Dawson moves off. Alleyn looks at the cartoon) I wonder who did you? And more important still—why?
SCENE 20: THE FOYER
(Harold is still arguing)
HAROLD: A cartoon, you call it. I didn’t think it was very funny.
BOB: Depends on your sense of humour, doesn’t it? I thought it was hysterical.
JILL: Yes, it would appeal to you.
(Harold looks at her)
BOB: Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it. I wish I had. But—sorry—
JILL: (unconvinced) Ever since this exhibition came up you’ve been sniping at Dennis.
BOB: Darling, I don’t give a damn. Do you think I envy Dennis his rot-gut? You must be joking.
JILL: Am I?
DENNIS: No, Jill. Bob wouldn’t—
(Alleyn of course is listening)
ALLEYN: Mr—er?
BOB: Try Hemmings.
ALLEYN: Mr Hemmings, do you think I could have a page of your sketch block? I want to take a note or two. I’ve a filthy memory. Do you mind? (Before Bob can reply, Alleyn has taken the block, cut the string to preserve the knot, and turned to a blank page)
BOB: Be my guest.
HAROLD: I’d say you had an interesting little conspiracy on your hands, Alleyn.
ALLEYN: Really?
HAROLD: There’s more than one person involved in this affair.
BEATRICE: Attack is not always the best defence, Mr Tillet. (Harold laughs) As a rich man, you must know that money can destroy as well as create.
HAROLD: Destroy? That’s a bloody funny sort of word, isn’t it? What d’you mean—destroy?
SCENE 21: THE GALLERY
(Alleyn approaches the portrait, compares the knot on the cover with the knot on the sketchbook)
ALLEYN: Interested in art?
POLICEMAN 2ND-IN-CHARGE: Not really, sir. Seems a strange picture to hang in a place like this, though.
ALLEYN: You’re right—it’s a mistake.
POLICEMAN 2ND-IN-CHARGE: Mistake. Substituted for the real thing?
ALLEYN: Yes. But when? And by whom?
POLICEMAN 2ND-IN-CHARGE: Do you think there’s a connection between the murder and that picture, Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: I don’t know. Do you? (He turns over pages in sketchbook)
SCENE 22: STACK-ROOM
(The gallery’s storeroom is dark, with stacks of pictures on all sides. The light thrown on the wall shows a door has been opened. We follow a pair of feet along and see a pair of hands sorting quickly through some canvasses. A noise off is heard. The feet, in distinctive shoes, hide. A second pair of feet comes into view. The first pair of feet advances quietly. There is a crunch, a moan, and Bradley drops into view. Hands are seen to take the wrapping off a canvas and clean the frame with a handkerchief. The figure then goes)
SCENE 23: THE GALLERY
(Alleyn has the cover of the portrait propped up and is sketching on Bob’s sketchbook the intertwining of the strings. Dawson approaches him)
DAWSON: Mr Alleyn, did you by any chance let Crewes go?
ALLEYN: No. I think I made it clear that nobody was to leave until you’d finished with them.
DAWSON: That’s odd. (He moves back into the foyer and crosses to the policeman who is still taking names. He presumably asks him Bradley’s whereabouts. Policeman shakes his head. Dawson then crosses to the secretary)
DAWSON: Have you seen Mr Crewes?
SECRETARY: Not in the last few minutes, Mr Dawson.
(Violet Cross is standing nearby and overhears them)
VIOLET: Did I hear you say you’ve lost Mr Crewes?
DAWSON: That’s right, madam. Have you seen him?
VIOLET: Yes. Only a few minutes ago. He went through there.
SECRETARY: That’s the stack-room.
SCENE 24: STACK-ROOM
(Dawson and Alleyn find Bradley Crewes just as he is starting to come round)
BRADLEY: Ooh! Does anybody want a head?
DAWSON: What happened, Mr Crewes?
BRADLEY: I don’t know. I came in here to look for the portrait.
DAWSON: And—?
BRADLEY: (indicating his head) Boom!
ALLEYN: You didn’t find it?
BRADLEY: The portrait? No. (Alleyn starts hunting round as Dawson helps Bradley up)
DAWSON: Easy now. That was a silly thing to do, Mr Crewes. Leave police work to the police.
BRADLEY: From now on I’m twice shy. I promise—I promise—I promise!
ALLEYN: (holding up portrait) Is that what you were looking for?
BRADLEY: That’s it! Where was it?
ALLEYN: Down here.
BRADLEY: So I nearly had it.
ALLEYN: I wonder why you didn’t?
BRADLEY: Search me—but gently!
SCENE 25: THE FOYER
(Dawson helps Bradley out of the stack-room and seats him. Alleyn follows with the portrait)
SECRETARY: Mr Crewes, are you alright?
BRADLEY: If I can just sit down.
HAROLD: Is that it—the portrait?
ALLEYN: I should imagine so.
HAROLD: Can I see? (Alleyn holds it up for his inspection) Yeah, but that’s good—very good. (Turning to Dennis) You’re a funny kind of joker, aren’t you?
(Cut to close up of Dennis, then pull back to reveal Jill and Bob, all three of them now in the studio)
SCENE 26: THE STUDIO
(Jill is just bringing in a tray of coffee mugs)
JILL: (to Dennis) How do you feel?
DENNIS: I’m alright.
JILL: Sure? (Dennis nods) What a revolting character Harold Tillet is. That cartoon didn’t do him justice.
BOB: (collecting his coffee) He nearly burst a gasket when he saw the exhibition. Did you know he blamed it all on Ruby?
DENNIS: Ruby? Why?
BOB: I suppose for allowing you to sully his precious new gallery with your mucky daubs. Ruby was quite cut up.
DENNIS: Bob, you didn’t do that sketch, did you?
BOB: Me? Well, you know my warped sense of humour.
JILL: I’m sorry, Bob. I didn’t mean to sound off at you. It was just that everybody seemed to be getting at Dennis—and I remembered all those capping gags of yours.
BOB: Such is fame. (Jill and Bob laugh lightly)
JILL: I realised straight away that you couldn’t have—or at least that you couldn’t have put it there.
DENNIS: How?
JILL: I met Bob at the gallery last night after I left here. They were closing up. We went for a meal.
BOB: But I could have gone back later.
JILL: No, you couldn’t. It was locked up.
BOB: The key was outside. I could easily have let myself in.
JILL: Bob, let me go to the police. I’ll tell them I made a mistake and apologise.
BOB: (rather violently) You’ll do no such bloody thing!
(Dennis and Jill react to his outburst)
JILL: (surprised) Why not?
BOB: (modifying his tone a little) Because I say so. You keep away from the police. Let them do their own dirty work.
JILL: But, Bob—
BOB: Look, why get involved? With a bit of luck they’ll get so snarled up they won’t know who did what and to who. (Rather vehemently again) And that’s just the way I want it! (He kicks off his shoes as he stretches out on the sofa—the shoes we saw in the stack-room, and we realise that he was the one who knocked out Bradley Crewes)
SCENE 27: THE GALLERY
(Dawson, Frampton, 2nd-in-charge, Alleyn, portrait, cartoon. Everything is still set up as previously)
DAWSON: Now, where are we? (He refers to his notes) Lady Kerr-Bates had the first ‘Bloody Mary’ poured by Crewes and handed to her by the waiter. Five minutes later—at the most—she has a second, mixed and delivered by the barman. That means the poison must have been placed in the jug during those five minutes. Cyanide, I would think by the smell.
ALLEYN: (thinking) Cyanide …
FRAMPTON: Just as well they weren’t all drinking ‘Bloody Mary’s.
ALLEYN: I suppose we can take for granted that Lady Kerr-Bates was the intended victim.
DAWSON: According to a number of witnesses her dedication to ‘Bloody Mary’s was well known.
ALLEYN: So the murderer must have had everything lined up before the unveiling.
DAWSON: Do you think there’s a connection? Between the murder and the portrait business?
FRAMPTON: I asked that.
ALLEYN: And the answer’s still the same. I don’t know.
DAWSON: (continuing with his report) Well … next, everyone goes out to the foyer. Bradley goes picture hunting—gets clobbered.
ALLEYN: And nobody sees anybody but Bradley go into the stack-room.
DAWSON: Somebody couldn’t have been in there all the time, could they? I mean prior to the unveiling—hiding perhaps?
ALLEYN: It’s worth following up. See if you can get a minute-to-minute cross reference of people’s whereabouts in the foyer after the murder.
DAWSON: Thirty-odd people!
ALLEYN: (dryly) Yes, too bad.
(A policeman enters)
POLICEMAN: Message for you, sir. No dabs on the picture frame so far, sir.
DAWSON: Wiped clean?
POLICEMAN: Looks like it, Mr Dawson. And Mr Tillet is here, sir.
DAWSON: Oh, good. Show him in, will you? (Policeman exits) Will you, Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: No, no, no, please. Carry on. But if anything occurs to me, you won’t mind my chipping in?
DAWSON: Not at all.
(Policeman ushers in Tillet)
HAROLD: What’s all this about? I’ve told you everything I know.
DAWSON: That was only preliminary, Mr Tillet. Now we want to shape a more solid pattern if we can.
HAROLD: Look here, I’m a very busy man.
DAWSON: We appreciate that, Mr Tillet, but I’m sure you must be as anxious as we are to trace Lady Kerr-Bates’ murderer.
HAROLD: Yes, of course, of course, fire ahead. But I still say we’re both wasting our time.
DAWSON: You’re quite convinced that it was Mr Rayburn.
HAROLD: You saw him last night, Alleyn. He was in a terrible state. And he was even worse this morning.
DAWSON: Wouldn’t that suggest a rather less premeditated form of murder?
HAROLD: I don’t understand.
DAWSON: From what you say I can see Rayburn lashing out in fury perhaps—but poisoning? Now that’s something that requires a cool head—careful planning.
HAROLD: Yeah—and he’s got just the right devious and twisted mind. Look! (He indicates the pictures about them)
ALLEYN: And you think he also did the sketch of you, Mr Tillet?
HAROLD: I’m not so sure about that. But if he didn’t, then that mate of his certainly did.
ALLEYN: Mr Hemmings?
HAROLD: That’s right.
DAWSON: Mr Tillet, was there any change in the grouping of people in the foyer while you were waiting for the police? That is, prior to the discovery of the real portrait and Mr Crewes being knocked out?
HAROLD: No, not as far as I can remember. Alleyn, of course, was in and out all the time. The boy himself, Rayburn, was there, his girlfriend, the tall woman, Beatrice something-or-other, that other oaf, Hemmings—Wait a minute, Hemmings wasn’t there all the time!
DAWSON: Please think carefully, Mr Tillet. You’re sure that Mr Hemmings disappeared at some stage during the time in question?
HAROLD There was a lot of milling about—you know, people going in and out—but I seem to remember turning to ask Hemmings if he knew Ruby and he wasn’t there. Then later, when I saw the portrait, he was back again.
DAWSON: Thank you, Mr Tillet. You’ve been a great help.
ALLEYN: Had you known Lady Kerr-Bates long?
HAROLD: Yes, we were old friends.
ALLEYN: More than just a business acquaintance?
HAROLD: Yes. She persuaded me to open this place, God help me.
ALLEYN: And she exerted personal rather than business pressure?
HAROLD: You could say that.
ALLEYN: So there was quite a deep relationship between you?
HAROLD: Why not? She’d been a widow for years. She was a very attractive woman.
ALLEYN: Indeed she was. What happened, Mr Tillet, when you left the dinner table last night—after Mr Rayburn and Lady Kerr-Bates left the room? (Dawson isn’t following conversation)
HAROLD: I went into the living room and they were—(suddenly remembers and stops short) And they were talking.
ALLEYN: Yes? Do you remember what they were talking about?
HAROLD: (starting to get annoyed) They were talking! Just talking!
ALLEYN: Nothing occurred that might have upset you?
HAROLD: (very upset) Why the hell should I be upset? What is this?
ALLEYN: I was only wondering if Mr Rayburn or Lady Kerr-Bates did or said anything that might have upset you.
HAROLD: Upset me? That pipsqueak! (Pause) I think that’s all I can tell you. Unless you want to ask any sensible questions, Dawson? (Dawson glances at Alleyn, who shakes his head)
DAWSON: No, that’ll be all for now, thank you, Mr Tillet. We’ll get in touch with you later if necessary.
HAROLD: Right. You know where to contact me. Though I’d appreciate it if you kept to the point. (He exits)
DAWSON: What was that all about?
ALLEYN: He’s a very clever man. He saw what I was up to. It seems to be pretty common gossip that Lady Kerr-Bates and our Mr Tillet were more than friends, and equally common gossip that the same Lady Kerr-Bates was addicted to attractive young men. Bring those three into a triangle—
FRAMPTON: And you have a pretty furious Mr Tillet.
ALLEYN: Exactly. I don’t think he’s the sort of man who’d give up happily to younger competition.
DAWSON: That opens up a new field.
FRAMPTON: What about Hemmings? From what Mr Tillet said, he could quite easily have slipped into the stack-room.
ALLEYN: But why?
FRAMPTON: To stop anybody from getting the portrait?
ALLEYN: Crewes, for instance, who gets a tuppenny one for his pains. But the portrait itself wasn’t lifted. That suggests that whoever clobbered Crewes was after something else. Let’s go and have another look. (Alleyn strides off to the stack-room. Dawson and Frampton follow, rather bewildered)
SCENE 28: STACK-ROOM
(Alleyn moves through the stack-room, Dawson and Frampton following)
FRAMPTON: What are we looking for?
DAWSON: I’m not sure.
ALLEYN: (discovering the corrugated cardboard and string that Bob removed from the portrait and dropped) This, for instance?
FRAMPTON: What is it?
ALLEYN: Come along. (Alleyn strides back to the gallery. The others follow)
SCENE 29: THE GALLERY
(Alleyn, still with the cardboard and string, goes to the portrait and drops the cardboard over it. The bends fit)
DAWSON: Why on earth would anyone risk going into the stack-room at a time like that just to take the wrapping off a picture?
ALLEYN: To clean off the fingerprints?
DAWSON: You mean the murderer didn’t think about the fingerprints till later?
ALLEYN: (is not sure) Now, according to Crewes the portrait was in position when he locked up last night. Everything appeared normal this morning and from the time the gallery was open there were always people about. That means the switch probably happened overnight. Not a very valuable piece of information, since even I knew where the key was. (He looks at the string, then takes two other pieces of string out of his pocket) And now we have three knots.
DAWSON: Knots?
ALLEYN: I don’t know if it’s of any importance, but this is the string from the portrait cover (he hangs it over the portrait), this from Hemmings’ sketch block (he drapes that one too), and this from the stack-room. And only one of them slips.
DAWSON: Which one’s that?
ALLEYN: The one from the sketch block.
DAWSON: Pity. That suggests it wasn’t Hemmings who retied the cover and wrapped up the portrait.
ALLEYN: Pretty flimsy evidence, I admit. Even so, I don’t think another word with Mr Hemmings would be entirely out of place.
SCENE 30: THE STUDIO
(Beatrice and Dennis. Beatrice is turning over a portfolio of sketches. She is very sympathetic. Dennis is still tense)
BEATRICE: I was wondering how you were getting on.
DENNIS: Fine, thanks, Beatrice.
BEATRICE: You were taking it so hard I was worried.
DENNIS: Beatrice, I’m very grateful to you. I only wish I’d listened to you earlier.
BEATRICE: Perhaps. Hullo, here’s that drawing of me you did last year. I’d forgotten how good it is. It’s superb.
DENNIS: Have it if you like. Have the lot.
BEATRICE: Do you mean that? I’d love to. Are you sure?
DENNIS: Of course—like old times—I’m sorry I lost my temper.
BEATRICE: Never mind. Where’s Bob?
DENNIS: At the gallery. The police called him back.
SCENE 31: THE GALLERY
(Alleyn, Dawson and Frampton are interviewing Bob Hemmings)
BOB: Once and for all, I’ve got nothing to say.
DAWSON: Does that mean you were in the stack-room?
BOB: It means I’ve got nothing to say.
DAWSON: Mr Hemmings, you must realise that this attitude only proves that you’re hiding something.
BOB: No, it just proves that I’m not a very good co-operator. I don’t like team sports and I don’t like policemen.
DAWSON: That doesn’t mean you’re not incapable of inflicting grievous bodily harm.
BOB: You’ll have to do better than that. I read books, you know.
ALLEYN: That sketch block of yours I borrowed. Did you tie it up yourself?
BOB: Yes, I think so. Why?
ALLEYN: Miss Beatrice Page called into the gallery last night, I understand?
BOB: That’s right. She came with me in the taxi when I went to collect the portrait.
ALLEYN: Which you brought back before Crewes locked up.
BOB: That’s right.
ALLEYN: Not that it would have mattered—you knew where the key was. (No reply from Bob) Mr Hemmings, how did you feel when Mr Rayburn was offered the exhibition? (Bob shrugs in reply) Did it produce any sort of tension between the two of you?
BOB: Mr Alleyn, I’m a painter. Quite good, but I’m not in Dennis’s class. That’s not something to bitch about—it’s just fact.
ALLEYN: So there was no friction between you?
BOB: Not on my side.
ALLEYN: On his?
BOB: Maybe. I think he felt guilty—playing the success game. He had a hell of a time one way or another.
DAWSON: And Lady Kerr-Bates?
BOB: Huh. She wouldn’t notice if the sun set in the east—unless it was to the greater social glory of Ruby.
DAWSON: You knew her well at one time, I understand.
BOB: So-so. She thought I had an ‘interesting talent’.
DAWSON: Till Mr Rayburn came along and elbowed you out?
BOB: You’re a real copper, aren’t you? I’ve got nothing to say.
DAWSON: Get out then. But you can be sure of one thing, Hemmings. We’ll be calling on you again.
BOB: Good dog. Keep to it, boy. (He exits)
ALLEYN: I have a feeling he’s not really as odious as that.
DAWSON: You mean he’s protecting someone?
ALLEYN: Perhaps.
DAWSON: Looking at your plan, Mr Alleyn, there were nine people near enough to the bar to have placed the cyanide in the jug during those critical five minutes: Crewes, the barman, the waiter, Tillet, Rayburn, the girl Jill Walker, Miss Page, Miss Cross and Hemmings.
FRAMPTON: Lady Kerr-Bates herself?
DAWSON: Hardly likely.
ALLEYN: Nor is the barman or the waiter, I suppose. So what does that leave us with? Let’s recap. Start with Dennis Rayburn—now what have we got there? Personable young man, promising artist. Taken under the victim’s protective wing. What motive would he have for killing the golden goose? Nerves? Prostitution of his talent? No, not a very likely suspect. Hemmings?
DAWSON: Rejected, would-be protégé? Jealous of his friend’s success? The portrait could easily have been his handiwork.
ALLEYN: I don’t know about that.
DAWSON: Killing Lady Kerr-Bates could be an oblique way of revenging himself on Tillet—or even Rayburn. Too subtle?
ALLEYN: I don’t know … there’s something there … something odd.
DAWSON: What about the girl? Jill Walker?
ALLEYN: Not a serious contender I’d say but she might be more deeply involved with Rayburn than we think.
DAWSON: What about Tillet?
ALLEYN: He was furious when he arrived at the gallery. But I doubt if he’s the sort of person who would carry poison on the off-chance that he wouldn’t like an exhibition he was sponsoring.
DAWSON: But there’s also your triangle theory. He must have known about Lady Kerr-Bates’ tastes and habits. Rayburn could have been the last straw.
ALLEYN: That’s reasonable. And Beatrice Page?
DAWSON: There’s an odd one. Can’t see how she fits in.
ALLEYN: She was Rayburn’s guiding light for many years before Lady Kerr-Bates came on the scene. And Hemmings’ for that matter. Obviously a very dedicated woman with strong feelings.
DAWSON: Then there’s Bradley Crewes. But I can’t see why he should bite the hand that feeds.
ALLEYN: He does feel the exhibition is below his artistic dignity, but it’s not a very strong motive for murder. Not very convincing reasons all round really. I wonder if there’s something we’ve overlooked. And not one of these motives tied up with Bradley Crewes’ little escapade.
FRAMPTON: Who was it who saw Crewes go into the stack-room? That eccentric woman with the opera glasses, wasn’t it?
DAWSON: Miss Violet Cross.
ALLEYN: Yes, what about her?
FRAMPTON: She was standing beside Lady Kerr-Bates at the crucial moment. And I’ve suddenly remembered something—her name wasn’t on the official invitation list. I wonder if she saw more than she’s admitted to.
SCENE 32: STUDIO FLAT
(Alleyn is interviewing Violet Cross in her own studio)
VIOLET: No, no, I don’t think so—I told the police everything I could remember. Mr Tillet just standing there, the barman with the drink, the speeches, poor Ruby collapsing—I told them all about that.
ALLEYN: Do you know Mr Tillet?
VIOLET: Not really. I usually design my own Christmas cards.
ALLEYN: Oh, you also paint?
VIOLET: I dabble a little—in watercolours—but very rarely now. My eyes are not the best.
ALLEYN: Is that why you carry the opera glasses?
VIOLET: Yes—I find sculpting more satisfying—there’s so much you can do by touch, you see—I don’t have to rely so much on my eyes.
ALLEYN: But from what you’ve told us, very little seems to have escaped you.
VIOLET: Oh, do you think so?
ALLEYN: Perhaps the artist’s eye for detail?
VIOLET: Perhaps.
ALLEYN: Do you know Mr Hemmings?
VIOLET: Slightly. I meet most of Beatrice’s fledglings—that’s what I call them at her place—we were at art school together, years ago now—don’t ask how many. Beatrice’s dedicated her life to young artists, you know—the helping hand, the encouraging word—she’s very little money of her own. And of course she chooses very carefully—she doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Oh no.
ALLEYN: You mean she has enemies?
VIOLET: Enemies?—that’s a strong word. I will say this. If you’re a young artist, you’re either in the Beatrice Page group or you’re out of it—no half measures with Beatrice.
SCENE 33: LIVING-ROOM
(Alleyn is with Beatrice Page in her living-room)
ALLEYN: Do you paint, Miss Page?
BEATRICE: No.
ALLEYN: Oh. Perhaps you have some recent work of one of your protégés here?
BEATRICE: I don’t think so.
ALLEYN: But you used to paint.
BEATRICE: I beg your pardon?
ALLEYN: Miss Cross told me you were at art school together.
BEATRICE: That was 20 years ago, Mr Alleyn.
ALLEYN: Oh.
BEATRICE: Some are born actors, Mr Alleyn, and some are born critics. My work didn’t satisfy me and so I stopped. I’ve never been one to accept second best.
ALLEYN: That was when you decided to work through other painters?
BEATRICE: I suppose so. I didn’t think of it in those terms at the time.
ALLEYN: And you haven’t touched a brush in those 20 years?
BEATRICE: No.
(Alleyn indicates packet of sketches)
ALLEYN: So those are not yours?
BEATRICE: No. They’re Dennis’s. He gave them to me.
ALLEYN: When?
BEATRICE: This afternoon.
ALLEYN: May I?
BEATRICE: Of course.
(He pulls the string. It is not a slip knot)
ALLEYN: Oh no—Ladies’ knots, or am I wrong?
BEATRICE: I’m afraid you’re quite right. Why not cut it?
ALLEYN: Not yet. Basically he’s good, isn’t he? A good painter?
BEATRICE: Yes. And he’ll be better now.
ALLEYN: Your star pupil? (Beatrice smiles in reply) It must have been disappointing for you when Lady Kerr-Bates adopted him.
BEATRICE: I don’t think you can destroy real talent, Mr Alleyn.
ALLEYN: No, I suppose not. Especially when there’s someone like you behind him. A woman of character, of judgement, of great determination. A woman who, once she’s taken hold, doesn’t let go?
BEATRICE: You’re quite a judge of character.
ALLEYN: And on top of all this, a woman who is—or was—herself an artist?
BEATRICE: ‘Is’ is right. I still do a bit.
ALLEYN: Ah, I thought I smelt paint when I came in.
BEATRICE: (abruptly) In fact, Mr Alleyn, I should like to try my hand on you now, do you mind? Are you sure?
ALLEYN: By all means. (She takes paper and pen feverishly)
(Bob Hemmings enters)
BOB: (to Alleyn) What are you doing here?
ALLEYN: Oh, gathering information—and you?
BEATRICE: Bob often drops in, Mr Alleyn. This is open house to my friends.
BOB: (seeing Beatrice sketching) What the hell do you think you’re doing, Beatrice?
BEATRICE: A police portrait.
BOB: For God’s sake! Look, I want to have a word with you. Dennis told me you’d been at the flat.
ALLEYN: You hadn’t seen Miss Page since the opening this morning?
BOB: So what?
ALLEYN: Nothing at all.
BOB: Beatrice’s a wonderful woman, Mr Alleyn. She’s done a hell of a lot for Dennis—and for me—
ALLEYN: Yes, that sort of debt is hard to repay.
BOB: Debt? What do you mean ‘debt’?
BEATRICE: Bob!
BOB: What does he mean, ‘debt’? Bloody policemen and their double talk. You’d better be careful, Alleyn. Making accusations like that.
BEATRICE: Bob …!
BOB: Okay. Okay. But you be careful what you say to him, Beatrice. I don’t trust policemen.
BEATRICE: (to Alleyn) He’s very loyal.
ALLEYN: Loyal enough to cover up a crime, Miss Page? Loyal enough to wipe the fingerprints off an important piece of evidence, do you think? Loyal enough to knock somebody senseless in the process?
BOB: Shut up.
ALLEYN: Somebody he knew very well—somebody he admired and loved?
BOB: No, that’s not true!
BEATRICE: Is he so sensitive? Yes, perhaps he is.
ALLEYN: Yes, Miss Page, I think perhaps he is. (Bob sits, putting his head in his hands) As for the murder, it must have been quite easy to get into the gallery. Everyone seemed to know where the key was.
BEATRICE: Behind the bricks near the door.
ALLEYN: Slip in, wrap up the portrait, put it in the stack-room, substitute the cartoon, slip out again …
BEATRICE: Yes.
BOB: Beatrice, please—please—
ALLEYN: But where would the murderer get cyanide from?
BEATRICE: Rat poison would be quite appropriate, don’t you think? Shall we go, Mr Alleyn?
ALLEYN: Mr Dawson will be here soon. (He collects sketches)
BEATRICE: (looking at Dennis’s packet) I never was very good with knots. But I’ve no regrets, Mr Alleyn. A bitch like Ruby has a lot to offer a boy like Dennis. But she forgot me, Mr Alleyn. As you say, once I’ve taken hold I don’t easily let go. Your portrait, Mr Alleyn. There’s no need for me to sign it, is there?
(We see the portrait in close up—its style is identical with the Tillet caricature. Under the end credits we mix to the Tillet cartoon to endorse the parallel)