The Real Inspector Hound and Other Plays (13 page)

HARRIS
: No, I’m afraid I’m completely at a loss.

FOOT
: Then perhaps you can explain what your car was doing in Ponsonby Place at twenty-five minutes past two this afternoon.

HARRIS
: So that’s it.

FOOT
: Exactly. It was bad luck getting that parking ticket,
Harris—one of those twists of fate that have cracked many an alibi. We traced your car and sent Constable Holmes to take a look at you.

HARRIS
: But we know nothing of this outrage.

FOOT
: What were you doing there, right across London?

HARRIS
: We went to see an exhibition of surrealistic art at the Tate Gallery.

FOOT
: I must say that in a lifetime of off-the-cuff alibis I have seldom been moved closer to open derision.

THELMA
: Perhaps it would help to explain that my mother-in-law is a devotee of Maigret.

MOTHER
:
Magritte
.

FOOT
: I’m afraid I don’t follow your drift.

HARRIS
: You will when I tell you that she is an accomplished performer on, and passionate admirer in all its aspects of, the tuba.

FOOT
: Tuba? (
Angrily
.) You are stretching my patience and my credulity to breaking poi—(
He sees
MOTHER
with the tuba now on her lap
.)

MOTHER
: Can I have a go now?

HARRIS
: Hearing that among the canvases on view were several depicting the instrument of her chief and indeed obsessional interest, my wife’s mother, in law, or rather my mother,
prevailed upon us to take her to the exhibition, which we did, notwithstanding the fact that we could ill afford the time from rehearsing for a professional engagement at the North Circular Dancerama tonight, and to which, I may say, we will shortly have to absent ourselves. (
To
THELMA
without pause
.) Have you taken up your hem?
(
THELMA
gasps with dismay and self-reproach and immediately whips off her dress. This leaves her in bra and panties. Her action, since it is not especially remarkable, is not especially remarked upon
,
THELMA
’
s preoccupation now is to find needle and thread, in which she succeeds quite quickly without leaving the room. However, her chief problem during the ensuing minutes is her lack of a tailor’s dummy. She tries draping the dress over various bits of furniture, and tackling the hem, but for one reason or another
—
the inadequate lighting or the lowness of the chairs, etc
.—
she is intermittently frustrated until, quite naturally and smoothly, she drapes the dress over
HARRIS
,
who simply takes no notice; indeed
THELMA
is reduced to following him on her hands and knees between stitches, and occasionally asking him to keep still. Needless to say, the dress must be sleeveless and full. There has been no pause in the dialogue
.)
Look at her!—with an organized partner I could have reached the top!

FOOT
: About your alibi——

MOTHER
: It was rubbish.

FOOT
: Hah! (
He turns to her
.)

MOTHER
: Tubas on fire, tubas stuck to lions and naked women, tubas hanging in the sky—there was one woman with a tuba with a sack over her head as far as I could make out. I doubt he’d ever tried to play one; in fact if you ask me the man must have been some kind of lunatic.

HARRIS
: As my mother says, the visit was a disappointment.

THELMA
: I must say I have to agree. I don’t like to speak slightingly of another artiste, but it just wasn’t life-like—I’m not saying it wasn’t
good
—well
painted
—but not from life, you know?

FOOT
: That has no bearing on the case. Did you see anybody you knew at the exhibition?

MOTHER
: I saw Sir Adrian Boult.

FOOT
: Would he be prepared to come forward?

HARRIS
: You’ll have to forgive the old lady. She sees Sir Adrian Boult everywhere.

MOTHER
: I saw him in Selfridges.

FOOT
: Yes, quite——

MOTHER
: He was buying a cushion-cover.

FOOT
: (
loudly
) Can we please keep to the point! Which happens to be that after Magritte you apparently returned to your car parked in Ponsonby Place, and drove off at the very moment and from the very spot where the escaping minstrel was last observed, which suggests to me that you may have kept a rendezvous and driven off with him in your car.

HARRIS
: That is a monstrous allegation, and, it so happens, a lie.

FOOT
: Was there any independent witness who can vouch for that?

MOTHER
: Yes—there was that man. He waved at me when we were driving off.

FOOT
: Can you describe him?

MOTHER
: Yes. He was playing hopscotch on the corner, a man in the loose-fitting striped gaberdine of a convicted felon. He carried a handbag under one arm, and with the other he waved at me with a cricket bat.
(
FOOT
reels
.)

FOOT
: Would you know him again?

MOTHER
: I doubt it. He was wearing dark glasses, and a surgical mask.
(
HARRIS
comes forward to restore sanity
.)

HARRIS
: My mother is a bit confused, Inspector. It was a tortoise under his arm and he wasn’t so much playing hopscotch as one-legged.

THELMA
: (
deftly slipping the dress over
HARRIS
) A tortoise or a football—he was a young man in a football shirt——

HARRIS
:
If
I might just stick my oar in here, he could hardly have been a young man since he had a full white beard, and, if I’m not mistaken, side-whiskers.

THELMA
: I don’t wish to make an issue of this point, but since it has been raised, the energetic if spasmodic hopping of the man’s movements hardly suggests someone in his dotage——

HARRIS
: I saw him distinctly through the windscreen——

THELMA
: It was, of course, raining at the time——

HARRIS
: My windscreen wipers were in order, and working——

FOOT
: At any rate, regardless of his age, convictions or hobbies, you claim that this man saw you drive off from Ponsonby Place at 2.25 this afternoon?

HARRIS
: I’m afraid not, Inspector. He was blind, sweeping a path before him with a white stick——

THELMA
:——a West Bromwich Albion squad member, swinging an ivory cane—for goodness sake keep still, Reginald—and get up on the table a minute, my back’s breaking——
(
HARRIS
mounts the low table, thus easing the angle of
THELMA
’
s back
.)

HARRIS
: My wife is a bit confused——

FOOT
: So the best witness you can come up with is a blind, white-bearded, one-legged footballer with a tortoise. How do you account for the animal? Was it a seeing-eye tortoise?

HARRIS
: I don’t see that the tortoise as such requires explanation. Since the fellow was blind he needn’t necessarily have known it was a tortoise. He might have picked it up in mistake for some other object such as a lute.

FOOT
: His loot?

HARRIS
: Or mandolin.

MOTHER
: It was, in fact, an alligator handbag.

FOOT
: I’m afraid I can’t accept these picturesque fantasies. My wife has an alligator handbag and I defy anyone to mistake it for a musical instrument.

THELMA
:
STOP!
Don’t move! (
They desist
.) I’ve dropped the needle.

HARRIS
: (
looking at his watch
) For God’s sake, Thelma——

HARRIS
: Help me find it.
(
MOTHER
and
FOOT
dutifully get down on their hands and knees with
THELMA. HARRIS
remains standing on the table
.
MOTHER
and
FOOT
are head-to-head
.)

MOTHER
: Inspector, if the man we saw was blind, who was the other witness?

FOOT
: What other witness?

MOTHER
: The one who must have told the police about our car being there.

FOOT
: My dear lady, you have put your finger on one of the ironies of this extraordinary case. I myself live at number four Ponsonby Place, and it was I, glancing out of an upstairs window, who saw your car pulling away from the kerb.

MOTHER
: And yet, you never saw the minstrel?

FOOT
: No, the first I knew about it was when I got to the station late this afternoon and read the eye-witness report sent in by the old lady. I must have missed him by seconds, which led me to suspect that he had driven off in your car. I remembered seeing a yellow parking ticket stuck in your windscreen, and the rest was child’s play. (
The telephone rings. Getting up and going to it
.) Ah—that will be Sergeant Potter. We shall soon see how my deductions tally with the facts, (
FOOT
picks up the phone. The needle search continues
.
HARRIS
stands, patient and gowned, on the table
.)

THELMA
: Can we have the top light on?

HARRIS
: There’s no bulb.

THELMA
: Get the bulb from the bathroom.

HARRIS
: It’s gone again.

THELMA
: Well, get any bulb!—quickly!
(
MOTHER
gets to her one good foot as
FOOT
replaces the phone dumbstruck and shaken. The table-lamp is next to the phone
.)

MOTHER
: Could you get the bulb out of that lamp, Inspector? (
FOOT
looks at her unseeingly
.)
The bulb.
(
FOOT
,
as in a dream, turns to the bulb. His brain has seized up
.)
You’ll need a hanky or a glove.
(
FOOT
ineffectually pats his pocket
.)
A woollen sock would do.
(
FOOT
sits down wearily and slips off one of his shoes and his sock
.)

HARRIS
: Is something the matter with your foot, Foot? Inspector, Foot?
(
FOOT
thrusts one hand into the woollen sock. With the other he produces from his pocket a pair of heavy dark glasses which he puts on
.)
You wish to inspect your foot, Inspector?

THELMA
:
Can we please have some light?

FOOT
: (
quietly
) Yes—of course—forgive me—I get this awful migraine behind the eyes—it’s the shock——

MOTHER
: What happened, Inspector?

FOOT
: It appears that no robbery of the kind I deduced has in fact taken place among the Victoria Palace Happy Minstrel Troupe. Moreover, there is no minstrel troupe, happy or miserable, playing at that theatre or any other. My reconstruction has proved false in every particular, and it is undoubtedly being voiced back at the station that my past success at deductions of a penetrating character has caused me finally to overreach myself in circumstances that could hardly be more humiliating. (
They all sense the enormity of it
.
HARRIS
,
however, is unforgiving. He steps down off the table
.)

THELMA
: Oh … I’m sorry. Is there anything we can do?

MOTHER
: I’ve always found that bananas are very good for headaches.