Antiques Carry On Read online

  Hasty

  If you know a solicitor in London, we will contact him or her. Otherwise, one can be provided, if you don’t mind sitting in your cell a while.

  Vivian

  Define ‘a while.’

  Hasty

  (shrugs)

  Twenty-four to thirty-six hours. Our duty solicitors are kept quite busy.

  Vivian

  Well, it’s a big bad city, so I’m not surprised. And the requisite phone call?

  Hasty

  After the interview.

  Vivian

  Very well. I waive my right to legal representation during this interview. (cocks her head) Agent Hasty, not ‘Inspector’ … isn’t that MI5? I just loved that show Spooks, which, by the way, was called MI5 in the States, perhaps to keep it from being mistaken for a Stephen King story. (a beat) But I do have one complaint about series ten – and it’s a biggie! They should have let Harry and Ruth go off happily together into the sunset, instead of killing her off. Oops! Delayed spoiler alert! (another beat) Anyway, why would MI5 be interested in this particular murder?

  Hasty

  (consulting a paper)

  You made a comment to Constable Banerjee that I’d like to confirm for the record. You stated that your daughter’s fingerprints are on the murder weapon … is that correct?

  Vivian

  I said it was likely that would be. That is, Brandy told me she’d picked up the letter opener when we’d been there earlier today. I didn’t actually see her do it.

  Hasty

  Then you’d gone to the shop earlier?

  Vivian

  That’s right, late this morning. As an antiques dealer myself, I’d heard about the Old Curiosity Shop and thought we might find it interesting.

  Hasty

  (suspecting there’s more to it)

  Ah-huh. So why return hours later?

  Vivian

  (shifting in chair)

  Well … after we did some sightseeing, and had tea at the Savoy, I felt rather bad about not buying anything from Mr Westcott, and insisted that we go back and get something. That’s when I discovered the poor man.

  Hasty

  How much time passed between finding the body, and when you called the emergency number?

  Vivian

  (stalling)

  I’m feeling a little peaked. Might I please have some tea – with cream and sugar – and perhaps a biscuit? Or two?

  Hasty

  (presses the intercom button)

  Some tea for Mrs Borne.

  Vivian

  (saccharine sweet)

  How hospitable.

  Hasty

  The question?

  Vivian

  Hit the ‘refresh’ button, would you, dear?

  (hold for audience laughter)

  Hasty

  (losing patience)

  I asked you, how much time passed between finding the body, and when you called the emergency number?

  Vivian

  (rubbing her chin)

  Well, let me see – I was in quite a state of shock, as you can well imagine, so it’s hard to pinpoint exactly …

  Lackey knocks on door, enters room, places styrofoam cup in front of Vivian.

  Vivian

  Thank you, dear.

  Lackey

  You’re welcome.

  Vivian

  (to her)

  And thank you for saying ‘You’re welcome.’ Back in the States all we seem to hear these days is ‘no problem’ or ‘no worries,’ which are all negative words. Plus those responses make it sound as though you’re doing someone a favor, rather than attending to your job.

  Hasty

  (gruffly to Lackey)

  That will be all.

  Lackey leaves.

  Vivian

  (takes a sip from cup)

  How delightful! Earl Grey, is it? My personal preference is PG Tips with its malty flavor and robust taste … the perfect piquant pick-me-up for after dinner.

  Hasty

  (irritated)

  The question, Mrs Borne. Surely you’ve had enough time to come up with an answer. Otherwise, we can always check the CCTV for the time you entered the shop, and when the call was received by the dispatcher.

  Vivian

  No, no, I don’t think that will be necessary. Ol’ Big Brother does keep watch in the UK, doesn’t he? … I’d say somewhere between five and twenty-five minutes. Give or take a few minutes.

  Hasty

  And that’s as close as you can estimate?

  Vivian

  I’m afraid so.

  Hasty

  Did you touch the body?

  Vivian

  Yes. To check for a pulse.

  Hasty

  (nasty, knowing little smile)

  Did you take any photographs of the body with your cell phone? Or rifle through any desk drawers?

  Vivian

  (shocked)

  Agent Hasty! I’m afraid someone has been telling tales out of school!

  Hasty

  Let’s just say your reputation casts a long shadow.

  Vivian

  (indignant)

  Clear across the pond? … I wouldn’t believe any of what you’ve heard, especially if it comes from Police Chief Tony Cassato. And regarding touching anything or taking photos, as a retired sheriff I certainly know not to disturb a crime scene.

  Hasty

  That still doesn’t answer the question.

  Vivian

  (one-shoulder shrug)

  Granted, I may have inadvertently touched a few things, while in a state of shock. (a beat) Was there a security camera in the office?

  Hasty

  Unfortunately, no.

  Vivian

  (disingenuous)

  Oh, that is unfortunate. It would certainly tell you a lot, and of course refresh my memory.

  Hasty

  (a hard stare)

  Wouldn’t it, though.

  Vivian

  (cheerfully)

  If there’s nothing more, I’d like to make that phone call. I should notify our editor at the publishing house as to our whereabouts.

  Hasty

  (finger on recorder stop button)

  End of interview with Vivian Borne, time, twenty thirteen.

  INTERMISSION

  (backstage pep-talk)

  Mother: The second act is plagued by dull stretches, dear. Do try to pep it up!

  Brandy: Sorry – I’m a little too bummed out about possibly being charged with murder to be peppy.

  Mother: I’m not asking you to be Neil Simon! Embellish! It’s a playwright’s prerogative. Otherwise the audience will be leaving the theater in droves!

  ACT II

  Setting: same.

  Time: fifteen minutes later.

  At rise: Hasty, looking a little beleaguered from his interview with Vivian, is seated across the table from Brandy.

  Hasty

  (activating the recorder)

  Interview with Brandy Borne at Charing Cross Station on April the fifteenth of the present year, time, twenty twenty-eight, conducted by Agent Hasty. (Pause) Have you been informed of your rights, Ms Borne?

  Brandy

  Yes. By Constable Banerjee as I was handcuffed.

  Hasty

  (politely)

  Would you like some tea?

  Brandy

  Or coffee if you have some. Black.

  Hasty

  (into intercom)

  One coffee, please. Black. (to Brandy) For the record, please state your full name, address, and date of birth.

  Brandy

  Brandy Jensen Borne, twenty-six-hundred Mulberry Avenue, Serenity, Iowa, United States. Born June eighteenth, nineteen hundred and (Vivian: Dear! A woman never tells!).

  Hasty

  Why did you and your mother go to the Old Curiosity Shop?

  Brandy

  She was supposed to sell a necklace for a fellow dealer back home, to avoid any duty fees
or whatever taxes there might be. (a beat) But Mother had decided to keep the necklace, so we went there so she could tell Mr Westcott personally.

  Hasty

  What was the name of the dealer back home?

  Brandy

  Skylar James. He owns a store in Serenity – The Trading Post.

  Lackay knocks on door, opens it, enters, hands Brandy the coffee.

  Brandy

  Thank you.

  Lackey

  (unhappy with her role, here and in life)

  No problem. No worries. (leaves room)

  (hold for laughs)

  Hasty

  Was Mr Westcott upset that he didn’t get the necklace?

  Brandy

  (sips coffee, considering)

  Maybe a little – but certainly not enough to make a scene. He seemed to understand Mother had fallen in love with the item. In fact, he gave Mother a book to take back to Skylar to show that he had no hard feelings.

  Hasty

  The book in her tote bag?

  Brandy

  (a jolt)

  Oh … I suppose you did go through our things. Yes, that one. (a beat) It’s not valuable. We have the same edition back home, in better condition actually.

  Hasty

  Now, later, when you returned to the premises and your mother discovered the body—

  Brandy

  (interrupting)

  I found Mr Westcott in the office. She sent me off to look for him when he wasn’t at the front of the shop. (a beat) Oh! I forgot to mention – I threw up in the wastebasket by the desk. (sarcastically) Just in case I (air quotes) ‘might need to rely upon it in court.’

  Hasty

  (small smile, liking her spunk)

  What did your mother do after you told her you’d found the body?

  Brandy

  She joined me in Mr Westcott’s office. I told her I recognized the handle of the letter opener because I’d picked it up this morning.

  Hasty

  And what did she say?

  Brandy

  That we should look around for a motive before calling the police, because – since I would be implicated – we needed to find any clues that might help me.

  Hasty

  Was the intention to tamper with the scene of the crime?

  Brandy

  Of course not! Merely to point out anything helpful to the reporting officers.

  Hasty

  And what exactly did you both do?

  Brandy

  Mother looked around the office where – according to her – she found Mr Westcott’s wallet, his cell phone, and some keys in his pockets. The wallet had money and credit cards, so this obviously was not a robbery. Meanwhile, out front, I checked the cash register, which also had cash.

  Hasty

  Anything else?

  Brandy

  I can’t speak for her – except that she probably took photos of the crime scene on her phone. But I did look around to see if any merchandise was obviously missing.

  Hasty

  And?

  Brandy

  (shrugs)

  Who could tell with all that stuff.

  Hasty

  What made you think your behavior was appropriate?

  Brandy

  Did I say I did? On the other hand, we have written a number of published true-crime books, and Mother is a former sheriff. We have some experience with murder cases, although I wish we didn’t.

  Hasty

  (muttering)

  As do I.

  Brandy

  Am I going to be charged with murder? I didn’t kill Mr Westcott. How could I? He was alive when we left him this morning … and I’m sure you can find us on various security cameras, sightseeing.

  Hasty

  (wryly)

  You did make quite an impression at the Tower, and museum.

  Brandy

  (lightbulb moment)

  You had someone following us! The guy in the rugby shirt!

  Hasty

  (mildly surprised)

  You noticed him?

  Brandy

  Duh! Next time don’t have him wear anything that gaudy.

  Hasty

  (shrugs)

  We’ve been trying to get away from telltale suit-and-tie.

  Brandy

  (helpfully)

  Maybe try something in between circus and office?

  Hasty

  (moving on)

  And, no, you’re not going to be charged with murder. Westcott was killed in the mid-afternoon.

  Brandy

  Well, that’s a relief! I mean, that I’m not going to be charged, not that Mr Westcott was killed.

  (hold for possible audience titters)

  Hasty

  (turning serious)

  However, you and Mrs Borne could easily be charged with interfering at a crime scene. (suspenseful pause) But … I think the best solution is to put you both on the first plane back to the States in the morning. Until that can be arranged, you’ll remain in your cells.

  Brandy

  (outraged)

  What?! You mean we can’t spend the night at the Savoy? We’ve already paid for the room!

  Hasty

  Murder can be a nuisance.

  Brandy

  (indignant)

  I want to make a call to Chief Tony Cassato in Serenity.

  Hasty

  Very well … but I’m afraid it won’t help you.

  Brandy

  And why is that?

  Hasty

  (little smile)

  It was at Chief Cassato’s suggestion that we’re keeping you here overnight. (into recorder) End of interview with Brandy Borne, time, twenty-one twelve.

  CURTAIN

  (applause)

  (curtain call – repeat as needed)

  OK, curtain down, and Brandy back.

  If you’re wondering, I didn’t contact Tony with my one phone call (I didn’t call anybody), because I knew I’d lose my temper. Nor did I tell Mother, until much later, that my fiancé was responsible for our very special overnight stay.

  Not that it mattered to her, as she seemed to feel at home in her cell, regaling a female officer – delivering a late supper – with jailhouse tales from back home. Even through the thick wall I could hear Mother’s theatrical voice.

  ‘I’ve even been charged with felony murder,’ Mother was saying. ‘It was a miscarriage of justice, of course, but I was in for about a week until cleared. And during that time I became top dog, like in Wentworth on the telly, organized a female theater group among the prisoners, and still managed to obtain a clue vital to the murder for which I’d been charged. I was having so much fun, I didn’t want to leave.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Borne, I’ll be back to collect the tray …’

  ‘After I was sprung,’ Mother pressed on, ‘I was able to talk prison officials into letting the group perform for other inmates. We were doing the Midwest circuit – Des Moines, Galesburg, Omaha, and Kansas City, until two of our actors escaped during a performance. How sad! We were on our way to the bigtime, like San Quentin, Sing Sing, and Folsom – such a shame Alcatraz had closed – but that brought the curtain down abruptly on my prison theater group.’

  I barely could hear the constable’s words: ‘What was the play?’

  ‘The Vagina Monologues.’

  Shortly, the lock on my steel door clicked open, and the officer entered with my tray – a blonde wearing the typical guard attire, her hair in a chignon, sans hat.

  Seated on the bench, I said, ‘You had to ask, didn’t you?’

  A small smile, but otherwise the woman remained professional, handing me a plastic tray of food. ‘It’s not the Savoy, but will have to do.’

  I balanced the tray on my knees. ‘Thank you. Sausage and spuds, huh?’

  ‘No, bangers and mash. I’ll bring you another blanket, and a few necessaries including a toothbrush and paste, when I return.’

  I nodded. ‘Do you know wh
en we’ll be leaving in the morning? I’d hate to oversleep.’

  Another smile. ‘It’s being sorted.’

  She left, the door clicking behind her.

  The following morning – I actually slept like a rock, if a rock can have bad, girls-in-prison-movie dreams – I freshened up as best I could and had a breakfast of toast and eggs and coffee, which I barely had time to scarf down before being informed we were about to leave for the airport.

  We were processed out, given back our possessions, and this time, escorted out the front door; a police van was waiting with our luggage, collected from the Savoy and stowed in the wayback.

  As Mother and I were about to climb in behind the grille, a young woman in business attire, tentatively approached.

  ‘Vivian? Brandy? I’m Olivia Adams.’

  Good Lord! Our editor!

  The police escort was urging us into the vehicle.

  Mother, looking as delighted as if she’d found an old farthing on the sidewalk, said, ‘How wonderful to meet you! So sorry we can’t make our get-together today, but it seems we’re being run out of town on a rail – er, tail … of a Boeing 747!’ Then, in a Groucho Marx impression, she sang, ‘Hello, I must be going!’

  And so go we did, leaving behind a very confused-looking and possibly appalled editor.

  In the van, I turned to Mother. ‘Boeing 747?’

  ‘Just a little joke, dear. You’re always claiming that I have no sense of humor, when clearly—’

  ‘No! I mean, we’re not going home on an Airbus?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, dear,’ she replied. ‘After the fee of re-booking our tickets, we couldn’t afford the 380. And only one First Class seat on the 747.’

  ‘What, am I going to sit on your lap?’

  ‘Of course not. You’ll be in coach.’

  With no applause or food upgrade.

  The perfect ending to a perfectly terrible trip.

  Pip pip.

  A Trash ‘n’ Treasures Tip

  Buying foreign coins can be a lucrative way to invest your money, but only if you understand the business. Just because a coin is old, doesn’t make it valuable. Sometimes a farthing is only worth … a farthing.

  FIVE

  Carry On Cowboy

  I was still in bed at noon when Mother entered my Art Decorated domain and roused me.

  ‘Tony’s dropped by,’ she said excitedly.

  Jet-lagged after the long flight home – in coach! – I pulled myself up, propped against the pillows, and growled, ‘I’m not speaking to that louse.’

  Mother, dressed for the day, sat at the foot of the bird’s-eye maple bed. ‘Don’t you think that’s a little short-sighted, dear? You should hear what the louse has to say for himself.’