Scarlette the Starlet

Characters:

The Detective: with a disposition like honey and a mind like flypaper, it’s no wonder this guy catches a lot of pests.

Vivienne Scarlette: the glamorous and melodramatic movie star du jour. A few sandwiches short of a picnic, but classy as a Park Avenue cocktail party.

Mariana Merriwether: desperately haughty billionairess gone broke and best friend to Miss Scarlette.

Renetta White: unabashedly avaricious agent to the stars—Miss Scarlette, in particular.

Penelope Peacock: Miss Scarlette’s silkily sophisticated archrival.

Edward Green: Used-car salesman turned Hollywood go-between. Slick and slimy as his rapidly vanishing hair.

Colonel Herman Mustard: devoted ex-military man and obsessive fan of Miss Scarlette. A deadly combination?

Professor Charles Plum: impassive butler to Miss Scarlette and keeper of her elaborate mansion.

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Note:

This play has been written for one actor, although it can be performed by up to eight. If played by more than one actor, the other actors onstage freeze whenever the Detective addresses the audience. The set can be quite minimal—a chair or two are all that is needed. The Detective may want a fedora style hat for emphasis, which can, in the case of a one-person show, can be employed in various ways to indicate each of the other characters. You are welcome to use and perform this play, provided you ask me first and let me know how it goes, and understand that I have no affiliation with Parker Brothers or the CLUE game or characters and accept no legal responsibilities for the use of said characters. :)

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The Play:

Lights come up on the Detective in his office.

Detective: It was late morning, closing in on lunchtime, and the office had been emptier than a Chinese food joint on Cinco de Mayo. I was nodding off in the heat of the day and just considering closing up shop and heading on home when a knock on the door jolted me to attention. In walked the unmistakably striking Mariana Merriwether, a renowned billionairess a few years past her prime but holding on admirably. I had been expecting to hear from her, I did every year about this time, but I was surprised to see her standing in my office. Usually, she phoned. I swallowed my curiosity for the moment and greeted her in the manner due to my highest paying client: (to Merriwether) My dearest Miss Merriwether!

Merriwether: Ah, Detective. Business is well, I hope?

Detective: Looking better by the minute. I assume you’re here about your annual summer gala? (to audience) Every year she hosted a big to-do for her fancy friends, and every year there was some sort of funny business going on. Seems high society is just as peppered with questionable characters as the rest of us, if not more so. That was where I came in. (to Merriwether) Where will it be this year? Ballroom on the Rio Grande? Chateau in the Swiss Alps?

Merriwether: Actually, no, detective. In fact, there will be no grand affair Merriwether at all this season. And alas, I fear there may never be one again. I am, I regret to say, most suddenly and utterly destitute.

Detective: No!

Merriwether: Yes. I lost it all. Every last million. I am the world’s most glamorous billionairess no longer!

Detective: Why, Miss Merriwether, I’m terribly sorry. I feel your loss as my own. (to audience) And it would be.

Merriwether: Thank you for your kind compassion. But I am distracted from my purpose for coming.

Detective: Yes, of course. What can I do for you?

Merriwether: Oh, no, not for me. I am here purely for moral support. It’s my dear friend Vivienne who’s in trouble.

Detective: (to audience) It was only then that I noticed that Miss Merriwether had not entered alone. There, wilted into a chair in the corner like a post-season poinsettia, was Miss Vivienne Scarlette, the exalted movie actress extraordinaire. She looked as pale as I had been after hearing about Miss Merriwether’s sudden descent into poverty, and she was fanning herself with a folded piece of paper. Clearly, something had shaken her out of her usually collected composure. This, I figured, was where I came in. (getting up and going to Scarlette) What seems to be the trouble, Miss Scarlet?

Scarlette: (whispering) Ahem, actually, it’s Scarlette.

Detective: (whispering back) Oh, of course, I apologize.

Scarlette: (still whispering) That’s all right. (Getting back into damsel in distress character.) The trouble, detective, is this.

Detective: (to audience) She handed me the paper she had been using as a fan. I unfolded it. It was a letter of some sort, addressed to Miss Scar… (looks over his shoulder at Scarlette) lette, written with letters clipped from a magazine. (clears throat, reads letter) “You have gone too far. Your days are numbered. I will get you if it’s the last thing I do.” There was no signature. At the bottom was a photograph of Miss Scarlette, scribbled over almost beyond recognition.

Scarlette: It came in the mail just this morning. I think I’m in terrible danger. It was Miss Merriwether who suggested you. She’s my closest friend, more like the sister I never had, really, and so of course I showed her the letter as soon as I got it, and she said you’ve worked for her loads of times… Do you think you can help me?

Detective: I’ll certainly try, Miss. Have you ever received any letters of this nature before?

Scarlette: No… Not that I know of. Most of my mail goes through Renetta.

Detective: Renetta?

Scarlette: My agent.

Detective: But this came directly to you?

Scarlette: Yes, to my house.

Detective: I see… Is there anyone you can think of who might have reason to threaten you? Anyone with a grudge against you?

Scarlette: Well… Oh, that wretched, jealous Penelope Peacock, of course.

Detective: She’s an actress herself, is she not?

Scarlette: (dubiously) Of a sort. Her lifelong aspiration is to become yours truly. Everywhere I turn, there she is. We both auditioned for the latest picture. I got the lead, and she got nothing. Ooh, she was scarlet with rage. She should have thanked me. It’s the closest she’s ever come to being me…

Merriwether: It’s a glorious part. It will establish her name once and for all in the cinematic industry. The offers will simply pour in from now on.

Detective: (writing this down) I see… Thank you. Can you think of anyone else?

Merriwether: She just had an arduous falling out with her former beau, Edward Green.

Detective: Ah, yes, I think I read about that in The Inquisitor. And you think he might harbor you some ill will?

Scarlette: I’m the only one with a right to harbor anything… The lousy scoundrel!

Detective: Nevertheless, I’ll check him out. And Miss Peacock… And maybe I’ll talk to your agent. You said her name was Renetta…?

Scarlette: White.

Detective: Miss White… (to audience) I decided to start with her. I ushered Miss Scarlette and Miss Merriwether out the door, assuring them I would do everything I could to uncover the culprit. Then I headed downtown to Miss White’s office. It was an imposing place, all marble and mahogany. I could tell when I saw her she was a hustler in every sense of the word. Well, maybe not every sense of the word. Suffice it to say, I was going to have to keep my wits about me. I decided to play it straightforward. (to White) Hello, Miss Renetta White?

White: Yes. What is it? Detective: I’m a private investigator hired by your client, one Miss Vivienne Scarlette, in response to a threatening letter she recently received. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may be so bold.

White: Go ahead.

Detective: All righty. Now, Miss Scarlette said you receive most of her mail?

White: That is true. Her home address is not listed. Her fan mail comes to me. Most of it I do not pass on to her. We have letters to send in response, which my secretary mails out.

Detective: But this letter came to her house.

White: So it seems. This has happened before, once or twice. Someone is able to find out her home address, and they send it directly. This happened quite recently, in fact. You have heard of her break-up with Edward?

Detective: Ah, yes, Mr. Green. What about it?

White: Well, so far we have managed to keep this part out of the papers, but it all started with another anonymous letter sent to her home. She had been seeing young Edward for several months, and it was beginning to get serious. Then, she received a letter containing certain…questionable photographs of him with Miss Penelope Peacock. Detective: Miss Scarlette’s rival actress?

White: The very one. He denied any connection to her, of course. But Vivienne dug around. He was an agent himself, you know, like me. And when she found out he was currently representing Miss Peacock professionally, well, she guessed the worst. It was all over for them.

Detective: I see… How interesting.

White: And now they say Miss Peacock and Mr. Green are not getting along so well. So fickle, these celebrities… But in any case, usually, the letters come to me.

Detective: And have you received any letters of a menacing nature before?

White: Nothing too serious.

Detective: Hm. Does Miss Scarlette receive a lot of fan mail?

White: A fair amount. Often she will receive many letters from a single person. For instance, right now there is one man who sends her at least one letter a week.

Detective: Mmm-hmm. And how long has he been writing these letters?

White: Over six months now. They’ve been getting increasingly desperate.

Detective: They have… Would you mind telling me what you know about him?

White: The name on the letters is Herman something… Let me check. I think I still have his last letter here. (She rummages for it in her desk and hands it to him.) Yes, here it is.

Detective: (taking it) And when was this sent?

White: About a week ago, I would say.

Detective: Herman Mustard… A colonel, it seems. And he’s put his return address on the envelope.

White: They usually do. They’re looking for a response.

Detective: Of course. Well, this letter is handwritten, but I’ll run a check on the paper used in this and in the other letter to see if it’s a match. And maybe I’ll pay a little visit to our Colonel Mustard… Thank you for your help, Miss White. (He nods curtly to her. To audience:) A little undercover work was in order. My favorite kind. Luckily, I had never had too much dough; I had to put myself through school doing a number of odd jobs. This would come in handy, and early that evening I showed up at Colonel Mustard’s door. (He knocks on door.)

Mustard: (opening door) Hello?

Detective: Hi. I hate to disturb you, but in only a moment of your time, I can demonstrate a product that will save you many hours, and dollars. This handy dandy tool is just the thing you’ve been wishing for. Mind if I step inside?

Mustard: Um, I guess…

Detective: (pushing past him, looking around) Thanks. (to audience) I had thought steering the conversation around to Miss Scarlette would be difficult to do, especially without raising his suspicion. I quickly realized it wouldn’t be a problem. (to Mustard) I see you have… (obviously an understatement) a few photographs of the lovely Vivienne Scarlette up around the house. (Turns around to see a particularly large portrait of her directly behind him.) Oh! Hm. Are you… a fan?

Mustard: You could say that.

Detective: She sure is swell, isn’t she? I must’ve seen all her movies two or three times, at least.

Mustard: That’s nothing. Try seventeen.

Detective: Wow. Hey, look at this. (Goes over to Mustard’s desk.) Is this a picture of you two together? Gee, you’ve actually met her in person?

Mustard: Heh heh. No. I put that together myself, actually. It’s not very hard, once you get the hang of it. I learned how in the service. Pretty good, huh?

Detective: It’s great! Wish I had one. I wrote her once to ask her to send me a picture. Got a real nice letter back… You ever written her?

Mustard: We have a regular correspondence.

Detective: No kidding! She writes back? I think mine was just a canned letter. You get personalized responses?

Mustard: Well… I’m sure she… Well, no, not exactly, but… I’m her most dedicated fan! Any time now, she’ll recognize that! She’ll write back… She’d better… Look, I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s just have a look at this product you’re selling.

Detective: Oh, gee, look at the time. I’ve gotta be moving on to the next house. It was great to meet you, though, sir. Maybe next time? (Hurriedly rushes out. To audience:) It was getting late by that time, and I had learned a lot in the past few hours. Tomorrow I would find a way to question Miss Peacock and Mr. Green. In the meantime, I could do nothing else that night but think things over, so I headed home to do just that. (Leans back into chair, thinking. Nods off slowly, sleeps. Wakes suddenly, falls off chair.) The next morning I was awoken early, just after 9, by the ringing of the phone. It was Miss Scarlette, breathless and babbling. It took a full five minutes to get a straight story out of her. Finally, I gathered enough to realize she had been attacked in her home that morning, and I rushed over to take a closer look. When I got there, my ring was answered by a snooty man with a monocle. I knew this character—seen him a million times, slightly different name and face, same old story. The butler. (to Plum, sticking out hand to shake) Private Eye. Here for Miss Scarlette. And you are?

Plum: (looking haughtily at Detective’s outstretched hand) Charles. I’m the butler.

Detective: I figured as much.

Plum: I must tell you, however, this is purely a temporary engagement.

Detective: Is it? And your regular job would be?

Plum: I’m a professor.

Detective: Uh-huh. So you wouldn’t be, by any chance…

Plum: Professor Plum, they call me.

Detective: Right. Well. Is Miss Scarlette available?

Plum: She’s in the library.

Detective: With the candlestick?

Plum: I beg your pardon?

Detective: Never mind. Lead the way. (stops him) Say. What were you doing while this all occurred?

Plum: Ah, of course. Suspect the butler. Classic in detective literature.

Detective: Just trying to collect the facts, Professor.

Plum: No doubt. I was out in the rear speaking to the gardener about the rhododendrons. They’re looking a tad peaked on the west lawn. Then we heard Miss Scarlette scream and rushed into the house. We found her, unconscious, on the library floor. Here it is.

Detective: Thank you. Ah, Miss Scarlette. Are you feeling all right?

Scarlette: I guess so. I was right, though, wasn’t I? Someone is after me.

Detective: So it seems. Tell me exactly what happened, Miss Scarlette, everything you remember.

Scarlette: Well, I was standing right here in the library, just over there, by the candlesticks. (Detective looks at Plum triumphantly.) And suddenly I felt a tremendous pain just here on my neck, and I screamed, and blacked out. I must have fainted, because the next thing I remember Charles was here kneeling beside me and calling my name.

Detective: (getting up and pacing the room) I see. And you didn’t hear anything before you felt the blow?

Scarlette: No, nothing at all.

Detective: Was the door open or closed when it happened?

Scarlette: Why, it was open, I think. (Detective looks questioningly at Plum.)

Plum: It was open when I came in and found her here.

Detective: (to audience) That, combined with the thick carpeting, meant it would have been pretty easy to get in unheard. (to Scarlette) Have you called anyone else besides me since it happened?

Scarlette: Well, Miss Merriwether, of course, but she wasn’t home. I don’t know where she could be… And then I called Renetta. That was before I remembered to call you.

Detective: Hm. Well, it does in fact seem as though someone intended you harm. The question is, who, and why? I assume you’re rather well-off.

Scarlette: Why, yes…

Detective: Do you have any relatives? Anyone who would profit financially by your death?

Scarlette: No, I don’t have any family left at all, actually.

Detective: I see… (to audience) At that moment, the doorbell rang and Professor Plum announced Miss Renetta White. She descended upon the pallid Miss Scarlette.

White: Dear Miss Vivienne. Are you all right? No permanent damage? I can’t believe this has happened. It’s a travesty! It’s an outrage! It’s… Well, it’s a goldmine if we handle it right. Leak the story to the papers—the ghastly attack, the ominous threat… Free publicity galore. I smell book deal! What do you think, darling?

Detective: (to audience) I left them to their mercenary discussions and went to continue my investigation. It was time, now, to approach Edward Green. On the way off the property, I checked the western rhododendrons. (nods) Peaked. (A pause.) My visit to Green would require further stealth and disguise. This time, I used a ruse that would secure me an interview with not only Edward, but with Penelope Peacock as well. I’ve always been a believer in the old two birds with one stone. I made my appointment with Mr. Green. (to Green) Good old Edward Green! Hiya, how ya doing, Ed? Can I call you Ed? What’s new, huh?

Green: Not too much, Mr…

Detective: Weep. Reediman Weep. Producer. Director. You name it. Badda bing. (Puts out his hand to shake. Green shakes it.)

Green: Nice to meet you.

Detective: Pleasure’s all mine. Busy morning?

Green: Not a soul all day, actually. I called the secretary and told her not to bother coming in this morning, which is why I answered the phone when you called. I’ve been here alone all day. I understand you’re interested in one of my clients?

Detective: Yessiree, I am. The famed Penelope Peacock. I heard she just might be available, little bird mentioned someone made the mistake of their life and cast that Scarlette dame in the latest Pirate flick, so Penelope was fair game. And boy, I think I’ve got the role for her. It’s ideal. Destiny. Whaddya say?

Green: Well, as her agent I’ll have to speak to her of course, but offhand I’d say it sounds like a great deal for her.

Detective: Well, of course I’d like to hear her read the part, maybe talk through it a bit with her. Do you think you can set us up an appointment?

Green: I think that can be arranged. When might you be available?

Detective: The sooner the better.

Green: Well, she’s free this afternoon. I’ll give her a call to let her know you’re coming, and you can stop by her house around two. All right?

Detective: Sounds great. Say, speaking of that Scarlet broad, I heard you kids called it quits. Can’t say I blame you myself, especially with a gem like Miss Peacock falling into your arms. She’s going places, that one. Not like that Veronica.

Green: Vivienne. Vivienne Scarlette. And I must advise you not to presume about things that have nothing to do with you. Miss Scarlette is an angel on earth, and I loved her more than life itself. I’d do anything to get her back, you hear me? Anything!

Detective: Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you or anything, pal. Get ahold of yourself. You call Miss Peacock about that appointment, and I’ll call you later to hammer out the details of the picture. Got it? Good. (to audience) I had a lot of ideas floating in my head, and none of them definite. But I couldn’t make up my mind about anything until I talked to Miss Peacock. I arrived at her house just before two o’clock. (to Peacock) Miss Peacock, I presume.

Peacock: Indeed. Mr… Weep?

Detective: You got it, sweetheart. May I come in?

Peacock: Oh, of course, please do.

Detective: I’m sorry to barge in so late in the day. I tried to call you earlier, just before nine, but you weren’t in.

Peacock: Oh, yes. I was feeling slightly overwrought this morning, so I locked myself in the bath and told the maid to hold my calls. You’re here about a part for me?

Detective: Well, I hope you’re feeling better now.

Peacock: Oh, yes, much better. You mentioned a part you thought I might fit?

Detective: Yes, well, to be honest with you, Miss Peacock, we were considering you and Miss Scarlette, but with her signed up for that new Pirate picture, well, it’s basically all yours.

Peacock: Miss Scarlette, hm? That little pretender? She started out life as Doris Scarlet, playing kick the can in the alleys of New York! Or… so I read, anyway… She couldn’t act her way out of a paper bag, she has never had a day of training in her life. I myself spent three long years at the Theatrical Conservatory of London and another four in Yale’s School of Drama, training in everything from kung fu to ballroom dance. Yet somehow she can waltz into an audition, chew bubble gum and giggle, and be cast as the Queen of England. Something is simply not right about that, Mr. Weep. Something is simply not right.

Detective: Well, of course not.

Peacock: But you mentioned a part?

Detective: That I did. As I said, you’re basically a shoo-in for it now that Scar… well, everyone else is out of the picture.

Peacock: How wonderful. Is there anything I can do, any lines you’d like me to read? I have a number of monologues prepared. Anything at all?

Detective: No, not at the moment, thank you kindly, Miss Peacock. I think I’ve seen about all I need to see for now. I’ll be in touch.

Peacock: (as Detective leaves) Can I offer you some tea?

Detective: By now, I had collected all the information I could while keeping myself undercover. What was called for now was some first class thinking. I would piece together all the evidence I had gathered, and with a little luck I would come up with something I could work with, and move on from there. But the time had come to show my hand. As soon as I figured out what I had in it. (Detective sinks into chair, closes eyes, places hat carefully over face. Two members of the audience, Matt and Sarah, stand up.)

Sarah: Well, isn’t this exciting so far?

Matt: It sure is. Hey, I have an idea!

Sarah: What?

Matt: We should all try to guess who the culprit is!

Sarah: What a great plan! We can write them down on pieces of paper, and then see who’s right!

Matt: What a novel concept! (They hand out pieces of paper and pencils to other audience members.)

Sarah: Now, just write down who you think is guilty, and why.

Matt: Think your answer through very carefully. I’m sure there will be fabulous prizes for the winner. (They wait for a few moments, smiling, while people write down their answers.)

Matt: Personally, I think it’s pretty obvious who did it.

Sarah: Really? Who?

Matt: Colonel Mustard, of course. He’s obviously guilty.

Sarah: Have you ever read a mystery before in your life? It’s precisely because he’s so obviously guilty that you know he isn’t guilty. He’s the red herring.

Matt: Well, maybe it’s a double bluff. Because he’s so obvious, you don’t expect him, and so you’re really surprised when it turns out to be him.

Sarah: It’s been done before. They’re half expecting it. No, because he’s so guilty, you think he must have done it, because he’s the least likely one to have done it, since he seems so guilty. That’s how you know he didn’t do it.

Matt: But if that’s what you’re expecting, maybe he’ll turn out to be guilty, because you think—

Detective: (bursting up) That’s quite enough! Sit down, both of you! I’m the Detective around here, and I won’t have anyone else putting on airs and making guesses. At least the rest of you all managed to restrain yourselve—(grabbing one of the papers from one of the audience members) Hey! What’s this? (Reads it out loud.) You think you’re clever? Think you know who did it? Wanna be the big Detective man? Well, you’re not! None of you are! I am! Give me those! All of them! (Throws them into wastebasket.) There! That’s what I think of your amateur theories! Now! If you’re all quite through robbing me of a job, I’ll continue. (Glares at audience for a moment.) Ahem! After careful consideration, it all became clear. I knew what I had to do. I decided to pay another visit to Colonel Mustard.

Matt: (to Sarah) See, I told you!

Detective: Not another word out of you! I went to the Colonel’s house and knocked on the door. (Knocks.)

Mustard: You again? Actually going to show me what you’re selling this time?

Detective: Actually, Colonel Mustard, I have a confession to make. I am no humble salesman. I am, in fact, a private investigator, a detective, if you will, unlike (with a meaningful glance at audience) anyone else in the room, and I am investigating a recent attack on Miss Vivienne Scarlette, which came fast on the heels of a very threatening letter sent to her home.

Mustard: And you think I sent the letter, as I have sent her so many others, and that I am responsible for the attack?

Matt: Yes!

Detective: No! I have one question for you, and one question only. The photographs you sent to Miss Scarlette.

Mustard: (nervously) Photographs? What photographs?

Detective: The photographs you doctored, as you doctored this one on your desk, of Mr. Green and Miss Peacock, and later sent to Miss Scarlette in order to convince her to break up with him and pay attention to you, her one true fan. Those photographs, Colonel Mustard.

Mustard: Oh. Those photographs.

Detective: Yes.

Mustard: All right, all right, I admit it! I sent those photographs! But I didn’t send any threatening letters, and I didn’t attack Vivienne, if that’s what you’re wondering!

Detective: It isn’t. I merely want to know where you sent that letter, with those photographs inside. Did you send it to Miss Scarlette’s personal home address?

Mustard: No. I sent it where I sent all my letters. Care of her agent, Renetta White.

Detective: Ah-ha! Thank you, Colonel. And now, I’m afraid I have an arrest to make.

Mustard: But I didn’t—

Detective: Not you, Colonel. I will be arresting—(Matt and Sarah oblige with a drumroll) Miss Penelope Peacock and Miss Renetta White! (Matt and Sarah gasp.) But why, you wonder? Elementary, my dear audience. Just putting the pieces together. Colonel Mustard’s passion for Miss Scarlette. The photographs of Green and Peacock. Miss White’s voracity for publicity. Mr. Green’s clear and ardent love for Miss Scarlette. Colonel Mustard’s phony photo. Miss Peacock’s training in kung fu and ballroom dance. (beginning to pace around) It all started a few months back when Miss White discovered that Miss Scarlette’s relationship with Mr. Green was getting serious enough for her to consider signing with him instead of her. Miss Scarlette was Miss White’s biggest client, and I know how far a person will go to keep those. Miss Merriwether’s sudden poverty reminded me of that. Colonel Mustard sent Miss White his faked photos, easy to get because of Miss Peacock and Mr. Green’s business relationship, and easy to forge because he had had plenty of practice, in hopes of drawing her attention enough to elicit a reply. Miss White saw an opportunity, and sent the pictures along to Miss Scarlette anonymously. Her plan worked, Scarlette broke ties with Green and stayed with White. But then Scarlette landed her big part, which, as Miss Merriwether pointed out, would set her up for life. Pretty soon she wouldn’t have much need for an agent at all; she could just bounce from offer to offer. Once again White had to think fast. This time, she teamed up with someone she knew had hated Scarlette ever since they had been kids together in New York City: Penelope Peacock. Together they crafted the threatening letter, and then, spurred on by my appearance on the case, this morning Miss Peacock snuck into Miss Scarlette’s mansion and, using her knowledge of theatrical kung fu, delivered a maneuver commonly used in the movies to kill, although in reality it merely stuns. The plan was to kill Miss Scarlette. As her agent, Miss White would get loads of publicity, and Miss Peacock, who would receive Miss Scarlette’s Pirate role in her absence, would sign with Miss White, having already been on bad terms with Mr. Green, who was furious at her for being the reason for his break-up with the lovely Vivienne. Miss White would write a book about her relationship with Miss Scarlette, which would be turned into a movie, starring Miss Peacock. When Miss Scarlette failed to die, Miss White had to quickly switch gears, but she stuck too close to her original plan. I smelled a rat. And now, her plans will have to change once more. She and Miss Peacock are going to be partners of a different kind: roommates in the Big House. Another case cracked. Thank you. (Bows. The End.)

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