Collected Plays and Teleplays (Irish Literature) (41 page)

(
The camera has returned to the table and dwells on the rather desultory snooker game, now in its final stages. But no sound is heard from it as
BURKE
,
with
KELLY’S
voice, is heard continuing:
)

When things have blown over properly, I think a fortnight’s holiday away from everything would be a good idea. The seaside, I suppose . . . some nice, quiet place. Business is good and steady and when I get around to asking Kelly’s bank to send along a statement of account, I’m damn sure there will be plenty of cash stacked up there . . . yes, and any God’s amount of stocks and shares and that class of thing. . . . Whatever Kelly used to spend his money on, it certainly wasn’t in paying me a decent wage. B-b-blast him!

Lord, I might be a snug well-to-do man at the heel of the hunt. By gob but this situation is nearly funny. If only I could be certain—CERTAIN—of everything. Everything properly packed up, everything snug, and no loose ends. Just one more month and all the little doubts should be wiped away. It’s just stupid, I suppose, for a man of my age to be dreaming about living happily ever after, like a young prince in a fairy-tale but, dammit, it’s natural, isn’t it? I deserve a few decent years in this world, I’m OWED them and that’s the plain truth. Even a dog is entitled to get sick of the life of a dog. I’ve had enough of bad times and bad luck. A few days ago I could have truly said that things were so bad they couldn’t get worse. Now they can only get better. So let’s cheer up. Maybe even Kelly felt a bit cheerful an odd time. It’s hard to imagine. Still. . . .

(
SOUND has become general as the snooker game ends. One player lays his cue on the table, the other retains his while both cheerfully approach
BURKE
(
KELLY
)
at the little bar.
)

PLAYER NO. 1:
(
To steward.
) Two halves, Charlie!

PLAYER NO. 2:
Well, Mr. Kelly, you weren’t paying much attention to that game of ours.

BURKE:
Well, you were long enough about it. Who won?

NO. 2:
Your man here. Just a succession of flukes, of course. The usual.

NO. 1:
(
Handing drinks.
) Don’t mind him, Mr. Kelly. I’m more charitable and I’ll say it was a good game. Touch and go to the last. A black ball game. Have a cigarette, Mr. Kelly.

BURKE:
Thanks, Mr. Buckley.

NO. 2:
I see you’re taking a great interest in tobacco, at last. Time for you.

BURKE:
Ah, I do smoke a fair bit when I’m working. But these small clubrooms get pretty fuggy with too much smoking. However, we can’t have everything.

NO. 1:
I was pulling on butts at school, before I was out of short pants. And many a wallop I got for it.

NO. 2:
School is where most of us learnt the wrong things.

BURKE:
Overdoing things, lads—that’s the main thing we’ve got to look out for. Backing horses, drinking, smoking, going to shows and so on—they’re all perfectly all right provided they’re done in reason.

NO. 2:
And so say all of us.

NO. 1:
Well, that table there, Mr. Kelly, is one thing I don’t mind if I overdo a bit. I’m now the champion with my cue in my hand. Care for a game?

BURKE:
Thanks. I’d be delighted.

NO. 2:
Right. Billiards? A hundred up?

BURKE:
Snooker if you’d prefer it.

NO. 2:
But, Mr. Kelly, I thought billiards was YOUR game. Mean to say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at snooker before.

BURKE:
I don’t play it here often, but you might be surprised.

NO. 2:
Well, I’m glad to hear it. Snooker is a better game.

BURKE:
It’s not a better game but it’s an easier game. Anybody can pot a ball but you have to do a lot of thinking before you play a shot at billiards.

NO. 1:
All right. Wait till I fix up the reds.

(
He fetches wooden triangle and sets about arranging triangle of red balls and spotting the colours.
)

NO. 2:
Well, well, Mr. Kelly. A dab at snooker and billiards, and then non-stop on the fags. What next, I wonder? Drugs?

BURKE:
There’s nothing wrong about being able to play a decent game of snooker.

NO. 2:
Well there’s one snooker man in this club I’d bet you wouldn’t beat.

BURKE:
Who is that?

NO. 2:
Burke.

BURKE:
What was that?

NO. 2:
Burke. Your own man, Burke.

BURKE:
Ah, I don’t know. I’d say I’d give him a tight game.

NO. 1:
Come on, Mr. Kelly. (
Hands him cue.
) We’re ready for the fray.

BURKE:
Right-O. Just one game. I’ll have to go home after that.

NO. 2:
Good enough. I’ll polish you off in no time.

(
They begin to play. Camera leaves the table and concentrates on
NO. 2
and the other two bystanders, who are following the play in silence and exchanging glances. Finally:
)

NO. 2:
Well, blast me anyway! This Kelly can play alright, hah?

BYSTANDER:
He certainly can.

NO. 2:
A red, a black, a red and a blue, and then leaves nothing on. . . .

BYSTANDER:
Must have been taking a few secret lessons. Sure he was never much good even at billiards.

NO. 2:
In league with the divil.

NO. 2:
Good Lord, there he goes again. . . .

FADE OUT.
END OF PART 3
.

PART 4

Limited close-up shot of
BURKE
(
KELLY
)
abstractedly entering taxidermist workshop and immediately turning back to hang up coat and hat on peg behind door. He gives a cry when, turning, he sees two reasonably well-dressed men, complete strangers, sitting on chairs in the body of the room.

BURKE:
Ow! You startled me! Who are you?

(
One man rises, smiles and extends his hand.
)

CASSIDY:
Mr. Kelly? My name’s Cassidy. My friend here’s Tim Riordan. You ask who are we? Well, we’d better present our cards.

(
Two small folding cards are shown.
)

CASSIDY:
Won’t you sit down, Mr. Kelly. We just called for a little chat.

BURKE:
(
Making for chair, bemused.
) Detective Branch? Lord save us! How did you get in here?

RIORDAN:
That’s my little speciality, Mr. Kelly. I have a bunch of keys in my pocket that would open any door in the world.

BURKE:
(
Sitting down.
) Don’t tell me this place has been burgled.

There’s no money kept here, and all this stuff (
sweeps hand
) would be no use to anybody.

CASSIDY:
Ah no, it’s not a burglar we’re after.

RIORDAN:
Something a damn sight more important is worrying us, Mr. Kelly.

BURKE:
Stolen property, I suppose. Well, we act in good faith when anybody sends an animal for treatment here. It might be a deer shot on private lands, but how are we to know?

CASSIDY:
(
Seriously.
) Mr. Kelly, I want to ask you some questions and must remind you that we are police officers and I therefore formally caution you.

BURKE:
Oh, that’s all right. I always do anything I can to help the law. But what the devil is the trouble?

CASSIDY:
For several days we have been investigating the disappearance of a Mr. Burke, who worked here with you. He just vanished.

BURKE:
(
With feigned astonishment.
) Burke? Yes. He hasn’t reported for duty for over a week now. I thought he was sick.

RIORDAN:
Well, he’s not in any hospital.

CASSIDY:
And it was his landlady who raised the alarm. It seems Burke was a man of very regular habits.

BURKE:
So he was, and a painstaking clever man at the sort of job we do here.

CASSIDY:
His landlady reported the matter to the police, and we have been on the job since. Do you know anything about Burke’s disappearance, Mr. Kelly?

BURKE:
Nothing at all. How do you know he didn’t go down the country to a funeral or something, or maybe go off looking for a new job across the water?

CASSIDY:
He didn’t. We have a way of checking that sort of move with other police forces. We carried out a very close examination of his bedroom in the digs.

RIORDAN:
Took samples of various things, and photographs.

BURKE:
Well, it’s . . . it’s very mysterious.

CASSIDY:
Apart from the fact that he hadn’t paid his rent for the week, a thing he always does on the nail, he took nothing away with him from the bedroom. Common things like pyjamas, shaving gear, hair oil—they’re all there.

BURKE:
What about loss of memory?

CASSIDY:
Genuine cases of that are easily noted. He has some friends, including members of that club you attend yourself. We have questioned them all. None of them has seen him or heard a word about him. You might say he may have entered some religious house to make a retreat. Every possible establishment of that kind has been contacted and none of them ever heard of Burke or anybody like him.

BURKE:
I know it’s not the season but perhaps he went for a swim, got a cramp or something, was carried out and drowned. He was a swimmer, I know that.

CASSIDY:
Yes, and he might have taken a trip to the moon, too. He worked here every day, Mr. Kelly. Are you serious that you know nothing at all about his disappearance?

BURKE:
Nothing whatever. How could I?

CASSIDY:
You were alone with him every day.

RIORDAN:
In this very workroom, with the door closed.

BURKE:
Quite true. And for how many years? At least eighteen. I was very fond of Burke and I’m sure he’ll yet turn up.

CASSIDY:
Perhaps. But dead or alive?

BURKE:
Burke wasn’t beyond a big leg-pull. What do you mean dead?

CASSIDY:
Just that. DEAD.

BURKE:
If the poor man’s dead, where’s his body?

CASSIDY:
There are many ways of getting rid of a body.

RIORDAN:
Yes, but few of them are absolutely safe.

BURKE:
Well, I can only say that I never read detective stories. But I know about a lot of dead animals that don’t disappear at all. We make them live again in this house. Even mice start a new life here.

CASSIDY:
At this stage I don’t intend to give you details of all our enquiries or their scope but I promise you some surprises when you are interviewed by my chief superintendent. We have been in this house four times already without your knowing it.

BURKE:
Well, well, that is one surprise for a start.

RIORDAN:
And very likely we’re not finished yet.

CASSIDY:
Do you see that range or furnace of yours?

BURKE:
I do.

CASSIDY:
We had the ashes in it taken away and analysed, ashes and other remnants. Know what they turned out to be?

BURKE:
That furnace is used for destroying the insides of animals stuffed here.

CASSIDY:
They were the remains of human bones.

BURKE:
(
Dismayed.
) For heaven’s sake!

CASSIDY:
We believe those bones belonged to Burke.

BURKE:
That is ridiculous, the height of nonsense.

CASSIDY:
And the State suspects that you are the man who murdered Burke.

BURKE:
Look here, you must be going off your head. Very likely, you’ve been drinking.

CASSIDY:
I don’t touch drink at all. I prefer work.

BURKE:
Now that I look at you, the pair of you look like two fellows who’ve been on the batter for several days.

CASSIDY:
What we look like doesn’t matter. You are under arrest, Mr. Kelly.

BURKE:
(
Aghast.
) I’m WHAT? Under arrest?

CASSIDY:
Under arrest. You must come with us.

BURKE:
Are you seriously saying that I’m under arrest . . . for the murder of Burke?

CASSIDY:
On suspicion of that.

BURKE:
But that’s ridiculous and impossible.

CASSIDY:
Maybe so. But that will be a matter for the court to decide. You will get a fair trial.

BURKE:
I nearly have to laugh. You chaps are crazy.

CASSIDY:
(
Standing up, with Riordan.
) We have a car outside, round the corner. Just put on your hat and coat, like a good man.

BURKE:
For the last time: are you serious or just trying to be funny?

RIORDAN:
Dead serious.

CASSIDY:
When we get to the station you won’t be in any doubt at all.

BURKE:
(
Rising.
) Well, I’ll get my coat and hat and go that far with you. There can’t be much harm in that.

CASSIDY:
Nowadays, when a man is charged no matter for what but not yet tried and convicted, he’s very well treated. In law he’s still innocent.

RIORDAN:
You’ll get the same food as the rest of us, and cigarettes as well.

BURKE:
(
Facing camera, wide-eyed.
) Just fancy this! Me, Kelly, charged with murdering Burke, to be tried, maybe convicted, and then hanged! Well . . . well . . . well.