Just a reminder that this script is copyrighted and the sole intellectual property of Jonathan L. Elmore. If you would like to use this play, please be kind and ask permission. As of now, there are no royalty fees which may change in the future.
I Haven’t A Clue
By Jonathan Elmore with Ashley Davidson
Characters
Robert Finley – Writer, Ghost
Emma Fields – Robert’s writing partner
Marcia Harrison – Robert’s girlfriend
Dorothy Mitchell – Robert’s benefactor
Jimmy Crantz – Local detective
SCENE I
Lights up
In a den, library or sitting room, a man, Robert Finley, sits on a desk next to a body that is slumped in a chair. The body is facing away from the audience. The men are wearing the same clothes because they are the same man. The man has been killed. The ghost is barefoot. Keep in mind that during the scenes, everyone is to ignore the ghost in the room. However, the ghost’s gestures should influence Jimmy’s gestures. Only during scenario reenactments are characters to engage with Robert.
ROBERT: (To audience) Well, this is odd. I’ve never seen a dead body before. At least not one that hasn’t been neatly prepared, lying in repose in its casket. Even then, I’ve only seen my mother’s parents and my dad’s mom. Three dead people I’ve seen. And now, I’m the fourth. Yep. That’s me. Who else would have a great shirt like this one? No one, that’s who. (He gets up and walks around looking at objects while he walks.) See, I died right there in that chair. I’m not too sure what happened. I was having a smoke, blowing it out the window. Then, I hear a loud pop and the worst pain I’ve ever felt ripped through my spine. My eyes quickly lost focus. I couldn’t see who was standing there. Was anybody standing there? All I could do is stagger back over to the desk, sit in this really uncomfortable chair and pass out. I came to…or at least I thought I had. I stood up and tried to grab a pen so I could write down what had just happened. When I realized I couldn’t pick it up, I looked back at the chair and there I was. Dead. This big hole in my back and blood everywhere. My blood. Who would do this to me? I haven’t a clue. Who even knew I was here? Well, three women knew I was here. Any one of them could have done it. I wasn’t exactly…honorable to any of them. I guess being a miserable bastard to people can catch up to you. Maybe you can give this ghost a break and tell me if you see anything. Oh, here come the cops. This should be interesting.
A self-important detective enters from behind the audience and walks through the middle of them if there is room, around if there isn’t. He is wearing latex gloves.
OFFICER JIMMY CRANTZ: All right, spread out. Break it up people. What’s seems to be the trouble? Well, well, well. A dead body. This is a little rare for around here. I usually deal with people stealing lawn mowers and parents discovering their ice chest full of beer mysteriously went missing. It’s always the teenagers who take ‘em. (He inspects the body.) Well, whatta we got here? Murder… Mur-daire …Murderino.
ROBERT: All right, Jimmy. Get on with it. (To audience) I’m surprised they sent this guy. I know him. He’s no detective. In high school, it once took him three days to find the stink that was following him around. Somebody put a fish in his backpack. Three days, this guy.
JIMMY: (To audience) Hmm. Seems a little suspicious that all y’all are here. Maybe y’all are witnesses…or suspects. (He snaps his latex glove.) You look a little shifty, sir. I’m keeping my eyes on you. (Does the two fingers from my eyes to your eyes gesture.)
Robert walks to Jimmy
ROBERT: You should take a look at that open window.
JIMMY: Hey, that window’s open. I should take a look. Weather’s been weird lately. I can’t imagine anyone leaving a window open. (He walks over to the window and quickly looks.) Hmm, nothing here. (He turns to leave.)
ROBERT: (Robert tries to slap him but can’t since he’s a ghost).You missed something!
JIMMY: (Shudders) Hm. It kind of feels like I missed something.
ROBERT: You would have felt a lot more than that if that slap had connected.
JIMMY: (Grabs an evidence bag from his pocket. He picks up a cigarette butt with lipstick on it from the window sill.) Well, unless ol’ dead guy here was a little fruity and wore lipstick, then I’d say we’ve got a woman as suspect number one.
ROBERT: (To Audience) See? I told you.
JIMMY: (He looks at dead Robert) I guess I should find out who you are before I try to figure out who killed you. (He gets the wallet from Robert’s back pocket.) Robert Finley. (Pondering) Robert Finley. Oh, Fin Man from high school!
ROBERT: I hated that nickname.
JIMMY: Wow! Fin Man murdered in our little town. What’s his mom going to think? When did he get back in town? I better call his girlfriend. (He takes out his phone, but rethinks the call.) Mmm, better wait to see what other clues come up. Who knows, she may have been the one that iced him.
ROBERT: Iced him? He watches too much television. I don’t think it could have been Marcia, but she was pretty mad earlier. Her dad is ex-CIA so she could have grabbed a gun from his mini arsenal. She’s kind of a sweet girl but I was going behind her back in more ways than one. Tell you what, why don’t all of you follow me into the kitchen and you can see what I’m talking about. Our conversation-slash- argument was a little heated and she did threaten to kill me. I just thought she was just being dramatic as usual. You can see for yourself that may not be the case. Everybody follow me.
SCENE II
Robert leads everyone into the kitchen where Marcia is finishing a glass of red wine. There is another glass on the counter waiting for Robert. Make sure audience is all present.
ROBERT: (To audience) Okay everyone, this is Marcia. She is or was my girlfriend. I met her in high school, but we didn’t start seeing each other until I got famous. She uses me to get money and notoriety. I use her because…because I can, I guess. I wasn’t a ladies man growing up and when she asked me out I knew it was because I was a Hollywood script writer. That’s fine. I’m not super famous, but I’m certainly more famous than anyone she’d ever get. (To Marcia) I thought you said you were going to be in Tulsa this weekend. (It can be a different city near you.)
MARCIA: I’m still going. I might just stay there for a week or a month.
ROBERT: Tulsa for a month. I’d like to see you try that. You could shop every store in the whole city in about ten days. Then what would you do?
MARCIA: I’d think of something. All I know is I don’t want to see you for a while
ROBERT: Why? What have I done to you?
MARCIA: Oh, I don’t know. Emma? Dorothy Mitchell?
ROBERT: (He’s been caught, but doesn’t want her to see it.) Those are nice ladies. What about them? (Downs the wine)
MARCIA: What about them? WHAT ABOUT THEM? Do you think you could go behind my back with that little hussy Emma and not think I wouldn’t find out? It’s a small world, Robert. The walls have eyes.
ROBERT: Emma isn’t…
MARCIA: And let’s not forget about fancy pants Dorothy. She seems a little too familiar with you.
ROBERT: Dorothy isn’t…
MARCIA: Dorothy isn’t what? I know she has funded your lifestyle since you were fresh out of high school. That seems like a long time for an old woman to be cozying up to a man half her age.
ROBERT: She’s only eighteen years older than I am. Sure, when I was eighteen, she was twice my age, but now I’m thirty-five and she’s (counts in his head) fifty-three. It’s not that big a deal.
MARCIA: Not that big a deal?! Just what is your purpose for staying in contact with her? She’s not still paying for all of your projects is she?
ROBERT: No, I fund all my own projects now. She helped me get started as a serious writer and we became friends. She did produce all the plays that I wrote for the community theatre. She’s a wealthy patron that gave a young guy a helping…hand. That’s all. You’re jealous of her for no reason.
MARCIA: Well, you’re mine and I don’t want anyone else messing with you. I know you would never sleep with her or anything. But I just don’t like the idea of you being some woman’s page boy.
ROBERT: Yeah, I wouldn’t sleep with her, honey. I mean, even though she’s an attractive older woman, she was just admiring a rising talent. That’s all.
MARCIA: So you think she’s attractive?
ROBERT: Yes, dear. Just like I think your aunt Opal is attractive. You understand that don’t you? People can be attractive can’t they? It doesn’t mean I need to…see them naked once a week.
MARCIA: They can’t be attractive if they’re going to hang around you.
ROBERT: Great. So I’m doomed to a life of vagabonds and ugly people as my friends.
MARCIA: Don’t be silly. All of my friends are good looking. I’ve just told them that if they look at you the wrong way, I’ll scratch their eyes out.
ROBERT: Jealousy isn’t very flattering. It’s ugly. So is that it?
MARCIA: I haven’t even covered the Emma issue yet! Your “writing partner”? Was she also your “pillow partner”?
ROBERT: Pillow partner? What the hell does that even mean?
MARCIA: Admit it! You were writing and screwing, writing and screwing.
ROBERT: That is so not true! You knew her in high school. She was an odd girl, but one day I asked her why she was crying and we had a great conversation. It turns out we like a lot of the same things. But seriously, she and I are just friends and writing partners. And, since we moved to California, I don’t even talk to her anymore. She’s comfortable in her life with her boyfriend and little teacup pig. Cute pig, ugly boyfriend.
MARCIA: I don’t care if she has a fleet of pigs and a harem of boyfriends. You’ve been sleeping with her and I will kill her for seducing you.
ROBERT: You mean a herd of pigs, or a drove of…Wait, what? You would kill her instead of me? That is, if we were sleeping together, which we’re not. You’re way off base. Again, you’re jealous for no reason.
MARCIA: Oh, no. It’s for a reason. (With a stabbing motion onto the counter) And I would kill you right after I killed her!
ROBERT: (Aside to audience) Ooh! That’s the part I wanted you to see. (Mocking tone) “I would kill you right after I killed her.” Suspect number one, right here. (To Marcia) Well, you can get those thoughts out of your head. We write together. (Sadly) Wrote together. As far as I know, she doesn’t care about me in the least.
MARCIA: When was the last time you saw her?
ROBERT: About a year ago.
MARCIA: When was the last time you talked to her?
ROBERT: I…well…I called her this morning.
MARCIA: What?
ROBERT: I wanted to tell her I was in town. I treated her poorly and needed to clear things up with her.
MARCIA: I don’t trust her. And I’m not in the mood to trust you either. I’m going to Tulsa now.
ROBERT: I’ll call ahead and warn them you’re coming.
MARCIA: Not funny, Robert. You say what you need to say to her and send her packing. She’s no good. I’ll see you again when I feel like it.
ROBERT: Have a safe drive.
MARCIA: Get bent. (Exits)
ROBERT: (To audience) Did you see the way she talked to me? She totally could have killed me. She even said she would! You heard it! That makes me think she did it. But then there is still Dorothy and Emma to think about. My conversations with them really didn’t go much better. I just don’t know. Ah, here comes Barney Fife.
JIMMY: Let’s see what we have here. No dishes in the sink. That seems weird.
ROBERT: Geez, Jimmy. What does your house look like?
JIMMY: It looks like this oven has never even had a pizza in it. I guess you can afford to have pizza delivered when you live in a swank place like this. Oh, looky here, two wine glasses.
ROBERT: Impressive. He can count.
JIMMY: (Looks closely at the glasses) These both have fingerprints. I’ll have to bag ‘em. (He takes his time getting the first glass into an evidence bag.)
ROBERT: No reason to rush, Jimmy. You’re only trying to solve a murder. You should notice that one of those glasses has lipstick on it.
JIMMY: Oh ho ho! Lipstick again. (He pulls the bag from his pocket with the cigarette butt. He holds it up to the wine glass.) That’s strange. This is a different color of lipstick than the cigarette. Think, Jimbo, think.
ROBERT: (Long pause) Really? It’s a different woman, Jimmy.
JIMMY: Dang! I’ll bet this is a different woman’s lipstick.
ROBERT: I’ll never find out who killed me.
JIMMY: You’re a rock star, Jimmy. (He puts the second glass in an evidence bag) Suspect number two...in the bag. (He notices the audience, takes the glass with the lipstick to a woman that has lipstick on and holds up the glass to compare her lipstick to the lipstick on the glass.) Hold still please. Not quite the same color. You are not a suspect ma’am. Not yet anyway.
ROBERT: This investigation isn’t going well. I’m going to have to step up my end of it and guide this moron to more clues. My next argument of the evening came in the form of an angry little woman that I once called my writing partner. She came here about twenty minutes after Marcia left. Good thing they didn’t meet out on the driveway. It would have been an ugly cat fight. I would have totally gotten video of that though. Emma and I had our “chat” in the living room. I thought a comfy sofa would ease her mood about me stealing from her. Follow me and see that it didn’t help, even a little bit.
Robert leads the audience into the living room.
SCENE III
Emma sits on a sofa. She is fidgeting and nervous. She rummages through her purse while Robert is talking. When Robert is nearly finished talking, she takes out a pack of cigarettes, takes one out, finds her lighter and tries to light it, but the lighter won’t work. See Robert’s first words to Emma to time this just right.
ROBERT: If everyone is settled, then I’ll make the introductions. Dear friends, this is Emma. As you can see she isn’t what you might call a social butterfly, but she’s as smart and funny as they come. Smart, funny and completely mental. That’s Emma. She cried during every episode of Little House on the Prairie. She did not cry when her father passed away. Maybe Laura Ingles Wilder was more lovable than her father ever was. In any case, she doesn’t show much emotion, until she shows all of it at the same time which is what we had earlier this evening. Her ranting is a little hard to follow, but just remember that she’s spent the last year watching me be a success with our scripts. Not really proud of that. (Big exhale) Well, let’s relive this again. Shall we? (He sits next to Emma on the sofa)
ROBERT: (To Emma) T here’s no smoking in this house dear. The owner would go ballistic.
EMMA: Then she can go ballistic! I need a flippin’ cigarette. I’m nervous as heck to talk to you and I need to calm the eff down.
ROBERT: (Aside) Oh, I should mention, Emma took a personal oath not to swear anymore. It was an idea from a self-improvement book she read. Every time she used a curse word while we were together, she told me to point it out and she would put a wooden clothes pin on her tongue for thirty seconds. If you’ve never done that, it’s painful. Now you have to decipher her sentences because of so many…un-cuss words. (To Emma) (Takes her cigarette with lipstick on it and puts it in his pocket) No smoking, Emma. Now why are you so nervous? I should be the one who’s nervous. I’m the one that cheated you out of so much.
EMMA: (Sing-song response) Everything!
ROBERT: What?
EMMA: (Said exactly the same as last time) Everything! You cheated me out of everything. I hate you. (With a finger slice across the throat motion) I wish you were dead. (She begins to cry, takes out a handkerchief, dries her eyes and tucks it under her leg to be found later)
ROBERT: (Looks to the audience, points at Emma) See, suspect number two. (To Emma) I’m not surprised you hate me. I would hate me too for what I did. I wasn’t thinking. I sent in one of the scripts and…
EMMA: Our scripts. OUR bleepin’ scripts!
ROBERT: Yes, our scripts. I sent one in and they loved it. They called me and said they wanted me out in California the next day to work out the details of buying the script. You were visiting your mom in Dallas at the time. I got so caught up in the moment, I forgot to include you.
EMMA: And the years’ worth of moments after that? Did I slip your mind then too? I hate you! I wish you were dead.
ROBERT: (Looks at audience and holds up two fingers, mouths the word “two”, then points to Emma) I guess I just let greed get in the way of doing the right thing. They were doting over me like I was the new Shakespeare and…
EMMA: HA! Shakespeare!? Shakespeare’s sister wrote his plays just like I wrote our scripts.
ROBERT: Shakespeare’s sister did not write his…Hey! I wrote those scripts too. We wrote them together!
EMMA: And guess whose name is on television when they run the credits. Robert Finley. NOT Robert Finley and Emma Fields. JUST Robert emmer effing Finley!
ROBERT: Listen, Emma, you were my best friend before I screwed everything up. If I told the studio that we need to add your name to all the script credits, would that make you happier?
EMMA: Can you do that?
ROBERT: I will do that.
EMMA: Will you give me your Mercedes convertible?
ROBERT: My…my Mercedes? Uh…
EMMA: That would go a long way to making all of this up to me.
ROBERT: Well, I don’t…
EMMA: FINE! The deal is off, a-hole. (She gets up and starts to leave) I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with a flipping b-faced hose beast a-hole effing liar anymore!
ROBERT: B-faced? Wait, Emma. Don’t leave mad. How about I give you all the money you need to get your own custom Mercedes?
EMMA: What I really want is to steal yours like you stole my words. Good-bye. (Exits and reenters) Will you put my name on all of the shows?
ROBERT: Yes I will, Emma. I do love you even if I was an idiot.
EMMA: That’s fine. Call me and we can make arrangements about the car. (Exits)
ROBERT: Man, I hate conversations like that. They don’t start well. They don’t end well. The middle part isn’t something that makes you jump for joy. Her non-cursing has gotten worse, something about a flipping b-face. She lost me on that one. In any case, she is suspect number two. No doubt about it. As the night has proven, our good friend Jimmy the cop shouldn’t be far behind…ah, and there he is.
JIMMY: This room kinda looks like something may have gone on in it. Possibly nefarious.
ROBERT: HA! He has no idea what nefarious means. (Pause) It means wicked or villainous for those who forgot your dictionaries. And congratulations to Jimmy for figuring out that “things” may have happened in someone’s living room.
JIMMY: (Sniffs the air) I smell perfume. I kinda recognize it from somewhere.
ROBERT: (Perplexed) I don’t smell anything. How can the backpack fish guy smell something that I don’t?
JIMMY: Whew! Whoever was in here wore enough perfume that I’ll bet the dead guy in there could smell it.
ROBERT: Oh! I’m dead. I don’t smell it now, but now that he mentions it, Emma was wearing her favorite perfume. She always wore (Said like a seductive perfume commercial) Impetuous, a bright fragrance with hints of lilies, vanilla, and bug spray. Jimmy should remember that smell. In high school, a few of us guys stole Emma’s bottle out of her purse and were spritzing it on lower classmen. Poor Jimmy accidently got a shot of it in his mouth. He gagged and spit for about twenty minutes, but he couldn’t wash the taste out of his mouth for days.
JIMMY: I need to take a load off. This clue finding business can wear a man out. (He sits on the sofa, takes out an evidence bag full of peanuts and begins to eat out of it.) Swank living here, boy. Hell, I bet this couch cost more than my truck.
ROBERT: That’s probably pretty accurate Jimmy. While you’re enjoying peanuts from what I hope is a clean evidence bag, you might notice the small handkerchief you just sat on.
JIMMY: (He spots the handkerchief) Hot dog! Another clue! (He picks it up and starts to put it in an evidence bag.) Dang! Perfume again. Where do I know that smell from? Think, Jimbo.
ROBERT: High school. Emma. Mouthful of perfume.
JIMMY: (Sniffs it again) Oh, snap! That’s from high school. (Sniffs again) Double snap! That’s the perfume those S.O.B.’s shot in my mouth. (He gets a sick look on his face, but holds it back.) That was that loner chick’s perfume. She was hot, but she scared the hell out of me. What was her name?
ROBERT: EMMA!
JIMMY: Sabrina?
ROBERT: Sabri…EMMA!
JIMMY: Emily?
ROBERT: Closer, numbskull. EMMA!
JIMMY: Em…Emm….Emmmmm
ROBERT: Please say it. You’re killing me. Well…
JIMMY: Emma!
ROBERT: (Breathes a sigh of relief) Oh, thank God.
JIMMY: Emma Fields if I remember right. What in the world would she be doing in this house? (Gets up and puts his peanuts in his pocket) This is getting weird.
ROBERT: I think it got weird about an hour ago, Jimmy.
JIMMY: I suppose I should write down all of this evidence I’ve been finding. I’ll head back to the scene of the crime. There’s a desk in there. (Exits)
ROBERT: Observant as always, Jimmy. (To audience) This whole thing shouldn’t be getting on my nerves this much because I’m…dead. I guess I’m just anxious to find out who pulled the trigger. There’s really only one other suspect to consider. This is her house we’re in, Dorothy Mitchell. I’ll introduce you to her. She’s originally from Texas and is usually the happiest person on earth. Tonight’s conversation…argument got her feathers ruffled. She wasn’t happy at all. For this one, everyone will have to follow me to the bedroom. Bear in mind she wasn’t dressed to entertain company other than me. She was still better dressed than most of the people you see in the grocery store these days. Follow me.
SCENE IV
Dorothy is propped up in bed reading a hardcover book. She is in elegant silk pajamas. Robert enters and sits down on the opposite side of the bed. Audience should all be in.
ROBERT: Okay folks. This is Dorothy. Like I said before, she was raised in Texas, I’m assuming by wild pumas. She’s soft and cuddly until you threaten her or her family, then the claws come out if she gets mad. I don’t think she was mad tonight, but it was pretty darn close. Our relationship was odd. She was my benefactor, mentor, spiritual advisor, and, once a week, my lover. She was a busy woman but always found time for me. She had dozens of meetings to go to like Rotary, Chamber of Commerce, city council, Bible study, Weight Watchers, and the theatre board. Her day off of meetings was Thursday. So I would come over and…further my writing career. (Deep sigh) Here goes!
ROBERT: (To Audience) This is what usually happened after we were intimate. I would lie here and think about new characters and situations to put in a script someday. She would read until she was sleepy and turn out the lights. Most of the time, I snuck out when I heard her snoring. She didn’t care. She was a terrible cook so it saved her from having to offer breakfast in the morning. (To Dorothy) That was particularly vivacious this evening. What’s going on?
DOROTHY: (Stops reading) Well, you know I don’t like to schedule anything on Thursdays.
ROBERT: Yeah
DOROTHY: Well, the theatre had an emergency meeting to figure out how to pay for a new air conditioner. Those people hemmed and hawed about it for an hour coming up with every kind of idea but a good one. Finally, I just said I’ll pay for the damn thing if we can end this meeting. I’ve got places to be. Honey, they looked at me like I was a snooty old broad tossing her money in their faces. I wasn’t doing that at all. It was my contribution to our theatre. They got mad because why? Because I’m a take action woman with a little extra money in my bank account?
ROBERT: Sounds like it.
DOROTHY: I’ve neither the time nor the patience for indecision. Plus, I needed to get back here to get some TLC from you.
ROBERT: I’m glad you did, but that one thing made you so…aggressive?
DOROTHY: Oh no, honey, that just got my blood up a little. The real kicker was I came home and saw two wine glasses in the kitchen. One with lipstick that wasn’t mine. (Robert gets uncomfortable) Then I went to get my book from the living room and smelled perfume that I know your sweet little girlfriend doesn’t wear. Was it your crazy little writing partner?
ROBERT: Yes.
DOROTHY: Damn it, honey! Two women in my house that are competing for your attention and you let them in? Into my house?
ROBERT: I wasn’t expecting Marcia and I asked Emma to come. I needed to apologize to her for stealing scripts.
DOROTHY: So, she gets an apology for not sticking up for herself and letting you walk all over her and I get nothing.
ROBERT: What?
DOROTHY: She should have defended her right to those scripts. You snooze you lose as far as I’m concerned. What she didn’t do for you is support you for eight years while you honed your writing skills. She didn’t teach you to use language more fluidly. She didn’t teach you how women with character speak. She didn’t have sex with you once a week…did she?
ROBERT: No ma’am.
DOROTHY: What she didn’t do for you, I did. And when I was watching the Emmys this year and you won your award for Outstanding Writing in a Comedy Series, who did you thank? Marcia, Emma, your mother and father…and? No Dorothy Mitchell! Not one hint that I helped you all those years. Not one! How do you think that made me feel? (With a finger and thumb gun shooting at him) I wanted to kill you!
ROBERT: (Looks surprised. To audience) That’s the part I was waiting to show you. I wanted to kill you. Suspect number three, ladies and gentlemen.
DOROTHY: I suppose the combination of all that pent up anger about the Emmys, the theater board meeting, and noticing two of your little friends in my house was enough to bring out the cougar in me.
ROBERT: (Laughs) Cougar
DOROTHY: Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I hate that word when it isn’t used for a wild cat. It’s just shameful the way those women act calling themselves a cougar.
ROBERT: I agree. Will you forgive me about the Emmy speech? I was so nervous that I forgot a lot of people I was supposed to thank.
DOROTHY: But I was the most important one of all! I can’t be in this bed with you right now. I’m going to go have some wine. (She gets out of bed to leave) Oh, that’s right. Your little girlfriend drank it all.
ROBERT: I’m sorry, Dorothy.
DOROTHY: I swear I’ll smack her if I see her. Now I have to go to the wine shop. (She puts on a long coat.) They better be open or this wild cat is going to unleash on you when I get back. (Exits)
ROBERT: Yet another conversation I didn’t want to have. I think three arguments is my limit for one night.
JIMMY: Aha! A messy bed! Looks like some shenanigans were afoot.
ROBERT: Really? Afoot and shenanigans in the same sentence. If I wasn’t dead, this guy would be the end of me. I can’t really think of any clues in this room. I better get out of the way. Oh, I guess I don’t really have to since I’m a ghost.
JIMMY: Well, let’s have a look around. (Picks up the book) Smut! Typical. (Moves the comforter back) Yeesh. DNA. That’s probably due to the shenanigans. (Opens the nightstand drawer and finds a receipt) Well, well, well, a receipt for that dirty book bought with the credit card of Dorothy Mitchell.
ROBERT: A receipt with Dorothy’s name on it in her bedroom in her house for a book that she bought and is currently reading. Seems suspicious to me.
JIMMY: Well, other than a poor taste in reading material, I suppose there aren’t any clues here. That doesn’t rule out Ms. Mitchell as a suspect. This is her house after all. And Fin Man didn’t mention her in his Emmy speech. I remember her tearing around town as mad as a hornet after that. Yep, she had home field advantage if she wanted to off him.
ROBERT: Yes, Jimmy. I’ve been offed. I can’t believe he knew she was mad about the Emmy speech. I guess we’ll see if she’s the culprit. You know, wine sounded pretty good. There are some refreshments for you all in the kitchen. If you will head back there, you can grab something sweet and a drink. While you’re there, you can vote for who you think is the murderer.
INTERMISSION
SCENE V
All the “living” actors will begin to interact with the audience to get them back in the frame of mind to finish the play. Emma, Dorothy, Marcia, and Jimmy will mingle with the audience when it is time for Scene 5 to begin. Ad lib as needed, but be sure to act like nothing is wrong.
EMMA: I seem to have dropped my handkerchief here somewhere. Have you seen it? If anyone finds a small white handkerchief, would you let me know? (Answer if someone says the cop picked it up.) What in Hades would the police want with my flippin’ handkerchief?
DOROTHY: (Enters from outside. She is carrying a big bottle of wine) Oh, good heavens! Did Robert go and invite all y’all over? I will tan that boy’s hide. You’re not using the good China are you? God invented coasters for a reason, honey. Good thing I bought a big bottle of wine. I’m off to find Robert.
MARCIA: (Storms in, walks up to Jimmy, and makes a big production so people will pay attention) Okay idiot, why did you get your captain to pull me over and bring me here? I have better places I need to be.
JIMMY: Marcia, I brought you here because I need to have a talk with you.
MARCIA: Well, I don’t have time for this!
JIMMY: You better! I think you might have murdered Robert Finley this evening.
MARCIA: WHAT?
JIMMY: That’s right. I think you need to go sit on the couch. Emma, Dorothy, I need you in there too. Just sit down and be quiet. (Notices the audience) Well, come on. All of you better witness this too. I’m sniffing out a killer.
In the living room, Dorothy, Marcia and Emma sit on the sofa occasionally glaring at each other. Jimmy has his evidence bags out and is pacing back and forth as the audience gets settled. Robert enters.
ROBERT: (To audience) Okay! Now we’re going to get to the bottom of this. Hopefully Columbo there has figured it out or at the very least asked someone else who figured it out for him.
JIMMY: All right then. Ladies, we have a little problem. It seems Mr. Robert Finley met with an unpleasant accident this evening. He was murdered right here in this house.
ALL 3: Ad lib, I didn’t kill him, He kind of deserved it, Not Robert, etc.
EMMA: What the flip happened?
JIMMY: Shot in the back. Now, you’re all suspects. I want you to cooperate with me so we can figure out who did this. Marcia, you were skipping town so that makes you a little more of a suspect. Luckily I called the captain and he stopped you before you got too far.
MARCIA: I wasn’t skipping town. I was just going to Tulsa.
JIMMY: I’ll be the judge of that.
EMMA: Technically a judge should be the judge of that, Jimmy.
JIMMY: I don’t want to hear any smarty pants comments from you, little girl.
DOROTHY: Do NOT call her a little girl. That chaps my hide when one of you men call a grown woman “little girl.” I’ll see to it you get reprimanded for that.
EMMA: Thank you, Dorothy.
DOROTHY: You’re welcome, dear.
JIMMY: Both of you shut up! I’m trying to wrap up a crime here!
MARCIA: Go ahead, Jimmy. I’m listening.
JIMMY: Thank you, but don’t try to suck up to me. You’re still a suspect.
DOROTHY: (Aside) Prime suspect.
MARCIA: Shut up, old lady!
DOROTHY: I am NOT old, you little gold digger!
JIMMY: HUSH! You three are going to make me get mad in a minute. You won’t like it when I’m mad.
EMMA: Hulk get mad.
JIMMY: I’m letting that one go because we need to get on with this interrogation.
ROBERT: Finally! I bet Marcia did it…or Emma…maybe Dorothy. Ugh! Now they’ve got me confused. Get on with it Jimmy.
JIMMY: Okay, let’s get on with this. Dorothy, this is your house. You had motive to kill Robert didn’t you?
ROBERT: She sure did.
DOROTHY: I would never harm Robert. He was very important to me. I taught him dialog and sentence structure. He was also…well, he was important to me.
JIMMY: He was also what?
DOROTHY: Nothing. Just important.
JIMMY: No you were about to say something else. What else was he to you?
DOROTHY: He was…he was my lover.
MARCIA: WHAT? EMMA: What the eff?
MARCIA: You and Robert? You and Robert?
EMMA: Ha ha! You and Robert. Awesome!
DOROTHY: Yes. It just happened one night at a rehearsal for one of his plays. He was playing the lead and I was playing a neighbor and we…just…kissed.
MARCIA: You and Robert?
DOROTHY: Oh it is NOT so difficult to believe that Robert and I were intimate.
JIMMY: So that means you had even more motive to kill him because he didn’t mention you in his Emmy speech.
DOROTHY: How do you know about that?
JIMMY: You told everyone who would listen and some who wouldn’t that he was in big trouble if he ever showed his face around here again.
DOROTHY: That was just after the show aired. I calmed down.
MARCIA: She totally did it.
DOROTHY: I did not.
JIMMY: I’ll decide if she’s the one I’m arresting tonight.
EMMA: Shouldn’t we have lawyers present for this?
JIMMY: Quiet you! So Dorothy could easily have been the assailant. But then there’s Marcia. Cheerleader in high school but never captain. Latched onto Fin Man after he made a name for himself in Hollywood.
MARCIA: Don’t call him that. He hated that nickname.
ROBERT: Wow. She actually listened to me sometimes.
JIMMY: Maybe you found out about Robert and Dorothy’s hanky-panky and decided to do something about it. Or you were just plain jealous of him and Emma. They seem pretty buddy-buddy don’t you think?
MARCIA: Duh, genius. He was my ticket to fame and fortune. Why would I kill him? I may have killed either one of these two, but I wouldn’t kill the guy I was going to eventually marry.
EMMA: Marry? You were freaking arm candy to him. He didn’t love you, you flipping hooper.
MARCIA: You’re totally weird! And yes, he did love me.
ROBERT: Not really.
JIMMY: So you could have killed him out of jealousy. The green eyed monster has taken over more people than I can name. This brings us to Emma. Emma, Emma, Emma.
EMMA: What, what, what?
JIMMY: It seems like you lost the most because of Fin Man.
EMMA: He hated that nickname.
JIMMY: Well, he’s not here to stop me from saying it, is he?
ROBERT: (Runs his fingers over the back of Jimmy’s head) I’m not here huh?
JIMMY: (Shivers and looks around wide eyed) What the heck was that?
EMMA: Maybe it was Robert’s ghost.
JIMMY: Don’t say things like that! There’s no such thing as ghosts.
EMMA: That’s your opinion.
JIMMY: Anyway, you got ripped off for a lot of money since he didn’t put you on the scripts with him. I bet that made you really mad, didn’t it?
EMMA: Of course it did.
JIMMY: It made you mad enough to kill him didn’t it?
EMMA: Of course it did.
JIMMY: Did it feel good to finally get revenge on Robert?
EMMA: Of course it did.
JIMMY: So you admit to killing Robert Finley in this house?
EMMA: Of course it did.
JIMMY: (Pause) What is that supposed to mean?
EMMA: Of course it did.
DOROTHY: Oh dear. That poor girl cracked her coconut.
MARCIA: I’m scared.
JIMMY: All right. Emma Fields, you have the right…
EMMA: (Jumps up holding a hairbrush like a gun) Nobody flipping move! All right, duck faces. You saps are going to stay right where you are and I’m going to casually walk my happy hiney right out the front door. You’re never going to see me again, b-heads. (No one moves as Emma slowly and quietly makes her way out the door.)
DOROTHY: She was pointing a hairbrush at us.
JIMMY: It’s best not to spook a person holding a weapon.
DOROTHY: It was a hairbrush!
ROBERT: Well, I know who did it, but she escaped.
MARCIA: Aren’t you going to go after her?
JIMMY: I don’t need to. We’ve had the house surrounded for the last twenty minutes. She’s on her way to the hoosegow right now.
ROBERT: Suddenly he’s in a film noir movie. Who has said hoosegow in the last sixty years?
JIMMY: (Semi-sympathetically) You ladies are free to go. I’m sorry for your loss. Have a nice evening.
MARCIA: Fat chance of that.
DOROTHY: I just got a good bottle of wine. You want to split it?
MARCIA: Yeah. (They stand and move toward the kitchen) You and Robert?
DOROTHY: Oh give it a rest, honey. (Exit)
JIMMY: Well…my work here is done. (Looks around a little scared) Hey, ghost of Fin Man, sorry you’re dead. (Exits quickly)
ROBERT: So Emma pulled the trigger. I don’t know whether to be mad or sad. It’s too late for me to say I’m sorry to everybody one more time. You know, I bet I could have a lot of fun if I stayed and haunted this house. I suppose I’ll move on though. I’m sure there’s a nicer place than this waiting for me. I hope everyone had fun trying to figure out all of this with me. Just remember, never miss an opportunity to be good to each other. Have a good night. (Exits)
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“I Haven’t A Clue” was first performed in a large house on the shores of Grand Lake in Oklahoma. It was, in part, a small fund raiser. During the intermission, the three actresses carried night gowns of one of the other women trying to convince patrons that the other woman was the culprit. Each audience member could toss a dollar into a sewn nightgown to vote for the woman that they think committed the murder. There was a lot of improvised banter between the actresses as they hurled insults and gave reasons why one of the other women did it. Although the set-up is for a house, I originally had a backup plan to have it in a theater. For that staging, the three women would all be on stage from the beginning of the show, in their “rooms” waiting for their scene. Through light manipulation, each scene would transpire, fade out and the next scene would fade in. Jimmy would be the only actor entering and exiting.
By Jonathan Elmore with Ashley Davidson
Characters
Robert Finley – Writer, Ghost
Emma Fields – Robert’s writing partner
Marcia Harrison – Robert’s girlfriend
Dorothy Mitchell – Robert’s benefactor
Jimmy Crantz – Local detective
SCENE I
Lights up
In a den, library or sitting room, a man, Robert Finley, sits on a desk next to a body that is slumped in a chair. The body is facing away from the audience. The men are wearing the same clothes because they are the same man. The man has been killed. The ghost is barefoot. Keep in mind that during the scenes, everyone is to ignore the ghost in the room. However, the ghost’s gestures should influence Jimmy’s gestures. Only during scenario reenactments are characters to engage with Robert.
ROBERT: (To audience) Well, this is odd. I’ve never seen a dead body before. At least not one that hasn’t been neatly prepared, lying in repose in its casket. Even then, I’ve only seen my mother’s parents and my dad’s mom. Three dead people I’ve seen. And now, I’m the fourth. Yep. That’s me. Who else would have a great shirt like this one? No one, that’s who. (He gets up and walks around looking at objects while he walks.) See, I died right there in that chair. I’m not too sure what happened. I was having a smoke, blowing it out the window. Then, I hear a loud pop and the worst pain I’ve ever felt ripped through my spine. My eyes quickly lost focus. I couldn’t see who was standing there. Was anybody standing there? All I could do is stagger back over to the desk, sit in this really uncomfortable chair and pass out. I came to…or at least I thought I had. I stood up and tried to grab a pen so I could write down what had just happened. When I realized I couldn’t pick it up, I looked back at the chair and there I was. Dead. This big hole in my back and blood everywhere. My blood. Who would do this to me? I haven’t a clue. Who even knew I was here? Well, three women knew I was here. Any one of them could have done it. I wasn’t exactly…honorable to any of them. I guess being a miserable bastard to people can catch up to you. Maybe you can give this ghost a break and tell me if you see anything. Oh, here come the cops. This should be interesting.
A self-important detective enters from behind the audience and walks through the middle of them if there is room, around if there isn’t. He is wearing latex gloves.
OFFICER JIMMY CRANTZ: All right, spread out. Break it up people. What’s seems to be the trouble? Well, well, well. A dead body. This is a little rare for around here. I usually deal with people stealing lawn mowers and parents discovering their ice chest full of beer mysteriously went missing. It’s always the teenagers who take ‘em. (He inspects the body.) Well, whatta we got here? Murder… Mur-daire …Murderino.
ROBERT: All right, Jimmy. Get on with it. (To audience) I’m surprised they sent this guy. I know him. He’s no detective. In high school, it once took him three days to find the stink that was following him around. Somebody put a fish in his backpack. Three days, this guy.
JIMMY: (To audience) Hmm. Seems a little suspicious that all y’all are here. Maybe y’all are witnesses…or suspects. (He snaps his latex glove.) You look a little shifty, sir. I’m keeping my eyes on you. (Does the two fingers from my eyes to your eyes gesture.)
Robert walks to Jimmy
ROBERT: You should take a look at that open window.
JIMMY: Hey, that window’s open. I should take a look. Weather’s been weird lately. I can’t imagine anyone leaving a window open. (He walks over to the window and quickly looks.) Hmm, nothing here. (He turns to leave.)
ROBERT: (Robert tries to slap him but can’t since he’s a ghost).You missed something!
JIMMY: (Shudders) Hm. It kind of feels like I missed something.
ROBERT: You would have felt a lot more than that if that slap had connected.
JIMMY: (Grabs an evidence bag from his pocket. He picks up a cigarette butt with lipstick on it from the window sill.) Well, unless ol’ dead guy here was a little fruity and wore lipstick, then I’d say we’ve got a woman as suspect number one.
ROBERT: (To Audience) See? I told you.
JIMMY: (He looks at dead Robert) I guess I should find out who you are before I try to figure out who killed you. (He gets the wallet from Robert’s back pocket.) Robert Finley. (Pondering) Robert Finley. Oh, Fin Man from high school!
ROBERT: I hated that nickname.
JIMMY: Wow! Fin Man murdered in our little town. What’s his mom going to think? When did he get back in town? I better call his girlfriend. (He takes out his phone, but rethinks the call.) Mmm, better wait to see what other clues come up. Who knows, she may have been the one that iced him.
ROBERT: Iced him? He watches too much television. I don’t think it could have been Marcia, but she was pretty mad earlier. Her dad is ex-CIA so she could have grabbed a gun from his mini arsenal. She’s kind of a sweet girl but I was going behind her back in more ways than one. Tell you what, why don’t all of you follow me into the kitchen and you can see what I’m talking about. Our conversation-slash- argument was a little heated and she did threaten to kill me. I just thought she was just being dramatic as usual. You can see for yourself that may not be the case. Everybody follow me.
SCENE II
Robert leads everyone into the kitchen where Marcia is finishing a glass of red wine. There is another glass on the counter waiting for Robert. Make sure audience is all present.
ROBERT: (To audience) Okay everyone, this is Marcia. She is or was my girlfriend. I met her in high school, but we didn’t start seeing each other until I got famous. She uses me to get money and notoriety. I use her because…because I can, I guess. I wasn’t a ladies man growing up and when she asked me out I knew it was because I was a Hollywood script writer. That’s fine. I’m not super famous, but I’m certainly more famous than anyone she’d ever get. (To Marcia) I thought you said you were going to be in Tulsa this weekend. (It can be a different city near you.)
MARCIA: I’m still going. I might just stay there for a week or a month.
ROBERT: Tulsa for a month. I’d like to see you try that. You could shop every store in the whole city in about ten days. Then what would you do?
MARCIA: I’d think of something. All I know is I don’t want to see you for a while
ROBERT: Why? What have I done to you?
MARCIA: Oh, I don’t know. Emma? Dorothy Mitchell?
ROBERT: (He’s been caught, but doesn’t want her to see it.) Those are nice ladies. What about them? (Downs the wine)
MARCIA: What about them? WHAT ABOUT THEM? Do you think you could go behind my back with that little hussy Emma and not think I wouldn’t find out? It’s a small world, Robert. The walls have eyes.
ROBERT: Emma isn’t…
MARCIA: And let’s not forget about fancy pants Dorothy. She seems a little too familiar with you.
ROBERT: Dorothy isn’t…
MARCIA: Dorothy isn’t what? I know she has funded your lifestyle since you were fresh out of high school. That seems like a long time for an old woman to be cozying up to a man half her age.
ROBERT: She’s only eighteen years older than I am. Sure, when I was eighteen, she was twice my age, but now I’m thirty-five and she’s (counts in his head) fifty-three. It’s not that big a deal.
MARCIA: Not that big a deal?! Just what is your purpose for staying in contact with her? She’s not still paying for all of your projects is she?
ROBERT: No, I fund all my own projects now. She helped me get started as a serious writer and we became friends. She did produce all the plays that I wrote for the community theatre. She’s a wealthy patron that gave a young guy a helping…hand. That’s all. You’re jealous of her for no reason.
MARCIA: Well, you’re mine and I don’t want anyone else messing with you. I know you would never sleep with her or anything. But I just don’t like the idea of you being some woman’s page boy.
ROBERT: Yeah, I wouldn’t sleep with her, honey. I mean, even though she’s an attractive older woman, she was just admiring a rising talent. That’s all.
MARCIA: So you think she’s attractive?
ROBERT: Yes, dear. Just like I think your aunt Opal is attractive. You understand that don’t you? People can be attractive can’t they? It doesn’t mean I need to…see them naked once a week.
MARCIA: They can’t be attractive if they’re going to hang around you.
ROBERT: Great. So I’m doomed to a life of vagabonds and ugly people as my friends.
MARCIA: Don’t be silly. All of my friends are good looking. I’ve just told them that if they look at you the wrong way, I’ll scratch their eyes out.
ROBERT: Jealousy isn’t very flattering. It’s ugly. So is that it?
MARCIA: I haven’t even covered the Emma issue yet! Your “writing partner”? Was she also your “pillow partner”?
ROBERT: Pillow partner? What the hell does that even mean?
MARCIA: Admit it! You were writing and screwing, writing and screwing.
ROBERT: That is so not true! You knew her in high school. She was an odd girl, but one day I asked her why she was crying and we had a great conversation. It turns out we like a lot of the same things. But seriously, she and I are just friends and writing partners. And, since we moved to California, I don’t even talk to her anymore. She’s comfortable in her life with her boyfriend and little teacup pig. Cute pig, ugly boyfriend.
MARCIA: I don’t care if she has a fleet of pigs and a harem of boyfriends. You’ve been sleeping with her and I will kill her for seducing you.
ROBERT: You mean a herd of pigs, or a drove of…Wait, what? You would kill her instead of me? That is, if we were sleeping together, which we’re not. You’re way off base. Again, you’re jealous for no reason.
MARCIA: Oh, no. It’s for a reason. (With a stabbing motion onto the counter) And I would kill you right after I killed her!
ROBERT: (Aside to audience) Ooh! That’s the part I wanted you to see. (Mocking tone) “I would kill you right after I killed her.” Suspect number one, right here. (To Marcia) Well, you can get those thoughts out of your head. We write together. (Sadly) Wrote together. As far as I know, she doesn’t care about me in the least.
MARCIA: When was the last time you saw her?
ROBERT: About a year ago.
MARCIA: When was the last time you talked to her?
ROBERT: I…well…I called her this morning.
MARCIA: What?
ROBERT: I wanted to tell her I was in town. I treated her poorly and needed to clear things up with her.
MARCIA: I don’t trust her. And I’m not in the mood to trust you either. I’m going to Tulsa now.
ROBERT: I’ll call ahead and warn them you’re coming.
MARCIA: Not funny, Robert. You say what you need to say to her and send her packing. She’s no good. I’ll see you again when I feel like it.
ROBERT: Have a safe drive.
MARCIA: Get bent. (Exits)
ROBERT: (To audience) Did you see the way she talked to me? She totally could have killed me. She even said she would! You heard it! That makes me think she did it. But then there is still Dorothy and Emma to think about. My conversations with them really didn’t go much better. I just don’t know. Ah, here comes Barney Fife.
JIMMY: Let’s see what we have here. No dishes in the sink. That seems weird.
ROBERT: Geez, Jimmy. What does your house look like?
JIMMY: It looks like this oven has never even had a pizza in it. I guess you can afford to have pizza delivered when you live in a swank place like this. Oh, looky here, two wine glasses.
ROBERT: Impressive. He can count.
JIMMY: (Looks closely at the glasses) These both have fingerprints. I’ll have to bag ‘em. (He takes his time getting the first glass into an evidence bag.)
ROBERT: No reason to rush, Jimmy. You’re only trying to solve a murder. You should notice that one of those glasses has lipstick on it.
JIMMY: Oh ho ho! Lipstick again. (He pulls the bag from his pocket with the cigarette butt. He holds it up to the wine glass.) That’s strange. This is a different color of lipstick than the cigarette. Think, Jimbo, think.
ROBERT: (Long pause) Really? It’s a different woman, Jimmy.
JIMMY: Dang! I’ll bet this is a different woman’s lipstick.
ROBERT: I’ll never find out who killed me.
JIMMY: You’re a rock star, Jimmy. (He puts the second glass in an evidence bag) Suspect number two...in the bag. (He notices the audience, takes the glass with the lipstick to a woman that has lipstick on and holds up the glass to compare her lipstick to the lipstick on the glass.) Hold still please. Not quite the same color. You are not a suspect ma’am. Not yet anyway.
ROBERT: This investigation isn’t going well. I’m going to have to step up my end of it and guide this moron to more clues. My next argument of the evening came in the form of an angry little woman that I once called my writing partner. She came here about twenty minutes after Marcia left. Good thing they didn’t meet out on the driveway. It would have been an ugly cat fight. I would have totally gotten video of that though. Emma and I had our “chat” in the living room. I thought a comfy sofa would ease her mood about me stealing from her. Follow me and see that it didn’t help, even a little bit.
Robert leads the audience into the living room.
SCENE III
Emma sits on a sofa. She is fidgeting and nervous. She rummages through her purse while Robert is talking. When Robert is nearly finished talking, she takes out a pack of cigarettes, takes one out, finds her lighter and tries to light it, but the lighter won’t work. See Robert’s first words to Emma to time this just right.
ROBERT: If everyone is settled, then I’ll make the introductions. Dear friends, this is Emma. As you can see she isn’t what you might call a social butterfly, but she’s as smart and funny as they come. Smart, funny and completely mental. That’s Emma. She cried during every episode of Little House on the Prairie. She did not cry when her father passed away. Maybe Laura Ingles Wilder was more lovable than her father ever was. In any case, she doesn’t show much emotion, until she shows all of it at the same time which is what we had earlier this evening. Her ranting is a little hard to follow, but just remember that she’s spent the last year watching me be a success with our scripts. Not really proud of that. (Big exhale) Well, let’s relive this again. Shall we? (He sits next to Emma on the sofa)
ROBERT: (To Emma) T here’s no smoking in this house dear. The owner would go ballistic.
EMMA: Then she can go ballistic! I need a flippin’ cigarette. I’m nervous as heck to talk to you and I need to calm the eff down.
ROBERT: (Aside) Oh, I should mention, Emma took a personal oath not to swear anymore. It was an idea from a self-improvement book she read. Every time she used a curse word while we were together, she told me to point it out and she would put a wooden clothes pin on her tongue for thirty seconds. If you’ve never done that, it’s painful. Now you have to decipher her sentences because of so many…un-cuss words. (To Emma) (Takes her cigarette with lipstick on it and puts it in his pocket) No smoking, Emma. Now why are you so nervous? I should be the one who’s nervous. I’m the one that cheated you out of so much.
EMMA: (Sing-song response) Everything!
ROBERT: What?
EMMA: (Said exactly the same as last time) Everything! You cheated me out of everything. I hate you. (With a finger slice across the throat motion) I wish you were dead. (She begins to cry, takes out a handkerchief, dries her eyes and tucks it under her leg to be found later)
ROBERT: (Looks to the audience, points at Emma) See, suspect number two. (To Emma) I’m not surprised you hate me. I would hate me too for what I did. I wasn’t thinking. I sent in one of the scripts and…
EMMA: Our scripts. OUR bleepin’ scripts!
ROBERT: Yes, our scripts. I sent one in and they loved it. They called me and said they wanted me out in California the next day to work out the details of buying the script. You were visiting your mom in Dallas at the time. I got so caught up in the moment, I forgot to include you.
EMMA: And the years’ worth of moments after that? Did I slip your mind then too? I hate you! I wish you were dead.
ROBERT: (Looks at audience and holds up two fingers, mouths the word “two”, then points to Emma) I guess I just let greed get in the way of doing the right thing. They were doting over me like I was the new Shakespeare and…
EMMA: HA! Shakespeare!? Shakespeare’s sister wrote his plays just like I wrote our scripts.
ROBERT: Shakespeare’s sister did not write his…Hey! I wrote those scripts too. We wrote them together!
EMMA: And guess whose name is on television when they run the credits. Robert Finley. NOT Robert Finley and Emma Fields. JUST Robert emmer effing Finley!
ROBERT: Listen, Emma, you were my best friend before I screwed everything up. If I told the studio that we need to add your name to all the script credits, would that make you happier?
EMMA: Can you do that?
ROBERT: I will do that.
EMMA: Will you give me your Mercedes convertible?
ROBERT: My…my Mercedes? Uh…
EMMA: That would go a long way to making all of this up to me.
ROBERT: Well, I don’t…
EMMA: FINE! The deal is off, a-hole. (She gets up and starts to leave) I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with a flipping b-faced hose beast a-hole effing liar anymore!
ROBERT: B-faced? Wait, Emma. Don’t leave mad. How about I give you all the money you need to get your own custom Mercedes?
EMMA: What I really want is to steal yours like you stole my words. Good-bye. (Exits and reenters) Will you put my name on all of the shows?
ROBERT: Yes I will, Emma. I do love you even if I was an idiot.
EMMA: That’s fine. Call me and we can make arrangements about the car. (Exits)
ROBERT: Man, I hate conversations like that. They don’t start well. They don’t end well. The middle part isn’t something that makes you jump for joy. Her non-cursing has gotten worse, something about a flipping b-face. She lost me on that one. In any case, she is suspect number two. No doubt about it. As the night has proven, our good friend Jimmy the cop shouldn’t be far behind…ah, and there he is.
JIMMY: This room kinda looks like something may have gone on in it. Possibly nefarious.
ROBERT: HA! He has no idea what nefarious means. (Pause) It means wicked or villainous for those who forgot your dictionaries. And congratulations to Jimmy for figuring out that “things” may have happened in someone’s living room.
JIMMY: (Sniffs the air) I smell perfume. I kinda recognize it from somewhere.
ROBERT: (Perplexed) I don’t smell anything. How can the backpack fish guy smell something that I don’t?
JIMMY: Whew! Whoever was in here wore enough perfume that I’ll bet the dead guy in there could smell it.
ROBERT: Oh! I’m dead. I don’t smell it now, but now that he mentions it, Emma was wearing her favorite perfume. She always wore (Said like a seductive perfume commercial) Impetuous, a bright fragrance with hints of lilies, vanilla, and bug spray. Jimmy should remember that smell. In high school, a few of us guys stole Emma’s bottle out of her purse and were spritzing it on lower classmen. Poor Jimmy accidently got a shot of it in his mouth. He gagged and spit for about twenty minutes, but he couldn’t wash the taste out of his mouth for days.
JIMMY: I need to take a load off. This clue finding business can wear a man out. (He sits on the sofa, takes out an evidence bag full of peanuts and begins to eat out of it.) Swank living here, boy. Hell, I bet this couch cost more than my truck.
ROBERT: That’s probably pretty accurate Jimmy. While you’re enjoying peanuts from what I hope is a clean evidence bag, you might notice the small handkerchief you just sat on.
JIMMY: (He spots the handkerchief) Hot dog! Another clue! (He picks it up and starts to put it in an evidence bag.) Dang! Perfume again. Where do I know that smell from? Think, Jimbo.
ROBERT: High school. Emma. Mouthful of perfume.
JIMMY: (Sniffs it again) Oh, snap! That’s from high school. (Sniffs again) Double snap! That’s the perfume those S.O.B.’s shot in my mouth. (He gets a sick look on his face, but holds it back.) That was that loner chick’s perfume. She was hot, but she scared the hell out of me. What was her name?
ROBERT: EMMA!
JIMMY: Sabrina?
ROBERT: Sabri…EMMA!
JIMMY: Emily?
ROBERT: Closer, numbskull. EMMA!
JIMMY: Em…Emm….Emmmmm
ROBERT: Please say it. You’re killing me. Well…
JIMMY: Emma!
ROBERT: (Breathes a sigh of relief) Oh, thank God.
JIMMY: Emma Fields if I remember right. What in the world would she be doing in this house? (Gets up and puts his peanuts in his pocket) This is getting weird.
ROBERT: I think it got weird about an hour ago, Jimmy.
JIMMY: I suppose I should write down all of this evidence I’ve been finding. I’ll head back to the scene of the crime. There’s a desk in there. (Exits)
ROBERT: Observant as always, Jimmy. (To audience) This whole thing shouldn’t be getting on my nerves this much because I’m…dead. I guess I’m just anxious to find out who pulled the trigger. There’s really only one other suspect to consider. This is her house we’re in, Dorothy Mitchell. I’ll introduce you to her. She’s originally from Texas and is usually the happiest person on earth. Tonight’s conversation…argument got her feathers ruffled. She wasn’t happy at all. For this one, everyone will have to follow me to the bedroom. Bear in mind she wasn’t dressed to entertain company other than me. She was still better dressed than most of the people you see in the grocery store these days. Follow me.
SCENE IV
Dorothy is propped up in bed reading a hardcover book. She is in elegant silk pajamas. Robert enters and sits down on the opposite side of the bed. Audience should all be in.
ROBERT: Okay folks. This is Dorothy. Like I said before, she was raised in Texas, I’m assuming by wild pumas. She’s soft and cuddly until you threaten her or her family, then the claws come out if she gets mad. I don’t think she was mad tonight, but it was pretty darn close. Our relationship was odd. She was my benefactor, mentor, spiritual advisor, and, once a week, my lover. She was a busy woman but always found time for me. She had dozens of meetings to go to like Rotary, Chamber of Commerce, city council, Bible study, Weight Watchers, and the theatre board. Her day off of meetings was Thursday. So I would come over and…further my writing career. (Deep sigh) Here goes!
ROBERT: (To Audience) This is what usually happened after we were intimate. I would lie here and think about new characters and situations to put in a script someday. She would read until she was sleepy and turn out the lights. Most of the time, I snuck out when I heard her snoring. She didn’t care. She was a terrible cook so it saved her from having to offer breakfast in the morning. (To Dorothy) That was particularly vivacious this evening. What’s going on?
DOROTHY: (Stops reading) Well, you know I don’t like to schedule anything on Thursdays.
ROBERT: Yeah
DOROTHY: Well, the theatre had an emergency meeting to figure out how to pay for a new air conditioner. Those people hemmed and hawed about it for an hour coming up with every kind of idea but a good one. Finally, I just said I’ll pay for the damn thing if we can end this meeting. I’ve got places to be. Honey, they looked at me like I was a snooty old broad tossing her money in their faces. I wasn’t doing that at all. It was my contribution to our theatre. They got mad because why? Because I’m a take action woman with a little extra money in my bank account?
ROBERT: Sounds like it.
DOROTHY: I’ve neither the time nor the patience for indecision. Plus, I needed to get back here to get some TLC from you.
ROBERT: I’m glad you did, but that one thing made you so…aggressive?
DOROTHY: Oh no, honey, that just got my blood up a little. The real kicker was I came home and saw two wine glasses in the kitchen. One with lipstick that wasn’t mine. (Robert gets uncomfortable) Then I went to get my book from the living room and smelled perfume that I know your sweet little girlfriend doesn’t wear. Was it your crazy little writing partner?
ROBERT: Yes.
DOROTHY: Damn it, honey! Two women in my house that are competing for your attention and you let them in? Into my house?
ROBERT: I wasn’t expecting Marcia and I asked Emma to come. I needed to apologize to her for stealing scripts.
DOROTHY: So, she gets an apology for not sticking up for herself and letting you walk all over her and I get nothing.
ROBERT: What?
DOROTHY: She should have defended her right to those scripts. You snooze you lose as far as I’m concerned. What she didn’t do for you is support you for eight years while you honed your writing skills. She didn’t teach you to use language more fluidly. She didn’t teach you how women with character speak. She didn’t have sex with you once a week…did she?
ROBERT: No ma’am.
DOROTHY: What she didn’t do for you, I did. And when I was watching the Emmys this year and you won your award for Outstanding Writing in a Comedy Series, who did you thank? Marcia, Emma, your mother and father…and? No Dorothy Mitchell! Not one hint that I helped you all those years. Not one! How do you think that made me feel? (With a finger and thumb gun shooting at him) I wanted to kill you!
ROBERT: (Looks surprised. To audience) That’s the part I was waiting to show you. I wanted to kill you. Suspect number three, ladies and gentlemen.
DOROTHY: I suppose the combination of all that pent up anger about the Emmys, the theater board meeting, and noticing two of your little friends in my house was enough to bring out the cougar in me.
ROBERT: (Laughs) Cougar
DOROTHY: Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I hate that word when it isn’t used for a wild cat. It’s just shameful the way those women act calling themselves a cougar.
ROBERT: I agree. Will you forgive me about the Emmy speech? I was so nervous that I forgot a lot of people I was supposed to thank.
DOROTHY: But I was the most important one of all! I can’t be in this bed with you right now. I’m going to go have some wine. (She gets out of bed to leave) Oh, that’s right. Your little girlfriend drank it all.
ROBERT: I’m sorry, Dorothy.
DOROTHY: I swear I’ll smack her if I see her. Now I have to go to the wine shop. (She puts on a long coat.) They better be open or this wild cat is going to unleash on you when I get back. (Exits)
ROBERT: Yet another conversation I didn’t want to have. I think three arguments is my limit for one night.
JIMMY: Aha! A messy bed! Looks like some shenanigans were afoot.
ROBERT: Really? Afoot and shenanigans in the same sentence. If I wasn’t dead, this guy would be the end of me. I can’t really think of any clues in this room. I better get out of the way. Oh, I guess I don’t really have to since I’m a ghost.
JIMMY: Well, let’s have a look around. (Picks up the book) Smut! Typical. (Moves the comforter back) Yeesh. DNA. That’s probably due to the shenanigans. (Opens the nightstand drawer and finds a receipt) Well, well, well, a receipt for that dirty book bought with the credit card of Dorothy Mitchell.
ROBERT: A receipt with Dorothy’s name on it in her bedroom in her house for a book that she bought and is currently reading. Seems suspicious to me.
JIMMY: Well, other than a poor taste in reading material, I suppose there aren’t any clues here. That doesn’t rule out Ms. Mitchell as a suspect. This is her house after all. And Fin Man didn’t mention her in his Emmy speech. I remember her tearing around town as mad as a hornet after that. Yep, she had home field advantage if she wanted to off him.
ROBERT: Yes, Jimmy. I’ve been offed. I can’t believe he knew she was mad about the Emmy speech. I guess we’ll see if she’s the culprit. You know, wine sounded pretty good. There are some refreshments for you all in the kitchen. If you will head back there, you can grab something sweet and a drink. While you’re there, you can vote for who you think is the murderer.
INTERMISSION
SCENE V
All the “living” actors will begin to interact with the audience to get them back in the frame of mind to finish the play. Emma, Dorothy, Marcia, and Jimmy will mingle with the audience when it is time for Scene 5 to begin. Ad lib as needed, but be sure to act like nothing is wrong.
EMMA: I seem to have dropped my handkerchief here somewhere. Have you seen it? If anyone finds a small white handkerchief, would you let me know? (Answer if someone says the cop picked it up.) What in Hades would the police want with my flippin’ handkerchief?
DOROTHY: (Enters from outside. She is carrying a big bottle of wine) Oh, good heavens! Did Robert go and invite all y’all over? I will tan that boy’s hide. You’re not using the good China are you? God invented coasters for a reason, honey. Good thing I bought a big bottle of wine. I’m off to find Robert.
MARCIA: (Storms in, walks up to Jimmy, and makes a big production so people will pay attention) Okay idiot, why did you get your captain to pull me over and bring me here? I have better places I need to be.
JIMMY: Marcia, I brought you here because I need to have a talk with you.
MARCIA: Well, I don’t have time for this!
JIMMY: You better! I think you might have murdered Robert Finley this evening.
MARCIA: WHAT?
JIMMY: That’s right. I think you need to go sit on the couch. Emma, Dorothy, I need you in there too. Just sit down and be quiet. (Notices the audience) Well, come on. All of you better witness this too. I’m sniffing out a killer.
In the living room, Dorothy, Marcia and Emma sit on the sofa occasionally glaring at each other. Jimmy has his evidence bags out and is pacing back and forth as the audience gets settled. Robert enters.
ROBERT: (To audience) Okay! Now we’re going to get to the bottom of this. Hopefully Columbo there has figured it out or at the very least asked someone else who figured it out for him.
JIMMY: All right then. Ladies, we have a little problem. It seems Mr. Robert Finley met with an unpleasant accident this evening. He was murdered right here in this house.
ALL 3: Ad lib, I didn’t kill him, He kind of deserved it, Not Robert, etc.
EMMA: What the flip happened?
JIMMY: Shot in the back. Now, you’re all suspects. I want you to cooperate with me so we can figure out who did this. Marcia, you were skipping town so that makes you a little more of a suspect. Luckily I called the captain and he stopped you before you got too far.
MARCIA: I wasn’t skipping town. I was just going to Tulsa.
JIMMY: I’ll be the judge of that.
EMMA: Technically a judge should be the judge of that, Jimmy.
JIMMY: I don’t want to hear any smarty pants comments from you, little girl.
DOROTHY: Do NOT call her a little girl. That chaps my hide when one of you men call a grown woman “little girl.” I’ll see to it you get reprimanded for that.
EMMA: Thank you, Dorothy.
DOROTHY: You’re welcome, dear.
JIMMY: Both of you shut up! I’m trying to wrap up a crime here!
MARCIA: Go ahead, Jimmy. I’m listening.
JIMMY: Thank you, but don’t try to suck up to me. You’re still a suspect.
DOROTHY: (Aside) Prime suspect.
MARCIA: Shut up, old lady!
DOROTHY: I am NOT old, you little gold digger!
JIMMY: HUSH! You three are going to make me get mad in a minute. You won’t like it when I’m mad.
EMMA: Hulk get mad.
JIMMY: I’m letting that one go because we need to get on with this interrogation.
ROBERT: Finally! I bet Marcia did it…or Emma…maybe Dorothy. Ugh! Now they’ve got me confused. Get on with it Jimmy.
JIMMY: Okay, let’s get on with this. Dorothy, this is your house. You had motive to kill Robert didn’t you?
ROBERT: She sure did.
DOROTHY: I would never harm Robert. He was very important to me. I taught him dialog and sentence structure. He was also…well, he was important to me.
JIMMY: He was also what?
DOROTHY: Nothing. Just important.
JIMMY: No you were about to say something else. What else was he to you?
DOROTHY: He was…he was my lover.
MARCIA: WHAT? EMMA: What the eff?
MARCIA: You and Robert? You and Robert?
EMMA: Ha ha! You and Robert. Awesome!
DOROTHY: Yes. It just happened one night at a rehearsal for one of his plays. He was playing the lead and I was playing a neighbor and we…just…kissed.
MARCIA: You and Robert?
DOROTHY: Oh it is NOT so difficult to believe that Robert and I were intimate.
JIMMY: So that means you had even more motive to kill him because he didn’t mention you in his Emmy speech.
DOROTHY: How do you know about that?
JIMMY: You told everyone who would listen and some who wouldn’t that he was in big trouble if he ever showed his face around here again.
DOROTHY: That was just after the show aired. I calmed down.
MARCIA: She totally did it.
DOROTHY: I did not.
JIMMY: I’ll decide if she’s the one I’m arresting tonight.
EMMA: Shouldn’t we have lawyers present for this?
JIMMY: Quiet you! So Dorothy could easily have been the assailant. But then there’s Marcia. Cheerleader in high school but never captain. Latched onto Fin Man after he made a name for himself in Hollywood.
MARCIA: Don’t call him that. He hated that nickname.
ROBERT: Wow. She actually listened to me sometimes.
JIMMY: Maybe you found out about Robert and Dorothy’s hanky-panky and decided to do something about it. Or you were just plain jealous of him and Emma. They seem pretty buddy-buddy don’t you think?
MARCIA: Duh, genius. He was my ticket to fame and fortune. Why would I kill him? I may have killed either one of these two, but I wouldn’t kill the guy I was going to eventually marry.
EMMA: Marry? You were freaking arm candy to him. He didn’t love you, you flipping hooper.
MARCIA: You’re totally weird! And yes, he did love me.
ROBERT: Not really.
JIMMY: So you could have killed him out of jealousy. The green eyed monster has taken over more people than I can name. This brings us to Emma. Emma, Emma, Emma.
EMMA: What, what, what?
JIMMY: It seems like you lost the most because of Fin Man.
EMMA: He hated that nickname.
JIMMY: Well, he’s not here to stop me from saying it, is he?
ROBERT: (Runs his fingers over the back of Jimmy’s head) I’m not here huh?
JIMMY: (Shivers and looks around wide eyed) What the heck was that?
EMMA: Maybe it was Robert’s ghost.
JIMMY: Don’t say things like that! There’s no such thing as ghosts.
EMMA: That’s your opinion.
JIMMY: Anyway, you got ripped off for a lot of money since he didn’t put you on the scripts with him. I bet that made you really mad, didn’t it?
EMMA: Of course it did.
JIMMY: It made you mad enough to kill him didn’t it?
EMMA: Of course it did.
JIMMY: Did it feel good to finally get revenge on Robert?
EMMA: Of course it did.
JIMMY: So you admit to killing Robert Finley in this house?
EMMA: Of course it did.
JIMMY: (Pause) What is that supposed to mean?
EMMA: Of course it did.
DOROTHY: Oh dear. That poor girl cracked her coconut.
MARCIA: I’m scared.
JIMMY: All right. Emma Fields, you have the right…
EMMA: (Jumps up holding a hairbrush like a gun) Nobody flipping move! All right, duck faces. You saps are going to stay right where you are and I’m going to casually walk my happy hiney right out the front door. You’re never going to see me again, b-heads. (No one moves as Emma slowly and quietly makes her way out the door.)
DOROTHY: She was pointing a hairbrush at us.
JIMMY: It’s best not to spook a person holding a weapon.
DOROTHY: It was a hairbrush!
ROBERT: Well, I know who did it, but she escaped.
MARCIA: Aren’t you going to go after her?
JIMMY: I don’t need to. We’ve had the house surrounded for the last twenty minutes. She’s on her way to the hoosegow right now.
ROBERT: Suddenly he’s in a film noir movie. Who has said hoosegow in the last sixty years?
JIMMY: (Semi-sympathetically) You ladies are free to go. I’m sorry for your loss. Have a nice evening.
MARCIA: Fat chance of that.
DOROTHY: I just got a good bottle of wine. You want to split it?
MARCIA: Yeah. (They stand and move toward the kitchen) You and Robert?
DOROTHY: Oh give it a rest, honey. (Exit)
JIMMY: Well…my work here is done. (Looks around a little scared) Hey, ghost of Fin Man, sorry you’re dead. (Exits quickly)
ROBERT: So Emma pulled the trigger. I don’t know whether to be mad or sad. It’s too late for me to say I’m sorry to everybody one more time. You know, I bet I could have a lot of fun if I stayed and haunted this house. I suppose I’ll move on though. I’m sure there’s a nicer place than this waiting for me. I hope everyone had fun trying to figure out all of this with me. Just remember, never miss an opportunity to be good to each other. Have a good night. (Exits)
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“I Haven’t A Clue” was first performed in a large house on the shores of Grand Lake in Oklahoma. It was, in part, a small fund raiser. During the intermission, the three actresses carried night gowns of one of the other women trying to convince patrons that the other woman was the culprit. Each audience member could toss a dollar into a sewn nightgown to vote for the woman that they think committed the murder. There was a lot of improvised banter between the actresses as they hurled insults and gave reasons why one of the other women did it. Although the set-up is for a house, I originally had a backup plan to have it in a theater. For that staging, the three women would all be on stage from the beginning of the show, in their “rooms” waiting for their scene. Through light manipulation, each scene would transpire, fade out and the next scene would fade in. Jimmy would be the only actor entering and exiting.