Episode Four
The Lion and the Adder – Episode Four – Transcript
SCENE 1
HAMPSTEAD HEATH. IT'S LASHING RAIN, THOUGH THE TREES KEEP THE WORST OF IT OFF THE PATH. NICHOLAS AND ROBIN SCHLEP THROUGH THE DOWNPOUR.
ROBIN: You're hogging the brolly.
NICHOLAS: I'm not hogging it. My whole other side's soaked.
ROBIN: Stop holding it up so high!
NICHOLAS: It's practically sitting on my head, Robin, what do you want from me?
ROBIN MAKES A DISGUSTED SOUND.
ROBIN: This is revolting.
NICHOLAS: (SIGHS) I know. It doesn't matter how many murders you see, it never gets any easier. You'd think you'd get used to it, a-and you do in a way - it's less surprising. But it's still horrible.
ROBIN: Oh. Yes. Beastly business.
THEY WALK ON A FEW STEPS.
NICHOLAS: You were talking about the rain.
ROBIN: I was talking about the rain. But I am extremely soothed to know such a spark of empathy nestles in your breast. If I ever get murdered, I shall feel all the better for it, knowing that you, at least, will feel the true weight of such a dreadful crime.
NICHOLAS: If you ever get murdered, you'll have been asking for it.
ROBIN LAUGHS.
EDWARDS: (OFF) Inspector! Over here!
NICHOLAS: (CALLING) Be right there.
ROBIN: Oh, of course it's off the path. They never dump them anywhere tidy, do they. My kingdom for a corpse upon clean concrete.
THEY STEP OFF THE PATH AND INTO THE SOPPING, SQUELCHING MUD, WALKING OVER TO THE CRIME SCENE. RODERICK AND A CLEANER ARE MOVING AROUND IN THE BACKGROUND TAKING PHOTOS WITH THE OCCASIONAL BURST OF FLASH POWDER.
RODERICK: (OFF) Mind the brolly! You're getting the powder wet.
CLEANER: (OFF) Sorry, Mr Roderick.
EDWARDS: Morning, sir. Mr Sylvester. Here you are.
SHE POURS THEM EACH A CUP OF WATER. THEY DRINK.
NICHOLAS: All clear. Fill us in.
ROBIN: Under the tarps. Fill us in, under the tarpaulin.
NICHOLAS: Roderick! Can you stand in for Edwards for a moment?
RODERICK: (OFF, BUT COMING CLOSER) I'm still photographing the scene- Oh! Good morning, Doctor Sylvester.
ROBIN: Uh. Good morning... you! (LAUGHS) How are things?
RODERICK: Wet!
HE LAUGHS, AND ROBIN GOES ALONG WITH IT.
ROBIN: Yes, there's no denying that. (MEANINGFULLY, AT NICHOLAS) The quicker we can get under the tarpaulin, the better.
NICHOLAS: Sorry, Roderick. You can finish up once Edwards has shown us the body.
RODERICK: Oh, it's no matter. Take your time. It really is such a pleasure to meet you again, Doctor Sylvester.
ROBIN: Ah, yes, ha. You too.
RODERICK: (OFF) Oh, stay on the matting, please! It'll help preserve the scene.
ROBIN: Righto!
THEY MOVE UNDER A TARPAULIN, OUT OF THE RAIN. NICHOLAS SHAKES OFF THE UMBRELLA AND CLOSES IT.
ROBIN: Oh, that's better. I can't think in the rain. It washes all the thoughts out.
NICHOLAS: Edwards. Take it away.
EDWARDS: He was found by a gentleman walking his dog, sir. He said the animal usually comes quick when it's called, but this morning it ran into t'trees and wouldn't come back. He went to look for it and, well. Found it.
ROBIN: Oh, God...
NICHOLAS: Was there much... damage?
EDWARDS: Hard to say, sir. There are few fingers-
ROBIN GROANS.
EDWARDS: -that, that look a bit nibbled.
ROBIN GROANS LOUDER.
EDWARDS: But otherwise, it doesn't look like Fido got much of a look-in. The owner got him on t'lead, pegged it back to the main road and found a constable. He - the constable, I mean - secured the scene as best he could and rang through to the Yard. Me and Sergeant Caulfield headed out with Roderick and the cleaners, and when we recognised Parks's body, Caulfield put me to work getting hold of you. And here you are, sir.
NICHOLAS: And here we are. Good work, Edwards.
ROBIN: He's under the other tarp, I assume? Parks, I mean.
EDWARDS: Yes, Mr Sylvester.
NICHOLAS: You go on, we'll be there in a moment.
EDWARDS: Sir.
PAUSE AS EDWARDS' FOOTSTEPS RETREAT.
NICHOLAS: (LOW) Robin.
ROBIN: (MIMICKING) Nicholas.
NICHOLAS: (LOW) You don't have to look at him.
ROBIN: I was on the front, Col. In the Ambulance Unit no less. I've seen my fair share of corpses.
NICHOLAS: More than your share.
ROBIN: Then one more won't hurt.
NICHOLAS: I don't want to subject you to-
ROBIN: You're not subjecting me to anything. I asked to come. Now get a move on - Clarence Parks might not be going anywhere, but we're keeping Edwards waiting.
NICHOLAS: (SIGH) Fine. Stay on the-
ROBIN: Matting. I know.
THEY WALK OUT FROM UNDER ONE TARP, THROUGH THE RAIN AND UNDER ANOTHER.
EDWARDS: I'll just get the sheet, sir.
SHE DOES SO, REVEALING PARKS' CORPSE. ROBIN TAKES A BREATH, EXHALES SLOWLY.
NICHOLAS: You alright?
ROBIN: I'm fine. Let's get on.
NICHOLAS: Edwards?
EDWARDS: Sir?
NICHOLAS: Come on. Bit of practice for you. What do you see?
EDWARDS: Uh. Right. Hang on. Well. He's still stiff, so he's been dead at least, uh... six hours? And not as many as twenty four?
ROBIN: It's cold, though, remember. Rigor is slow to set in and slow to lift under lower temperatures.
EDWARDS: Oh, right. Does that mean he's been dead longer, sir?
NICHOLAS: It means we can't really tell, not from looking at him. It's alright, the coroner will be able to give us a better idea after the post mortem. What else do you see?
EDWARDS: Well, he's still in his pyjamas, sir, which makes sense since he was taken at night. I suppose he mustn't have been walking about much between times, or someone would have seen him - you'd notice a man walking down the street in his pyjamas, wouldn't you?
NICHOLAS: I certainly would. There's another reason to think he's not been walking anywhere though.
PAUSE
EDWARDS: Uh...
ROBIN: His feet, Edwards.
EDWARDS: Oh! They're clean! He didn't walk here - even before the rain, he'd have got dirty feet. And the rain's been coming down all night. His whole front's almost spotless. Wet through, but clean. He's been carried here and laid down on his back. We should look for footprints - anyone carrying a body would leave pretty deep ones, I should think, sir.
NICHOLAS: I think you're right. My guess is he was brought here after dark last night. Any earlier and he'd have probably been found by some other dog owner, out for a walk before bed.
ROBIN: Ugh. Remind me never to get a dog.
NICHOLAS: Noted. Did you roll his sleeves up, Edwards?
EDWARDS: No, sir. They were like that already. Those look like burns to me. And I couldn't make out what these marks were - I thought they were tattoos but you can just see the ink starting to run where it's been lying in the wet.
ROBIN: Funny thing to get tattooed, anyway. It's just a grid, isn't it?
EDWARDS: Yes, Mr Sylvester, the same on each forearm.
ROBIN: Curiouser and curiouser...
EDWARDS: I think that's about all we can get from the body for now, sir. We'll have to wait until the coroner's report for anything more detailed.
NICHOLAS: Right then. Cover him up, and we'll get organised searching the area, see if we can scrounge up anything else - those footprints you mentioned would be a start.
ROBIN: Sounds both riveting and soggy. I shall leave you to it.
NICHOLAS: Of course you will.
ROBIN: Don't pout, Col - you've got a pension to earn. Can I borrow your brolly?
NICHOLAS: No. I need it.
ROBIN: Tosh! You're Scottish - the rain rolls right off you. Meanwhile, us namby pamby sassenachs must take whatever precautions we can, lest we be washed away like so many soap bubbles. (BEAT) Please?
NICHOLAS: Fine. Don't leave it in a cab this time.
ROBIN: I make no promises. (HE OPENS THE UMBRELLA) See you later. Bye, Edwards!
EDWARDS: Goodbye, Mr Sylvester.
ROBIN LEAVES.
EDWARDS: Do you know, sir, I think I only ever catch about a third of whatever he's talking about.
NICHOLAS: Count yourself lucky. Right. Gather the men - we'll get a search started. And about that dog walker...
THEME MUSIC PLAYS
H.R. OWEN: The Lion and the Adder. Created by H.R. Owen and starring H.R Owen as Robin Sylvester, Paul Warren as Nicholas Hawthorn, and Méabh de Brún as Evelyn 'Bash' Sebastian. Episode Four.
SCENE 2
ROBIN'S BATHROOM - A BIG, TILED ROOM FULL OF BIG, SHINY PLUMBING. THE TAP IS RUNNING WHEN THE DOORBELL RINGS. ROBIN TURNS OFF THE TAP AND WAITS. THE DOORBELL GOES AGAIN. ROBIN GROANS IN FRUSTRATION AND STEPS OUT INTO THE HALL
ROBIN: (CALLING) Wicks? I say, Wicks! (MUTTERING) Blast these agency men...
HE STOMPS DOWN THE CORRIDOR AND OPENS THE FRONT DOOR SHARPLY
PUDDLE: Silly! You're covered in soap.
ROBIN: I was just about to shave. (CALLING) Wicks, damn it!
WICKS APPROACHES.
WICKS: Yes, sir?
ROBIN: I've asked you- Oh, never mind. Tell me, Wicks, did you hear the doorbell just now?
WICKS: Yes, sir.
ROBIN: Why didn't you answer it?
WICKS: I wasn't sure it was the doorbell, sir. I thought it might have been another bell.
ROBIN: What other bell?
WICKS: At my last position, sir, they had a bell to call the valet.
ROBIN: If you thought it was the bell to call the valet, why didn't you appear?
WICKS: Well, you said you didn't need help shaving, sir. Told me to leave you to it.
ROBIN: I see. Flawless logic.
WICKS: Was that everything, sir?
ROBIN: I suppose it is, at that. Tell me, have you unpacked?
WICKS: Not quite, sir.
ROBIN: Don't bother finishing, eh? Come along, Puds.
PUDDLE: Hang on a tick.
WHILE THEY TALK, PUDDLE MAKES A LIBATION, LIGHTING THE CANDLE AND POURING A LITTLE WINE INTO THE LIBATION BOWL.
ROBIN: Oh, you needn't fuss. You're not stopping long.
PUDDLE: I like to do it. Makes me feel polite.
THE CHIMES RING AS THE LIBATION IS ACCEPTED
PUDDLE: There. Good old ghosties.
ROBIN: Come on.
HE AND PUDDLE WALK BACK DOWN THE CORRIDOR TO THE BATHROOM, SHUTTING THE DOOR BEHIND THEM.
PUDDLE: I must say, that new man of yours really is desperate.
ROBIN: You have no idea. Earlier today I asked him what time lunch would be and he told me not to worry, he wasn't hungry.
PUDDLE LAUGHS. ROBIN TAKES UP THE RAZOR AND SPLOSHES IT IN THE WATER BEFORE HE BEGINS TO SHAVE. HE IS SHAVING THROUGHOUT, RINSING THE RAZOR OCCASIONALLY IN THE SINK WHILE PUDDLE FIDDLES WITH BOTTLES AND JARS IN THE BACKGROUND.
PUDDLE: (LOW) I suppose this means I'd best not come back tonight.
ROBIN: (LOW) No, best not. Perhaps... Perhaps we'd best leave off altogether for the time being. Just til things settle down, you know.
PAUSE
PUDDLE: What things?
ROBIN: Oh, you know. I'm working on this case and with the valet situation up in the air...
HE TRAILS OFF VAGUELY. PAUSE.
PUDDLE: Course. Whatever you like. How's the case going?
ROBIN: Oh, fine. Bit stuck on motive at the moment.
PUDDLE: Love or money, isn't it, usually?
PUDDLE PICKS UP A BOTTLE, OPENS IT AND SNIFFS.
PUDDLE: Ugh! Oh, not keen on this one! Urgh.
ROBIN: You don't have to wear it.
PUDDLE: I have to smell you wearing it.
ROBIN: It smells good on me. Put it down.
PUDDLE: So which is it?
ROBIN: Hm?
PUDDLE: Love, or money?
ROBIN: Neither, as far as we can tell. His will's tied up as tight as you might expect from a solicitor, and it wasn't as if he left behind a fortune. As for love, he hadn't much in that department either. Neighbours all report he was a perfectly nice chap who they knew to say hello to but not much more. Work-mates say the same.
PUDDLE: No sweethearts?
ROBIN: (LAUGHS) Not unless he was keeping them very quiet indeed. Edwards got some of the office girls to give her the gossip - apparently they all agreed, Parks was terrifically good looking and as romantically available as a bucket of wallpaper paste.
HE WASHES HIS FACE
PUDDLE: Perhaps it was one of them. Driven mad with desire and jealousy over a man who didn't even know she existed.
ROBIN: (LAUGHING) You think that's worth killing for?
PUDDLE: Course not. That's the thing about murderers though, isn't it? They think all sorts of things are worth killing for that the rest of us just get on with.
ROBIN: That's true. In any case, we know it was a chap who summoned the demon - not an office girl.
PUDDLE PICKS UP ANOTHER BOTTLE AND TAKES THE LID OFF.
PUDDLE: Perhaps she has an accomplice. (SNIFFS) Oh, oh this is delicious!
ROBIN: Do resist the urge to drink my bath oil, please, Puds.
PUDDLE: I wonder what that advertisement would look like.
BEAT
ROBIN: Pardon?
PUDDLE: In the paper. "Enterprising young woman, unlucky in love, seeks summoner of loose morals. No time wasters."
ROBIN LAUGHS
PUDDLE: Oh damn. You're right. That does smell good on you.
ROBIN: Told you.
PUDDLE: How are you doing your hair?
ROBIN: Like this, I thought. Just the usual.
PUDDLE: They didn't wear it like that though. Romans pushed it all forwards, like this.
HE REARRANGES ROBIN'S HAIR FOR HIM.
PUDDLE: There... Now... There. Stand back.
ROBIN: Will I do?
PUDDLE: Oh, a pinch! Do you need a hand with your toga?
ROBIN: Yes, please. (PUDDLE STARTS ARRANGING FABRIC, HUMMING AS HE WORKS) I'd ask Wicks but he'd probably string me up with the damn thing.
PUDDLE: I can't imagine finding a new valet. Strickland's practically an extra limb to me at this point, I'd lose my head without him to keep an eye on it.
ROBIN: It helps if you inherit them. Some of us have to fend for ourselves.
PUDDLE: Are you claiming you're a self-made man, Silly? I suppose in a manner of speaking...
ROBIN: (LAUGHING) Hush!
PUDDLE: (LAUGHING) I'm just saying...
ROBIN: Well, don't! God, you're dreadful. Do you have Tolly's address?
PUDDLE: Yes, it's not far. We could walk, if you like.
ROBIN: In a bed sheet? No, thanks. We'd be see-through in seconds in this weather.
PUDDLE: Part of the appeal, I rather thought.
ROBIN: Oh, get on!
THEY LEAVE, GIGGLING
SCENE 3
BASH AND ROBIN ARE WALKING IN THE PARK ON A BEAUTIFUL SUNNY DAY AND THE PARK IS FULL OF BIRDS SINGING, BIRDS QUACKING - AND ROBIN SYLVESTER TRYING VERY HARD NOT TO BE SICK.
BASH: Are you sure you're feeling alright?
ROBIN: (MORE HUNGOVER THAN ANY HUMAN BEING HAS EVER BEEN IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD) I'm fine. Just a little tender.
BASH: How much did you drink last night?
ROBIN: A perfectly reasonable amount.
BASH: Oh... And when you'd finished that...?
ROBIN: Rather a lot more.
BASH: Mmm.
ROBIN: Puddle was in worse shape than me - he was in the chariot race.
BASH: You weren't driving?!
ROBIN: No, no! Piggy-back rides. Up and down the lawn. Poor Puddle was one of the horses. (LAUGHS)
BASH: Oh. I still can't believe you know a man called Puddle.
ROBIN: Lovely fellow. You'd like him. Everyone does.
BASH: You have no idea what I'd like. You barely know me.
ROBIN: And yet here you are, bearing witness to me in my most vulnerable moments. How's that for intimacy. Oh thank goodness - a convenient bench upon which to quietly collapse.
THEY SIT DOWN, ROBIN GROANING
ROBIN: Oh, that's better. My head weighs a ton.
BASH: I brought some bread for the ducks. We could lay a slice over each eye if you like.
ROBIN: Snacks for the ferry. I like it. No, I'll survive. I'll have a slice for the quackers though.
SHE HANDS HIM A SLICE FROM THE BAG AND CLEARS HER THROAT.
BASH: So... I don't know how to say this politely...
ROBIN: Oh, don't stand on ceremony on my account. Go on. Say it rudely and I'll pretend.
BASH: It's just, my auntie thinks you're, uh... Wooing me?
ROBIN: Oh!
BASH: And I, well, I've got that stuff wrong in the past, so I wanted to make sure-
ROBIN: N-No. No, not a bit. Nary a woo! Sorry. But, no. Absolutely not.
BASH: That's what I thought! But then you called to meet up again and...
ROBIN: No, I just enjoyed your company, that's all!
BASH: Oh. Right. Good. Oh, uh, not that you're not-
ROBIN: Oh, no I-
BASH: You're very handsome, I-I'm sure-
ROBIN: And you. Pretty, I mean. More than pretty. Top drawer girl, really. I like your, um. Hair.
BASH: Oh. That's... That's sweet. (BEAT) Thank you.
LONG, AWKWARD PAUSE. DUCKS QUACK.
ROBIN: Murder!
BASH: (GRATEFULLY) Yes! Terrible stuff.
ROBIN: Quite! They got the report back on Parks' body. He died sometime in the morning, they think, almost a full day before he was found.
BASH: Did it say how?
ROBIN: That's the head-scratcher, I'm afraid. It was heart failure, but as for what caused the heart failure, they're not sure. There are some marks on him - burns, mostly - but none of them severe enough to cause death. Actually, let me get my notebook. I'll show you.
HE TAKES OUT A NOTEBOOK, FLICKS TO A CLEAN PAGE, AND STARTS DRAWING.
BASH: Oh. Is that supposed to be a man?
ROBIN: It's a body! It's only rough.
BASH: It looks like a sea anemone.
ROBIN: (POINTING) Arms, legs, head.
BASH: (POINTING) Tentacle, tentacle, polyp.
ROBIN: You're funny. Listen! He had these lines drawn on him - coroner says they were ordinary India ink - segmenting his arms like so. Evenly spaced, three inch squares, identical on either side. Marks on his wrists and ankles suggesting he'd been restrained. There were burns about the place, no pattern to them apart from the fact they seemed roughly centred inside the squares, though some spread beyond those lines and not all the squares had them.
BASH: Huh. Nothing else?
ROBIN: Not a dicky bird.
BASH: Hmm... Do you think...?
ROBIN: Not if I can help it.
BASH: Shut up. Show me the anemone.
ROBIN: It's not-!
RUSTLING PAPER AS SHE GRABS THE NOTEBOOK.
BASH: Yeah, OK. Yeah, yeah. Look. Hold your arms like- (SHE GRABS ROBIN'S ARMS AND ARRANGES THEM) Like that, like you're in a chair. The grid's only on the top of his arms, right? The bottom was blocked by the chair. What if he's testing something? Different substances in each space.
ROBIN: By Jove, I think you're right! Like a, uh, a-a-a whatsit. Uh. What am I thinking of. Uh. God my brain is absolute pudding. Skin allergy test, that's the chap!
BASH: And I bet the places where the burn crossed the lines of the grid were where he was testing something fluid, something that dripped when he put it on. You said he was an expert in this stuff, what if he's doing some kind of sick research, or-
ROBIN: Hold your horses, I never said that!
BASH: At Parks' house, when we were looking at the sigil!
ROBIN: I really think I'd remember-
BASH: You were looking at the crack in the sigil, and you said you'd written a paper on how to do all the maths and calculations and things.
ROBIN: Well, me and Polly. But that was just a bit of fun!
BASH: (SNORTS) A bit of fun for a pair of-
SHE BREAKS OFF. BEAT.
ROBIN: A pair of what?
BASH: (AIRILY) Just, you know. A pair of people who are... very interested in these things.
ROBIN: A pair of insufferable swots, in fact.
BASH: (LAUGHING) You said it, not me! If he worked out the same sums, he's got to know a fair whack about this stuff. A normal person wouldn't know where to start.
ROBIN: I am noting the use of the word "normal" there, but I shall let it pass.
RUSTLE OF THE BREAD BAG.
ROBIN: (MOUTH FULL) Did I tell you about the,uh-
BASH: Oh, don't eat that! It's for the ducks!
ROBIN: (SWALLOWING) I didn't get any breakfast!
BASH: Who's fault is that?
ROBIN: Puddle's. He was pouring the drinks.
BASH: We can go and get you something to eat.
ROBIN: Honestly, I'm not sure I could stomach anything more than stale bread right now. Anyway. The summoning.
BASH: What about it?
ROBIN: I'll cut the waffle-
BASH: You really aren't feeling well.
ROBIN: Ha ha. It's just that the summoning itself - the forms it uses, some of the other details. Well. It does seem to suggest a practitioner with formal church training. Don't pull that face!
BASH: (ABSOLUTELY PULLING A FACE) I'm not pulling a face.
ROBIN: You are. You're pulling a distinctly "I told you so" sort of face.
BASH: But I did tell you so! He's an expert, sure as you are.
ROBIN: I doubt he's quite as expert as I am.
BASH: It's good to know your ego doesn't get hungover with the rest of you.
ROBIN: It is a comfort. I say, I wonder if Collie's at work today. He's always at work. The Yard's only about ten minutes walk from here. Do you mind terribly if we-
BASH: Don't stand up so fast!
ROBIN MAKES A QUEASY SOUND AND SLUMPS BACK INTO HIS SEAT.
BASH: There you go. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
DUCKS QUACK.
ROBIN: (MUFFLED) I'm going to die. I'm going to die, and those ducks are laughing at me.
BASH: They're just excited. If you die here, your ghost can feed them bread forever more.
ROBIN: (MUFFLED) Ghost bread. Extra white.
HE LAUGHS WEAKLY, THEN GROANS.
BASH: There, there.
SCENE 4
OUTSIDE SCOTLAND YARD, ON THE VICTORIA EMBANKMENT. ROBIN AND BASH TALK WHILE WALKING ALONG.
BASH: Do I have to come? The Inspector and I aren't exactly on the best terms.
ROBIN: Oh, don't fret. He's a big softie, really. You'll be fine. Besides, we're friends!
BASH: You're friends. I'm not. He's never liked me.
ROBIN: Then it's high time he learnt better.
THEY ARRIVE AT SCOTLAND YARD AND HE OPENS THE DOOR FOR HER
ROBIN: After you.
THEY STEP INTO A LARGE ENTRANCE HALL WITH A FEW PEOPLE MOVING AROUND, GOING ABOUT THEIR BUSINESS.
ROBIN: Good afternoon.
SECURITY: Afternoon, sir. Madam. If you can please place any coins and magical or protective items in the tray before stepping through the detector. Wards, amulets, charms...
ROBIN: Yes, of course.
HE REMOVES A FEW ITEMS AND DROPS THEM INTO THE TRAY, FOLLOWED BY A HANDFUL OF COINS.
SECURITY: Your tie pin, sir?
ROBIN: Oh, good shout. It's silver, yes. Here you are.
SECURITY: Very good, sir. If you'll step through the arch, collect your items and move straight along to the water test. Madam?
BASH: Field dampener, I'm afraid.
SECURITY: Blast. Nothing else?
BASH: Some loose change.
SECURITY: Well, pop it in anyway. Lovely. Head on through.
A BEAT. THEN AN ALARM SOUNDS - A PERSISTENT RINGING BELL.
BASH: Ah, sorry!
SECURITY: Oh, don't worry, miss. Just means it's working, don't it.
HE PULLS A LEVER AND THE ALARM CUTS OFF.
SECURITY: Here we are, miss. No harm done! (LAUGHS) You can join your young man at the water test.
BASH: Thanks very much.
SHE CROSSES THE HALL TO JOIN ROBIN.
ROBIN: That you making all that racket? Very inconsiderate, what with me in a delicate state and all. Holy water?
BASH: Oh, thanks.
SHE DRINKS.
DESK SERGEANT: Can I help you, sir?
ROBIN: Yes - DI Hawthorn, please.
DESK SERGEANT: And, uh, is he expecting you?
ROBIN: He should be.
DESK SERGEANT: What name is it?
ROBIN: Robin Sylvester and Evelyn Sebastian. That's got a ring to it, doesn't it? Sylvester and Sebastian, all those satisfying esses. What's the word? Ss, ss, ss. Sibilance, that's the one!
DESK SERGEANT: Very good, sir. I'll call up now.
ROBIN: (DISTRACTED) Good-o.
DESK SERGEANT: (MUTTERING AS HE LEAVES) Nobody tells me nothing... What's the point of this job...
ROBIN: I say, water's awfully drippy, isn't it?
BASH: ...yes?
IN THE BACKGROUND, THE ALARM RINGS AGAIN MAKING BASH AND ROBIN FLINCH
ROBIN: Urgh, that blasted thing. What was it this time?
BASH: Some kind of amulet, looks like.
ROBIN: Does it go off every time you come through? I don't know how you stand it!
BASH: It's alright, I'm not actually down here all that often - and never hungover!
THE ALARM SHUTS OFF
BASH: Besides, I'd take an alarm a minute over a demon getting in here.
ROBIN: Oh, don't - my head hurts just thinking about it.
BASH: The demon, or the alarms?
ROBIN: Both!
BASH: What do they do if a demon really does get in?
ROBIN: Oh! Uh... There. Do you see, in the floor? You can just make out the lines of a demon trap - or most of one, anyway. Covers the whole foyer. But it's not intact, you see. When the alarm goes off it triggers...
THE ALARM RINGS.
ROBIN: Oh! (WINCES) Yep, there we go. That section of floor shifts over, revealing the rest of the trap and completing the circuit. It shifts back when he resets it.
THE ALARM SHUTS OFF.
ROBIN: See?
BASH: Why not just keep it up all the time? Have it embedded in the floor or painted on the ceiling or something, keep the thing trapped while they exorcise it.
ROBIN: There are some circumstances where an immediate exorcism isn't on the cards, for all sorts of reasons. They have gurneys and things to take possessed people into the holding cells if need be.
BASH: Oh. I thought it might be, you know. For... (LOW) diplomatic reasons...?
ROBIN: (SCOFFING) You'd have to be a very special kind of idiot to think you could negotiate with demons.
DESK SERGEANT: Mr Sylvester? DI Hawthorn will see you now. Do you, uh, know the way to his office or...?
ROBIN: I do indeed, Sergeant, thank you. Good day.
DESK SERGEANT: (SIGHING) Right.
SCENE 5
NICHOLAS'S OFFICE. ROBIN AND BASH ENTER.
NICHOLAS: Good afternoon, Miss Sebastian.
BASH: Afternoon, Inspector.
ROBIN: Good afternoon, Inspector!
NICHOLAS: Robin. Why did you tell the desk sergeant I was expecting you? I had no notion you were coming in.
ROBIN: I didn't! I said you should be expecting me. You should always be expecting me - I may pounce at any moment. It's hardly my fault you suffer from a policemanly lack of imagination.
NICHOLAS: You're in fine fettle today.
ROBIN: I wasn't, but I've been much improved by the application of fresh air, stale bread, and excellent company. Bash has had a brilliant idea.
BEAT
ROBIN: Go on!
BASH: Oh. Uh. I think the man who killed Clarence Parks was conducting experiments on him.
ROBIN: There! See? Good, isn't it. And true to boot, I'd bet.
NICHOLAS: Right. Is that based on something the spirits said?
BASH: No, it was the marks on the body. The grid, and the burns. I think he was sectioning off testing areas for different substances. Some of them left marks, some didn't, depending on how they reacted.
NICHOLAS: The marks on the body... that you haven't seen.
BASH: Robin explained it to me.
ROBIN: Mm, with a rather excellent diagram.
NICHOLAS: Well, he oughtn't have. Robin, this is an ongoing investigation, you can't just-
ROBIN: I can, actually. I'm not police. You brought me into this as a civilian expert. As an expert, I'm well within my rights to discuss my theories with whomsoever I wish, if I believe it will forward my understanding of the case.
NICHOLAS: And you think a psychic-
BASH: Inspector! I am in the room!
PAUSE.
NICHOLAS: I apologise, Miss Sebastian. I just fail to see how your particular area of expertise is relevant to this investigation.
BASH: It isn't. What's relevant is that I've made a connection you hadn't yet. And perhaps you would have, in time. I just saved you that time.
NICHOLAS: (BEAT) Thank you.
BASH: You're welcome.
ROBIN: See? Friends! Anyway Collie, I was thinking about motive.
NICHOLAS: I thought you didn't think there was one.
ROBIN: Of course there's a motive. I just don't think it's personal. Puddle made a joke last night-
NICHOLAS: Puddle? You cannot possibly expect me to believe Puddle is a legitimate source of information on anything beyond party games and hair pomade.
ROBIN: No. Told him for fun. But he made a joke about putting an advertisement in the papers for a co-conspirator. And I thought, well, it's a daft way to find yourself an accomplice to murder but it might be just the right way to find a murderer.
PAUSE.
ROBIN: Let's set a trap!
NICHOLAS: Oh, no. No, Robin-
ROBIN: Hear me out! If this man is an academic, or has academic aspirations - which, based on the evidence of both the summoning and the tests he was making on the body, it would seem he is or has - then a properly worded, appropriately morally dubious advertisement in the right sort of publication - one of the several journals to which I subscribe, for example - could be enough to convince him to break his cover and make contact, not supposing that instead of the like-minded and similarly dastardly researcher he's expecting, he instead meets... me!
BEAT
NICHOLAS: That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard.
ROBIN: Oh, it is not!
NICHOLAS: It's completely hare-brained!
ROBIN: How so? Go on, fat head. Lay it on me.
NICHOLAS: For one thing, there's no guarantee the person responding to that advertisement will be the self-same man who killed Clarence Parks. He might be anyone.
ROBIN: I'll write it so it appeals to him specifically. Oh, drippy! The drips, the holy water, that was it!
BASH: Oh! Water is drippy!
ROBIN: Thank God for that, it's like getting something out from between your teeth.
NICHOLAS: What the blazes are you two talking about?
ROBIN: Drips, Collie! The burn marks - some of them had dripped over the lines of the grid. What if our mysterious researcher was taking on that most enigmatical of magical substances, holy water? What if he's researching holy water, testing his theories directly on demons? Talk about hare-brained.
BASH: Wait, he... He got a man possessed, and then...
ROBIN: Tortured him, yes. If he was applying holy water while the demon was still present... Well. To be frank, I don't know exactly what the effect it would have on Parks. It's not something anybody has ever researched before.
NICHOLAS: Because you'd have to be unhinged to try. God I hate it when you make a good point.
ROBIN: I know you do. That's why I do it.
BASH: Heart failure. His heart gave out. While he was... While he was being t-tortured.
ROBIN: If he's testing holy water, I can put that in the listing, make it appeal to him directly. Perhaps even hint that I know what he's done and approve.
NICHOLAS: I don't know. Even if you can somehow pique his interest, it's- Well, it's hardly illegal to respond to a classified. Besides, say he comes to meet you. Won't he take one look at you and leave?
ROBIN: Do you think so little of my personal beauty, Nicholas?
NICHOLAS: (SNORTS) Everyone and their grandmother knows you collaborate with the police.
ROBIN: And they know I do so because I'm the best demonologist in the country. I offer something nobody else can offer this man: legitimacy. The weight that my name brings - no, don't roll your eyes, this isn't arrogance! It's plain fact! Do you have any idea how many letters I receive in the course of a week asking me to, to blurb this, review that, offer a quotation for the cover of whatsit? If he thinks Robin Sylvester sincerely approves of and wishes to support his work...!
NICHOLAS: I'm not putting you in the path of a murderer!
ROBIN: You can lend me Edwards for the afternoon! She'll skulk about at a safe distance, masquerading as a member of the unwashed masses, and if anything goes wrong, she can jump in and save the day.
NICHOLAS: Why can't I do it? I'm plain clothes.
BASH SNORTS.
NICHOLAS: What?
BASH: I-I mean. You don't exactly blend in, do you?
NICHOLAS: (SCOFFING) Oh, come on...
ROBIN: (GRINNING) It's true. Even apart from being built like a wardrobe - you have a policeman's posture.
BASH LAUGHS
NICHOLAS: A policeman's-!
ROBIN: It's no good, Col! One look at you would put the frighteners on any criminal worth his salt. Meanwhile, have you ever known anyone not to underestimate Detective Constable Edwards?
NICHOLAS SIGHS HEAVILY. PAUSE.
NICHOLAS: It'll be in public?
ROBIN: Just two interested parties meeting in a well-lit, crowded public place in the middle of the day. Worst case scenario, I waste an afternoon being stood up like an unfortunate blind date.
NICHOLAS: That is not the worst case scenario!
ROBIN: It's the worst likely scenario! (BEAT) I don't think anybody willing to do that to a person is going to stop unless we stop him. This is a good shot, Collie. Not a perfect one, but a good one, and we'd be fools not to take it.
NICHOLAS: (SIGHING) Fine. But I don't like it.
ROBIN AND BASH STAND TO LEAVE.
ROBIN: I know you don't. I'll knock up a draft of this listing and we can hash out the details later. Have a nice day, Col.
NICHOLAS: (SIGHING) Aye. You too. (ROBIN OPENS THE DOOR) And, Miss Sebastian?
BASH: Me? What?
NICHOLAS: Thank you again for your help. It's been very, uh... helpful.
BASH: Oh. You're welcome.
THE DOOR CLOSES BEHIND HER. NICHOLAS SIGHS.
NICHOLAS: I can look unwashed...
SCENE 6
OUTSIDE - VICTORIA EMBANKMENT. ROBIN AND BASH WALK TOGETHER.
ROBIN: Oh, I feel so much better. You were splendid in there, bravo.
BASH: Do you really think he won't stop?
ROBIN: Who? Oh. I'm afraid so. It's something Puddle said - murderers, by definition, aren't responding to things the way normal people do. Killing someone because they owe you money, or you want to inherit their fortune, or because you simply got so angry you couldn't help yourself - even cases where the motive is clear, that's still not something normal people do, not in the usual way of things.
BASH: But that isn't what he did. He... He planned it. He picked someone, he chose Clarence Parks and he decided to do all this to him.
ROBIN: Exactly. He's well and truly off the edge of the map. Most murderers kill because they want something if not tangible, at least achievable. The money. The freedom. The sheer bloody satisfaction.
BASH: So what does this guy want?! To find out about holy water? That's stupid, that's- I don't understand. I-I don't understand any of this.
ROBIN: Good! That means you're a nice, normal-minded young woman.
BASH: Huh. I don't think anyone's ever said that about me before.
ROBIN: (LAUGHING) Well, I'm saying it now.
THEY WALK ON A LITTLE FURTHER
BASH: I want to help.
ROBIN: You've already helped.
BASH: I want to help more. As much as I can. I-I want to be involved.
ROBIN: Why? There are lots of bad people out there. If you want to catch baddies, you could join the police. You'd look absolutely darling in the uniform.
BASH: I already look darling. And I don't want to catch baddies. I want to stop the person who did that to Clarence Parks, and I want to stop him before he does it again. I can help. Let me help.
ROBIN: Alright. You're on. I hate to break it to you, Bash, but I think I'm growing rather fond of you. Don't tell your aunt.
BASH: (LAUGHING) Your secret's safe with me.
THEME MUSIC PLAYS
H.R. OWEN: The Lion and the Adder is a Monstrous Productions podcast created by H.R. Owen. With special thanks to MUM!!!!
Episode 4 starred, in order of appearance: H.R. Owen as Robin Sylvester; Paul Warren as Nicholas Hawthorn; AMC as Constable Edwards; David Ault as Cecil Roderick; Rhys Lawton as Puddle; Gethin Hughes as Wicks; Méabh de Brún as Evelyn 'Bash' Sebastian; Joshua Tay as Security and Eira Major as the Desk Sergeant, with additional voices from Lou Sutcliffe.
It was written by H.R. Owen, script edited and directed by Sophie B., and sound designed by Eira Major.
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