Posted on Sunday, 7 February 1999
Scene: Interior. We see a scrapbook full of photographs, black and white, and newspaper clippings. The photos show a tall, debonair man in his mid-thirties, a typical dapper New Yorker, in various moments of triumph. The various headlines read, "Will Charles cracks 'Thin Man' case;" "All work and no play for the 'Thin Man';" "Thin Man solves baffling double murder!" and on and on.The page turns to a different set of photos-private family pictures. Under the name "Will" we see a closer, head shot of the man. He is 'mightily good looking,' with dark, wavy hair and deep, serious dark eyes. He wears a tiny half-smile, however, which suggests a lively sense of humor. Next to his portrait is a photo w/ the caption, "Liz." The woman is young, radiant, fresh-faced, with soft dusky curls and sparkling brown eyes. She looks very sophisticated, more so than her husband-he has charm, she polish. Below the two there is a third picture-this one bigger than both of the others combined. In large letters above the name, "Asta," there is a picture of a friendly, intelligent wire-haired terrier wearing a gold collar emblazoned proudly with his name.
The camera backs up to reveal the owner of the delicate, slender hand touching the pages. It is Liz Charles, laughing and smiling as she speaks to her friend, Charlotte Collins, an attractive brunette. The camera pans out to reveal a room, opulent and elegant, filled with people. We are in a New York townhouse at what looks like a posh dinner party. Liz and her guest are sitting at a great glass coffee table on a long suede couch. Mrs. Charles is dressed in the latest fashions, gloved hands, and a shimmering evening gown. (Pick the color: we are, after all, in black and white.) Her friend is significantly less elegant, though her more conservative, less expensive dress is tasteful. They continue to talk while we take a look at the other guests:
In one corner of the room, which appears to be the loudest, we find an assortment of men and women, the center of which seems to be commandeered by one of two women who are talking vehemently to each other-neither paying the least attention to the words emerging from her rival's mouth. One of the women is short, frumpy, and highly animated, working her arms dramatically as she speaks. She is Mrs. Maggie Charles. The other woman is tall and imperious; where Mrs. Charles speaks nonstop, she hurls several words at a time at her audience, then pauses to give weight to the next set of verbal weapons. This is Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh. Near them stands, in thinly disguised aggravation, Mr. Bennet Charles. He puffs away on an expensive, very long Opus X, while a young lady, his rather angelic daughter Jane Bingley, lectures him on his recent promise to give up smoking. Meanwhile her sister Lydia, a tall, lanky girl wearing clothes a bit too racy for the occasion and much too racy for her seventeen-year-old body, scolds Jane for being a busybody. She hardly pays attention to her husband, who stands a few yards away holding both a glass of rum and the bottle from whence it came: this is George Wickham. He is riotously delighted with the joke his companion has made; she is very short, around 5'4," wearing a bright orange cocktail dress and enough make-up to resemble Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard. Still, her age is easily apparent-she is in her late teens, early twenties. Her name is Caroline Bingley.
Still on the other side of the room and attractive, sophisticated young woman, in a sleek, black, Hepburn-esque pant-suit, shares a martini with another gentleman, tall, handsome, blonde, and congenial. The woman, Georgette Darcy, wears her dark hair pulled back and pinned loosely. She is instantly engaging, and her companion, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, seems to be enjoying himself immensely. She leans unconcernedly against the edge of a long grand piano, at the other end of which sits a wiry, bespectacled young woman, squinting at some music set before her, as she stumbles through a rendition of "Autumn in New York." She is not singing, for better or for worse: that task is being handled by a short, pudgy man who stands beside her, belting out the jazz tune like an opera singer, with very dubious results. As Mary Bennet and Billy Collins finish the performance they turn to each other and smile broadly. There is light, very disinterested clapping; nonetheless, the gentleman bows like Caruso at the Met.
On the couch beside Liz, his wife attempts not to notice.
Liz
Charlotte, you didn't tell me your husband could sing.
Charlotte (blushing)
Sometimes he surprises me, Lizzy. You didn't tell me your husband was a famous detective. You left me to find out on my own, after reading about him in all the papers.
Liz (laughing)
Well, he didn't tell me, either. 'Lizzy,' he says, 'I'm just an average guy looking for a place to have a martini. And every time I get ready to relax, put my feet up, and pet the dog, someone goes and decides to die right where I have to clean up the mess.'
Charlotte
So. Is that why he's going to-
Liz
Shhh. Not so loud, the press will hear you. Will's already frightened away two reporters who came by wanting to know why we were having a celebration tonight. Honestly, Charl. Can't a man have a party in his own townhouse without the whole world thinking something of it?
Charlotte
Not when he's the famous Will Charles-or when his wife is the famous Elizabeth Darcy. (Liz rolls her eyes) Well, come on, Liz! You take the most eligible bride in New England, marry her to the hottest bachelor in New York, then expect people to just go away and leave you alone? If you want to stay out of the limelight, tell Wills to stop doing the job of the Police department.
Colonel Fitzwilliam (who has come up behind them)
What? What's that I hear? Mrs. Collins, you can't be serious! Criticizing New York's finest? Why, I can't have it.
Charlotte
I beg your pardon…? Have we met?
Liz
Charlotte, this is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, he's a leading officer with the Bureau of Investigation.
Charlotte
Oh, I see…forgive me.
Col. Fitzwilliam
Not at all, no harm done, I assure you. Liz, why didn't you tell me how charming your sister was?
Liz
Well, I assumed since she is my sister, it would be a given. Georgie's made the family quite proud.
Col. Fitzwilliam
I should imagine so! It's not every girl who gets to go to Harvard! But then, you were a college girl yourself once, if I recall?
Liz
You make it sound so long ago! Yes. I was in law school, working for my father, when I met Wills. We got married three weeks later, and...
Col. F
And the rest is history. Speaking of your illustrious husband, where is he? He's got a passel of buddies from the force who'd like to say hello to him.
Liz
Oh, I don't know. He's around here somewhere. Asta, where's Asta? He'll find him. (whistles loudly) Asta! (Asta the dog appears from behind the couch, comes to her side, sits back on his haunches, and moves his forepaws up and down eagerly.) Asta, be a dear and go find your father. Be sure to tell him it's time.
Asta growls his understanding, then quickly, straight as an arrow, heads between the legs of the guests for the study, located well at the back of the room down a long foyer. The camera follows him as he goes to the door, stands outside it, and barks twice, rapidly. A voice on the other side yells 'Come in!' gruffly, and Asta obediently pushes the door open and enters. Inside the room, seated respectively on the top of a large oak desk and a deep leather armchair, are Will Charles and Charles Bingley. They are sharing old times and a bottle of port, and their laughter is full and hearty. Will Charles is tall, muscular, and darkly handsome, albeit in need of a shave. He is ruthlessly suave, and has a 'dirty dog' kind of appeal. His friend, in contrast, is baby-faced and blonde, with a constant expression of being in a daydream. He looks up to Will both literally and figuratively. They are in the middle of a conversation when the dog interrupts them.
Bingley
Ten years, Wills. Are you sure you know what you're doing?
Will(to Asta)
Oh, it's you, is it? Well…care for a drink? (Asta barks) No? Fine, then, help yourself. Bingley, I don't know how you do it. You can retire to the countryside to spend the rest of your days in domestic bliss, chasing cows instead of criminals…and yet you ask me whether I know what I'm doing. (Asta sits up, rotates his forepaws, and barks. Will addresses him) What do you want from me? Anyway, Charles, Mrs. Charles and I are quite adamant. If you hadn't left me without a partner three years ago who knows where I'd be today?
Bingley
Me? So it's my fault? Well, if you hadn't had a sister, I would never have had a reason to leave. Besides, you married first.
Will
Yes, but I--(Asta growls, runs to his leg and promptly begins pulling on the cuff.) I…Wh-- what is this? Where are you taking me? It's not time yet, is it? (Asta growls. Will rolls his eyes in what will become a characteristic gesture, as the dog forces him off the desk, balancing precariously on one leg.) What, am I made of plush? (More growling.)
Bingley (laughing)
Come, Wills, I think you'd better go with him before he brings in reinforcements.
Will
Yes…if I don't surrender quietly he'll sic Mrs. Charles on me… (to the dog) Will you-!! This is amazing, I'm a prisoner in my own home. All right, all right, I'm going (attempting to shake the dog off his cuff, unsuccessfully). Asta…(he attempts to be stern) ASTA! Let go right now! Asta…. I'm your father and I'm ordering you to let…(struggles with the dog)…go! (no response. Will sighs dramatically.) Let go, Asta, and I'll let you have part of that t-bone Mammy's been hiding in the freezer behind the salami.Asta immediately lets go with a bark. Atta-boy. (He picks the dog up.) Come on, boy. Looks like we'd better get it over with.
(He goes outside into the hall, where he is instantly met by a horde of members of the New York Police Department, headed by Col. Fitzwilliam. They exclaim, "Hi-ya, Will! Good to see ya-where ya been!" and "Hey, Nick, long time no see!" etc. Will is glad to see them, but they are so numerous he can hardly move in the narrow hallway. While struggling to do so Asta flops out of his arms and maneuvers past them back into the living room. The camera follows him and we see that Liz and Charlotte are still on the couch, immersed in quiet conversation.)
Liz
Charl, why didn't you tell me? You know Will and I are only too happy to help.
Charlotte
Oh, Lizzy, I am sure-you are both so good-but it's just that…(lowering her voice) I don't really know. I just have these vague suspicions that something is wrong. He's been acting very fidgety lately, very…anxious.
Liz
You don't…you don't suppose he could be having an affair? (Impulsively they both swing their heads over to the corner, where Mr. Collins and Mary Charles have embarked on another horrendous song, this time a souring rendition of "Tea for Two." At the line, "You'll awake/and start to bake a sugar cake," Collins looks up, sees them, and flashes Charlotte a huge, saccharine grin, which she weakly returns.)
Charlotte
Oh, I don't know, Lizzy. If it were merely that, I could probably…but it seems to be even worse, somehow.
Liz
Charlotte, what could possibly be worse than having an affair? You know you would never be able to sit idly by and watch him ruin your reputation! Have you thought of hiring a PI?
Charlotte
A…what? Oh, no… but Lizzy… I think Mr. Collins may be in some sort of danger.
Liz
Danger? Of what?
Charlotte
I don't know. The other day I was doing some cleaning and I found…I found a receipt for a…a gun-a .38 caliber revolver.
Liz
A gun-what-when did he purchase it?
Charlotte
The date on the receipt was nearly two weeks ago.
Liz
That is serious. Charlotte, I want you to talk to Wills about this.
Charlotte
Now? After tonight, oh, Liz, I can't-
Liz
What? Of course you can, don't be silly. Now. Later, I promise, you can tell him all about it. For now, just relax, and enjoy yourself. Promise?
(Charlotte smiles and begins to nod 'yes,' but a commotion from the other side of the room gives her pause. A shrill cry, "You little witch!" is heard, followed by a slap and the response, "Oh, yeah! Well, watch out missy, cause this witch's got sharp claws!" Amid the crowd gathering around them we see Lydia Wickham and Caroline Bingley going at it with a vengeance. Mrs. Bennet Charles in the background is heard crying hysterically, "Oh! Oh, Lydia! Oh, gracious me-my poor girl!" Lydia has Caroline by the neck, and Caroline is going for her waist, when Wickham leaps into the fray and tears them apart.
George (to Lydia, who is brushing herself off)
What's going on here! What's the big idea-I can't leave you alone for half a minute without you causing a ruckus! You'd think at your big brother's shindig you'd have a little better manners!
Lydia
Yeah, well, that hussy spilled wine all over my new dress-and I'll bet it was no accident, either! ( She lunges for Caroline again, but is held back by Wickham, who pins her arms to her side. She sneers at him.) Say, whose idea was it to invite her anyway? She ain't no relation to Will.
Caroline
(sniffing, she tosses her head haughtily, and speaks in a melodramatic voice) Must I remind you, Mrs. Wickham, that I am your brother-in-law's sister? It would be a great loss if I were not present for Mr. Charles' announcement-isn't that right, Wickham?
Wickham
(looks confused, then stammers) I…uh…come, my dear, let's get you cleaned up. I'm sure Miss Bingley meant no harm.
Caroline
Oh, no. No harm at all.
By this time Will has made his way out of the hall. He looks around, spots his wife on the couch, and sneaks up behind her, preparing to surprise her with kisses. She sees his reflection in the glass table, however, and without the slightest reaction, continues her conversation with Charlotte.
Liz
On second thought, Charl, I don't know why you would want to discuss your position with Mr. Charles. He couldn't solve his way out of a paper bag if it weren't for me and Asta.
(Will stops and looks at her in incredulity.) Oh, yes. People always talk about the great Will Charles, the Thin Man. 'Mr. Charles,' this, 'Mr. Charles,' that. What they don't know is that if it weren't for his good luck in always managing to get the guilty party to 'fess up, he'd never find out who killed who. Half the time he has no idea. Asta and I find all his clues for him. But do we get the credit? Nooooo.
(Will suddenly leans over the couch and picks Liz up, straight up, off of the couch. She screams, and he proceeds to bend her over his shoulder.)
Will
A joke, am I? (He spanks her.) Couldn't solve my way out of a paper bag? Take that! (He spanks her again.)
Liz (between laughter and shrieks)
Oh! Wills, put me down! Will, please!
Will (who is very much enjoying himself.)
Oh, no, Mammy. You're going to have to be taught a lesson
Liz
Oh, but Wills! Right here, in front of all these people?!
Will (spanking away)
Right here in front of all these people.
Liz
Are you sure you don't want to wait until later?
Will
No, of course I--(it dawns upon him, and he lowers his hand and slowly puts her down. She beams at him mischievously.)
Why, Mrs. Charles.
(She happily allows herself to be passionately kissed. After several moments, she breaks away with a soft moan.)
Liz
Next time, don't be quite so enthusiastic. My aunt has smoke pouring from her ears.
Will
Let her fume, the old battle axe. (kissing her again)
Liz
Wills!
Will
I'm sorry, but there is something wrong with any woman who is known as "The First Widow of Rosings."
Liz
Well, her husband was mayor there for forty years.
Will
You mean, he was dictator. And of course she feels she must carry on the tradition. She and her spooky son.
Liz
Anatole is not…spooky. There is nothing spooky about being crippled and confined to a wheelchair.
Will
At least he didn't come today. (shudders) I never did like that lad. Do you know, I think your aunt always wanted you to marry him? And him-your cousin, no less! How bizarre can you get?
Liz
You were always convinced he was in love with me. You're so cute when you're jealous. It's highly entertaining.
Will
(eyeing her meaningfully) Well, lady…look at the goods. Can you blame me for being jealous? (He draws her to him; she nestles against his shoulder with a smile.)
Liz
Oh, Wills, hurry and make your announcement so we can move on to other things.
Will (eyes lighting)
Woah, Mammy!
(He kisses her irresistibly again, then straightens, releases her, and moves to command the attention of the crowd.) Uh…excuse me, everyone. Ladies and gentlemen…(He is having difficulty. One of the policemen yells, "Hey, Will's trying to talk!" And a few seconds later a cop whistle is blown full blast. The audience freezes.)
Er…thank you. (Cop responds: "No problem, Will!") Yes…well…Ladies and gentlemen, you have all been brought here today for a reason, and that reason you shall shortly hear. You all know how I have loved being a Private Investigator in the city of New York, and I want you all to be the first to know that no job, or city, in the world will ever mean as much to me. But nevertheless, as of this moment, I am no longer a detective. My wife and I have recently purchased an estate in Connecticut, and we intend to move there as soon as possible and begin new lives of domestic felicity.
There is a shocked silence. Bennet Charles is the first to respond.
Bennet
Why, Will! You told us nothing of this. When did you decide all this!
Will
I had been debating--we--had been considering the possibility for some months now. After the Brandenburg case was cleared, the timing seemed right, somehow.
Mrs. Charles
What? What's all this? Did he say he was moving to the country?
Bennet
Yes, dear. He's moving to-where did you say it was, son?
Liz
It's near Hartford, Connecticut, Dad. It's this grand old estate called Pemberley.
Bennet
Pemberley? You mean it has a name? That's an oddity!
Mrs. Charles
Do you mean they're just going to go, like that? Why-why, that's unthinkable! How is he supposed to get his name in the papers if he's cut off from civilization?
Jane
I believe that is what he and Lizzy are trying to avoid, Mother. (She goes to Will and embraces him, then Liz.) I am very happy for you, Wills.
Will
I wouldn't imagine you could be anything else, Jane.
Catherine
(From the back of the room, she calls out in voluminous tones:) Elizabeth! Child, what do you think you are about?
Liz
Will and I are only going to take a house in the country, ma'am.
Catherine
And what is wrong with you coming to Rosings, eh? Why is upstate New York any worse than…(she sneers) Hartford?
Bennet (chuckling)
Yes, yes, Will…you see you've gotten yourself in a trap. For that matter, why not come to Merry Town? Pennsylvania is your home, you know. And you know all your neighbors would be delighted to see you back again.
Bingley
Oh, yes-with you and me both back in town, Wills, they'd never be able to contain themselves.
Will
And, uh…if you'll forgive me, that's precisely why we are not moving back to Merry Town.
Georgette
But what about Rosings, Lizzy?
Liz
Oh, Georgie, we'll be at Rosings just as much as before, I promise. And with you at school, it won't make that much of a difference anyway. Besides, now you can stay with us over holidays-and I know you'll love Pemberley.
Georgette
Oh, I'm sure that I shall. I love it already!
Colonel Fitzwilliam
Well, I for one, want to wish Will the best of luck on his retirement. I know from experience that he has a will of iron, so I won't try and convince him to change his mind. I just hope he'll come to his senses and realize how much he loves his work. Until then-a toast to New York's finest detective!
He raises his glass; all cry, "Hip hip, hooray!" and drink. Someone cries out, "And here's to Mrs. Charles!" "Hip hip, hooray!" More drinking. Asta barks indignantly. Liz looks around.
Liz
And don't forget Asta!
"Three cheers for Asta!" another voice cries. They cheer, and drink a third time. Only this time, instead of more toasts, a severe coughing is heard. All look toward the direction of the sound. Over by the piano, Mr. Collins is clutching his throat with one hand and attempting to steady himself with the other. Charlotte moves toward him in horror. He looks at her with an expression of deep regret, manages to spit out, "Char…lotte!" before suddenly toppling forward over the piano. His body rests there for a moment in slow convulsions while the others look on in shock. Suddenly he gives a violent twitch and all is still. Mary Charles, still at her position behind the piano, rises shakily, eyes wide with fright, and stands speechless for a moment before letting out an ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream.
Lydia
What happened? George, what's wrong with him?
Col. Fitzwilliam
We need a doctor!
Bennet
I'm a doctor. Move aside.
( They do, and he goes to the slumped form of Billy Collins. After examining the neck and wrist for a pulse, his eyes narrow and he rolls the body over, face up. There are gasps-the man's face is purple, his eyes wildly distended. Mr. Charles, straightens and shakes his head.)
He's dead, Will.
Will and Liz exchanged glances of shock. Charlotte gives an involuntary cry and holds her fist to her lips to stifle her emotion. Georgie goes to her and embraces her tightly. Amid the confusion that ensues, Liz casts her husband a wry glance.
Liz
Welcome to retirement.
End Scene.
Scene 2
Interior. The same room, later. The party has disintegrated; all that remain are a bunch of weary, agitated men and women, suspects in a murder case. Several members of New York's finest ring the room, hands in pockets or clasped idly in front of them. On the couch in the center of the room sit Will and Liz. They stare straight ahead in something of a daze; beside Liz sits Georgie Darcy, her sister. Standing near are Charles and Jane Bingley, both of whom are evidently still attempting to recover from the shock. Lydia has curled herself up very indecorously in Wickham's lap across the room; he is bearing with the embarrassment only because he is apparently too tired to protest. Caroline smokes a cigarette in over-exaggerated anxiety, pacing the room and stopping at regular intervals to ask what on earth is to be done, and how something like this could have happened. She is steadfastly ignored. Catherine de Bourgh appears almost complacent; she sits in a huge chair frowning at everyone, as if to say, 'I told you so.' Mary Charles sits near her, armed with a bottle of smelling salts, her pale face blanched with fear and exhaustion. No one speaks save for Miss Bingley, until Bennet Charles enters quietly from the hallway.
Bennet
Well, well. I've done it. The coroner will be arriving soon. Your mother has been sent home, Will.
Will
I thought no one was allowed to leave.
Bennet
Well…under the circumstances…he felt there was no way her presence could contribute anything to the investigation, and she was obviously not a suspect.
Will wearily casts Liz a look, as much as to say, 'In other words, she who yells the loudest leaves the earliest.' Liz, her expression gentle, covers his hand with her own.
Liz
How is Charlotte?
Bennet
She'll be all right. Strong woman, that one. She's asking for you, Will.
Will
All right. he rises. Are you sure you told me all Charlotte said to you, Lizzy?
Liz
Yes, I'm positive. But…let's not…she looks around pointedly. The others in the room are watching her intently. Catherine de Bourgh is the first to speak.
Catherine
What sort of charade is this? Why was Mr. Charles' mother allowed to leave, when the rest of us are being held here like common criminals?
Liz
Aunt Catherine, Mrs. Charles experienced an acute nervous attack-it was most unwise of her to stay here when the ordeal was only worsening her condition.
Catherine (scoffing)
Ha! You don't see me hiding behind some false medical condition. Oh, no. Does that man, that-that Colonel-does he know who I am? Does he know who you are?
Liz
Yes, of course he does, aunt! I know Colonel Fitzwilliam is doing all he can to help us-to help you leave as soon as possible.
Mr. Charles taps Will on the arm and motions for him to exit.
You'd better go see about Charl, Will. She needs you.
Will
rises, then pauses, casts his wife a silent entreaty.
And I need you. Come with me. Charlotte will want you with her.
Liz
hesitates, then agrees. She turns to Georgie. I'll be back in a few minutes, sweetheart. Miss Darcy nods. Liz rises and joins her husband; they exit the room with his father, followed by a barrage of questions thrown at their backs by Catherine.
Will (to Bennet, as they are walking down the hallway, in a low voice)
What's the verdict, Dad?
Bennet
Well, he was poisoned. So far, that's all we know-it's futile to guess until the coroner arrives…
Liz
But you will anyway, won't you, Dad?
Bennet
My guess is arsenic. It's quick, easy to get a hold of, and relatively unnoticeable. Either that or something less familiar-strychnine, perhaps.
Liz
So then he didn't…there's nothing to make it appear a suicide?
Will
No. Collins wasn't going to commit suicide-at least not by poisoning himself. Charlotte said he'd bought a gun. It doesn't make sense for a man to buy one murder weapon and then change his mind and use another way-if you're going to kill yourself it hardly matters how, and few suicide methods are less frequently used than poisoning. Besides-if he bought the gun two weeks ago, and still hadn't attempted to take his life, it's a safe assumption he was preparing to defend himself. A man trying to prevent someone from killing him, isn't going to defeat the purpose by doing the job himself.
Liz
So it was…murder.
Will
Oh, yes, Mammy. And someone in that room-someone here tonight, killed him.
Liz
Our families…our friends… it's unthinkable. Poor Charlotte! But…Wills, why?
Will
Well, that's what the colonel and I are about to try to find out. Ready, darling?
Liz nods weakly, and after a short knock, they open the door to the study. The cops who earlier were so riotous fill the room with a dizzying shade of blue-under the circumstances a very somber hue. Colonel Fitzwilliam sits behind the desk Will earlier sat on; in front of him sits Charlotte, plainly fatigued, plainly still in shock, but graceful throughout. The camera remains in the doorway as the two enter and she flashes them a smile of gratitude. Bennet Charles steps inside the entryway and closes the door behind him. As he does we see the figure of a woman creep slowly, furtively to the door and, after carefully ascertaining that no one is looking, lean her ear eagerly against the keyhole. The camera backs away, and we see that it is Lydia Wickham…
End Scene