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Yr 7 - Murder Mysteries

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Researching the DetectivesName of detective:

Created by:

First appearance:

Who do they work for?:

Famous cases:

What people say about him/her:

Things he or she says. How do they speak? Famous lines/quotations…:

Appearance:

Quirks – what makes this detective special?:

The No1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

CHAPTER ONE

The Daddy



Mma Ramotswe had a detective agency in Africa, at the foot of Kgale Hill. These were its assets: a tiny white van, two desks, two chairs, a telephone, and an old typewriter. Then there was a teapot, in which Mma Ramotswe--the only lady private detective in Botswana--brewed redbush tea. And three mugs--one for herself, one for her secretary, and one for the client. What else does a detective agency really need? Detective agencies rely on human intuition and intelligence, both of which Mma Ramotswe had in abundance. No inventory would ever include those, of course.

But there was also the view, which again could appear on no inventory. How could any such list describe what one saw when one looked out from Mma Ramotswe's door? To the front, an acacia tree, the thorn tree which dots the wide edges of the Kalahari; the great white thorns, a warning; the olive-grey leaves, by contrast, so delicate. In its branches, in the late afternoon, or in the cool of the early morning, one might see a Go-Away Bird, or hear it, rather. And beyond the acacia, over the dusty road, the roofs of the town under a cover of trees and scrub bush; on the horizon, in a blue shimmer of heat, the hills, like improbable, overgrown termite mounds.

The Full Cupboard of Life by Alexander McCall Smith

Chapter One

A Great Sadness among the Cars of Botswana

Precious Ramotswe was sitting at her desk at the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency in Gaborone. From where she sat she could gaze out of the window, out beyond the acacia trees, over the grass and the scrub bush, to the hills in their blue haze of heat. It was such a noble country, and so wide, stretching for mile upon mile to brown



horizons at the very edge of Africa. It was late summer, and there had been good rains that year. This was important, as good rains meant productive fields, and productive fields meant large, ripened pumpkins of the sort that traditionally built ladies like Mma Ramotswe so enjoyed eating. The yellow flesh of a pumpkin or a squash, boiled and then softened with a lump of butter (if one's budget stretched to that), was one of God's greatest gifts to Botswana. And it tasted so good, too, with a slice of fine Botswana beef, dripping in gravy.

Oh yes, God had given a great deal to Botswana, as she had been told all those years ago at Sunday school in Mochudi. "Write a list of Botswana's heavenly blessings," the teacher had said. And the young Mma Ramotswe, chewing on the end of her indelible pencil, and feeling the sun bearing down on the tin roof of the Sunday school, heat so insistent that the tin creaked in protest against its restraining bolts, had written: (1) the land; (2) the people who live on the land; (3) the animals, and specially the fat cattle. She had stopped at that, but, after a pause, had added: (4) the railway line from Lobatse to Francistown. This list, once submitted for approval, had come back with a large blue tick after each item, and the comment written in: Well done, Precious! You are a sensible girl. You have correctly shown why Botswana is a fortunate country.

The Winter Queen by Boris Akunin

Chapter One

In which an account is rendered of a certain cynical escapade

On Monday the fifteenth of May in the year 1876, between the hours of two and three in the afternoon on a day that combined the freshness of spring with the warmth of summer, numerous individuals in Moscow's Alexander Gardens unexpectedly found themselves eyewitnesses to the perpetration of an outrage that flagrantly transgressed the bounds of common decency.

The public strolling the alleyways between blossoming lilac bushes



and flower beds ablaze with the flaming scarlet blooms of tulips was smartly decked out: ladies holding aloft lacework parasols (to avert the threat of freckles), nannies minding children in neat little sailor suits, and young men affecting an air of boredom in fashionable cheviot frock coats or jackets cut in the short English fashion. With nothing apparently portending any disagreeable turn of events, a lazy satisfaction and gratifying tedium suffused the atmosphere, mingling with the scents of a mature and confident spring season. The rays of the sun beat down in earnest, and every last one of the benches that happened to stand in the shade was occupied.

Seated on one of these benches located not far from the Grotto and facing the railings so as to afford a view of the beginning of Neglinnaya Street and the yellow wall of the Manège were two ladies. One of them, a very young lady (indeed, not really a lady at all, more of a girl), was reading a small morocco-bound volume and glancing about her from time to time with an air of distracted curiosity. Her much older companion, wearing a good-quality dark blue woolen dress and sensible lace-up ankle boots, rotated her needles in a regular rhythm as she concentrated on knitting some item in a poisonous pink, yet still found time to turn her head to the right and the left with a rapid glance so keen that there was certainly no way anything the least bit remarkable could possibly escape it.

The lady's attention was caught immediately by the young man in narrow check trousers, a frock coat casually buttoned over a white waistcoat, and a round Swiss hat. He was walking along the alley in such a remarkably strange manner, stopping every now and again as he attempted to pick out somebody among the strollers, then taking a few abrupt steps before stopping yet again.



MURDER IN THE BILLIARD ROOM

CHARACTERS:

Lord de ValleMargot, Lady de ValleThe Hon, Albinson-Treek, Lord de Valle’s nephewCyntia Albinson-Jones, Lord de Valle’s nieceMr Cuthbert Ponsonby-JonesMrs Mavis Ponsonby-JonesThe Butler, Jenkins

The Parlourmaid

SmithSergeant TwistDoctor

THE DINING ROOM OF STURRINGTON TOWERS, DINNER IS TAKING PLACE

Lord de Valle: More wine, Jenkins.Jenkins: Certainly, mi Lord.Lord de Valle: (Shouting) Don’t be careless, man. You’re spilling it.Jenkins: Sorry, mi Lord.Lord de Valle: Why are you so nervous tonight, Jenkins? That’s the

second mistake you’ve made. You had the fish knives in the wrong place.

Jenkins: It’s nothing, mi Lord. I’m not myself tonight.Lady de Valle: Don’t shout at Jenkins, darling.Lord de Valle: (Shouting) I’m not shouting!Lady de Valle: You are dear. It must be your age.Lord de Valle: I’m not in my grave yet.Smith: (To himself) No, not yet. Lady de Valle: Of course not, darling. He’s a good many years yet,

hasn’t he, Cuthbert? Hasn’t he?Ponsonby-Jones: (Choking) What? What? (Coughing) Sorry. A

crumb from the bread roll. Went down the wrong way. (Coughs) Of course, Lady de Valle. I was only saying to my wife this morning how well Lord de Valle looked.

Mrs Ponsonby-Jones: You’re the youngest sixty-year-old I know, Lord de Valle.

Lord de Valle: I’m glad somebody thinks so. You bring a touch of spring to these occasions, Mavis.

Lady de Valle: I do believe you’re blushing, Mavis.Mrs Ponsonby-Jones: It’s the heat. It’s almost as bad as the

Congo.



Lord de Valle: It is damn hot in here. I’ll get Jenkins to turn down the heat. Parlourmaid, get Jenkins to turn the damn heat down.

Cynthia Albinson-Treek: Aren’t you supposed to live in a warm temperature, Uncle, since you returned from East with that illness?

Lord de Valle: (Shouting) everyone seems concerned with my health. Which is funny as you’re all, with the exception of Mavis, after my money. One day I’ll surprise you all and have a son.

(The Parlourmaid drops the sweets with a crash).Lady de Valle: I wish you wouldn’t shout, dear. She’d dropped the

sweet.Parlourmaid: Sorry, my lady. It just slipped. I’m so sorry. I’ll see if

cook’s got another.Lord de Valle: What’s wrong with servants these days?Parlourmaid: It won’t happen again, sir. (Cries)Lady de Valle: Now you’ve upset her. I’ll have to go and comfort

her. You just can’t get good servants these days.Albinson-Treek: (Whispering) I say, Cynthia, who’s that fellow

Smith?Cynthia Albinson-Treek: I’ve no idea but I don’t like the look of

the fellow.Lord de Valle: Yes, I’ll have a son. He’ll give you a good beating at

golf, Albinson. Just like his father. Albinson-Treek: I must admit you were too good for me, Uncle.

Five and four today, wasn’t it?Lord de Valle: Four and three. If you’re going to inherit my

merchant bank you must have a better head for figures than that.

Cynthia Albinson-Treek: he’s hopeless at figures, Uncle.Lord de Valle: I should say your figure’s given up hope as well,

Cynthia. It’s all that food you stuff down you.Cynthia Albinson-Treek: How dare you, Uncle! In front of all these

people.Lord de Valle: Could do with that necklace on you to help catch a

man.Cynthia Albinson-Treek: I’ll never come here again. (Cries and

runs out)Lord de Valle: She will. She knows about the necklace in my will.Lady de Valle: (Returning) Now you’ve upset Cynthia as well. You

really are trying.Lord de Valle: You don’t have to try with Cynthia. No sense of

humour that woman. Anyway, I think you’re all boring. I’m going to the billiard room. Coming for a game. Smith?

Lady de Valle: I must apologize for my husband’s rudeness.Albinson-Treek: It’s all right, we know him.Cynhtia: (Returning) I’m all right now.Mrs Ponsonby-Jones: I think he’s a bit overwrought. There’s

something on his mind.Lady de Valle: You may be right. Who is this Smith he invited to

dinner? He wouldn’t tell me. Keeps talking to the fellow in corners. Do you know, Frederick?



Albinson-Treek: I don’t know him but he looks a cad and a bounder.

Smith: (Runs in) Quick, Lady de Valle. Come to the billiard room!(Pause. Followed by shriek.)Lady de Valle: Come quickly everybody, before I faint. Lord de

Valle is dead!

THE BILLIARD ROOM

Albinson-Treek: His skill is smashed in. You’ve killed him, Smith, you bounder. You’ve hit him with a billiard cue. We must get the police.

Lady de Valle: Ah! (she faints)Ponsonby-Jones: She’s fainted. Jenkins, the smelling salts and

some sal volatile. Jenkins: Certainly, sir. (To himself) I must get out of here or I’m

done for.Albinson-Treek: You bounder, Smith.Smith: If you examine the wound closely, it is too deep to have

been done by a billiard cue.Albinson-Treek: Whatever has caused it, you were the only one in

the room with him.Smith: I think it would be a good idea then for you to get the police.

And a doctor too.(Later)

Sergeant Twist: (He speaks as a doctor examines the body.) On the evidence given me by the Honourable Frederick Albinson-Treek, I arrest you for the wilful murder of Lord de Valle. I must warn you that anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.

Smith: I don’t think so, Sergeant.Sergeant Twist: what do you mean?Smith: Sergeant, my card.Sergeant Twist: Joshua Smith, 11 Albany Street, London, W.!. Not

THE Joshua Smith?Smith: The very same.Sergeant Twist: The world’ greatest detective.Smith: I wouldn’t say that.Sergeant Twist: You are too modest. Your record proves it. I

expect you know who did this.Smith: I think we had better listen to the doctor’s report.Doctor: It isn’t murder at all. It’s a heart failure. He hit his head on

the billiard table as he fell, I should say.Smith: Have you ever heard of ferranga mutalis, Doctor?Doctor: I can’t say I have.Smith: A deadly African poison which makes its victim look as if he

had a heart attack. Look at his fingernails with this magnifying glass.

Doctor: They look yellowish. I think I once read about this. God you’re brilliant, Smith.



Sergeant Twist: What do we de then, sir?Smith: Lord de Valle knew an attempt would be made on his life.

That’s why I’m here. We must have the guests in one by one.Sergeant Twist: Might I take the liberty of suggesting we see the

butler first, sir. I apprehended him as he ran out of the gate.Smith: A good idea, Sergeant. Call the butler.(Pause)

Jenkins: You wished to see me, sir?Smith: What do you know of ferranga mutalis?Jenkins: Nothing, sir.Smith: Why were you so nervous at dinner?Jenkins: I’d rather not say.Smith: You have access to and serve the wines where the poison

could have been?Jenkins: I never did him in. Before God I didn’t!Smith: You’re an ex-convict aren’t you?Jenkins: How did you know that?Smith: By the way you walk. Lord de Valle knew your secret and

threatened to expose you if you left his service.Sergeant Twist: Shall I arrest him, sir?Smith: I think not, Sergeant. You may go, Jenkins. Send in the

Parlourmaid.(Pause)

Smith: Why did you drop the sweet at dinner?Parlourmaid: It was Lord de Valle’s shouting. It upset me.Smith: I think not.Parlourmaid: It was.Smith: You dropped it when he mentioned a son.Parlourmaid: So what?Smith: Your son is also Lord de Valle’s son.Parlourmaid: How did you know?Smith: A little gossip at the local inn. A case of two and two making

four. You killed him because he threatened to expose you. He wanted an heir.

Parlourmaid: No!Sergeant Twist: Shall I arrest her, sir?Smith: I think that might be hasty, Sergeant. Call in Lady de Valle

and Mr Ponsonby-Jones.Smith: You’ll see my reason, Sergeant.(Pause)

Smith: I’ll not waste words, Lady de Valle. You were never happily married to a man twenty years your senior. You killed him to be free.

Lady de Valle: I deny it. I was not in the room either.Smith: On the second point Lord de Valle was poisoned. On the

first, why did you spend weekends at Brighton with Mr Ponsonby-Jones?

Lady de Valle: Ah! (She faints)Ponsonby-Jones: Gad, our secret’s out, Margot.



Smith: I think not, Sergeant. Call in Mrs Albinson-Treek.(Pause)

Smith: I’ll be blunt, Miss Albinson-Treek. Lord de Valle was consistently rude about your looks. He could not bear unattractive women. That and the valuable diamond necklace you stood to inherit gave you good reason to poison him as you sat next to him at dinner.

(Miss Albinson-Treek cries)Sergeant Twist: Shall I arrest her, sir?Smith: She has not the courage to murder, Sergeant. You can see it

in her behaviour. Call in her brother, the last suspect.(Pause)

Albinson-Treek: I think you’ve a damn confounded cheek. Why should I want to poison my uncle?

Smith: Who mentioned poison?Sergeant Twist: Yes, who did?Albinson-Treek: The Butler told me.Smith: I’ll be blunt with you as well, Mr Albinson-Treek. You’re in

debt up to your eyebrows for gambling. The bank you stand to inherit will pay them off.

Albinson-Treek: Gad, how did you know that?Smith: I have my contacts in the murky world of the gambler.Sergeant Twist: I will arrest him then, sir.Smith: I think not, Sergeant. He could know nothing of the poison.

He never left the country.Sergeant Twist: I’m baffled then, sir. You said he was the last

suspect.Smith: There is one more guest, Mrs Ponsonby-Jones. Yet she is the

only one without a motive.Sergeant Twist: I’m baffled, sir.Smith: I think we will have her in, Sergeant.(Pause)

(Mrs Ponsonby-Jones enters crying)

Smith: I know you didn’t want to murder Lord de Valle, Mrs Jones, so there is no need to cry.

Mrs Ponsonby-Jones: I can’t help it.Smith: You did not want to murder him because you loved him.Mrs Ponsonby-Jones: I’ve told nobody. How did you know?Smith: It is written in your eyes, Mrs Jones.Mrs Ponsonby-Jones: Oh!Smith: I say you didn’t want to but unfortunately you did, didn’t

you.Sergeant Twist: What do you mean sir?Smith: She put the poison in her husband’s wine glass because she

knew of his affair with Lady de Valle. But because the butler had made such a mess of setting the table, Lord de Valle picked it up by mistake.

Mrs Ponsonby-Jones: Oh God!



Smith: Her remark about the Congo gave her away. I knew then she had been to Africa. Arrest the wretched woman, Sergeant.

Sergeant Twist: You’ll come down to the station, sir?Smith: I’m afraid not, I have to catch the boat to New York. The

police are baffled by a multi-murder case. Goodnight, Sergeant.Sergeant Twist: Goodnight, sir.

MAKING YOUR OWN PLAYS

In recent times the ‘whodunit’ has been a very popular form of theatre. ‘The Mousetrap’ by Agatha Christie has created records as the longest running play. But it is probably on of the hardest kinds of plays for you to write. You need to get a number of characters into one place, like an old country house. One of them is then murdered. In a good ‘whodunit’ all the rest then come under suspicion. It was very popular for an amateur detective to out-smart the police in finding the murderer.



BLUE MURDER

Scene – The great detective’s room in Baker Street. It is furnished in the style of the late ‘eighties, with a large desk RC bearing a telephone of antique pattern.

(Enter VAGUE and WITLESS, removing their overcoats.)

Witless: Well, that brings another case to a close, Vague.Vague: Yes. (Sitting in armchair, L.) I suppose I astounded you, as

usual?Witless: Utterly. (He sits R of desk.) Fancy it being the butler all the

time!Vague (wearily): No, no, Witless, even now you fail to grasp the

point. Now please listen carefully –-- (The telephone rings.)Witless: Excuse me. Hallo?Voice: Help!Witless: Pardon?Voice: Help!Witless: Pray be more explicit, madam.Voice: Help!Vague: Get the message, Witless.Witless: It’s not easy. Her vocabulary is rather limited.Voice: Help!Witless: I’m afraid this is getting us nowhere, madam. I suggest

that you write us a letter. (Replaces ‘phone.) A new case, no doubt.

Vague: Quite so. A foreign woman, calling from a top-storey flat.Witless: Upon my soul, Vague, familiar as I am with your methods, I

confess myself ---Vague: Come, come, it’s obvious. Her vocabulary is limited,

denoting a poor knowledge of our language: her tones were thin and high, denoting a rarefied atmosphere.

(Enter LANDLADY.)

Landlady: A gentleman to see you, sir.Vague: Well, show him up.Landlady: To tell the truth, sir, I’ve carried him up. Here he is, sir.

(Enter SIR CHARLES POPHAM, heavily bandaged, and on crutches.)

Witless: My dear sir! Are you hurt?Popham: By George, you fellows are observant. Which of you is

Somwat Vague?Vague: The same, sir. Pray be seated. This was an accident, I

presume?Popham: By no means.Witless: What? A murderous attack?



Popham: Precisely.Vague: Pray tell us your story from the beginning, sir.Popham: My name is Sir Charles Popham. From my boyhood I have

lived with my cousin, Sir Herbert Gnash, under the guardianship of my uncle, Lord Foozle.

Vague: Ah! Lord Foozle died recently, I recall.Popham: He did, sir, and under highly suspicious circumstances.

Shortly before his death, he made a will. From that time onwards, Mr. Vague, the behaviour of my cousin, Sir Herbert Gnash, became increasingly odd. On one occasion, he tripped my uncle down the stairs. On another, as my uncle stood in the garden, Herbert dropped a huge stone pot on him from the balcony. I dismissed these incidents as accidents ---

Vague: Quite so.Popham: But then something occurred which, try as I might, I could

not dismiss so readily. One night, hearing a sound from my uncle’s room, I tiptoed to his door, and peeped through the keyhole. There within I saw my cousin Herbert. He had placed a noose over my uncle’s head, and had thrown the other end over a beam. As I watched, he hauled on the rope, and my uncle rose into the air. My suspicions were now fully aroused.

Vague: Did Lord Foozle struggle?Popham: At first, violently. Then his efforts grew weaker, and

finally, they stopped altogether.Vague: Ha! Well, Witless, what do you make of this?Witless: I should surmise that Sir Herbert Gnash was trying to

murder Lord Foozle, in order to benefit from his will.Vague: Ah! We must not jump to conclusions, Witless. (To Popham.)

And shortly after this, your uncle died?Popham: Oh, yes, he was never the same again.Vague: And did your cousin benefit the will?Popham: Yes. Uncle left all his money to me, but after my death, it

is all to go to Herbert.Vague: And since then, you yourself have been attacked?Popham: Yes. That’s the strange part of it. I have been the victim

of an unceasing rain of violence. A tree has fallen on me, a bomb exploded under my bath, all my food tastes strongly of arsenic, I never retire without finding a venomous snake in my bed, and this morning when I ventured on the landing from my bedroom, I found that someone had sawn away the stairs.

Vague: Have you told anyone about this?Popham: Yes, the police.Vague: And what ridiculous advice did they give you?Popham: They told me to come and see you.Vague: Ah, yes, excellent: our police are wonderful. Now, tell me,

Sir Charles: has your cousin ever been near you when these outrages have occurred?

Popham: Yes, invariably. He has either been hiding round a corner, or crouching behind a piece of furniture.

Vague: Have you noted the expression of his face?



Popham: Yes. At first it is one of eager anticipation, and then, after the outrage has occurred, it is replaced by one of disappointment.

Vague: I see. Now, a vital question, Sir Charles. Has he, in your view, any motive in wishing to kill you?

Popham: No. He would gain nothing, except a lot of money.Vague: This goes deep, and yet we will fathom it. Have you a

photograph of your cousin?Popham: Yes, I think so. (Produces photo.)Vague: He is younger than I expected. Why is he lying on a

cushion?Popham: Oh! Pardon me. That’s one of me at six months. (Produces

another photo.) This is Herbert.Vague: Ha! This will do excellently. Witless, I am about to undergo

a transformation. Pray entertain our visitor while I disguise myself. (Exit.)

Popham: What’s he going to do?Witless: He’s going to disguise himself as your cousin Herbert. He’ll

amaze us. He’s a master of disguises.Popham: And what will he do then?Witless: I surmise that he will call on various members of the

criminal classes. If they speak to him, it will prove that your cousin is on speaking terms with criminals.

Popham: What good will that do?Witless (at a loss): Well – er --- (telephone rings) Ah! Excuse me.

Hallo?Voice: Help!Witless (replacing ‘phone): Oh, it’s that silly woman again. (Enter

Landlady.) Well, Mrs. Hopkins?Landlady: Begging your pardon, sir, there’s a gentleman outside,

climbing up our drainpipe.Witless: Climbing our drainpipe?Landlady: Yes, sir.Witless: Does he look a suspicious character?Landlady: Oh, yes, sir, very. He’s carrying two revolvers, sir.Witless: Then how is he climbing the drainpipe?Landlady: Begging your pardon, sir, he’s got them tied round his

neck on a string.Witless: H’m. I’ll make a note of this. Thank you, Mrs. Hopkins, you

have done well. (Exit Landlady.) Never a dull moment in this profession, eh, Sir Charles? No sooner does one wrongdoer meet with justice, than another presents himself.

Popham: What do you do if a dozen turn up at once?Witless: Oh, then we tie them up in bundles of three.

(Enter SIR HERBERT GNASH, L, a revolver in each hand.)

Herbert: Ha! Cornered you at last, Charles! Who’s this feeble-looking worm? (Indicating Witless.) Don’t bother to tell me, I’m not interested. Put your hands up, both of you, or I’ll blow your brains out.



Popham (rising): Now look here, Herbert, I’m beginning to get very suspicious of your behaviour. In fact I must tell you that I’ve ---

Witless (roaring with laughter): My dear Sir Charles, pray do not discompose yourself! This is not your cousin, Sir Herbert Gnash! (To Herbert.) Vague, you surpass yourself!

Popham: But do you mean to tell me that this is ---Witless: Vague in disguise, of course!Popham: But this is incredible!Witless: Did I not tell you he was a master of disguises?Popham: But his voice – his clothes – and he’s about four inches

taller ---Witless: Oh, yes, we spare no pains to effect absolute

verisimilitude, eh, Vague?Popham: I am dumbfounded!Herbert: What the deuce are you two raving about? Come on, stick

your hands up!Witless: Come, Vague, this is capital! Keep it up!Herbert: Have I walked into a madhouse?Popham: An astounding personification, Mr. Vague! My cousin to

the life!Herbert: Now, wait a minute. Let’s get this straight. Vague? Would

he be the comic clown with the false moustache that I’ve knocked out and shoved into a cupboard?

Witless: Ha ha ha! Very likely!Popham: Rich, sir! Very rich!Herbert: He was disguising himself as me?Witless: You should know, my dear fellow!Herbert: I’m beginning to understand. You think I’m him disguised

as me pretending to be me asking about him?Witless: We certainly do!Herbert: Well, this is a bit of luck. All right. I’m Vague. Are we

agreed on that?Witless and Popham (together): Certainly!Herbert: Fine. Well, now, I have to explain that I am well on the

track of the criminal already. I’ve caught a man climbing our drainpipe ---

Witless: Ah, that was a matter I intended to mention myself!Herbert: Yes? Shrewd work. As it happens, however, I have

anticipated you. I overpowered him and locked him in the landing cupboard ---

Popham: Stout work, sir!Herbert; Yes, I rather like it myself. But he’s a dangerous fellow.

Needs watching. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to escape!Popham: The blackguard!Herbert; Exactly. Unfortunately, I have a particularly intricate chain

of clues to follow, and cannot watch him myself ---Witless: Say no more, Vague. You wish us to watch him for you?Herbert: Yes, please.Popham: It’s the last we can do, sir!Herbert; Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. The landing

cupboard, gentlemen ---Popham (to Witless): After you, sir.



Witless: This way, Sir Charles. Be assured that your case is very nearly at an end.

Herbert: It is indeed.

(Exeunt. Herbert returns immediately, brandishing a key. He pockets it and picks up his revolver.)

Herbert: Child’s play! Now – the landlady. (Rings bell.) Mustn’t leave any loose ends. (Enter Landlady.) Put your hands up, my good woman, and enter the cupboard on the landing. You’ll find three men in there. You may be able to get up a game together.

Landlady: And what do you propose to do then, sir?Herbert; Burn the house down. Hurry up, there’s a good girl.Landlady: No, sir.Herbert (ominously): No?Landlady: No, sir. I know my place, I hope, and it certainly isn’t in

the landing cupboard with three gentlemen.Herbert: Too bad! I don’t want to threaten you, my good woman,

but ---Landlady: Oh, I shouldn’t if I was you, sir. Begging your pardon, sir,

you haven’t a chance against me. I’ve been a detective’s landlady for years, sir, and I’ve met more crooks than you’ve had hot dinners, sir.

Herbert: Do you want to be shot, you baggage?Landlady: You didn’t ought to talk like that, sir, with a policeman

climbing through the window behind you.Herbert (spinning round): What?Landlady (deftly taking his revolver): Well, fancy you being

caught with an old trick like that, sir. You must be very inexperienced.

Herbert (thickly): They’re not loaded.Landlady: We’ll just pull trigger and see, shall we, sir? (Fires over

his head, a shattering salvo of shots.) Ah! Begging your pardon, sir, you’re wrong!

Herbert (his arm over his face): All right – all right ---Landlady: And now, will you kindly let those poor gentlemen out of

the cupboard, sir?Herbert: But that means I’m caught, curse it!Landlady: That’s right, sir.Herbert: But what’ll happen to me now?Landlady: Begging your pardon, sir, I expect they’ll hang you. They

usually do in these cases. (Motioning him out.) After you, sir.

(Exit Herbert, Landlady “covering” him DL. Re-enter with Vague, who wears half a moustache, Popham, and Witless.)

Vague (in ringing tones): Sir Herbert Gnash, the game’s up. You are guilty of the murder of your uncle, Lord Foozle, and the attempted murder of myself. From now on, this is a routine matter for the police. Ring them, Witless.

Landlady: I’ve taken the liberty of doing that already, Mr. Vague. I never did trust men who climb drainpipes. Specially with



revolvers round their necks. (A knocking outside.) Ah, this’ll be them now, sir.

Vague: Ah. Well. Show Sir Herbert to the door, Mrs. Hopkins, if you please. The police will take care of him.

Landlady: Yes, sir. I’ll explain the case to them, shall I, sir? Vague: Yes, do so. A brief outline – you know my methods. And

then bring us some hot coffee. Detection is very tiring work.(Exeunt Landlady, Sir Herbert.)

Well, Sir Charles, there’s an end to your little problem.

Popham: Masterly, sir. You amaze me.Witless: And me. I confess, Vague, that your deductive processes

elude me once again ---Vague: Ha! Elementary, my dear Witless. A perfectly

straightforward exercise in psychology. Disguised as Sir Herbert, I confronted him with a picture of himself as he really was. Face to face with this, he broke down immediately. In fact, he became exceedingly violent. A sure sign of a guilt-complex. Of what, then, did he know himself guilty? The rest is too obvious to recount. (The ‘phone rings.) No, Witless. Let me handle this. Hallo?

Voice: Help!Vague: So you have said already, my good woman. Please state

your business. (Hysterical rigmarole from the Voice.) Yes… yes… I see… Your house is surrounded by armed bandits… firing on you with machine-guns… you require assistance? … yes, certainly I will… no, I cannot come personally, as I am very tired, but I’ll see to it that you receive aid… yes, immediately. (Replaces ‘phone.) Mrs. Hopkins!

(Enter Landlady with coffee.)Ah, Mrs. Hopkins! I have a little routine job for you…

Curtain



And Then There Were None

In the corner of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Justice Wargrave, lately retired from the bench, puffed at a cigar and ran an interested eye through the political news in the Times. He laid the paper down and glanced out of the window. They were running now through Somerset. He glanced at his watch-- another two hours to go. He went over in his mind all that had appeared in the papers about Indian Island. There had been its original purchase by an American millionaire who was crazy about yachting-- and an account of the luxurious modern house he had built on this little island off the Devon coast. The unfortunate fact that the new third wife of the American millionaire was a bad sailor had led to the subsequent putting up of the house and island for sale. Various glowing advertisements of it had appeared in the papers. Then came the first bald statement that it had been bought-- by a Mr. Owen. After that the rumours of the gossip writers had started. Indian Island had really been bought by Miss Gabrielle Turl, the Hollywood film star! She wanted to spend some months there free from all publicity! Busy Bee had hinted delicately that it was to be an abode for Royalty??! Mr. Merryweather had had it whispered to him that it had been bought for a honeymoon-- Young Lord L-- had surrendered to Cupid at last! Jonas knew for a fact that it had been purchased by the Admiralty with a view to carrying out some very hush hush experiments!



Agatha Christie

VoodooBy Frederic Brown

Mr Decker’s wife had just returned from a trip to Haiti – a trip she had taken alone – to give them a cooling off period before they discussed a divorce.It hadn’t worked. Neither of them had cooled off in the slightest. In fact, they were finding now that they hated one another more than ever.‘Half,’ said Mrs. Decker firmly. ‘I’ll not settle for anything less than half the money plus half the property.’‘Ridiculous!’ said Mr Decker.‘Is it? I could have it all you know. And quite easily too. I studied voodoo while in Haiti.’‘Rot!’ said Mr. Decker.‘It isn’t. And you should be glad that I’m a good woman for I could kill you quite easily if I wished. I would then have all the money and all the real estate, and without any fear of the consequences. A death accomplished by voodoo cannot be distinguished from death by heart failure.’‘Rubbish!’ said Mr. Decker.‘You think so? I have wax and a hatpin. Do you want to give me a tiny pinch of your hair or a fingernail clipping or two – that’s all I need – and let me show you?’‘Nonsense!’ said Mr. Decker‘Then why are you afraid to let me try? Since I know it works, I’ll make you a proposition. If it doesn’t kill you, I’ll give you a divorce and ask for nothing. If it does, I’ll get it all automatically.’‘Done!’ said Mr. Decker. ‘Get your wax and hatpin.’ He glanced at his fingernails. ‘Pretty short. I’ll give you a bit of hair.’



When he came back with a few short strands of hair in the lid of an aspirin tin, Mrs. Decker had already started softening the wax. She kneaded the hair into it, then shaped it into the rough effigy of a human being.‘You’ll be sorry,’ she said, and thrust the hatpin into the chest of the wax figure.

Mr. Decker was surprised, but he was more pleased than sorry. He had not believed in voodoo, but being a cautious man he never took chances.Besides, it had always irritated him that his wife so seldom cleaned her hairbrush.

Planning the Perfect Murder


The Victim: The Murderer:

The Crime:

The Motive:


AIt was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain beating and splashing against the windows.

B.Suddenly, amid the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the terrified scream of a terrified woman. I knew it was my sister’s voice.

C.I sprang from my bed wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor.

D.


Helen Stoner is explaining to Sherlock Holmes how her sister Julia died unexpectedly two years earlier.

For each extract:

Underline the words which really help to create suspense.

Why has the writer chosen a ‘wild night’?

Who doesn’t know where the scream comes from?

Why do you think Helen jumps up? Would you?


As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister had described to me, and a few moments later a changing sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen.

Why do the sounds help to add atmosphere?

Choose the best sentence ending:

EAs I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was unlocked, . . . I saw my sister appear at the opening, her face white with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole figure


What sounds can Helen hear?

The sounds help to create suspense because . . .

. . . the whistles and the metal noises remind Helen of something bad.

. . . Helen’s sister had told her about the whistle before, but Helen doesn’t know what the clanging noise is.

. . . Helen knew what the clanging sounds were and this frightened her.


swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard. She fell to the ground . . . as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out in a voice I shall never forget, “Oh my God! Helen! It was the band. The speckled band!”

Make a list of the words that you think create the most suspense.1.2.3.4.5.

NOW…

In pairs imagine that you are Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. Read the cards in the envelope. Discuss your hypothesis about what crime has been committed, by whom and how. What information are you given and what can you deduce or infer?



Revise:Revise:Start with Verb+ing

Compare:

Liam realised he had finally been picked for the team when he looked down the list for his name.

With:

Looking down the list for his name, Liam realised he had finally been picked for the team.

Consolidate: Consolidate: Copyright © 2007 www.englishteaching.co.uk + www.english-teaching.co.uk


Ahhh, writer’s tactics!

By using verb + ing our writer makes the reader feel more __________ _______ with Liam’s feelings. The reader can easily _________ Liam’s _____________ as he looks down the list. The _____ of words in the sentence is effective because the writer ________ the good news until the end!

anticipation withholds imagine order

emotionally involved

Secure:Secure:Write your own withholding information sentences on your whiteboards using the starter words ‘gripping’, ‘clutching’, ‘holding’. Check to ensure you have a main clause and a subordinate clause and that you have used the punctuation correctly.

Revise:Revise:

Start with Verb+ed!

Compare:

Kylie decided to relax in the jacuzzi because she was tired from the snowboarding.

With:

Tired from all the snowboarding, Kylie decided to relax in the jacuzzi.

ConsolidateConsolidateAhhh, writer’s tactics!



Perhaps this writer thinks the most _________ information should come first – the fact that it’s snowboarding that has made Kylie tired. The writer is putting the order of events in the ________ in the same order that they happened in ____ ____ – snowboarding first followed by relaxing. ____________ tactics – we like it!

sentence important Chronological real time

Secure:Secure:Try your own chronological sentences beginning with Shocked by…, Angered by… and Delighted by…



Revise:Revise:

Start with a Place!

Compare:

A faint low moaning came from beyond the grey misty clifftop path.

With:

Beyond the grey misty clifftop path, there came a faint low moaning.

Consolidate:Consolidate:Ahhh, writer’s tactics!This writer wants us to imagine the _______ before s/he builds up more _______ with the description of moaning so s/he puts the place ‘beyond’ first in the sentence. Putting the place first can create the right kind of __________ before introducing any ______ in writing. It’s a good tactic to get your reader into the story and not give away too much too soon!

setting tension atmosphere action hooked

Secure:Secure:Try these place starters:

On Inside Within Outside Throughout

Near Beyond Among Below Beneath To

Towards From Into Out of Off



Revise:Revise:Start with a time!

Compare:

The players were gathered around the team list already.

With:

Already, the players were gathered around the team list.

Consolidate:Consolidate:Ahhh, writer’s tactics!

This is a great writer’s tactic because by putting the word ‘Already’ at the start of the sentence, the writer is making the players’ ___________ seem very _______ by using this particular ‘time’ word. The ‘time’ word goes first in the sentence to make the reader feel like the ______ is going on right here right ___so the reader feels even more _______.

urgent anticipation now involved action

Secure:Secure:Try these place time at the beginnings of your sentences:

Before During Earlier Later Since

Meanwhile Whenever At + o’clock In + _ hours

Already Till Until Now By + the time…



Revise:Revise:Start with a reason/reservation!

Compare:

Steve really liked hanggliding although he didn’t often get the chance to fly.

With:

Although he didn’t often get the chance to fly, Steve really liked hanggliding.

Consolidate:Consolidate:Ahhh, writer’s tactics!Bring on pure sophistication tactics! This writer has ordered this sentence so that the _______ idea comes first - Steve doesn’t get to fly often. Then s/he adds the _______ idea - that Steve likes hanggliding. These positive and negative ideas about the same subject give the impression that Steve would like to go flying more often. This writing is _____ and subtle because it leaves the reader to realise Steve’s disappointment at not being able to fly more often without having to _____ that fact in an _______ (and probably boring) way!

state clever obvious positive negative

Secure:Secure:Try to use some more words to express reservations:

Although Though If Even if Whereas Despite



Planning your DetectivePlanning your Detective

Name of detective:

Age: Gender:

Who do they work for?:

Famous cases:

What people say about him/her:

Things he or she says. How do they speak? Famous lines/quotations…:

Appearance:

Quirks – what makes this detective special?:

The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler

The first time I laid eyes on Terry Lennox he was drunk in a Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith outside the terrace of The Dancers. The parking lot attendant had brought the car out and he was still holding the door open because Terry Lennox's left foot was still dangling outside, as if he had forgotten he had one. Copyright © 2007 www.englishteaching.co.uk + www.english-teaching.co.uk


He had a young-looking face but his hair was bone white. You could tell by his eyes that he was plastered to the hairline, but otherwise he looked like any other nice young guy in a dinner jacket who had been spending too much money in a joint that exists for that purpose and for no other.

There was a girl beside him. Her hair was a lovely shade of dark red and she had a distant smile on her lips and over her shoulders she had a blue mink that almost made the Rolls-Royce look like just another automobile. It didn't quite. Nothing can.

The attendant was the usual half-tough character in a white coat with the name of the restaurant stitched across the front of it in red. He was getting fed up.

"Look, mister," he said with an edge to his voice, "would you mind a whole lot pulling your leg into the car so I can kind of shut the door? Or should I open it all the way so you can fall out?"

The girl gave him a look which ought to have stuck at least four inches out of his back. It didn't bother him enough to give him the shakes. At The Dancers they get the sort of people that disillusion you about what a lot of golfing money can do for the personality.

A low-swung foreign speedster with no top drifted into the parking lot and a man got out of it and used the dash lighter on a long cigarette. He was wearing a pullover check shirt, yellowslacks, and riding boots. He strolled off trailing clouds of incense, not even bothering to look towards the Rolls-Royce. He probably thought it was corny. At the foot of the steps up to the terrace he paused to stick a monocle in his eye.

His apartment was small and stuffy and impersonal. He might have moved in that afternoon. On a coffee table in front of a hard green davenport there was a half empty Scotch bottle and melted ice in a bowl and three empty fizzwater bottles and two glasses and a glass ash tray loaded with stubs with and without lipstick. There wasn't a photograph or a personal article of any kind in the place. It might have been a hotel room rented for a meeting or a farewell, for a few drinks and a talk, for a roll in the hay. It didn't look like a place where anyone lived.

He offered me a drink. I said no thanks. I didn't sit down. When I left he thanked me some more, but not as if I had climbed a mountain for him, nor as if it was nothing at all. He was a little shaky and a little shy but polite as hell. He stood in the open door until the automatic elevator came up and I got into it. Whatever he didn't have he had manners.

He hadn't mentioned the girl again. Also, he hadn't mentioned that he had no job and no prospects and that almost his last dollar had gone into paying the check at The Dancers for a bit of high class fluff that couldn't stick around long enough to make sure he didn't get tossed in the sneezer by some prowl car Copyright © 2007 www.englishteaching.co.uk + www.english-teaching.co.uk


boys, or rolled by a tough hackie and dumped out in a vacant lot.

On the way down in the elevator I had an impulse to go back up and take the Scotch bottle away from him. But it wasn't any of my business and it never does any good anyway. They always find a way to get it if they have to have it.

I drove home chewing my lip. I'm supposed to be tough but there was something about the guy that got me. I didn't know what it was unless it was the white hair and the scarred face and the clear voice and the politeness. Maybe that was enough. There was no reason why I should ever see him again. He was just a lost dog, like the girl said.



Guess the Genre

The attic door creaked open. Something rustled in the darkness. I stared, but could see nothing beyond the vague shapes of old suitcases and trunks piled high. It smelt damp. I struggled up into the attic and wedged the door open. Light poured into the darkness. The darkness in the head of the house. I balanced carefully upon the floor beams. I knew that if I stepped onto the plaster I could fall straight through into the room below. A cobweb brushed my face and I felt the sudden tickle of a spider crawl across my cheek. As I made my way forwards, it grew darker and colder. I was blocking the light from the attic door. There were piles of old newspapers, brown paper bags tied with string, cardboard boxes and ancient, moth-eaten rugs that smelt of mothballs. Thick dust powdered every surface. I kept thinking that I would slip and put my foot through the floor. I stopped at a pile of old camping equipment. It was a jumble of guy ropes, torn canvas, poles, wooden pegs, metal skewers and a mallet. It was there that I saw the hand. It was quite still - and white. At first I thought that it was marble. But then it moved.

Task One

This writer doesn’t just say ‘I went in the attic, It was scary’ s/he writes sentences and uses words which give us impressions using senses to build a picture in our minds: sounds, sights and smells.

Can you find a word/phrase or sentence which is written to help us get an impression of the feel of the attic?

Highlight the answers to your task:

The attic door creaked open. Something rustled in the darkness. I stared, but could see nothing beyond the vague shapes of old suitcases and trunks piled high. It smelt damp. I struggled up into the attic and wedged the door open. Copyright © 2007 www.englishteaching.co.uk + www.english-teaching.co.uk


Light poured into the darkness. The darkness in the head of the house. I balanced carefully upon the floor beams. I knew that if I stepped onto the plaster I could fall straight through into the room below. A cobweb brushed my face and I felt the sudden tickle of a spider crawl across my cheek. As I made my way forwards, it grew darker and colder. I was blocking the light from the attic door. There were piles of old newspapers, brown paper bags tied with string, cardboard boxes and ancient, moth-eaten rugs that smelt of mothballs. Thick dust powdered every surface. I kept thinking that I would slip and put my foot through the floor. I stopped at a pile of old camping equipment. It was a jumble of guy ropes, torn canvas, poles, wooden pegs, metal skewers and a mallet. It was there that I saw the hand. It was quite still - and white. At first I thought that it was marble. But then it moved.

Task Two

Can you find the ‘empty’ word (a word that doesn’t mean anything) that creates suspense?

How many powerful VERBS can you find? There are at least 9.



Task Three

How many Premiership ADJECTIVES can you find to suggest a feeling of decay and neglect? There are at least 8.(Decay means when something is rotten and neglect is when something hasn’t been looked after)

Task Four

Can you find examples of a short simple sentence which has been used for clarity and dramatic effect? There are at least 8 sentences.(As simple sentence is a sentence which includes only one idea)(Clarity means to make something clear)(Dramatic effect means to add drama and excitement to writing)

Task Seven

Can you find all the sentences which describe the darkness and cold – to show the building of suspense? There are 4 sentences.

Task Five

Can you find examples of compound sentences which help to understand the flow of your writing? There are 4 sentences.(Flow means to explain how your character can move from one place to another sensibly or from one idea to another)(Compound sentences are sentences with more than one idea linked together using the word AND)

Task Six



Can you find examples of complex sentences which add extra layers of meaning to the story? There are 2 sentences.(Complex sentences usually have a subordinate clause which cannot stand on its own PLUS a main clause that can stand on its own – clue: look for a comma in a sentence!)

Task Eight

Can you find sentences which have lists in them to create a maze in the darkness? List the objects – there are at least 10.

Find the sentence that leaves the reader wanting more – the dramatic ending – which unusual word does it begin with?

Helping Holmes with his investigation

As Holmes listens to Helen Stoner, he takes in all the facts. He would try to pick out points which may be significant to his case. Read the following with the sharp eye of a sleuth.Underline any parts of the text which you feel may be significant. In the margin, add an explanation of why you have selected a certain part. What kind of thing do you think Holmes is looking for?


As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man.When Dr Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs Stoner, the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my mother’s re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money – not less than £1000 a year – and this she bequeathed to Dr Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return to England my mother died – she was killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr Roylott then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness.But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path. Violence of temper approaching to mania had been hereditary in the men of the family, and in my step father’s case it had, I believe, been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger.Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure.


Which story has the best opening and why?

It was the strangest murder trial I ever attended. They named it the Peckham murder in the headlines, though Northwood Street, where the old woman was found battered to death, was not strictly speaking in Peckham. This was not one of those cases of circumstantial evidence in which you feel the jurymen’s anxiety – because mistakes have been made – like domes of silence muting the court. No, this murderer was all but found with the body; no one present when the crown counsel outlined his case believed that the man in the dock stood any chance at all.

One morning, at a little before seven o’clock, I was awakened by the maid

tapping at the door, to announce that two men had come from Paddington,

and were waiting in the consulting room. I dressed hurriedly, for I knew


What do we learn about the setting of the story?How do these details prepare us for what happens?How do they add to the atmosphere?


by experience that railway cases were seldom trivial, and hastened

downstairs. As I descended, my old ally, the guard, came out of the room,

and closed the door tightly behind him.

‘I’ve got him here,’ he whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder; ‘he’s all right.’

Mr Decker’s wife had just returned from a trip to Haiti – a trip she had taken alone – to give them a cooling off period before they discussed a divorce.It hadn’t worked. Neither of them had cooled off in the slightest. In fact, they were finding now that they hated one another more than ever.‘Half,’ said Mrs. Decker firmly. ‘I’ll not settle for anything less than half the money plus half the property.’‘Ridiculous!’ said Mr Decker.‘Is it? I could have it all you know. And quite easily too. I studied voodoo while in Haiti.’

Curriculum VitaeForename(s): _______________ Surname: _______________

Date of Birth: _____________

School(s):___________________________________________

GCSE Subjects:

Further Education: (e.g. college courses, AS levels, A Levels, B-Tec, GNVQ, etc.)

Higher Education: (e.g. university)



Other Courses/Qualifications: (e.g. journalist course)

Interests/Hobbies:

Referees:



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