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It's a classic tale. A lone detective, a dark town, and a victim with a cod piece stuck in their ear. It's the sort of murder that could turn one to drink, to shun society and start a jazz band in his mother's basement. But not Dick. A man who's not quite Poirot, Sherlock, or Jake Peralta, but a man whose very much...well, Dick. Accompanied by a pallet of colourful characters, sharp tongues, wit and humour, we follow Dick and co on a bizarre journey to find truth, justice, and just how long a telephone cord really is.
(Dick Clever, Episode Two, Captain Hickory)
THEME / JAZZ HORN PLAYING UNDERNEATH:
DICK: 4:16 on a Friday. It was only recently, the 3rd of the 4th, or the 4th of
the 3rd, that I can recall the first murder and how horrified we all
were. I walked into my office.......
PERSON WALKING INTO A FILING CABINET.
Cabinet. I then remembered that there were changes afoot and
the cabinet was indeed a foot to the left. There was a new man in
charge of the division, Captain Hickory. A college graduate with
limited street time and an ear of the Commissioner. Sounds disgusting...
KNOCKING ON DOOR.
It was then that Sergeant Kransky rolled into my office.
DOOR OPENING AND THEN CLOSING.
Sergeant, what can I do for you?
KRANSKY: Captain wants to see you right away and he doesn't keep like he waits
to be sounding.
DICK: I think you mean, it doesn't sound like he likes to be kept waiting.
KRANKSY: That's what I said.
JAZZ HORN.
DICK: It was at this point that I had reservations about the Sergeant's
intelligence.
DOORBELL.
I made my way to the Captain's office. At 4:56 I knocked on his door.
JAZZ HORN OUT. DOOR OPENING AND CLOSING.
HICKORY: Come in.
DICK: You wanted to see me, Captain Hickory?
HICKORY: Ah, the esteemed Detective Clever.
DICK: Call me Dick.
HICKORY: I’ve looked at your record detective.
DICK: Call me Dick.
HICKORY: There’s a lot left to be desired, detective.
DICK: Please call me Dick?
HICKORY: Your record is appalling Clever.
DICK: You're not going to call me Dick, are you?
HICKORY: Look at this,
HITTING OF PAPER.
three hundred and fifteen assault allegations.
DICK: That's not so bad.
HICKORY: From the same man?
DICK: He was slow to move.
HICKORY: Your paperwork is twelve months behind, detective.
DICK: Only a year?
HICKORY: Twelve months behind last year's reports, detective.
DICK: Please, call me Dick.
HICKORY: Although the men admire you, everyone in command thinks you're a Neanderthal,
detective.
DICK: I understand. So, do you have a problem with calling me the name Dick?
HICKORY: You are a loose cannon......
DICK: A rebel?
HICKORY: (DRAMATICALLY) No, a cliche!
MENACING CHORD.
DICK: There I was, defenceless, sitting in my trench coat, hat, dark glasses
and a leather thong, just as so many before me and he still wouldn't
call me Dick.
HICKORY: Well, Detective....
DICK: Call me Dick.
HICKORY: What do you have to say for yourself?
DICK: I get results.
HICKORY: That's something that holds no weight in this new police force. You
are yesterday's man, detective
DICK: Dick? Just once, say Dick.
HICKORY: You are the legacy of a bygone era. A lingering scent after the meal, a
drifting cloud in a godless sky. From now on, I will be keeping a close
eye on you, Detective Clever.
DICK: Or Dick, feel comfortable with whatever suits.
HICKORY: One step out of line, I will have your badge.
DICK: The one with my name on it, oh, look it says Dick!
HICKORY: Get out of my sight you festering weasel!
DICK: Okay. Well. Have a good weekend, Captain.
DOOR OPENING.
Go on, just say it once…
HICKORY: Out!
DOOR SLAMMING. THEME SONG.
DICK: With the Commissioner's ear and the Captain’s eye I was wondering if
he had a voucher for the city morgue. I headed back to my office.
PERSON WALKING INTO A FILING CABINET.
Damn that cabinet, but to work. The Cod Piece Murders had to be
solved, where do you start when you’re so horribly tangled in the
middle?
THEME OUT.
END
Copyright by Mike Jones and Iley Jones