Excerpted from Act 1 of Kill Me Like You Mean It
Copyright ©2006, Kiran H. Rikhye. All rights reserved.
Scene 4
Farrell enters Lydia’s office. She is seated at her desk.
FARRELL
My name is Ben Farrell. I’m an American private detective. I’m here to see an L. Forsythe.
LYDIA
I’m L. Forsythe. Lydia Forsythe. I’m an American female publisher. Won’t you sit down?
FARRELL
Thanks. [Sits]
LYDIA
Cigarette? [She hands him a cigarette.] Light? [She picks up a lighter, brings it to his cigarette, tries to light the cigarette. The lighter doesn’t work; she takes no notice of this. She puts it down. Smiles pleasantly.] Have you heard of crime fiction, Mr. Farrell?
FARRELL
Crime fiction?
LYDIA
Yes.
FARRELL
Yeah, I’ve heard of it.
LYDIA
You've heard of it, then. I publish American crime fiction. American readers love crime fiction. Petty crime fiction, of course. I'm sure you think all American crime fiction is pretty petty, Mr. Farrell. But it sells. American readers love petty.
FARRELL
You don’t have to tell me.
LYDIA
No?
FARRELL
You might say I’m in a petty business, too, Miss Forsythe.
LYDIA
Really? I thought American private investigation was glamorous.
FARRELL
It’s the unglamorous things that pay the bills.
LYDIA
There you have it: Petty sells.
FARRELL
That’s my motto: No matter how lousy the case, Ben Farrell will on it. Your parakeet's missing, your jewelry was stolen, your wife's run off…you name it. Petty sells.
LYDIA
I like that, Mr. Farrell “Petty sells.” You have a gift with words; should have gone into advertising. American readers love advertising.
FARRELL
Mind if I ask why you called me to your office?
LYDIA
I see we're both businessmen, Mr. Farrell.
FARRELL
Sure.
LYDIA
I’m not quite sure where to start. Why don’t we begin with this story? [She hands him a copy of the latest issue of her magazine.] Go ahead and read it.
Farrell reads, looks concerned, shocked
LYDIA
Is something wrong?
FARRELL
No. Nothing’s wrong. It’s quite a story.
LYDIA
Yes, it is. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?
FARRELL
Sure I’m sure.
LYDIA
If you say so.
FARRELL
Sure I say so. [Casually] Hey, when did you say this was written?
LYDIA
Last month. Why?
FARRELL
Looks like it was written…yesterday.
LYDIA
It speaks to today’s issues, doesn’t it?
FARRELL
Sure it does.
LYDIA
You don't like it, do you? You're not a typical American reader, Mr. Farrell.
FARRELL
I guess not.
LYDIA
I'm sorry to hear that. Tommy Dickie is one of our most popular authors. American readers love Tommy Dickie.
FARRELL
How many writers you have working for you?
LYDIA
In any given issue of Murder Weekly, readers can expect to be treated to the work of no fewer than ten different authors.
FARRELL
It’s quite a business you’ve got going here. You run this operation all by yourself?
LYDIA
No. I work for Mr. Winston Marten, an American publishing mogul.
FARRELL
[Reading off the magazine] Marten Publications. I get it.
LYDIA
I manage Mr. Marten's affairs. That is, I manage his business. Do you mind if I tell you why I called you to my office, Mr. Farrell?
FARRELL
Not terribly, no.
LYDIA
That story you started reading was written by a Mr. Tommy Dickie. Tommy Dickie is one of our most popular authors.
FARRELL
You run this operation all by yourself?
LYDIA
No, I work for Mr. Winston Marten, an American publishing mogul. Cigarette? [She hands him a cigarette.] Light? For the past eight months, Mr. Tommy Dickie has written one riveting installation of his heart-stopping serial detective thriller per month.
FARRELL
He's a regular Charles Dickens.
LYDIA
American readers love Tommy Dickie's gritty realism. Eighty percent of our current readers buy our magazine just to read the next installment of Tommy Dickie's serialized detective stories.
FARRELL
That many?
LYDIA
We have a tremendous readership, Mr. Farrell. And almost half of our current readers buy our magazine just to read the next installment of Tommy Dickie's serialized detective stories.
FARRELL
That’s quite a number.
LYDIA
That it is. So imagine how I felt, Mr. Farrell, when I didn't receive this month's scheduled installment. I called Tommy Dickie in quite a panic, but he wasn't at home. I was told he had left town, rather suddenly; no one knew where he had gone or why. Now here I was, a highly regarded American female publisher managing the American empire of an American publishing mogul, with thousands of American readers waiting for the next installment of Kill Me Like You Mean It--that's the name of Tommy Dickie's serialized story: Kill Me Like You Mean It--and Tommy Dickie was nowhere to be found.
FARRELL
So some guy gave you the runaround and you want me to find him.
LYDIA
Not just some guy. Tommy Dickie. That's his pen name, of course.
FARRELL
What's his real name?
LYDIA
I’m afraid I can’t reveal Mr. Dickie’s identity without violating the terms of our contract. I maintain only the highest American standards of professionalism, Mr. Farrell.
FARRELL
Just let me get this straight. I’m supposed to find some guy who ran out you, but you won’t give me his name or his identity.
LYDIA
I’m afraid I can’t do that.
FARRELL
Oh, that’s fine, I’ll just drive around for a while and see if I pass anyone one the street who looks like he might go by the pen name Tommy Dickie.
LYDIA
Well there’s no reason to get rude about it. Would it help if I gave you his address?
FARRELL
That might be a nice place to start.
LYDIA
416 Windsor Avenue.
FARRELL
And whom exactly should I say I'm looking for once I get there?
LYDIA
I don’t know. You’re the detective, aren’t you?
FARRELL
That’s what they tell me.
LYDIA
Now I imagine you'll want to talk about your fee.
FARRELL
I like the way your imagination works.
LYDIA
It's very practical. Practicality is how we get ahead in the world, Mr. Farrell. Practicality and logic. Practicality, logic, and unbridled avarice; will $10 a day be enough?
FARRELL
Plus expenses.
LYDIA
Plus expenses, of course. I maintain only the highest American standards of professionalism, Mr. Farrell.
FARRELL
I’m relieved to hear that.
LYDIA
Here. [She hands him an envelope] That’s for today. You’ll go to Tommy Dickie’s house today, won’t you?
FARRELL
416 Windsor Avenue.
LYDIA
416 Windsor Avenue. You’ll call me once you’ve been there?
FARRELL
Sure, I’ll call you.
LYDIA
I’ll look forward to that, Mr. Farrell. In fact I just might sit by the telephone all day.
FARRELL
Good thing you keep it on your desk, right where you sit.
LYDIA
That’s not what I mean, silly. I can’t thank you enough. You’re a wonderful man, Mr. Farrell. Just wonderful.
FARRELL
Sure, I guess I am. Goodbye, then.
LYDIA
Goodbye, Mr. Farrell.