Manhattan Mayhem

WONG: Excuse me. (WONG takes out her phone and listens for a moment.) Well. Well. Okay, then.

 

 

MARCUS: What? What was that?

 

 

(During the following, the various pools of light melt away into a general wash, and we find the cast members, in their various positions, around the room. WONG turns her attention back to where it started, to PATRICK, while the others watch.)

 

 

WONG: Well, we found him.

 

PATRICK: Peter? (visible relief) Thank God.

 

WONG: And … he doesn’t know anything about any missing phone.

 

PATRICK: What?

 

WONG: Peter told my officer that your cell phone was definitely in your possession yesterday evening. He says that you were sending and receiving texts all night.

 

PATRICK. What? But that’s—that’s impossible.

 

MARCUS: Oh, my God! Patrick killed Klein! Again.

 

PATRICK: But—but I didn’t. I didn’t kill him. I’ve never killed anyone. My phone—my phone was stolen—

 

WONG: So you’ve said.

 

ELSIE: I am going to write such a great play about this.

 

LEWIS: So, the mystery is solved? We can leave now?

 

WONG: Not quite.

 

ELSIE. It’s old-fashioned, sure, but producers will love it. Small cast. Virtually no set …

 

 

(PATRICK leaps for the props table, grabs a battle-axe.)

 

 

PATRICK: No one is going anywhere!

 

ELSIE: … shocking denouement.

 

WONG: (unruffled) I thought those were all props.

 

PATRICK: Not all of them. My research revealed that constructing a fake battle-axe would cost as much as buying a real battle-axe. I also got real police handcuffs from an online auction site, rather than paying through the nose for fakes. (He swings the axe menacingly at WONG.) I’m a great stage manager.

 

WONG: (drawing her service weapon) Put that down, please. I’ve called my officers, and they will be here any minute.

 

PATRICK: But I didn’t kill him! Why would I? He was my ticket!

 

WONG: He was your what?

 

LEWIS: Yeah. What does that mean?

 

PATRICK: It means I’ve been stealing from him, you dummy.

 

WONG: What?

 

PATRICK: Why would I kill him when I’ve been robbing him blind for years?

 

ELSIE: (taking notes) Oh, this is fantastic.

 

MARCUS: Stealing! Oh, my God! Patrick is a thief! An embezzler! Hm. Actually, I guess that’s not as bad as a murderer.

 

WONG: You’d best explain yourself, Mr. Wolfish.

 

PATRICK: What’s to explain? I’ve been submitting phony receipts. Raiding the petty cash. For years. Years! Klein is a dope who doesn’t pay attention, and that’s been my livelihood for a decade and a half! Why do you think I wanted him to do a show that might draw a paying audience! Peter and I just bought a house in Hudson, for God’s sake. If Klein is dead, how will I pay the mortgage?

 

 

(A booming, merry voice sounds from offstage.)

 

 

KLEIN: Yes! How?

 

 

(The door of the studio swings open. Enter OTTO KLEIN, beaming, drinking a Dr. Pepper.)

 

 

KLEIN: How, indeed?!

 

LEWIS: Well, I’ll be damned.

 

ELSIE: Another twist!

 

 

(MARCUS runs to KLEIN and hugs him fervently.)

 

 

MARCUS: You’re not dead! You’re not dead! This is so amazing. He’s not dead, everybody!

 

KLEIN: No, I’m not, kid. Though I got one hell of a crick in my neck. (To WONG.) Listen, next time I die, remind me to do it in a hammock.

 

WONG: You got it.

 

PATRICK: But—but—I don’t understand—

 

KLEIN: Of course, ya don’t. But I been wise to you a long time, Patrick. I just needed to hear you say it! And more important, I needed to get it all recorded on my phone. (He holds up his iPhone and grins.) You’ll be offering your next round of explanations to a judge.

 

PATRICK: And—but—(He wheels toward WONG.) Don’t cops have better things to do than aid in this sort of—of—playacting?

 

WONG: I wouldn’t know. I’m not a cop. I’m—

 

ELSIE: Wait! Ooh! Wait! Let me guess it! You’re his wife!

 

WONG: Bingo.

 

 

(WONG and KLEIN embrace.)

 

 

ELSIE: I love it!

 

MARCUS: Well, color me corrected. Not gay at all! Straight and married to a fake policeman! God, I love this cit—ahh!

 

 

He screams as PATRICK charges past, tossing aside the battle-axe and leaping at KLEIN in a fury. KLEIN and WONG move to defend themselves, but LEWIS smoothly intercepts PATRICK, drops him with a hard left to the chin, grabs the handcuffs from the table, throws them on PATRICK, and sits on him. Everybody applauds.

 

 

ELSIE: Wow.

 

MARCUS: Bravo!

 

KLEIN: Well done, Lewis. Well done and thank you.

 

WONG: (getting off her phone) The real police will be here momentarily.

 

KLEIN: Good. Very good! Boy, this all worked perfectly.

 

PATRICK: This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair, goddamn it! I was trapped. Trapped!

 

ELSIE: (to LEWIS) So, wait. Are you an undercover cop or something?

 

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