SCENE 1: The interior of a small cottage in a holiday resort in Blackpool. The dead body of Chadwick the butler is lying on the floor in a bright shaft of sunlight. CAPTAIN JOHNSON, MRS. McCAMBRIDGE, and JACK and MARGARET PISTINALLY are seated around it in the living room, drinking tea and eating scones.

MRS McCAMBRIDGE: Oh dear, what dreadful luck. To have choked to death on his cherry jubilee, and at such a young age too!

MARGARET: I think it's the knife in the back that did it, dear.

JACK raises an eyebrow.

MRS. McCAMBRIDGE: Ah. So it is.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY enters.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Did someone here ring for the police?

CAPTAIN JOHNSON: Yes, we did, Inspector.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Oh! Hang on a minute.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY exits.
The rest fix their attention on the door.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY enters.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Hello, hello, hello, what's all this then?

CAPTAIN JOHNSON: Our butler's been murdered, Inspector.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Been what?!

CAPTAIN JOHNSON: Murdered!

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Oh! Sorry, I thought you said "nipples".

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY pushes aside a bowl of ice cream and kneels next to the body.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: What, choked on cherry jubilee?

JACK: We think it was the knife, actually.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Are you trying to tell me my job? (Standing) No, no, it's too simple. There's more to this than meets the eye.

MARGARET: What are you saying?

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Someone in this room is a murderer!

ALL: Gasp!

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: What?

JACK: We gasped.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY eyes them suspiciously. He moves to the settee and sits down on a rhubarb pie.

MRS. McCAMBRIDGE: Who do you suspect, Inspector?

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: I suspect everyone, including, I'm afraid, my wife...Captain Johnson, you are Captain Johnson of the 183rd Armoured Division?

CAPTAIN JOHNSON: Yes.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: And you are skilled in the arts of hand-to-hand weaponry, are you not?

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY rings a small bell.

CAPTAIN JOHNSON: I'm not sure I like your tone!

MARGARET stands and treads through a raspberry tart.

MARGARET: Captain Johnson was with us in the billiard room at the time of the murder!

CAPTAIN JOHNSON: Besides, that is a kitchen knife, Inspector! I don't know anything about cutlery!

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: All right, then. Let's talk to the cook!

JACK: We don't have a cook, it's not in the budget. All we have is a maid.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: All right, I'll have her.

JACK: I'll go and get her.

JACK stands, kicks aside a Baked Alaska, and proceeds to the kitchen.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Funny that knife being there, isn't it.

There is a horrible scream from the kitchen and MISS PETTIGREW runs out, holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

MRS. McCAMBRIDGE: What's the matter, dear?

MISS PETTIGREW: It's Mr. Pistinally! He's fallen into the oven and cooked himself to death!

MARGARET: Oh my God! Is he...?

MISS PETTIGREW: I'm afraid so, ma'am. Underdone.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Did he say anything?

MISS PETTIGREW: No, he just clasped his chest after the gunshot, and fell into the oven!

MISS PETTIGREW faints, falling onto a frosted carrot cake.

MARGARET rushes to her side.

MRS. McCAMBRIDGE: I hope you're satisfied, upsetting her with your impertinent questions!

CAPTAIN JOHNSON moves aside a banana split and reaches for his cigarettes.

CAPTAIN JOHNSON: What do you propose to do now, Inspector?

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY stands, knocking over a chocolate mousse.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Before anyone leaves this room I'm going to have to fingerprint all of you.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY crosses to the door and opens it.

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Lieutenant Thesoundofmusic, would you come in here for a moment please?

LIEUTENANT THESOUNDOFMUSIC enters.

LIEUTENANT THESOUNDOFMUSIC: Yes sir?

CHIEF INSPECTOR BRILEY: Lieutenant, I would like you to...Lieutenant, you're standing in an apple brown betty.