Murder Mysteries A Play For Voices (9781466109827) - Plot & Excerpts
JUST THE WIND, AND A TINKLING, CRYSTALLINE MUSIC, LIKE WIND-CHIMES. WE’RE VERY HIGH UP... CARASEL This is madness. You don’t understand... please, just... (whispering) No. For the love of God, no. (loudly) No! (cut off as he is stabbed) THERE’S A LOUD THUD, AND THEN THE SOUND OF BEATING WINGS, AND A SCREAMING AS THE ANGEL FALLS, DYING, FALLING, WAILING. THEN A DULL SPLAT AS IT HITS THE SIDEWALK, AND THEN JUST SILENCE: ONLY THE WIND. INTO THE SILENCE, THE OPENING CREDITS ARE READ. AT THE END OF THE CREDITS... NARRATOR This is all true. (beat) Ten years ago, give or take a year, I found myself on an enforced stopover in Los Angeles, a long way from home. It was December, and the California weather was warm and pleasant. England, however, was in the grip of fogs and snow storms, and no planes were landing there. Each day I'd phone the airport, and each day I'd be told to wait another day. This had gone on for almost a week. (pause. remembering, explaining) I was barely out of my teens.
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