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                                    American Right

                                                    ACT ONE
                                                    Scene One


        An interrogation room of a small, college town police station. Around 8 p.m. A security camera in the U.R. corner of the room. A table and three chairs. An ashtray in the middle of the table. A door with no window. A small cassette tape recorder sits on table. VINCE, 40 years old, wearing suit and tie wrenched away from his neck and the top button open, stands down center, facing audience with hands cupped to either side of his face peering through a "two-way mirror." He takes a step back, looking at the "mirror" to establish its size and placement for the audience. He waves at whoever might be on the other side of it. Bored with this, he wanders the room, then sits in the U.S. chair, arms folded, and stares at the tape recorder near him. Several seconds pass. He reaches over and picks it up. He pushes the "record" button; glances at the "mirror" then the closed door.

Vince: Testing. One, two, three. (Pushes "stop" button; rewinds it; pushes "play" button. We HEAR his voice played back: "Testing. One, two, three." He pushes the "stop" button, the "rewind" button, then sets it down on the table in front of himself. He glances at the door, then pushes the "record" button.) Testes, one-two. Testes, one-two. (Smiles at his own humor.) I’ll save everyone a lot of time by simply stating: I’m innocent. Of whatever they are accusing me of. (He pushes the "stop" button, rewinds the tape and pushes the "record" button. Pedantic.) I’m innocent of that which they are accusing me. (Takes deep breaths, working off his nervousness.) So these two guys are working the graveyard shift at a mortuary, preparing a cadaver for burial, and they turn it over to find a cork in its butt. One guy pulls it out and suddenly they hear–(singing) "Way down upon the Swanee River–" They’re stunned and quickly put the cork back in its butt. They pull it out again. (Singing) "Way down upon the Swanee River–" and they put it back again. They decide they need some advice on what to do about this, so they call the funeral director. The funeral director says, "It’s three in the morning; what’s the matter?" The guy answers, "We got something weird going on here, and we need your help." The funeral director warns them that this better be important, then he gets dressed and drives all the way into town to the mortuary. When he comes into the cadaver preparation room, the one guy says, "Watch this," and he pulls the cork out of the cadaver’s butt. And once again: (singing) "Way down upon the Swanee River...." And the funeral director turns to them, grimacing, and says: "You mean to tell me, you woke me out of a deep sleep– "　

(SOUND of door unlocking, then it opens suddenly and ANGELA ZULINSKI, a detective in her mid-thirties, enters, closing the door behind her, and it locks automatically. VINCE pushes the "stop" button and stands.)

Angela: You can sit. (He does.) I’m Detective Zulinski. (She offers her hand; he shakes it.)

Vince: (indicating the chair): Won’t you join me? (She sits and notices the tape recorder in front of him, then looks at where it should be, farther away.)

Angela: Did you move the recorder?

Vince: Yes.

Angela: What, uh...what were you–

Vince: What was I doing with it?

Angela: Yes.

Vince: Passing the time. (Beat.) I’ve been in here for half an hour. There’s nothing to read in here, no snacks, nothing. You expect people just to sit here and stare at a mirror while you all convene in your–where ever you convene–to figure out some clever way to get me to admit to something I haven’t done?

Angela: No one has accused you of anything, Dr. Anders. We just want to talk to you.

Vince: "We." (Looks at "mirror.") You and who else?

Angela: That was...I forget the term.

Vince: Plural implied.

Angela: That’s it. Okay then.

Vince: (slight pause): What can I do for you?

Angela: First, I want to say, thank you for coming down, we appreciate your cooperation.

Vince: Cooperation?

Angela: (Reaching for the recorder): Do you mind if I record this?

Vince: Record what?

Angela: This interview.

Vince: Yes, I mind.

Angela: May I ask why?

Vince: Go ahead.

Angela: (hesitates; gets it): Why?

Vince: Because if I say something incriminating, I don’t want it memorialized on tape.

Angela: Are you saying you might have something to tell me that might incriminate you?

Vince: No. I don’t even know what this is all about.

Angela: Well, then–

Vince: I’m saying, if I say something incriminating. I’m not planning on it.

Angela: No one really–

Vince: But human beings have a tendency to say things that sound suspicious to other human beings–namely, police detectives–

Angela: Like me–

Vince: –who are trying to get evidence. And police detectives aren’t always objective.

Angela: We try to be–

Vince: But sometimes, I suppose, they just want to confirm their subjective conclusions.

(Pause.)

Angela: You were read your Miranda rights?

Vince: No.

Angela: Detective Scott didn’t read you your Miranda rights?

Vince: No. He recited them.

Angela: Dr. Anders–

Vince: Since no one will tell me what this all about, I may "lawyer-up," as they say, if this starts to go bad for me.

(She starts to see he’s going to be very difficult. She slides the tape recorder out of the way, folds her hands in front of her.)

Angela: Do you have any questions before I start?

Vince: (after a beat): Yes. (She nods.) To what party are you affiliated?

Angela: I’m sorry?

Vince: Are you a Democrat, a Republican, Green Party, Independent–what?

Angela: I really think you should take this more seriously, Dr. Anders.

Vince: Oh, I am. And, believe me, your party affiliation may have a lot to do with how this interview comes out.

Angela: Meaning?

Vince: Let’s just say, that–

Angela: That’s right, you’re a professor of, uh...what is it?

Vince: Political science.

Angela: I see.

Vince: So?

Angela: I’m an Independent. (He smiles; folds his arms; and nods, knowingly.) Is that meaningful to you?

Vince: Very.

Angela: Good. Any other questions?

Vince: (slight pause): When you vote, do you vote for the Independent candidate?

Angela: This is really...none of your business–and not pertinent to why you’re here.

Vince: All right. Then don’t ask me if I have any questions.

(Long pause. She takes out a notepad and pen.)

Angela: Are you married, Dr. Anders?

Vince: (smiling): What do you have in mind?

Angela: Just answer the question.

Vince: Not anymore.

Angela: Divorced?

Vince: Widowed.

Angela: I’m sorry. (A beat.) Any children?

Vince: Several. None of my own.

Angela: Pardon?

Vince: My students.

Angela: Oh. (She nods.) How long have you worked at Bailey?

Vince: Six years, almost seven. What’s this all have to do with why I’m here?

Angela: Do you know Dr. Paul Lebeau?

Vince: Of course. He’s a colleague. Is that what this is all about?

Angela: When did you last see Dr. Lebeau?

Vince: (thinks; shrugs): See him?

Angela: Yes.

Vince: Tuesday?

Angela: Two days ago?

Vince: If this is still Thursday, yes.

Angela: Why do you have to be a smart aleck? You realize that when we interview witnesses and they–

Vince: I’m hardly a witness when you’ve recited my rights. You tore up my house and seized my car. I don’t think you’re giving my Mustang’s a tune-up. I’m a suspect to something.

Angela: When we interview anyone–and they are not serious–we tend to think they are hiding something. Since I haven’t even asked you anything worthy of evasion, you might think about waiting to– (A beat.) Dr. Anders, we just want to ask some questions. Let’s not turn this into a contest of cleverness.

Vince: A "contest of cleverness"? That implies you’ve been clever, and so far–

Angela: Dr. Anders!

Vince: –the only thing that you’ve said that is remotely clever is referring to yourself as "we," when you are quite obviously only an "I." (ANGELA hesitates, looks at her watch, then writes on her notepad.) I want to know what I’m doing here.

Angela: Did you teach class on Tuesday?

Vince: What do you want from me?

Angela: Just answer the question. Did you teach Tuesday?

Vince: Yes. Who cares?

Angela: What time?

Vince: Eleven.

Angela: In the morning? (He raises his eyebrows at the silliness of her question.) Of course. (Beat.) Only one class?

Vince: Another at two. (A jab.) In the afternoon. (She flashes a faux smile in return for his wit.) Why don’t you ask the real question here?

Angela: And what would that question be, Dr. Anders?

Vince: I don’t know. (Melodramatically.) "Where were you on the night of April 14^th?"

Angela: (taken aback): So where were you?

Vince: At home at my dining room table, frantically computing my taxes. Which I’d completely forgotten about until mid-way through my afternoon class. And, no, I don’t cheat on my taxes. At least no more than anyone else.

Angela: So Tuesday night you were doing your taxes. At home. (He nods.) From what time to what time?

Vince: Oh, I see. The alibi thing.

Angela: What time?

Vince: Let’s see. I got out of class at three-thirty-three–

Angela: Three-thirty-three? Why would you remember that?

Vince: Trixie raised her hand and made sure I knew.

Angela: Trixie.

Vince: That’s not her real name–that’s what I call her. I give...names...to my students. They are unaware of it, of course. Mainly because they aren’t always flattering. But it’s my way of–

Angela: I don’t care about your...professional idiosyncracies. So...Trixie pointed out the time–

Vince: I’d gone over by three minutes. Maybe she had a nail appointment.

Angela: Then what?

Vince: I don’t know what she did after the nail appointment.

Angela: (trying to get control of the situation): Dr. Anders, please. What happened after class?

Vince: (after a reflective pause): I went to the driving range, hit a bucket, got home around four-thirty or so, fed my dog, fed myself, then sat down at the dining table and did my taxes. Finished at about eleven–at night–watched ten minutes of news and went to sleep.

Angela: Thank you. (She writes on her note pad.) Did you teach on Wednesday?

Vince: (frustrated): Are we working up to the present moment? If so, I can just very quickly give you a kind of verbal syllabus of what you’re about to learn. (Closes eyes; quickly.) Wednesday: Up at seven; take shower; dress myself; feed dog; breakfast; post office; buy stamp; mail tax return; correct papers at the Starbucks; talked to Pinocchio–

Angela: Pinocchio?

Vince: One of my students. (Closes eyes again.) Uh...hit a bucket–

Angela: At the driving range? (He gives her a look.) Go on.

Vince: (closes eyes): Go to my office; make some calls–

Angela: To who?

Vince: Whom.

Angela: Okay, whom.

Vince: To Bob, Dan, Ed, Howard and Roj.

Angela: Who are they?

Vince: Five men.

Angela: Who are they to you?

Vince: We play poker. Tomorrow night.

Angela: You play poker with them?

Vince: Texas Hold ‘Em.

Angela: Go on.

Vince: (closes eyes): Eleven o’clock class; grade papers in my office; lunch in the teachers’ lounge–

Angela: Was Dr. Lebeau there?

Vince: No. (Closes eyes.) One-thirty class; grade papers in my office; take a call from Ed–

Angela: Poker?

Vince: We had an open seventh seat. He wanted to bring a friend.

Angela: Who?

Vince: I don’t know–someone from his work. (Closes eyes.) Three o’clock class; pick up check from payroll; hit a bucket of balls; home at about six; feed dog; feed myself; grade papers at Starbucks; watch TV; go to bed at eleven. (Opens his eyes.) Today: (closes eyes)–Up at seven; take shower; dress myself; feed dog; breakfast; post office; buy stamp; mail tax return; correct papers at Starbucks; talked to Pinocchio–

Angela: Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa! That’s what you did on Wednesday.

Vince: (grins): Ah, you’re paying attention. (She’s not amused.) All right. (Closes eyes.) Up at seven; take shower; dress myself; feed dog; feed myself; drive to Dr. Lebeau’s house around nine o’clock; pick him up–(ANGELA’s attention is peaked)–drive him to a remote area in the high desert, let him out and tell him to find his way home. (Opens eyes.) Ta-da.

(ANGELA sits back in her chair, folds her arms, stares humorlessly.)

Vince: (continuing): Is he missing?

Angela: What makes you think he’s missing?

Vince: Just a hunch.

Angela: A hunch. (Brief pause.) Where is he?

Vince: Not a clue.

Angela: You drove to his house, though?

Vince: Yep.

Angela: Nine o’clock?

Vince: He wasn’t home.

Angela: How do you know?

Vince: It was kind of a giveaway when he didn’t answer the door.

Angela: He was expecting you?

Vince: Yes.

Angela: So why would you joke about dumping him in the desert?

Vince: That’s...none of your business.

Angela: That’s where you’re mistaken, Dr. Anders. The City of Bailey has made it my business. It’s my job to find out why you were there, what you did there–

Vince: Everyone knows he and I had differences of opinion, but...you think I–what?–kidnapped him?

Angela: I don’t think anything yet. I’m just asking questions. (A beat.) So where did you go after you found he wasn’t home?

(Before he can answer, SOUND of door unlocking, then the door opens. DETECTIVE SCOTT, a 30-year veteran, his suit fitting as badly as his temperament, ENTERS, leaving it open.)  

Scott: What’s taking so long? 

(ANGELA doesn’t disguise the fact that she doesn’t like the question, nor the condescending tone.)   

Angela: It’s only been a few minutes. The door, sir.

Scott: (looks at his watch): Forty minutes.

Angela: I’ve been in here for about ten minutes.

Scott: What did you do for half an hour?

Vince: Shouldn’t you be having this talk where I don’t hear it?

Angela: (ignoring VINCE): Working–on the phone.

Scott: I brought him in here, left the tape recorder and you were supposed to come right in.

Angela: I was on the phone. 

(As she rises, crosses to and closes the door, and sits again):

Scott: (to VINCE): Dr. Anders, how are you? Can I get you something to drink? (To ANGELA.) You could’ve gotten him some water or something. (To VINCE.) I’d offer you a smoke, but the city won’t allow it. (VINCE picks up the ash tray.) It’s there in case someone breaks the rules. We think of everything around here. (To ANGELA.)  So where are you?

Vince: I’ve just kidnapped Dr. Lebeau.

(SCOTT isn’t particularly impressed. He glances at ANGELA, then to VINCE:)

Scott: Just in time for the good part. I’m not interested in the kidnapping, Vince. I just want to know what you did with his body.

BLACK OUT.

Copyright 2010 by Tom Eubanks