The Siamese Raven Caper
I'm dreadfully afraid that Christine disappeared overside during our
recent cruise...she accidentally brutally stabbed herself in the back with
Tim's cutlass while she was combing her hair...Tragic, but apparently
unavoidable...We gave her a burial at sea.
Tim: Umm, I could have sworn that that sack was wriggling when we dropped it
overboard.
Dix: Just your imagination, dear.
Rowan: Well, Tim, if you want to swim back and take a look, we'll wait right
here...
Tim: Nice try.
Dix: Boys, boys...Who wants to help me in the galley? We're having sailfish
steaks and pasion-fruit compote for dinner -- oh, good, *two* volunteers...
The Adventuress ties up at Pier 39, San Francisco dock, next morning and Our
Intrepid Trio find themselves in the murky depths of a mystery that stretches
back into the Golden Age of Film Noir as they tangle with Sam Spade, Jr. in
the Case of the Siamese Raven...
* * *
Tim, Dix and Rowan are relaxing in their hotel suite at the Mark Hopkins
after a strenuous evening of dining and dancing, when a furtive knock sounds
at the door.
Dix: Would you get that, Tim? Rowan is showing me how the Punjabi assassins
hypnotize their prey and I don't want to lose my place.
Tim [with a dark look at Rowan, who smiles innocently and continues to
mesmerize Dix with cunning hand motions] opens the door and a burly,
beer-bellied and extremely disheveled stranger falls into the room across the
threshhold.
Tim: Oh, hi, Tom. Got you doing walkons now, have they?
The slovenly derelict (as played by Mr. Arnold) stares blearily up at him and
gurgles a few broken words:
Derelict: ...take...uuurrghhh...this package......guard..with
life.. aaaarrrgh...
Rowan: Damn these constant interruptions!
He strides over to look down at the now-deceased visitor.
Tim: Seems to be a Malay dagger protruding from his back...people are SO
careless in combing their hair lately...
Dix [prying a newspaper-wrapped bundle out of the body's hands]: I don't
think our lease permits carrion cluttering up the carpet, fellows. Why don't
you bundle him up and pop him into the service elevator and punch "basement"
while I tidy up in here?
A few moments later, Our Trio are sitting in the living room around the
coffee table gazing at the contents of the package: an annoyed-looking
stuffed raven who stares back with malevolent beady eyes.
Tim: This looks suspiciously like a prop from a certain classic film of the
1940's.
Dix: Yes...and it reminds me of "Pscho," also. Rowan, did you leave the
shower running?
The door of the suite has opened noiselessly behind them and a rasping voice
makes Dix and the guys turn around, startled.
Voice: Put your hands on the table!! Now!! You can continue fondling each
other later. What kind of people ARE you, anyway?!!
For the answer to this and other burning questions, don't miss our next
thrilling episode: "Spade's Son Sammy or, They Didn't Hang Brigid After All."
* * *
We left our besieged friends in their suite at the Mark Hopkins, being held
up by an odd little gun-bearing individual (who resembles Elisha Cook, Jr. as
Wilmer, the whining gunsel).
To resume:
Gunsel: You three,--get those hands higher!!
Dix giggles -- Tim and Rowan are choosing up sides, using her shoulders,
etc., to place one hand above another like baseball players.
Gunsel [firing a shot into the ceiling to attract their attention]: We're
getting nowhere!! Into the bedroom, all of you!!
Tim: What a thoughtful burglar...so frightfully hospitable.
Tim stands aside so Dix, then Rowan, may precede him into the next room.
Rowan looks startled then smiles slightly and winks at Tim.
Gunsel [nervously, to Tim]: Get a move on!! This is a .45 in your back!!
Tim: --And you *could* move it *up* a little, if you don't mind...
[Note: I swiped this classic line from Bob Hope. Dix.]
Tim takes a step forward -- then disarms the gunman with that lethal back
kick he perfected while playing Dr. Furter in RHPS.
Dissolve.
Later. Tim, Rowan and Dix have deposited the re-wrapped raven parcel in the
hotel safe. They are back in the living room and celebrate their successful
encounter with the intruder by singing a little song:
Three Innocent Tourists
We came to 'Frisco
Just to tour the City,
And share good comradeship
And local wines,
So we can't help thinking
It's an awful pity
To be dragged into,--
(Hey, Tim,--forget your lines?)
Tim [musing shrewdly]: You know, I saw a detective agency plate on a
building in the next block yesterday: "Sam Spade, Jr..."
Rowan: And?
Dix: That's an idea. If he's half the detective his father was, maybe he
could lend us a hand.
Rowan: Meanwhile, shall we continue with the second verse...or would you
rather hear a song about a goblin? It's one of my favourites...
Tim and Dix plunge hastily into the second verse and Rowan shrugs and joins
them:
...But a plot of thrills
And danger seems to open,
So we're putting our
Excursion plans on hold;
For a lot of laughs and perils
We are hopin'
That will fill our hands
With treasure-trove untold!!
They all raise their Diet Pepsi's -- needing to keep their wits about them
for the moment -- and clink glasses.
Gunsel's Voice Off: I'll talk,--I'll spill my guts!!! Just get me inside
{Damn pigeons!!}!!!
Rowan and Tim walk over to the open window and haul up their securely-bound
guest, who has been dangling 14 stories over the street during the preceding
scene...
Dix, Tim and Rowan: Start talking -- and make it interesting.
* * *
The ineffectual henchman was unable to tell our friends anything of
importance beyond the fact that a certain "fat man" was offering a huge
reward for the stuffed raven, so he was released relatively unharmed and
Rowan shadowed him back to his headquarters...
Meanwhile, Tim and Dix have just entered the private office of Sam Spade, Jr.
Sammy [in his mid-forties; looks a little like Bogart, but not enough]: Ah!
Clients!! Take a load off your feet, folks and tell me what I can do you
for, heh, heh...
Tim unwraps the raven and sets it on the desk, watching the detective for a
reaction.
Sammy looks stunned for a moment, then,
Sammy: May I? [He pushes up the feathers under the bird's right wing,
revealing a dime-sized white scar, then leans back in his chair.]
Dix: Does this...fowl mean anything to you, Mr. Spade?
Sammy [genially]: Nope. Not a thing. Now if there's nothing else... [He
stands to indicate that the interview is over as far as he's concerned.]
Tim: I have one or two questions, my ah, "clueless" friend. Are you really
the son of the legendary Samuel Spade? And what became of Brigid Shaunessy,
that temptress?
Sammy [sighing and slumping back into his chair]: Oh, yes. Pop and Brigid
got hitched all right. He called in a couple of markers and got a lawyer who
convinced the jury that she cooled Archer in self-defense...and it was great
while it lasted, I've been told.
Dix: That reminds me -- whatever happened to Effie Perrine? Didn't she have
a thing for your father too?
Sammy: Funny you should ask...Effie gave up her job as Dad's secretary and
went to work as a saloon singer. A couple years later, she's singing at a
dinner club in Sausalito when Mom and Dad walk in. Mom sends up a request
for her to warble, "My One and Only," and Effie snaps her cap completely,--a
waiter walks by with a flaming shiskabob and she grabs it out of his hands...
Tim: And then?
Sammy: Got 'em both. Right in the main dining area...like Siamese twins, I
was told. I was raised by my Aunt Pegeen, Mom's sister, who lived in
South City...Hardly remember my folks. [Suddenly, he becomes enraged:] Now
get outta here!!--and take that moulting vulture with you!!
Dissolve.
Later that afternoon, Tim and Dix meet Rowan at the DeYoung Museum in Golden
Gate Park, as previously arranged. They stroll into the armor exhibit to
talk.
Tim [to Rowan]: Hope you had better luck than we did. Our detective friend
seems a bit unstable.
Rowan [pulling a colorfully embroidered satin cheomsang out of his jacket for
a moment, then hiding it again]: The little weasel tried to evade me in
Chinatown, but I disguised myself as a sing-song girl and tracked him to his
wretched lair. I caught a glimpse of an uncouth-looking beggar the size of a
lorry who seemed to be his employer...
Dix and Tim: Nice work, Rowan.
Tim: Yes, let's pay them a call this evening, shall we?
Dissolve.
* * *
Yesterday our daring trio had no sooner exited the armor exhibit of the De
Young Museum when a dark sinister shape emerged from behind the armored
figure of Sir Wayne the Worthless and stood staring after them...
Tim, Dix and Rowan took a taxi to Lui Chang's Cantonese restaurant on Grant
Avenue and had a leisurely meal.
Afterwards, they stroll in the twilight, admiring the flamboyant neon streets
spangling the streets in upper Chinatown, haloed by the evening fog in a
colorful, eerie glow. Dix shivers and Tim and Rowan put their arms around
her shoulders.
Dix: It's too early for our little showdown, fellows...how about going for a
ride -- on a National Monument?
Tim: Uh, oh, that third cup of sake must have been one too many, Lotus
Blossom...
Rowan [laughing]: She means a cable car. Like that one approaching.
A cable car is rattling downhill on its tracks at its sedate normal gait of
nine miles per hour. It stops at the intersection and several passengers
disembark. Dix, Tim and Rowan climb aboard and sit on an outside bench. The
bell rings once, abruptly, and the car starts down the steep hill, gathering
speed.
Rowan: I must say -- this is more picturesque than the Underground. They
really ought to charge a fee for such exciting transportation.
Dix: They do, don't worry. The conductor will come around and collect it.
Tim: Umm, I don't want to be an alarmist, but we seem to be on our own...
Rowan: --And shouldn't we be halting at cross streets?
Dix: -- We've been suckered, boys!! Hang on tight and
get ready to abandon ship!!
Tim: I don't think that's a *really* good idea at this speed,-- [pulling his
legs in, as an automobile swerves dangerously close to the car].
Rowan: There!! [He points toward a large outdoor flower stand on the near
sidewalk.]
Dix: Okay, boys,--BAIL!!!
All three jump together and land in a mass of carnations, roses and other
hothouse blooms, knocking the stand over in a heap of tumbled foliage and
broken lumber...
Dissolve.
An hour later, our slightly bruised but undaunted friends are lurking in the
alley behind the Chinatown curio shop of Fat Sam Lo...
Rowan [translating the Chinese characters on the roof sign above them]:
'Forbidden Gate of the Shining Dragon...'
Tim: Really?
Rowan: OR, 'Rat-infested Swollen Giant Cheese,' depending on the individual
brush-strokes, actually.
Dix: Shhh...someone's coming...
A vast, dark form suddenly blocks the mouth of the alley and a thick,
unfamiliar voice lisps threateningly:
Voice: Tho...you have brought what I theek, O foolish tourithtth??
Rowan: Don't use that stupid tone with US,--we're not tourists!!
Tim: Uh, Rowan,--technically...
Rowan: Sorry, I suppose that you might say we ARE, but,--
His voice is suddenly muffled by something soft and clinging draped around
his neck. It is Dix, who whispers in his ear:
Dix: Don't look now, but we're surrounded...
* * *
We left our endangered friends surrounded by the evil minions of the
mysterious "fat man" in a Chinatown alley...
Fade in on:
Tim, Dix and Rowan find themselves unharmed but annoyed in an evil-looking
and unsanitary underground den, the cellar of the Chinese curio shop. They
have been dragged hither with bags over their heads and are just struggling
free.
Rowan: Damn! What is this,--a remake of Blackadder II?? If so, I'm dismissing
my agent,--nearly got my head snicked off in THAT episode...
Tim: Agent? You may have MY former agent if you like...or just his head on a
plate, if you prefer. MY last film, that naval-bloody-"comedy" stank on
ice!!
Dix: But YOU were superb in it.
Tim [blushing slightly]: Well, one does what one can...
A trapdoor in the ceiling suddenly opens and a huge menacing bulk fills the
aperture. Small, piggy eyes stare down at our protagonists. It is Fat Sam
Lo's evil brother, Fat Sid Lo.
Fat: Uncomfortable, Dithonourable Interloperth? Good. It ith well. Now
hear my propothition -- produthe the eluthive bird and go free,--or ELTHE...
Tim: Or elthe,--"else",--what??
Fat: You will endure the Death of a Thouthand Punctureth!!
Rowan: You despicable heathen swine!!
Fat [continuing]: YETH!!! -- BODY-PIERTHING!!! Little dangly objectth
hanging from every part of your infidel bodieth!!!
Dix: Yuuch.
Tim: Sorry, Fiend, old man,--my contract doesn't permit significant physical
disfigurements (except of course, as created by the makeup department).
Dix: Just a minute...maybe we can make a deal .
Tim: Sell out, you mean? Not...go on fighting to our last breaths, shouting
defiance at the forces of evil?
Rowan: Quite.
Tim: Works for me. I've got to be back in Culver City Friday week anyway,
for some telly tapings.
Dix: What's your offer, fat boy?
Fat [snarling]: Give me that which I theek, and retain your mitherable
liveth...AND a hundred thouthand of your pagan dollarth for good meathure!!
Tim, Dix and Rowan: Deal!!
Dix: We'll just go and get it for you,--it'll be a pleasure to give YOU the
bird...
Fat: Stop!! Only one of you may leave.
Tim, Dix and Rowan sit down on the crumpled bags and lean against the wall,
arms folded.
Rowan: No dice, old chap. All for one is our motto --
Tim, Dix and Rowan [in unison]: --And more for me!!
Dix: Just Siamese triplets, that's us.
After he is unable to budge our friends in their refusal to separate, Fat Sid
permits them to leave as a group, accompanied by two hooded henchmen. Dix
disposes of one of them by casually nudging him under a passing streetcar and
Tim flips the second one into an open manhole...
Unencumbered, they re-enter their hotel and go up to their suite to confer.
Sammy is sitting on the sofa, an automatic in his hand.
Sammy: About time!!
* * *
Our adventurers were startled to find Sam Spade, Jr. seated in their suite
when they returned, so he hastened to put them at their ease:
Sammy: Lemme stash this rod,--I was afraid some of your playmates might drop
by. I've been doing a little snooping on my own, and I turned up some info
you might need...
Tim: That there are actually TWO stuffed ravens involved in this scenario?
Dix: --Originally joined at the ribcage?
Rowan: --And one of them holds a sackful of incredibly-valuable precious
stones?
Tim: If the prop department is doing its job, yes.
Sam [disgusted; walks to door]: If you want me, I'll be down at the Washbag,
getting plastered.
Rowan and Tim look at Dix questioningly.
Dix: The "Washington Bar & Grill." He's his father's son, all right.
Rowan [thinking things over]: Then our fat fiend must be...dyslexic... He
used the wrong raven for bait when he was trying to entrap you, Tim. Now the
question is, how did you incur the enmity of that massive great Oriental git
with the speech impediment?
Dix: I think I'm beginning to smell a rat...
Tim: You're right. A professionally-jealous rat whose fake death scene
wouldn't have imposed upon a first-year drama student...All right, Arnold,
your little game is up!!
The bedroom door bursts open and Tom Arnold, grossly misshapen, waddles out.
His face is contorted with baffled rage as he peels off his drooping moustach
and removes a fake upper plate from his mouth. In his free hand is an
assault rifle.
Arnold [bellowing in rage]: Steal MY movie, will you??-- You
incredibly-talented, charismatic, Oxford-educated,--
Tim [murmuring]: Cambridge, if you don't mind...
Arnold: --blasted, trained ACTOR!!!
Dix [moving toward the window]: Must you shout? It's awfully stuffy in
here... .
Tim leans against the mantel and lights a cigarette. Rowan casually drifts
over to the sofa.
Arnold: Stay put, all of you!! Make a fool out of me, will you??
Rowan: Can't really presume, old boy -- Nature beat us to it.
Arnold swings angrily toward Rowan and Tim presses his cigarette end to the
rear of Arnold's bulging figure in its disguise: an inflated wet-suit...Rowan
and Dix dive behind the sofa and Tim drops to the floor as
WHOOOOOOOSH!!!!!!!!!
Arnold goes flying out the window, propelled by escaping gas.
Tim: Always thought he was a bit of a windbag...
Tim walks over and looks out at the diminishing figure heading toward the
Bay.
Tim: With a decent tailwind, he may touch down on Alcatraz...
Dix and Rowan have eviscerated the stuffed raven and are spreading diamonds
over the coffee table.
Dix: One for me and one for you and one for you...
The End.
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