Diabolic Fiction

Cult of the Pit

unfinished mystery radio play

SYNOPSIS:
Detective investigates Lovecraftian horror in an old mansion. He isn’t a “psychic detective”, in other words, he has never run up against this type of case. I want to explore what a regular guy (with some bravery and intelligence) would do when facing such a terrifying thing. I rarely have an idea completely figured out when I write, but I assume there will be a monster, some evil cult dudes, damsel in distress and some good ol’ detective work fighting mobsters, yakuza and a horde of beasts from the netherworld. I will focus on the mobsters, gangs, cultists and the mystery more than the supernatural aspects of monsters. It will build slowly to the mind-shattering conclusion!

MAIN CHARACTERS:
CALEB MARSH: Private Detective in WWII-era San Francisco.
SUSIE FANUTTI: Marsh's secretary. Italian hottie from back East who died her hair blonde and tries to hide her Brooklyn accent.
RACHEL MARSTEN: Wealthy widow of Manfred Marsten III.
(Rachel is being blackmailed by a mysterious organization. If she does not turn over the deed to her mansion, they will release photos or her in an illicit love affair which will void her claim to any money or holdings left to her by her late husband's will.)
MANFRED MARSTEN III: Inheritor of the Marsten African diamond fortune. Self-proclaimed explorer and scientist.
MERKHI: Manservant to Mr. Marsten.
BOSS FLAMINGO: Local gangster. Racketeering, bribery, theft, prostitution, opium and the occasional murder. Runs the Tenderloin Organization, a group of thugs that control many businesses by extortion.


PART: 1

MUSIC: Laughter Theme

MARSH: My name's Caleb Marsh. I'm a detective here in glorious San Francisco...I say glorious because this place is so rotten I'm never without a job. Ever since Hitler decided he wanted to rule the world, things around here have gotten real strange. 1939 has not been a good year for law abiding citizens, but the worse things get, the better the business. For example, there was this one time when this broad came into my office and demanded to see me. She (fade out last line)

SFX: City sounds, cars, people, fishmongers.
Fade Out
Fade In we hear a typewriter and SUSIE and RACHEL bickering.

SUSIE: Listen lady, Mr. Marsh is busy right now. He's got lots of clients and no time for snooty broads like yourself.

RACHEL: Then I guess he has no time for a handsome retainer in the neighborhood of $3,000.

Marsh hears the amount and opens his door.

MARSH: Ahhhh, Ms. Marsten. I was on the phone with the, uh, Mayor, I told Susie not to disturb me. Please, come in to my office.

They move into Marsh's office.

MARSH: Have a seat.

RACHEL: How is old Angelo?

MARSH: Wonderful...I think we may get together for a game of golf.

RACHEL: Really? I thought poker was the Mayor's pleasure.

MARSH: If I'm not mistaken, "young girls" are the Mayor's current pleasure.

RACHEL: I'm sure his wife would not be too happy to learn this.

MARSH: Which is why the Mayor is so gracious in his donations to the South of Market Mission.

RACHEL: Oh yes. You were instrumental in keeping it up and running despite the fact that Boss Flamingo wanted it for himself.

MARSH: Yeah, well, let's just say I had a little help from friends in high places, friends that don't like Flamingo.

RACHEL: Well, Mr. Marsh, perhaps you can help me as you did those poor derelicts.

MARSH: You need a bowl of soup, Ms. Marsten?

RACHEL: (chuckle) Oh no, Mr. Marsh. Actually, I was wondering if you could track down some people?

MARSH: When did they go missing?

RACHEL: No, it's nothing like that. I suppose I should start from the beginning.

Cue eerie MUSIC.

RACHEL: (cont'd) I need to find some men belonging to an organization known as The Black Hand. They have challenged my late husband's will and have threatened me with blackmail, but I know nothing about them. My lawyer advised me to hire a private detective to find out just who these men are and why they think they should get a piece of my inheritance. They have specifically expressed a right to the items my husband brought back on his last adventure and say they will release photos of me and, well, lets just say, a very close friend.

MARSH: Please, Ms. Marsten. You must be honest with me if you want me to do my job.

RACHEL: Well, I guess I might as well tell you that I was having an affair. My husband and I had grown distant. I needed someone.

MARSH: So, they plan to release these photos?

RACHEL: Yes. And if they do, I will lose any claim I have to my husband's fortune. As an amendment to his will, my inheritance is forfeit if I am caught in any, indiscretion.

MARSH: Smart guy. Wasn't your husband killed by his manservant?

RACHEL: He was...or might have been. What the police don't know, and what I am about to tell you must be kept in the strictness of confidence, Mr. Marsh. If it were to leak out, I would face many more questions than simple infidelity. You shall know the whole sordid tale. The sum of $3,000 is only a taste of what you will receive if you are able to fulfill my request. (pause) Do you have anything to drink?

MARSH: Only whiskey...and water.

RACHEL: Water will be fine.

Marsh pours her a drink.

MARSH: One water, straight, no chaser.

RACHEL: Thank you.

Rachel takes a few sips

RACHEL: (cont'd) Can I trust you, Mr. Marsh? While your methods are questionable, your reputation as an honorable man is what brought me here. I have already told you much.

MARSH: You can trust me, Ms. Marsten. My word has never been broken.

RACHEL: Very well. I will begin my tale. You see, it all began five years ago, when my husband was on safari in New Guinea. As you may know, he fancied himself an explorer and scientist, though he did not hold any formal degrees. He was deeply interested in one arm of study known as cryptozoology. From what he told me, it is the search for...

MARSH: (finishing her sentence) ...for species that have yet to be discovered. Biologists believe we haven't uncovered all the animals, insects and plantlife which reside on Earth.

RACHEL: (sarcastic) Why Mr. Marsh, did you learn that at Harvard? (laughs)

MARSH: Actually, it was Yale.

RACHEL: I don't see a diploma.

MARSH: I lost it in a poker game. Please, continue.

RACHEL: Well, my husband thought by going into very remote regions, he might stumble onto one of these hidden specimens as he called them. He was in the rainforest for six weeks before I got a letter from him. I have it here. (paper rustling)
(reading from note) Dearest Rachel, It has been over a month now and I've heard...(voice fades from RACHEL to MANFRED)

SFX: Jungle Sounds.

MANFRED: ...I've heard nothing but hearsay and fables. It all seems fruitless at this point. Our native bearers have all but abandoned us, telling frightened tales of a beast that stalks the forest around a fabled temple. Only one of the damn savages remains. His name is Merkhi. He doesn't speak a whit of English but I have been picking up his native language. From what I can understand, Merkhi says the other natives are afraid of ghosts. He himself doesn't believe in such things which is rare among his people. I was of a mind to believe him until the night before last, when the camp was awaken to the sounds of something moving through the brush. We immediately set up fires, believing that a tiger was on the prowl, but we saw nothing. It wasn't until we set out in the morning that we saw the most peculiar thing. Tracks of some unknown beast were all around our tents. I have taken pictures and made a cast of the devilish thing and hope to have that professor have a look at it. Dr. Eberhardt says it reminds him of talons from a monitor lizard, but says there shouldn't be any on the island. And if it were a monitor, then it would have to be 20 feet long, according to the size of its claws...a terrifying monster to be sure. Another strange thing is the lack of sound. As we travel deeper into the forest, we hear fewer and fewer birds. It's as if no animal has stepped foot in this part of the forest since the dawn of time. It's also getting colder. I can feel a slight drop in the temperature every mile we go. And it is back-breaking work, fighting through vines and bramble as thick as any. Slow going and tedious. I think the blasted savages knew how hard it would be and made up those ghost stories. We've decided to pack it in for the night. I have posted several men to watch for whatever creature visited us last night. What a triumph if we could capture it. I will write soon, my darling. You are in my thoughts every day.

RACHEL & MANFRED: (simultaneously) Love, Manfred.

RACHEL: (cont'd) Three weeks later, I received this letter. (reading from note) Dearest Rachel, I am compelled to write with the most triumphant of news...

MANFRED: ...compelled to write with the most triumphant of news. It loomed before us as we broke through a particularly heavy wall of bush. In the center of a large clearing sits the temple of which the savages spoke. We have set up camp at the edge of the forest, about 30 yards from the entrance of the temple. The gardens surrounding it are crumbled but the main structure appears to be intact. It is late and darkness approaches. I plan to investigate the temple tomorrow at first light. I can barely sleep and decided to write you. I will send a man back to the village for more supplies and equipment. I will write again soon.

RACHEL & MANFRED: (simultaneously) Manfred.

RACHEL: (cont'd) And that was the last I heard from him, until he sent me a letter several months later saying he would be returning and to call a carpenter to begin work restoring our basement.

MARSH: Why the basement?

RACHEL: At the time, we only used a small portion of it as a wine cellar. The basement actually stretched much farther under the house. There were areas that I did not even see until recently.

MARSH: What happened in New Guinea?

RACHEL: Manfred returned home with several small crates and one enormous crate that had to be lowered into the basement through a hole in the garage floor. He seemed, well, at the time I thought it was simply preoccupation. He had obviously found something he believed was important and was only thinking of it. He practically ignored me, spending all of his time in the basement. One day, I ventured down into his domain and promptly got lost. Seemingly, out of nowhere, my husband appeared. It scared the hell out of me I assure you. He told me not to go anywhere but the wine cellar and said there were dangerous areas. He walked me to the stairs, watched me ascend them, and then retreated into the darkness. As the days turned into weeks, he slept down there more and more. A week or two could go by and I wouldn't see him. He had his dinner brought down to him by Merkhi. Manfred returned with him from New Guinea. He didn't speak a word of English but my husband seemed to have picked up the strange language. Merkhi was the only one allowed in the basement. It got to the point that I started to move on with my life. I rarely spent time in the house, always out shopping or with my friends. I hated being in such a silent and lonesome room. After a time, I would not see Manfred for weeks. He seemed to go out only at night. Merkhi would drive the Studebaker from the garage. The curtains on the windows of the car were always shut. They would return just before dawn and descend into that wretched basement.

MARSH: I read he died down there, but no body was found. Police arrested his manservant and charged the poor man with murder. He was hanged a day later.

RACHEL: Yes. I remember the night Merkhi came up from the basement. I was having a dinner party...anything to take my mind off my husband. It was around 11:30 that Merkhi walked into the ball room, covered from head to toe in blood. His eyes were open so wide and he had this grin on his face...it froze the blood in my veins I tell you. Most of my guests either screamed or fainted or left. I tried to talk to him, but he seemed in some sort of catatonic state. I called the police and they sent some men down into the basement. They came back and said it was a maze of tunnels that seemed to go on forever, they had almost gotten lost. They said they had followed a trail of blood to a large pit. Merkhi was taken away and questioned but he never really came out of that state he was in. The police concluded that Merkhi had murdered Manfred in some native ritual and had thrown the body down into the pit. Several policemen were lowered on ropes but returned after 100 feet saying there was no bottom in sight. Merkhi said nothing and he was convicted of murder.

MARSH: I remember reading that he said something to you, just before he was lead to the gallows. But you never revealed that conversation.

RACHEL: Yes, Merkhi did whisper something to me. At the time, I didn't know what it meant and thought it would only lead to speculation by the newspapers.

MARSH: Can you tell me?

RACHEL: Yes...he told me that Manfred was still alive, but that he wasn't Manfred anymore.

MARSH: You mean, the manservant claimed to be innocent of murder?

RACHEL: Yes. I didn't know what to make of it then. I guess I subconsciously wanted all of this to end. You see, I was planning to divorce my husband. I felt abandoned and didn't want to be his wife anymore. I thought that the police might find out and suspect me of plotting to kill him, using Merkhi as my assassin. I figured the whole mess would be better forgotten.

MARSH: Yes, that would have been suspicious. You stood to lose a very comfortable life, but with your husband dead, everything is yours and no more Manfred.

RACHEL: Exactly, Mr. Marsh. You sound like you aren't sure if that isn't what happened.

MARSH: I haven't made my mind up, Ms. Marsten. But your story is compelling. Now, tell me about the will.

RACHEL: As I said, Manfred had the original will amended when he returned home. In it, he added several clauses and in regard to Merkhi, he left the artifacts in the basement to him. Now, with his servant dead, the items have reverted to me. That is, until these men claimed that Merkhi was a member of their group and that they have a right to my husband's things.

MARSH: Was he a member?

RACHEL: There's no way to tell. He may have, but it doesn't matter. Merkhi is dead so they have no real claim. That is why they are blackmailing me. They assume I would rather give up the mansion and keep the rest than take a chance and lose everything to the State.

MARSH: So, you're hoping I can find out who they are before they decide to expose your affair.

RACHEL: Yes, Mr. Marsh. Get those photographs and you will never have to work another day in your life.

MARSH: Sounds peachy. So, who's your contact?

RACHEL: I've only talked to him on the phone. He sounds foreign but it's an accent I can't quite place. He wants me to hand over the mansion within a week or the pictures will end up in the hands of my husband's lawyer.

MARSH: A week? Well, I'll see what I can do.

RACHEL: Please, Mr. Marsh. What I went through for that man I deserve everything. Who knows what those scoundrels want it for.

MARSH: I hope to find that out. I guess that's all the information I need for now. Give me a call if you are contacted again. If I uncover anything, you'll be the first to know.

RACHEL: Thank you, Mr. Marsh. You have my gratitude.

MARSH: All I need is your money, Ms. Marsh. $100 a day plus expenses. You can start by writing a check for $3,000 and give it to my secretary.

RACHEL: Of course. Goodbye, Mr. Marsh.

Rachel exits leaving Marsh to his thoughts.

MARSH: (sotto) Well, Ms. Marsten. Seems as if greed gets in the way of common sense. Even if she lost the house, she must still stand to inherit billions from her husband's diamond mine. Why does she want that house so bad? And why should a group of strangers want it?


PART: 2


SFX: 30s jazz music, city street noises, car noise.

MARSH: My first stop would be to see Freddy LeReece. He had all the dirt on the upper crust of San Francisco society and was willing to dish it for the right price. I had three grand burning a whole in my bank account so I decided to put it to good use.

SFX fade.

Marsh enters a store. A bell dings as he opens the door.

FREDDY: Ahhhh, Caleb. How are you today? Still shabby as usual.

MARSH: And I see your taste in women's underwear hasn't changed either. Your bra strap is showing beneath that suit.

FREDDY: Yes, well, one must be comfortable if one wants to feel good.

MARSH: Well, I'd love to talk more on the subject but I have more pressing business.

FREDDY: Then, might I suggest a donation to the church of LeReece?

MARSH: Only if you're ready to confess.

FREDDY: My mouth is ready and willing.

MARSH: That's what I was afraid of.

SFX: Rustling of money being exchanged.

FREDDY: Ahhhhh, such a generous donation. Pray tell, what is it that you'd like to know?

MARSH: I'm sure you've heard about the Marsten murder.

FREDDY: Of course. Nothing escapes these ears.

MARSH: Then you must know that the heiress Rachel Marsten will inherit everything.

FREDDY: Well, I'm sure she'd like to get it all, but I hear there's a little matter of some rather revealing photos.

MARSH: You know about those.

FREDDY: Caleb, please! You insult me with your skepticism.

MARSH: Whose blackmailing her?

FREDDY: There are so many good things a church can do for its community. There's the orphans and the bums and the....

MARSH: Fine. Here's another donation. Now spit it out.

FREDDY: Very well. At a dinner party last week I met the most charming man from South Africa. Did you know they have the cutest accent? Tall, too. Blonde hair, chiseled features, piercing blue eyes. I could have sworn he saw right through my tuxedo.

MARSH: What's his name?

FREDDY: Rand-something.

MARSH: Rand? First name or last?

FREDDY: I don't really know.

MARSH: What's the name of his company?

FREDDY: I haven't a clue. I wasn't exactly paying attention to what he was saying. Although, he did seem to ask a few questions about the Marsten mansion. He said he was interested in it and if I knew whether or not Ms. Marsten was going to sell it. I asked him why he wanted it and he said something about it being nice and reminded him of his family's estate in Africa.

MARSH: Thanks Freddy. Stay cool.

FREDDY: I always do, Caleb. Ta-ta.

to be continued...