And now, for a bit more fun, CSI IW Series 2, preceded by a leaf taken from the tele people:-
(Revised Repeat) CSI: IW Series 1
(A tense change from the original)
Executive Producer: Dennis Barnden
Director; Jessica White.
Episode 1/1: - Crushem Gets The Needle.
Will Crushem and his Isle of Wight CSI team were investigating a messy murder in a seaside apartment which contained a corpse, ample lighting and an in-credit electricity account.
They searched for clues by torchlight.
The victim was a young woman. Her clothing was in disarray and from the lapel of her dishevelled jacket Crushem recovered the pointed half of a needle which he dropped into a plastic bag.
Crushem's GFA (Glamorous Female Assistant) spotted a pink crumb on the four hundred square feet of bloodstained carpet: she recovered the crumb with tweezers and it, too, went into a plastic bag.
Crushem's GMA (Glamorous Male Assistant) watched her admiringly. He was in love with her, but wisely refrained from telling her so on the grounds that same-job relationships were a mistake. He knew, too, that telling her would quite certainly result in her being dead before the series ended.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Looks like pink shortbread," she replied.
"Crumbs!" he exclaimed.
"Well...one, anyway," said Crushem.
(Cue theme song - The Who's newly adapted: Blimey O'Reilly, Who Are You Foolin' Again?)
In her laboratory, Crushem's KFG (Kookie Forensic Genius) quickly reached a startling conclusion: this was not blood- soaked ordinary shortbread, this really was pink shortbread. It was only marketed a fortnight ago and was sold in just one shop.
To date a mere two people had bought it (we were told by the KFG's male colleague who was in love with her) and one of them had been sent to prison a week ago.
So the other was either the victim or the perpetrator...
What fun.
In the path lab Crushem's EDC&F (Eccentric Doctor Colleague and Friend) found no trace of shortbread in or on the vic.
What he did find was a strand of hay in the vic's shoe and the hay (according to the KFG) was particular to one farm in the West Wight.
So now we knew. The perp, not the vic, had bought the shortbread.
Furthermore, the KFG's besotted colleague told us, the perp was known to the shopkeeper who sold said shortbread. The perp was (surprise, surprise) a farmer in the West Wight.
The Team moved in.
They cornered the farmer in his hay barn in broad daylight. They were wearing body armour and helmets with lighted torches affixed to them. They had pistols at the ready.
"She shouldn't 'ave turned me and me shortbread down," he shouted, brandishing a shotgun in their direction. "Cost me a ...king fortune that shortbread did. An' then, when I ate the lot in front of 'er, she called me a greedy pig! Shouldn'ta said that, not when I was carryin' me brand new riphook...I mean, ain't that askin' for trouble?"
So saying he aimed his shotgun at the GMA, fired and (despite the fact that he unfailingly killed game on the run and birds on the wing with a single shot) missed.
There was a hail of return gunfire and he landed lifeless in the hay.
(CU bullets tearing through specially prepared carcass from local butcher's shop.)
Crushem reached him first and plucked the other half of the needle found in the vic's lapel from the sleeve of his tweed jacket.
"Looks like you just found a needle in a haystack, C," said the GFA.
"Half of one, anyway," said Crushem.
(A disclaimer regarding events, characters and any degree of realism was shown. Notice was given that any likeness to any living person should result in that person seeking immediate psychiatric help.)
(New Series)
CSI: IW Series 2
Executive Producer: Dennis Barnden
Director: Jessica White
Characters:
'C'......Will Crushem
Glamorous Female Assistant......Karensa Darling
Glamorous Male Assistant.....Chuck Aspanarin
Eccentric Doctor Colleague & Friend......Rhys K. B. Haver
EDC&Fs Assistant..... Ernest Youngman
Kookie Forensic Genius......Mada Zanatter
KFGs Colleague......Phil D. Fluter
Head Marquise Agent WICIS......Win Bienimenes
HMAs Deputy......Wendi Times-Wright
Corpse......O. Lee Moses
Shady Brother 1......Ed Down
Shady Brother 2......Bern Down
Episode 1/2 :- The Ultimate Sting.
In the early hours a drunk lurches along the esplanade of a small seaside resort.
(CU this proves to be a non-speaking male extra who will spend the next twenty years replaying a cherished video recording of the scene to any of his family who will still watch it.)
His attention is attracted by a lone figure on the beach.
He staggers onto the sand to investigate.
(Zoom to outline of naked male figure doing a perfect headstand but with the head entirely buried in the sand.)
The drunk reels back to the esplanade...
(fade out...)
Crime scene tapes are in place and Will Crushem's team is at work on the beach.
Though the area is floodlit they are working by torchlight.
The corpse has been draped with a sheet bearing the CSI logo to protect its modesty and forestall complaints from any dinosaur left over from the National Viewers' and Listeners' Association.
Crushem's Glamorous Female Assistant, Karensa, is collecting samples of water and sand in vials.
Crushem's Glamorous Male Assistant, Chuck, is holding a camera with which he has photographed the corpse from every conceivable angle and his glamorous colleague from likewise because he is covertly in love with her.
(She is wearing a suit by Karen Millen and shoes thought to have been purloined from Imelda Marcos but actually discarded by Imelda Staunton.)
Crushem walks to the water's edge: stares moodily out to sea: casually adjusts his double bridge metal aviator sunglasses by Marc Jacobs and says: "There's something too ritualistic about this setup. A vic frozen solid and apparently covered in bee stings. Placed here with his head in the sand. Somebody's trying to tell us something..."
(Cue theme song - The Who's newly adapted: Blimey O'Reilly Who Are You Foolin' Again)
"I think somebody's trying to tell us something, Will," says Crushem's EDC&F (Eccentric Doctor Colleague and Friend) later.
"Any idea what, Doc?" asks Crushem.
"Something to do with the Ostrich Syndrome? Who knows."
The supine corpse is on a table in the path lab.
Nearby, the EDC&F's likeable young assistant, Ernie, has prepared it for autopsy.
He is holding a visiting card.
He says: "Either the vic hid this or the perp has a macabre sense of humour."
Doc takes the card and reads aloud: "O. Lee Moses."
He stares at Ernie."I hardly dare ask, but where...?"
"It wasn't in his mouth."
"Thank God for plastic gloves, eh Ern?" says Crushem.
"You think there may be fingerprints on the card, Will?" says Doc.
"That too, Doc," replies Crushem wryly. "Stick it in a bag and get it over to Forensic, Ern. Be interesting to see if whoever disliked the poor guy this badly left any prints behind - for want of a better way of putting it."
"I've never seen so many lumps on a cadaver, C," says the assistant. "What a helluva way to be despatched."
"Bee venom may have medicinal properties," says Doc. "But moderation in everything is the byword."
"Investigating the ultimate sting are we?" says a voice from the doorway.
A tall, slim, attractive woman in a tweed suit and Philip Treacy hat is standing there. Unsurprised (nobody is ever surprised when an uninvited outsider gains casual access to a CSI establishment) the men turn to face her.
Crushem eyes her carefully. "Hallo Win," he says, "what's Wickeds got to do with this?"
Win Bienimenes is HMA (Head Marquise Agent) of the Women's Institute Criminal Investigative Service (WICIS) popularly known as Wickeds, a law enforcement agency founded to deal with crimes involving persons and property associated with the National Federation of Women's Institutes or anything faintly connected with Jam and Jerusalem.
She strolls across, eyes the corpse, sighs: "Poor old O. Lee. One of ours. Good undercover operator. Everybody liked him."
"Except the person responsible for this, presumably," remarks Doc.
"Ah...and that will be somebody who knew he had an acute allergy to bee stings," says the HMA.
"Anaphylaxis!" exclaims Doc. "Of course! But to deliberately cause a death by anaphylactic reaction to insect stings is positively Machiavellian. Who would do something like that?
"Somebody devilish enough to then freeze the body for display?" suggests Ernie.
"Exactly, Ernest. Get that card over to Forensic right away," mutters Doc peevishly.
"We must go, too," says Crushem. "I think you and I had better have a chat in my office, Win."
They leave, passing through the Administration Department on their way to Crushem's office. Chuck and Karensa are busy at their respective desks.
Chuck gazes after them.
"Who is that woman who looks like Meryl Streep?" he whispers.
Karensa shrugs: "Glenn Close?"
(Flash stock shots from films featuring both named actresses)
What larks.
Crushem and the HMA are seated in the former's sparsely furnished and seldom used office. "Now, Win, you obviously know more than I do, tell me what we've got here," Crushem says.
"What we've got is the murder of WI Agent O. Lee Moses," she replies.
"Yes, but any idea who by or why?"
She eyes him speculatively: "Shouldn't that be by whom? Anyway, he has just negotiated a bulk purchase of jam for us. All quite mundane so far as I know"
"Bulk purchase? But surely WI members make their own jam?"
"Traditionally yes, but since the government decided we should strictly adhere to EU regulations it has become almost impossible to present home-made produce for public sale without risking prohibitive penalties under Health and Safety."
"So you're doing away with members' own jams and switching to mass-produced stuff?"
"On a trial basis we're going to supply to the Institutes, yes. Me, I'd be quite happy if WI Enterprises only sold things like President's Brooches..." she indicates the neat silver brooch in her lapel..."and local Women's Institutes continued to do just what they have always done. But the Powers That Be are concerned at the vulnerability of local enterprises now and are looking for ways to nullify the risk."
"Looking for ways to be very unpopular I would have thought. Is this jam to be ready bottled?"
"Yes, everything except the labels. Each institute would add its own labels."
Crushem shakes his head in bewilderment.
"So how has all this brought about your man's death? And how come this man is in the WI anyway?"
"The Powers That Be again.They recommended I recruit him for overseas dealings on the WI's behalf. He was perfect. He'd travelled extensively, had national and international contacts and spoke a dozen languages including Kurdish and Arabic. He was an instant success with the girls, particularly with my deputy Wendi Times-Wright. They quickly became something of an item. "
The intercom buzzes and the voice of Crushem's Kookie Forensic Genius can be heard calling a hallo.
He says: "What have you got, Mada?"
"All is not well, Crushem," she replies. "Doc found a smidgin of raspberry jam under the deceased's finger nails and sent it over for testing. He thinks poison."
"I'll be right with you."
"I shall have to go and tell Wendi all this," says the HMA sadly."You'll keep me in touch,Will?"
"Of course," nods Crushem.
Episode 2/2
"Have we any notion what poison?" Crushem asks Mada in the Forensic Laboratory,
"Definitely one of the deadliest," she says.
"So we're talking Ricin...Tetrodotoxin...Compound 1080 or suchlike..."
"Any of them, yes: or Botulinum or Thallium," she adds.
"And that pair would leave the victim either wrinkle free and dead or bald and dead," says her male colleague. "I expect most of the ladies would prefer the wrinkle free Botulinum."
Crushem eyes him narrowly and he quickly returns to work.
"We have an interesting analysis on the body ice, though" says Mada quickly. "It is made with spring water from a spring on Vectice Company land and used solely by them."
"I know of them," says Crushem."Factory up by Beacon Alley."
"The Vectice Company!" he shouts as he re-enters the Administration Department. "Details if you please."
"Run by the Down brothers, Ed and Bern," proffers Chuck. "Ice Cubes for the Discerning Cocktail Drinker."
"They have a house on the plot alongside the factory," adds Karensa."And an apiary."
Crushem's cellphone rings with the opening bars of Who Are You by Pete Townshend.
Win Bienimenes is on the line: "Bit of a problem. I passed on the news about O.Lee to Wendi Times-Wright. She showed little reaction until I mentioned the calling card. Then she swore and went to her office. I thought she just wanted to be on her own. But she and her car have gone missing now; and she's armed, Will."
"Well first we have a priority to deal with here," advises Crushem. "Have you any knowledge of the Vectice Company?"
"Shady couple of brothers somewhere out Beacon Alley way."
"That's them. We're just off to pay them a visit. I'll be in touch."
Crushem flips shut the phone, grabs a loaded FN Five-seveN Tactical pistol from an unlocked drawer, shouts: "Let's be off, people!" and marches out through the unlocked main door.
(Show shots of Wightlink Ferry, Vectis Buses, Round the Island Yacht Race, The Who performing at Isle of Wight Festival and Power Boats at full speed: none of it will advance the plot but it's better than another old-fashioned fade-out.)
The team enters Vectice factory cautiously, dodges from area to area shouting "Clear!" and is finally brought to a halt by a tall swarthy man holding a pistol to the head of an attractive young woman.
"I think this is stalemate," he shouts. "Put down your weapons and we'll negotiate."
"We don't put down our weapons," Crushem says clearly, "I'm Will Crushem of CSI. I can negotiate. Which of the Down brothers are you?"
"Stuff the niceties," snarls the man. "Put down your weapons or she dies!"
Without appearing to aim, Crushem shoots him between the eyes.
The young woman gives a muffled cry and collapses.
Ahead and above them there is an office fronted by a wooden balcony and reached by a flight of stairs to one side.
In an instant a second man appears. He is holding a Uzi submachine gun with intent to use.
There is a single shot from behind the team: the man gets off a reflex burst into the roof and his inanimate body smashes through a solid wooden rail that has stood the assorted weight of leaning figures for over thirty years.
The team is momentarily paralysed.
Through the door behind them appears the slender figure of Win Bienimenes. She is holstering a Browning Hi-Power Mark III and looking grimly satisfied.
"Two down one to go," she says enigmatically. "I used the master keys and opened O. Lee's desk. Looks like he was a Women's Institute National Intelligence agent who identified this terrorist cell on the Island and reported it to his bosses at NFWI Headquarters in London.
A think tank at the NFWI's Denman College then devised a plan to smoke 'em out, starting with arranging for him to be recruited by me."
Crushem is clearly surprised: "Without letting you in on it, Win?"
"You know Intelligence people, old friend; trust nobody, needs-to-know basis and all that. And, quite apart from the possibility that I - or somebody else in WICIS - could be a traitor, obviously the less people who knew of their master plan the better."
"The jam plan!" exclaims Karensa.
"Bright one you have there," says Win to Crushem. "I could do with her in my lot."
"Bit of a gamble though?" hazards Crushem, "I mean, how was your man supposed to persuade a terrorist group to seriously contemplate, let alone undertake, the mass poisoning of Britain's finest females?"
"I've no idea, but he did it. I imagine he posed as an al-Qa'ida terrorist with an implaccable hatred for Middle England. 'All those toffee-nosed bitches. The whole lot ought to be poisoned.' Y'know, the sort of thing that appeals to extremists. Then he simply arranged for them to get the contract to transport the jam in their refrigerated lorries and left obtaining the poison and the introduction of it to them and their misbegotten friends. Something like that, anyway."
Crushem's cellphone rings.
His conversation with the caller is brief.
"That was Mada," he says. "Jam under your man's fingernails contained Compound 1080. Originally an animal poison. Odourless, tasteless, water soluble, without antidote. Quick but painful death."
"What about the calling card?" queries Win. "Anything on that?"
"Only a part print on one edge, but they were able to match it."
"Praise be for criminal records."
"Or in this case, praise be for staff records."
"How careless of you to leave a print, Wendi," says Win casually to the attractive young woman who, unnoticed, has regained her feet and picked up the Uzi.
"Standing that poor young man upside down with his head in the sand was a senseless, spiteful act. So was the contemptuous gesture with the calling card. What was it all supposed to signify exactly?"
"You've all got your heads in the sand!" the young woman sneers."That arrogant little poser was typical of the lot of you!"
"He spoke so highly of you, too," Win taunts gently.
"He wasn't speaking when we stripped him and threw him on the beehive," retorts Wendi. "Poor young man indeed. You should have heard him scream. I couldn't help laughing."
"You're sick, girl," says Win. "Now put the weapon down on the floor and let's have an end to it."
"I don't answer to you anymore, you old crow!" Wendi shrieks wildly and levels the submachine gun.
Karensa and Chuck, firing in unison, shoot her dead.
Crushem walks carefully to the body, kicks the Uzi away, says: "What a waste. What a shame."
"Yes," agrees Win. "Poor little Wendi. So ambitious. Never happy as just my deputy."
"You knew instantly that she was the mole," says Karensa. "How?"
"Other than me she was the only one who knew about Lee's allergy to bee stings."
"Helpful that she gave herself away with that fingerprint though," says Chuck. "Confirmed it for you."
"There wasn't any print," says Crushem. "I invented it. Seemed like a good idea at the time."
"And you didn't say which staff member it was, either, you sly old dog. Did you think it might be me?" asks an amused Win.
Crushem puts on his sunglasses.
"No way, Win. I leave that sort of thinking to your National Intelligence people," he says gruffly.
Karensa and Chuck depart the scene in an unmarked CSI van.
"You were pretty quick back there," he observes. "Almost as quick as me."
"Marginally quicker I'd say," retorts Karensa. "All the talking had me fed up and I thought you might pull back from despatching a pretty girl."
"What?" he says, "Pull back? Me? After she'd shouted you old crow at Meryl Streep?"
"Glenn Close."
"Whoever."
(Show apologies to Messrs. Anthony E. Zuiker and Jerry Bruckheimer, Mesdames Meryl Streep and Glenn Close, The Who and everybody even remotely connected with the CSI franchise.)
