The Ostrich Club

A Murder Mystery Dinner Theatre play, The Ostrich Club runs as a one-act play, at a time of 30 minutes, with only an additional brief introductory scene before dinner. Set in a club in the 1940′s, it references “The Big Sleep”, with apologies to Raymond Chandler and his detective, Philip Marlowe, and Bette Davis’, film, “The Letter”. A classic ‘who-done-it’ with film noir overtones. It could also be done as a stand-alone piece, instead of dinner theatre.

Comedy. 30 minutes. 2 female. 2 male and one cooperative male audience member.

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The Ostrich Club

The Ostrich Club © Talia Pura

This excerpt may not be used for any purpose whatsoever. Rights to produce, in whole
or in part, by any group, amateur or professional, are retained by the author.

Bart: You know something, Doll Face? I couldn’t figure out why Delilah
acted like she’d never heard of me when I came to call on her here at the
Ostrich. All those passionate nights we’d spent together at the Pink
Flamingo seemed to have vanished from her memory. It’s starting to make
sense now. Delilah never met me before, did she? It was her schoolteacher
twin sister that I met in Vegas, wasn’t it? I had the wrong girl, didn’t I?

Phil: Had the wrong girl? Are you admitting that you killed Delilah? Poisoned
her just before her act?

Bart: I’m admitting no such thing. You’ll never pin that one on me. But I
did think that certain information had died with her. I can see that I was
wrong on that score.

Pam: Well, maybe it was me in Vegas. And maybe we did have a pretty
good time together. But that was before I got to know Virginia and find out
what a swell guy Bugsy really is. Virginia loves that big beluga and I don’t
want to see them hurt.

Bart: Maybe you should mind your own business.

Pam: Maybe you should be a little more worried about what I know.

Bart: Maybe you’re talking a pretty big line for such a little lady.

Phil: Maybe we should stop making threatening remarks and just get on
with this murder investigation.

Velma: MAYBE you should, yeah. You know Philip. I think that you’re
missing a golden opportunity here. You’re so busy trying to protect little
miss schoolteacher over here that you are neglecting to make note of a very
interesting possibility.

Phil: And what might that be?

Velma: Well, it’s pretty clear to me that this is one twin who isn’t very
close to her sister. In fact, I wouldn’t say that she’s grieving at all. I think
that she just might have decided to do Delilah in herself. A clear case of
twinaside.

Phil: Twinaside?

Velma: Or sisterside, take your pick. Whatever.

Pam: That’s ridiculous. You have no right to accuse me of murder. (to
Bart) You! You killed my sister, didn’t you? You thought she was me and
you wanted to shut me up for good.

Bart: No, I didn’t. I swear that I didn’t do it. I was going to get her down
to Vegas first. I mean, I just wanted to see her do well in Vegas.

Pam: So you were going to kill her?

Bart: That’s a moot point now, I’d say.

Pam: I ought to turn you into the feds just for having the intent. I could get
you on a whole lot of things. I know enough about you to put you away for
life. Or I could go to the mob. There are things that they won’t like about
you, either.

Velma: (pulls out a gun and aims it at Pamela) Give it up, Sister. I’m not
going to let you do anything to hurt Bart. I don’t want to see him put away
in the pen or hurt by the mob. He promised me Vegas and I’m holding him
to it.

Bart: Velma. For the last time, I didn’t mean it. You know that a guy will
say anything to get a dame to perform.

Velma: (turns the gun on Bart) You had better be prepared to keep your
promise.

Bart: Sweetheart. You would never make it in Vegas, even if I did bring
you down there.

Velma: You lousy two bit double crossing shyster! (she shots him. He falls
down, dead.)

Phil: (springs on her and gets the gun) You are going down, Velma. I’ve
got you dead to rights for the killing of Mr. Bart Bartholomew. Caught red-
handed in cold-blooded murder. Even if he was a gangster, you can’t just
shot a man; not on my watch. You’ll be singing the Jail House Blues for life.