The Tragical History of Otto Proudfoot: Act IV

Scene: The Proudfoot home, for the most part furnished as in Act I. A body is lying on the central table, covered in a linen sheet. The workbenches and shelves are in disarray, their items thrown to the floor as someone searched.

Otto sits at his father’s table, examining the tools one by one. Some are discarded, others restored carefully to their place. Constable Henry enters, carrying a metal strongbox.

HENRY: Well now, lad, are you composed?

OTTO: I suppose so.  

HENRY: Then let’s begin. Were the two of you close?

OTTO: Not recently. 

HENRY: Did he have any enemies?

OTTO: Of course not! 

HENRY: Well now, he had at least one.

OTTO: What do you mean?  

HENRY: This was not a robbery.

OTTO: But half of his tools are gone—along with some jewellery and art. 

HENRY: But they did not find his strongbox.

OTTO: Maybe they missed it. 

HENRY: It was under the floorboards by his bed. That’s the first place a robber would look.

OTTO: Maybe they didn’t have time.  

HENRY: They had time to beat him before killing him, and time to take an item or two from every room in the house.

OTTO: Thank you for reminding me, sir. 

HENRY: It is not unheard of to disguise assassination as robbery.

OTTO: Assassination? My father was no one! 

HENRY: Well now, that’s not exactly true. He had a reputation in his field.

OTTO: Certainly, as a craftsman.  

HENRY: Some of his clients are powerful men.

OTTO: What are you saying? That my father angered one of his clients?  

HENRY: There was a rather astonishing burglary last week. A wealthy merchant was keeping valuable merchandise temporarily in his own home, and thieves took it all.

OTTO: Now look here. My father was no thief! 

HENRY: But it was he who installed the locks.

OTTO: So? He has many clients.  

HENRY: The lock was neither broken nor picked. It appears that someone had a key.

OTTO: Your logic hangs by a thread, Constable. Look for suspects elsewhere, and leave the dead in peace. 

HENRY: Judging by the weight of this box, I’d say your father was having a bit of trouble. Open it up and see for yourself.

Otto takes the box and twirls the combination. 

OTTO: Where did it all go?

HENRY: So someone had a key, and someone knew the combination?  

OTTO (growing angry): You just said it wasn’t a robbery! There are a few coins here, some letters... but I thought he had much more squirreled away.

There is a knock at the door. Constable Henry goes to open it, and re-enters with Mistress Romana dressed in flamboyant style. Meanwhile, Otto leafs through the letters...then freezes in shock. 

ROMANA: Otto, I came as soon as I heard! 

OTTO: These are from my mother. 

ROMANA: Your mother? I thought she was dead!

OTTO: It’s easier to think of her that way, sometimes. 

HENRY: How old are those letters, lad?

OTTO: Some of them are quite old... but here’s one from two years ago.  

HENRY: Nothing to do with this business, then.

ROMANA: Holfast never told you? 

OTTO: No doubt he still didn’t approve of her. I wonder what he was waiting for?

ROMANA: What happened? 

OTTO: I don’t know. When I came home this morning, the Constable was already here. 

HENRY: The victim was there, his head broken. The house had been ransacked. A neighbour had heard noises in the night, but waited until morning to report them. 

OTTO (sweetly): Which neighbour was that?

HENRY: You’ll not have the name from me, lad. There’s enough blood in this affair without a vengeful son adding to it.  

ROMANA: So it was thieves?

OTTO: Apparently not. 

HENRY: Just who are you, miss? I believe I’ve seen you before.

ROMANA: Mistress, if you please. Romana Delaqua, owner of Turtle House. 

HENRY: Were you together last night?

OTTO: In a sense. I perform at her establishment. 

HENRY: I see. Pays well, does it? You’re both quite finely dressed, I notice.

ROMANA: Flattery, sir? I’m a married woman. 

OTTO: I get by. My mother left me some money.

HENRY: Not your father? 

OTTO: Yes, him too.

HENRY (gesturing at the strongbox): He seems to have spent it.   

OTTO: I wasn’t involved in his business.

HENRY: Would you mind if I examined his books? 

OTTO: Not at all. (exits upstairs)

ROMANA: Poor Otto, he’s taking this hard. 

HENRY: Why’s that, ma’am?

ROMANA: He didn’t get on well with his father. Now he never will. 

HENRY: He seems quite calm to me.

ROMANA: You don’t know him like I do. He’s always cracking jokes, putting on a show... I’ve only seen him like this once or twice. He may look calm, but something inside him just died. 

HENRY: He never mentioned money troubles?

ROMANA: Hardly! My Otto always has enough to enjoy himself.  

HENRY: Big spender, is he?

ROMANA: Oh no, he’s very selective. Fancies himself a connoisseur.  

HENRY: And he makes money performing for you?

ROMANA: Now don’t get any ideas! He does magic tricks on stage, that’s all. And he brings in quite enough coins that way. I doubt he saves any for hard times, but he’s young. 

Otto enters.

OTTO: The books are gone. 

HENRY: Well now, that settles it. Whoever did this wanted to prevent an investigation.

OTTO: You think my father brought this on himself, don’t you? 

HENRY: I didn’t say that, lad.

OTTO: No, but it shows. A hobbit merchant starts running out of money, so what does he do? 

HENRY: We’ll never know.

OTTO: You think he sold a key to one of his own locks. 

HENRY: It’s a possibility.

OTTO: Because everyone knows that my people are thieves at heart, is that it? Would you ask the same questions of a human locksmith, I wonder? 

ROMANA: Otto! The man is just doing his job!

OTTO: Are you investigating the merchant who was robbed, Constable? Have you questioned his friends and family to see who else had a key? Perhaps the man blamed my father for his loss, for no better reason than his race?   

HENRY: That’s enough, lad! I’m questioning you because you are first in line—nothing more!

OTTO: When I look at the evidence, I see a man robbed by his own family. And one of the robbers was cunning enough to find a convincing scapegoat—the very person who secured the house. They killed my father so he couldn’t give his side of the story. Maybe they even returned a few of the stolen goods, claiming to have found them here. 

HENRY: Oh, very clever. And where’s your proof?

OTTO: Where’s yours? 

HENRY: There won’t be any.

OTTO: What? 

HENRY: This was no robbery, lad. There’s no evidence here connecting your father to anyone in the city. So where should I look for it?

OTTO: The city doesn’t care, then? 

HENRY: The city has other things to worry about.

OTTO: And what will you do?

HENRY: I’ll file my report. And if you want to honour your father, you’ll let this sad event fade into the past.  

OTTO: But the merchant’s family...

HENRY: They’re very rich. Any maybe you’re right that one of them just got richer. Do you really think that questioning them will do any good? 

OTTO: You never know until you try.

HENRY: If you’re right, they’ll trot out your father’s name to turn the investigation away from themselves. Everyone in Dyvers will hear about the corruption of Holfast Proudfoot. I have neither time nor evidence to defend him from posthumous notoriety. Let him keep his good name, and keep yours clean as well. 

OTTO: And if I’m wrong?

HENRY: Then maybe your father got into trouble on his own. Maybe he ran out of money and got desperate. (sneering) I don’t suppose any of your own coins went into that box?  

ROMANA: That’s enough! Constable, are you done? 

HENRY: Near enough, ma’am. Otto was at your ‘establishment’ all night?  

ROMANA: Absolutely.

HENRY: And how much did he pay for the privilege?  

ROMANA: He’s a good friend and an artist.

HENRY: Never a client? I hear your services are expensive. 

ROMANA: That will do! Go file your report, and leave us to grieve!

HENRY: Good day, then. (exits) 

OTTO: I should have known something was wrong.

ROMANA: He would have told you if he wanted you to know. You saw him often enough.

OTTO: I never asked. I didn’t want to hear about it.

ROMANA: What are you going to do? 

OTTO: Do you agree with him?
ROMANA: About what?

OTTO: About the merchant’s family? 

ROMANA (sighs): Aye, you won’t touch them and they’ll shit on his name.

OTTO (whispers): Was my father right all along? 

Romana and Otto freeze. The lights dim, and Holfast stands up. His face is bruised and pale, and he seems to glow with a soft light.

HOLFAST:

A hobbit knows what life should bring
Good food, true friends are life’s great pleasure.
An honoured craft, a wedding ring,
newborn souls to teach and treasure.

But men, my son, are demon-ridden.
Their empires flow with blood and gold.
Coins for lives and knives for children,
Human bonds are bitter cold.
Handle human friends with care!
They value not the things we must
but ever yearn towards, skin-aware,
the trappings of misguided lust. 

Holfast lies back down, and covers himself with the sheet once more. The lights come back up.

OTTO: I can’t stay here. 

ROMANA (kisses him): I know, love. We’ll miss you.