Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Alfred Hitchcock Brainstorm
The Queen had grown tired of her reading material and summoned Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Alfred Hitchcock to Buckingham Palace to present them with a task. Her Majesty wanted a new mystery written, using the first line: “A man walked into a bar.”
“Did the man have a dog?” Agatha asks. “My dog, Peter, was such a comfort when Archie left me.”
“No dog,” says the Queen.
“The man needs a blonde,” Hitch opines as he pulls a notebook from his pocket and begins sketching a storyboard. “She’s wearing a moss green suit, black pumps, her hair in a French twist and she’s . . . ” Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he snaps his fingers, “. . . she’s handcuffed to him.”
“And he’s running from the police. We’ve heard this pathetic tale before, Hitch,” Conan Doyle allows.
“No dog and no woman. Just an ordinary man . . . alone,” the Queen huffs. “No more questions. Get busy. You have an hour to pull your ideas together.” Leaving the room, she wants to smile but doesn’t.
Conan Doyle closes his eyes. “I see the man now. It’s obvious he has neither dog nor woman, but he does have a monkey.”
“A monkey?” Hitch asks.
“Yes, a monkey,” Conan Doyle echoes. “There are scratches on his hands that can only be made by a small-sized simian. The golden hair covering his coat is consistent with the hair of the Barbary Macaque monkey found only in Gibraltar. I know this because when he pulled the pound note from his pocket to purchase his pint, a ticket stub from the Gibraltar ferry to Morocco fell out.
“And where is said monkey now, Sir Conan Doyle?” Agatha asks.
“The Queen said the man must be alone,” Hitchcock reminds them.
“Of course he’s alone,” Conan Doyle says. “He was forced to part with the animal. So the story will begin, ‘a man walks into a bar without his beloved monkey.’ ”
“Whom he’d picked up during his travels, which he had undertaken after the disappearance of Althea, his wife, whom he loved dearly,” Agatha adds. “Consumed with loneliness, he ached for a traveling companion. Knowing no woman could ever replace Althea, he sought the companionship of a pet, hence the monkey.”
“That he plucked from the streets, much to the monkey’s dismay,” Hitch says. “To keep the animal from escaping, the man was forced to handcuff her to his own wrist.”
“They returned to London where the man proceeded to train the monkey to partake in afternoon tea,” Conan Doyle scribbles.
“Then what happens?” Agatha muses. “How about this? The monkey tried her best to please her master, but reminders of Althea were everywhere.”
“Of course,” Hitch interrupts. “The wife’s clothes, jewelry, stationery — “
“The poor thing felt inadequate, and she missed her monkey friends,” Agatha says. “She had grown depressed and refused to eat. She longed for her life in Gibraltar but knew she could never return. You see, although she resented the man, she’d become attached to him. Emotionally torn between her life as a free monkey and the companionship of a lonely man, she felt trapped.”
“So one day, the man took her to Regent’s Park for some fresh air and sunshine,” Conan Doyle writes. “A sound caught her ear, and she bolted from the man toward a familiar cry. And there in the London Zoo, plucking a seed cone from the branches of a yew tree, was her . . .”
“Long lost, mate,” cries Agatha. “When her master caught up to her, she was clinging to the cage, a tear slid down her cheek. The man knew what he must do. Arrangements were made, and now the two Barbary Macaques live happily in the zoo.”
“But what about the man?” Conan Doyle asks. “We’ve lost track of this story: ‘A man walks into the bar without his beloved monkey.’”
“When the barmaid serves the man his pint,” Agatha says, “he spots a familiar golden wedding ring.”
“And, good lord, we can call her Althea,” Conan Doyle says.
“She sees the handcuffs dangling from his wrist and the golden hair on his coat,” Hitch smiles. “And now the real story begins. Perfect!”