Corporate Crap and Other Dubious Wisdom

Please see my previous post for part I of this Mystery, otherwise it may get a little confusing

"Ieeeeeekkkkk!" and with that the housekeeper collapsed in a heap to the floor.

"A fine how-de-do when a mon canna think in peace," scratching his head, Denning ponders the room as he carefully returns Mr. Doyle to his position on the desk.

Obviously the room of a well-off man, both the furnishings and the room itself were in excellant repair, in contrast to most of the other areas of New York City Denning had frequented recently.  Small but well furnished, apparently Mr. Doyle had worked often in his bedroom as his desk and office chair, although in good repair, were both obviously used—small scratches on the wood floor indicating the chair had often rolled in front of the desk.  The desk itself was set at a 90 degree angle, although directly opposite the door to the room.  Thus, anyone sitting in the chair would have simply turned the chair left and walked to the door.

Looking around the room once again.  Directly to the left of the door upon entry was an elaborate clothes cabinet, "Musta cost a pretty penny that", and between closet and the adjacent wall, the bed.  The bed itself, although the covers had been turned back, did not look to have been slept in.  Following around the room, in the wall past the end of the bed was a large set of French doors leading to the balcony outside.

Walking to the French doors Denning pressed down on the handle to walk to the balcony and met the resistance of the lock. 

"Ey… was the man daft to be lockin his balcony here on the second floor?  Was it birds then he was a fear’n up here?"

Oddly, the key was not in the door as one would normally expect to be the case.  Glancing back again at Doyle, Denning remembered the key still gripped in the man’s hand.

The housekeeper was now stirring, so Denning helped her to her feet and guided her out of the room, seating her on a low padded bench in the hallway.  His partner was now returning with a glass of water for her and she took it nervously.

"Who would have done such a thing?" She whispered

"We dunna wanta jump to quickly Mum.  It may be that your Mr. had hisself an accident—thet paper spindle thar on the desk looks a mite suspicious.  We’ll wait until the Coroner gets here for sartain"  Looking past her to his partner who nods, verifying that he had sent for the coroner.

"Robert lad, take a look in yonder room and see what you see.  Careful not to move around too much boy, lest we disturb things fore the Coroner gits here."

(more Crap…)

Back by popular demand… another Who Dun it?

Disclaimer: This story is ficticious in its entirety.  Any resemblance to any real person, story, or situation is total bullshit.

Time:  Sometime back in the later part of the 1800’s

Place: New York City, New York

At approximately 6:00am on the morning of July 2nd., 1883, police were called to the home of well-to-do financier and philanthropist Arthur Doyle, by his nearly histerical housekeeper. 

Upon arriving at the home, police were informed that Mr. Doyle, who was accustomed to taking his coffee at precisely 5:30am daily, had not left his room nor had he responded to repeated efforts at knocking on his door.

Constable Richard Denning, proceeding upstairs, rapped sharply upon the locked door several times with no response from within.

"Are ye sartain the mon is here Ma’am?"

"He must be here Constable!  He returned from his office at 7:15 last evening promptly as he always does.  He ordered his meal in his room, which I delivered to him myself at his desk, in his room."

"An can ye say the mon didna leave afterwards, Ma’am?"

"He did not Sir!  Mr. Doyle is not in the habit of dalyin about town at that hour like a common man!  Now hurry… I fear something dreadful has happened!  I would have had no need of you but that Mr. has the only key to the room."

"Aye Ma’am, and tis a sorry fellow I’ll be if I break down the door to find your master sleeping!"

"Oh you fool… Mr. has never slept past 5:30 in all my ten years of service to him.  Quickly now, I beg you… break down the door!"

Whereupon the Constable heaved his chest, and slammed his shoulder against the door.  Not a small man, he was nonetheless unsuccessful.  Twice more he tried his strength to no avail.  Finally, calling his partner from the street below, the two of them banged, pushed, and slammed against the door several times, until it finally gave and slammed open, breaking the frame in the balance.

Mr. Doyle was indeed within the room.  Directly across from the door in a dressing gown, he was apparently asleep with his head on the desk, facing the room’s only window to the left.  Items scattered across the desk… a paper weight, some papers, and a paper spindle lay pinned under the unscious man.

"Sure now Mum, tis drunk your mon must be not to have heard us!"  Denning smirked as he strode towards the desk.

After two failed atempts at shaking the man awake failed, Denning grasped Doyle by the shoulders and sat him upright in the chair.  A single drop of dried blood shows darkly on a paper on the desk, next to the paper spindle.  Alarmed, Constable Denning examines the man more carefully and discovers him to be dead… his right hand still gripping what looks to be a key.

That’s it for now, for this mystery.  In a couple of days I’ll post part II, and the rules of this Mystery contest.  Here’s a Hint… don’t jump to conclusions

UPDATE: I’m leaving this post up here for two reasons:  First, for me not to do so would violate my own principles as stated in the last line of this post "I can’t say that I will change either my opinions or my view of humorous subjects, nor will I be bullied or intimidated to do so, but I do respect your own choices."  Second, Both the logic and my personal ethics in blogging are clearly stated for future reference.

My purpose in writing this was not to start a blog-war, and as a matter of fact I was very careful not to point fingers at anyone in particular.  So please, all of you who have read and commented understand, so let’s get back to our regularly scheduled programming and let this be "Nuff said".  Thank you all for your support and your understanding.  DB

For a very long time I only posted “serious” articles, maybe it was a reflection of the stress of life, or maybe it was a result of my frequently all-to-serious nature.  Either way I’m sure those of you who often read my blog must have been not only bored to tears, but wondering at my choices of subjects. 

Like most of you I’ve found that life has an ebb and flow to it.  Sometimes life is good and everything is rosey, and sometimes it just plain sucks.  When life sucks it’s always hard for me to see anything happy—my writing tends to be pretty dark and/or serious at those times.  From reading your own blogs I think you all understand.

Blogging for me is enjoyable; it’s a way to “meet” other people, a way to get other opinions on subjects, and certainly a form of entertainment.  What blogging isn’t to me is a vehicle to either offend or start a fight with anyone.

When I write seriously it’s because I think maybe somebody wants to hear what I have to say and give me their own opinion.  I don’t expect everyone to agree with me, nor do I really care if anyone does—after all, it is just my opinion. 

When I write something I think someone else might enjoy in what I think is a humorous fashion, it certainly isn’t my intention to either offend or insult anyone.  Those of you who have read my articles as well as my posts on your own sites I’m sure know that I can poke fun at myself right along with every one else.  It’s the nature of humor that we learn how to laugh at ourselves.

WAHOO!! Boy do I love a Happy Ending!!

Jordan’s mother turned herself in–he’s hospitalized for observation, but back in the arms of love and safety

You just can’t beat the power of Love, and Damnit… sometimes the Good Guys DO win