Corporate Mystery II, Part I: The Locked Room
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 