Corporate Crap and Other Dubious Wisdom

While B’Tude has been busy raising hell at school, I’ve been going on some pretty amazing field-trips.  Of course I needed to stop and smell the flowers (since I’m also carrying a full class schedule), so I thought I’d share them with you.  Sorry, couldn’t figure a way to make your screens scratch and sniff   Trust me, they’re beautiful fragrances.

P.S.  I also loaded a couple on B’Tudes photo blog for your scratch and sniff pleasure.

Yay!! Congratulations 3T at Stumbling Through Life With Grace!!  You hung in and were the closest to guessing the solution to the Locked Room, PartII :)

Please save this graphic to your site and display it proudly… you certainly earned it on this long one!!

P.S. I’ll have your new graphic on my Blogroll shortly today as well.

“We don’t know that she is a part of this, Ms. Ryan, but we do need to follow every bit of information we can until we find the person responsible for this,” Robert gently suggested.  “Can you tell us if there was a time, while Rebecca McConnahay was here that night, that you were not with her?”

“Why no, at least I don’t think so. She arrived before Mr. Doyle looking like a drowned rat from the storm, poor woman.  We sat here in this room chatting for a while… Wait, I did leave the room, but only for a short time, to brew some tea.” She looked pleadingly at Robert.  Her eyes asking for confirmation.  Then her eyes changed, seemed to narrow, “Cook had already banked the coals on the stove, and cook and I spent some time in the kitchen getting the water hot enough.  I should have just let her to it, but I was a little vexed at her, and we had a few words.  When I returned with the tea, Rebecca was pacing here and seemed a little angry.  As it was she didn’t stay long after that, but the storm had stopped by then.  She must have been more upset with me than I thought, because she even forgot her umbrella.  I meant to return it to her, but I have been quite busy these last few days.”

Denning and Robert seemed to rise together, a look passing between them. “Ms. Ryan,” he began, as the two walked towards the door and the umbrella stand, “can you point out Ms. McConnahay’s umbrella for us, please?”

“Why yes, of course.  It’s the rather large,  drab looking brown one, with the unusual handle.  The only one to stay in the stand the other day, when you tripped over it, “ with a slight smile at Robert.  “I wondered why she had used this one instead of the new one I bought her.”

Denning carefully removed the indicated umbrella and began examining it.  Nodding, he noticed the grip on the handle made more to fit the hand than most were.  Although the umbrella itself seemed fairly common, it seemed somewhat sturdier, and heaver than one would expect, for its size.  Upon closer inspection, he noticed a small catch where the umbrella met the handle.  Pushing on the catch slightly brought a small clicking sound, and the handle separated from the umbrella, sliding out of it.  Denning stood holding the top of the umbrella in one hand—in the other he now held a rather dangerous looking sword!  Rapier thin, and sharply tapered towards the tip, it was the sort of weapon men had carried for years secreted within their canes or walking sticks.  At the tip was a small reddish discoloration.

“Robert lad, I’m thinking it’s a killer we’ve fund er these eld eyes are wrong!”

“I think your eyes do not deceive you, Denning.  I am positive that our Coroner would also say so as well.” Then, as if suddenly struck, “my God Denning, what a fool I’ve been!”  As both Meg and Denning looked at him strangely, puzzled, he continued.  “When I looked before through Shafter’s records, it said he had a wife, but no further mention of her could be found.  Scotty and I each searched the area where he lived, yet no one knew the woman!”

Realization seemed to dawn on Meg, “you were looking for Mrs. Shafter—she must have changed her name.”

“Aye boy, I’d bet me best trousers on’t!” exclaimed Denning.

(more Crap…)

Standing now in the rain, as men quietly lowered Arthur Doyle to his final resting place, Robert shifted his feet and shivered, as the rain dripped past his collar and ran down his back.  Uncomfortable as it was, he was satisfied to see this case to its conclusion.

Glancing around now through the drizzle, he was not at all surprised that the small cemetery chosen was nearly filled with Doyle’s friends. It was a shame, he thought to himself, that there weren’t more people in this world like Doyle.  At least Robert felt better knowing that he had a part in bringing the person responsible for his murder to justice.

The man worked all his life to help others, but in the end spite and anger had brought him to this small place, and Robert felt somehow saddened that he had never met the man in life.  All he knew of him had been read in newspapers, police files, and heard from his friends.  Most of whom he now saw standing, heads bowed, around the grave—saying their final, silent goodbyes to their friend.

Looking up now, he met Meg Ryan’s eyes across the expanse, and thought for an instant he saw a slight nod—a silent thank you.  Perhaps in another time they might have been friends, but for now he had done his job.  For now that was enough.

Listening now to the quiet sounds of the rain, Robert drifted into thoughts of the past days.  The last time he had seen Ms. Ryan was at Mr. Doyle’s house, the day after the murder.

“Please wipe your feet gentlemen, I think I’ve done quite enough cleaning for today.”  Sternly, as she greeted them at the door, Ms. Ryan nodded pointedly in the direction of the mat at their feet.

“Yes Mum, we’ve cum ta ask ye a few mur questions, if we may”? Denning managed as he stood studiously rubbing his feet across the mat.

Waiting patiently for Denning to move his bulk from the doorway, Robert spoke around the man. “I trust you are in good health Ms. Ryan.  What with this weather I’m afraid I may be catching a cold.”

“I’m feeling as well as could be expected sir, what with the preparations and so on.  Here Constable, let me take your umbrella, I doubt you’ll be needing that in here.” Taking Robert’s umbrella as Denning finally moved enough for Robert to pass, she placed it in the umbrella stand next to the door.  “Come into the parlor gentlemen, I will answer your questions.  Although I don’t see how I can help you.” Her dress swishing as she moved, she led them into the parlor and offered them a place at the couch.

“Ms. Ryan, “ began Robert, “some information has come to light that we thought you might be able to help us to understand.”

“More ta the pint Miz… can ye tell us if yuv heard of a mon called Shafter?”

With a slight gasp, Ms. Ryan replied, “I had hoped to never hear that name again Constable.  If that man is involved, then surely you have him in jail by now?”

“Then you knew Shafter, Ms. Ryan?” Robert queried.

“I knew of the man, Assistant Constable, certainly.  He is the only man I ever heard of who has ever caused Mr. Doyle the slightest worry.  As I said, I had hoped never to hear his name again. Until you mentioned him just now, I had quite put him out of my mind.”

“Are ye sur Mum thet there isn’t sumthin yed be telling us aboot the mon Shafter?” Burrowing in like a hound, Denning seemed intent on pursuing the matter.

(more Crap…)