The Locked Room: Part II, Chapter IV
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.