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Fiction, © Copyright 2000, Jim Loy
My friend, Mr. Sherbert Coleslaw was walking about our sitting room, showing off his remarkable musical talent by playing the Wagner tuba. The musical selection was a piece that Coleslaw himself had composed, called the Brontosaurus' Love Song. A singular feature of this concert was that some of the sounds caused fragile glass objects to leap off of the various shelves around the room, and crash to the floor. Fortunately, Coleslaw had Wagner tuba insurance.
There was a knock at the door. Coleslaw pretended that he thought the knock came from his tuba, and he was looking into the bell of the instrument. The knock came again and I opened the door. In strode Chief Inspector Lemonade of Scotland Yard. "Coleslaw!"
"Gesundheit. I am glad that you are here, Lemonade. Perhaps you can help me find this knocking sound in my Stradivarius here." His Wagner tuba was an especially fine instrument, made by the Stradivarius Gadget Works in Birmingham.
Lemonade said, "Coleslaw, you asked me to inform you of any obvious suicides."
"Yes indeed, I have a theory that no obvious suicide is ever a suicide, but is instead a cleverly disguised murder by my arch nemesis, Mary Arty, the fiend. She is also known as the Mabel Berkowitz of Crime."
I queried, "Who is Mabel Berkowitz?"
"Why she is the Mary Arty of gardening.
I asked, "And who is this Mary Arty, besides being the Mabel what's her name of crime? I have never heard of her."
"No one has heard of her, Blithering. She is much too clever for that. She has never left a clue. I have, in my files, the records of over fifty obvious suicides in which there were no clues pointing to Miss Arty, curse her. I have deduced her existence from the complete absence of clues."
"Wow!" Lemonade and I exclaimed in unison.
Lemonade said, "Well, I have got another obvious suicide for you. I have a cab waiting. I will tell you the facts of the case on the way." After he had told us the facts, he asked, "Well Coleslaw, what do you think?"
"It is too early in the case to think. I will have to view the scene myself, for I am sure there are many clues that you have missed. As you know, it is a capital mistake to theorize without all of the facts. You may recall the sad case of Wilhelm Steinmetz, the famous chemist who was hanged last year. His crime was that he theorized without all of the facts."
We arrived at 123 Red Island Road. Lemonade showed us into the study, where Sir Herman Biscuitville still lay dead on the floor. Coleslaw tripped over the body and fell to the floor. "Ah, I see that this poor man is the victim in this foul crime. I deduce this by eliminating everything that is impossible, leaving the only possible conclusion that this dead man is the victim. And this would seem to be the murder weapon." He took the revolver from the dead man's hand, and fired off five quick shots into the dead man. Inspector Lemonade and I were shocked. "Let's see, this would seem to be a six shot revolver. I just fired five shots. Six minus five is..." Coleslaw was counting fingers on his hand, apparently failing to find a sixth finger.
Lemonade and I said "One!"
"Yes, one. I knew that. I also detect a strong smell of gunpowder. So the crime must have happened recently. The murderer obviously entered and left through the door." Coleslaw tripped and fell over the body once more.
Lemonade said, "The door was locked, and the only key was found inside a pocket of Sir Biscuitville's robe."
"There may be another key!"
"The door was also nailed shut from the inside. The hammer lies there on the floor."
"There may be another hammer!" Neither Lemonade nor I knew how to answer that assertion. Coleslaw's facial expression gradually became less confident as he stepped out and in through the door and made pantomime hammering motions. "Hm, that doesn't seem to work. Obviously the murderer entered and left through the window." He strode to the window and pulled it upward, with a loud grunt. The window failed to budge due to a large nail which had been driven through the frame. He tugged twice more, then the nail flew across the room and hit Lemonade a glancing blow on the side of the head. He collapsed to the floor, and Coleslaw fell through the window and out of sight.
Soon, Coleslaw strode through the door, "Well, I have seen all there is to see out there."
Lemonade was just awakening. "Wha... what happened."
I informed him, "You were hit on the head by a flying nail."
Coleslaw said, "You should be more careful, Lemonade." He sat on the window sill, fell over backwards, and disappeared out the window.
Coleslaw reappeared at the door again, "That window is a death trap, clearly the work of the evil Mary Arty. Well, having eliminated everything that is impossible, it only remains that Miss Arty, or more likely her agent, entered and left through the fireplace and chimney." He peered up the chimney, and saw only a tiny opening. "Miss Arty's agent is very thin, only two or three inches wide. Lemonade, you should have no trouble finding this remarkable person."
Mysteriously, that thin person was never found. One can only blame the incompetence of the official police force.