Holmes: Clues & A Dumpster

Watson and I were standing on the front porch of our home on Baker street. It has been real helpful that Watson decided to take the guest room after his wife died. Having him nearby has been essential on more than one case.

"Corpse has made a fatal error," I commented. I hadn't completely figured out everything in my mind.

"Who is Corpse?" Watson asked. I was glad he asked because I needed a sounding board to work the latest out in my mind.

"He is the man taunting me."

"How do you know his name?"

"I don't believe Corpse is his real name. More of a pen name. He left me another note, which means we were closer than I recall."

"Holmes, you are making zero sense."

"I am sorry, my friend," I said with a sigh. "I will try to explain myself." 

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. Then, I continued: "This note was in my pocket. It was not there before I went on that chase. So, he must have been close enough to me to slip the note. I didn't feel that, but I found the note on the way back here because I put my hands in my pockets."

"What does the note say?" Watson asked. I showed him the note.

Then, I continued: "He has made a couple of fatal errors. He taunts me about not finding him, but he leaves me more clues. Eventually, I will put this together." I paused long enough to rouse Watson's curiosity.

"You said there were a couple of errors. What was the other one?"

"Oh, yes. By engaging me he has left yet another clue." I lowered my voice so no one would hear. "His right leg is shorter than his left ... by at least half an inch."

"How do you know that?"

My voice continued to be a whisper. Watson stepped closer to hear. "During the chase, when he stepped down on his right side, it was louder than his left. It was louder because it had further to go than his left. He was compensating."

Watson nodded, understanding. I rubbed my chin, trying to figure out when the note was slipped into my pocket. When I figured it out a few seconds later, I stated, "Watson, come with me." We ran around to the back of the building behind us. It took us a couple of minutes to get there. All the while Watson was asking questions. I answered none of them. Finally, I declared, "Patience is a virtue, my friend."

When we arrived at the dumpster in the alley, I went back into a whisper. "I believe he hid in this dumpster. Do you see how the lid does not close all the way? He would have been able to see without moving the lid much at all."

I raised the lid. There was no sound. "And, because the lid makes no sound when opening, he would have been able to slip in the note while I was looking the other way. He must have lubricated the hinge. I may not know his next step, but I can follow his progress. The question is ... what is his endgame?" 

The End

51 comments about this story Feed