Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
That he's hiding something inside his boot, therefore affecting his height? Since it's not in both boots stepping on it proves something.
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
That he's hiding something inside his boot, therefore affecting his height? Since it's not in both boots stepping on it proves something.
Well, I imagine that if the Shadow confirms a lack of support in the toe, it lends credence to the supposition that Bert is on stilts.
You are so close that it would be a mortal sin to not let you have it, really, since the stilts idea works as well as my own. Bravo! http://www.cosgan.de/images/smilie/sportlich/f030.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by RobinHood3000
My own explaination is this: Since the ashtray hit with enough force to mar a Gator Hide boot, yet the person wearing the boot took no notice, and The Shadow stepped on the other boot and he STILL took no notice, he had artificial legs. By going into the bathroom and removing the legs (or stilts, thanks, Robin) he would then be much shorter and could fit through the cabinet, kill the man, return to the bathroom, reattach his false legs/stilts, and presto, he's not a suspect because he's much too tall to fit. The Shadow caught the ashtray clue and followed up on it to get his man. Malicite is a heavy, lovely green stone which you would definately feel if a piece used to make an ornemental ashtray was dropped on your foot, short of steel toes!
The Clouded Mind of Joe Cardona by Jonathan Blade
A brilliant blue light shown down upon the highly polish surface of a small table. Within the light, two white hands moved as if of their own volition, opening a cream-colored envelope. Upon the left hand shone a girasol ring, the symbol of the Shadow! The Master of Darkness was in his sanctum.
Eyes hidden in the dark read the typewritten lines:
Report from Clyde Burke of The Classic:
Tobais Coldiron was found last night dead in his home on West 47th Street in the theater district. Inspector Joe Cardona was on the job,
along with Detective Sergeant Markham , and two others. Joe was kind
enough to let me ride along.
Coldiorn’s cook reported hearing a shot from his bedchamber, from her room on the floor above. The butler, a man named Folsom, confirmed the woman’s story. Both had rushed to their master’s door, and found it locked. The butler tried his key, but the door was also bolted on the inside. They then contacted the police.
The policemen had to break the door down to enter the room. Tobias Coldiron lay in the middle of the floor, shot in the right temple. His right hand was stretched out, fingers curled, and you could almost see where the pistol that killed him should be, but it wasn’t there. There was no weapon anywhere in the room. The windows were nailed shut. There was a dumbwaiter to bring Coldiron’s meals up from the kitchen, one floor below, but it was much too small for a normal man to fit into.
Two types of cigarette butts were found scattered, and Markham discovered some that were cork-tipped that had tiny traces of red near the edge. But Cardona found others, including the cork-tipped ones, covered with blood and dismissed the cigarettes as blood spattered.
Cardona even had the tiny car removed, and searched the empty shaft for clues, but came up empty. He is at present treating Coldiron’s death as a mysterious suicide.
Sardonic laughter came from the darkness. The hands reached for a phone and dialed the number for police headquarters. A quiet voice asked to speak with Inspector Joe Cardona.
“Yeah, Cardona here.” The Inspector felt a chill as an icy whisper issued from the receiver.
“Cardona, reexamine the evidence concerning Tobias Coldiron’s murderer. There is a cloud upon your own brain!”
WHAT DID THE SHADOW MEAN?
Well, the suspicious red edges point towards the presence of a lady--the specific size of the dumbwaiter begs further investigation.
These things are hard as crap.Either that or I'm just an idiot.
Indeed. One specific line from the story will now solve it for you.Quote:
Originally Posted by RobinHood3000
Hmm...well, the only lady in the house is apparently the cook, but her room is ABOVE Coldiron's bedchambers. Then again, the kitchen is presumably her domain, and such is the terminus for the dumbwaiter. As I have little knowledge regarding tobacco, the significance of cork tips on cigarettes escapes me. Hmm...
No, no. You were looking in the right direction, i.e., the dumbwaiter. What does the story specifically state about it?Quote:
Originally Posted by RobinHood3000
That no normal man could fit through it--thereby further suggesting a woman.
Quite so. So that instead of Cardona calling it a "suicide" he should have an APB out for a woman, he can easily determine her general size from the dumbwaiter, as that had to be her exit, even do tests for weight. He can check the house to see if any servants fit the given features. That would be were the cork-tips come into play. In those days, cigarettes were more individual than today. If one of the servants could fit in the dumbwaiter, see if she has the cigarettes in her chambers. Any suspected woman would be the same. Do they carry that brand of cigarettes? Cardona is letting a lot of evidence go, because he is hung up on a man must have done this. That's all. Bravo! http://www.cosgan.de/images/smilie/sportlich/f015.gifQuote:
Originally Posted by RobinHood3000
wow, nice job, both of you... hmm... I seem developing an idea for my next teaser... I'll post it once I'm satisfied with it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
Man... ;_; the computer froze up on me... that was longest teaser I had ever made too. ;_;
EDIT: Alright... I can't remember the entire poem I had in it, but here's the poem (yes, it was prose writing, but I even had a poem in there), just for future reference (for me, as the poem is the part I'll most likely forget):
"The moonlight shines across the window,
shining oh so bright,
lighting up the world of limbo,
(something about it being out of sight)
he looks across the dark, wide hall,
feeling his demise,
and he sees the shadow near the wall,
hidden from his eyes
hypnotically he starts to walk,
to the other side,
listening to the shadow talk,
and hearing him misguide
but, alas, he plunges towards the ground,
death so palpable,
and then he hears it as a sound,
the train so touchable"
Death of a Brother-in-law by Jonathan Blade
Dwight Abercrombie leaned across the counter of his curio shop and displayed some beautiful antique jade figurines to Phineas Twambley. The elderly man grunted at the items in front of him.
“Are these the finest you’ve got, Abercrombie? I expected something more, Ahem, unusual from you. After all, you do have a good reputation for the excellency of your Oriental curios.”
Abercrombie seemed oddly unconcerned. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em, Twambley. You’ll not find better elsewhere.”
Just then the two men were interrupted by the sudden arrival of acting Inspector Cardona. He nodded to Twambley, then faced Abercrombie squarely. “Better set down, Dwight. I have bad news.”
Abercrombie sank into a chair behind the counter. “What gives, Inspector?”
“It’s your brother-in-law, Abercrombie. He just committed suicide.”
Abercrombie leaped to his feet with a stricken look. “Oh, no! Not Elwood!” He glanced from Cardona to Twambley. The two men looked at each other.
Cardona nodded. “Elwood Dupree. I didn’t think it was in the papers yet, though.”
Abercrombie almost stuttered out an explanation. “Ah, it wasn’t. He-he had been depressed for some time. His brother, Alonzo Dupree, my wife, (his sister Angeline), and I have been trying to get him to see my sister’s husband, Doctor Jeremiah Botsworth, a certified psychiatrist. But ol’ Elwood never had the time. Now, it’s too late. What will I ever tell Angeline?”
“Sorry to break the bad news, Abercrombie.” Cardona said. “It’s times like this that I hate being a cop.”
Neither Abercrombie nor Cardona had noticed that old Twambley had vanished. In his place was a cloaked, hatted figure of pure shadow that laughed mockingly.
“When will you realize, Cardona, when a murder confession is made right in front of you?”
WHAT GAVE ABERCROMBIE AWAY?
Could it be that depressed people are not busy people as Abercrombie says of his brother-in-law? How can a person be suicidally depressed and be too busy to go to a doctor?