The Intruder

The front door was just a tiny bit ajar. The casual observer would miss it. Shirley would never miss it. She routinely swept her environment with all her senses. The pause on the landing was only mildly annoying to Weston. He knew Shirley was going about her business even though it delayed his breakfast. His brain was filled with a short stack of blueberry pancakes, pure maple syrup, four slices of crispy bacon and a large cup of freshly brewed black coffee. For Shirley, such delights were a mild annoyance- like s stop to get gas when the needle approached empty. The real joy was the puzzle and the chase. Sustenance was just that- just a stop to refuel. 

After pushing the front door a quarter inch into its fully closed position Shirley scanned the adjacent living room. She lifted a small throw pillow off the sofa and  sniffed it slowly, which annoyed Weston as he began to become anxious about a further delay in breakfast. 

Only a few feet from the kitchen, Shirley suddenly dropped to her knees as if she was shot. The virtual bullet may have penetrated vital organs because Shirley fell forward. Braced by her left hand with her face about four inches from the carpet her right hand slowly brushed across the off-white fibers of the carpet. Weston could no longer wait. He was compelled to begin breakfast. 

As he withdrew the bacon, butter and syrup he was startled as he stepped back. Shirley was hovering an inch or so behind him staring into the refrigerator. He was accustomed to her popping up in odd places so he wasn’t too alarmed. He didn’t even bother to ask what she was doing for fear of getting another “It’s elementary Weston” lecture. All will be revealed shortly, he reminded himself. 

Breakfast was delicious. As Weston slowly sipped a second cup of coffee and swirled around the final morsels of pancake into a shallow pond of sweet syrup, Shirley was busy jotting down something. She had quickly dispatched her three pancakes and two cups of coffee- not that she really needed any caffeine. 

Weston sighed as he savored the last remnants of breakfast. He looked over at Shirley- “I supposed you’ve figured out the mystery by now?”. Shirley nodded in the affirmative- mercifully avoiding the “It’s elementary” comment. She slid the notepad over to Weston. It was neatly written on three pages. He read it and smiled. He knew she was right- as usual. “It looks like we have solved the intruder mystery”. She corrected Weston- “I think your contribution to the solution was modest, dear Weston. Though I do have to compliment you on the quality of your pancakes this morning”. 

After breakfast they both ascended the stairs. Shirley placed the note pad on the hall carpet in front of the door. The note read- “Brandon- I know that you snuck out of the house at midnight. The 12 chimes from the grandfather clock allowed you sufficient time to step on the squeaking front hall steps and open the tight front door without waking us. Similarly your return at five AM gave you the few seconds you needed to open the door but not enough time to get up the stairs. So you laid on the couch for a half hour or so before heading to the kitchen. You decided on an early breakfast before ascending the stairs at 6 AM when the chimes would block out the creaky noise of the stairs”.

The note continued. “Judging from the smell of the pillow you probably consumed 3 or 4 beers. The depressions on the rug and the slight dampness from the wet front walk indicated a reasonable and straight path to the kitchen. The length and steadiness of your gait suggests you were only moderately intoxicated- about .08 I would say. Your interest in food was clear as you ate a piece of fried chicken leftovers. You failed to redistribute the pile of chicken into a rounded pile in the bowl which would have disguised the absence of one piece. You probably had your early morning repast at about 5:55 AM. In your haste to be ready for the 6 AM ascent on the stairway you returned the milk carton to the shelf with the label turned around. Your quick rinsing of the dish, glass and spoon left several droplets of water on the counter and floor as you rushed to return the evidence to the cupboards and draws. Proper punishment will be dispensed this evening. Prepare your brief for the defense this afternoon when your BAC level returns to zero”.

The charming couple then went off to work. Weston was off to his internal medicine practice and Shirley left for her office. She would continue working on her long standing successful writing career using her pseudonym- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.