"My dear fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as I rose from the tea tray to seek my newspaper, "kindly draw the blinds if you will." Looking down into the dusty summer traffic of our London street, I saw a tall woman in a faded cotton cap and wellworn clogs staring in a thoughtful fashion at our windows, her fingers hooked into the belt of her decidedly unmodish jean trousers. I had hardly reached the fireplace before there was a firm tap at the door. Holmes welcomed our visitor with his usual courtesy. "Do you not find, Miss Harley, the city in August a welcome respite from farm life?"
"Indeed, Mr Holmes, I cannot agree with you," our visitor began, before breaking off with a startled frown. "How can you know this about me?" "It is my business to know these things," Holmes chuckled. "Perhaps I notice more than most."
this isn’t the missing goat
With widened eyes, Miss Harley recounted her tale. When she was finished, Holmes remarked "The bigger the crime, the more obvious the motive. Such cases are of little interest. In your case, Miss Harley, I suspect deep waters. Watson, kindly examine the bus timetable. I believe there is a SamTrans 6.05pm to Pescadero."
this isn’t the missing goat either
a closer look reveals this goat is not pointing east
a clue. Who and where is this goat?
and what’s happened to this goat?