MuSR / Who is the most likely murderer?

question

Who is the most likely murderer?

narrative

In the quiet tranquility of a mosque, Erika met her untimely death by a sickle, and it's up to the astute Detective Winston to shine light on the dark secrets guarded by suspects Aubrey and Garry.


Winston eyed the iron-wrought cemetery gates, exploring their intricate patterns in the early morning before Aubrey, the museum curator, would come to unlock them. Aubrey held the keys to these gates with as much reverence as she held the amber locket around her neck.

Even at the dusk, the gates remained locked until every morning, like clockwork, Aubrey would approach. Her eyes filled with a sense of duty, Winston could see the earnest expression on Aubrey's face as she carefully turned keys in the heavy iron lock, thus breaking the morning lock-up routine.

In the midst of observing this routine, Winston recalled a conversation he had with a museum associate. Aubrey had indeed gone through a weapon-handling workshop for their historical farming tools exhibit. Among the overlapping news and chatter, the museum's collection of farming tools, including old, rusted sickles, had stood out.

The garden surrounding Aubrey's museum served as a commendable background for her tea dates with Erika. Erika, as a major stakeholder in the museum, had been more than a frequent visitor. That curious connection kept popping up in Winston's head more often than not.

Out of the corner of his eye, Winston observed Aubrey lost in her thoughts. She was walking along the tombstones, meticulously studying and reciting the names engraved upon them. Perhaps it was her way of remembering the past, or maybe just a strange way to unwind.

There was no one else around, and in the lonesome tranquillity of the graveyard, Aubrey could be seen talking, possibly reciting, to herself. It was a loner's soliloquy, as if she was pouring her secrets over the tombstones just to be buried once again.

Winston could still remember overhearing Aubrey's desperate call for high-interest loans to keep her museum afloat. The economic strain on the museum's budget hadn't escaped Aubrey. His ears rang with her words saying that the repayments on these loans were going to double next month. That, coupled with her responsibility for the acquisition and care of items in the museum's collection, was enough to pressurize any soul.

As Winston began to tread back towards the unmarked, black investigation car; he noted the quiet cemetery's rusty gates lock again. Every morning, the same routine was played out, the morning locking was now giving way to another day's activities as the wheels started to crunch the gravel beneath, Winston took one last glance towards Aubrey, his suspect and the harbinger of the day's sacred silence.

Under the intimidating grandeur of the mosque structure, Winston, the detective, sat on a wooden bench, meticulously observing Garry as he was tending the lawn near the west wing. Garry, the only concierge of the mosque, was wiping the brow of his forehead. Beads of sweat flicking off his hand with each move, the masculine, meticulous manner with which he manoeuvered the garden sickle on the greenery, shaped each shrub with an artistic finesse. It was easy to tell he was an old hand with garden tools; his professional grip spoke volumes of his previous life as a farmer. The sickle was a potentially dangerous tool, and Garry's familiarity with it hinted at his past.

"Hard at work I see," Winston observed as he approached the sole handyman. Garry looked up, his eyes narrowing in on the unfamiliar face. "And who might you be?" he asked with a hint of caution in his voice. 

"Winston. Detective Winston," he introduced himself, tucking the badge away as Garry nodded in understanding. Winston spoke again, "I believe you were the only staff member on duty during the time of Erika’s murder. I need to chat with you, Garry."

Erika before, her tragic end, had stumbled upon Garry's criminal records, she expressed her intention to report this to the authorities, making the significance of this conversation unmatched. From the jittery pick-me-up in his darting eyes, it was as though Garry was aware of Erika's intentions and his own past taunting his present.

"Erika happened to find an unfortunate ending in this room behind me," Detective Winston finally broke the silence, pointing in the direction of a closed entrance, "A room, the keys to which only you have, if I'm not wrong." He had leaves no room for doubt about Garry’s exclusive control over those keys.

Garry's attempt to maintain cool was crumbling as the conversation marched ahead straight onto him. "I just mind my own business, help out the folks around here," he defended himself, “The keys to all rooms in the mosque, they are part of my job, not my involvement.”

Winston watched him, not giving away that he knew more than what he was putting into words. As Garry looked away, trying to conceal his anxiety, Winston picked up his hat, excusing himself for the moment. The concierge, the previous criminal, the executor of garden manicuring, the only gatekeeper to Erika’s death room, his presence was crucial to the puzzle surrounding Erika's horrific end. A puzzle that was missing some critical pieces. Anonymously, he decided that he'd be observing a bit more of Mr. Garry and his connection to the late Erika.

choices

• Aubrey
• Garry