MuSR / Who is the most likely murderer?

In the daunting terrain of a mountain climbing site, Floyd meets his untimely demise through the barrel of a shotgun, leaving Detective Winston with a chilling whodunit mystery on his hands with prime suspects being Francis and Camille.

Detective Winston peered at the newspaper clipping, the headline "Local Man Hits Lottery Jackpot!" blazoned across the top in bold type. The winning grin of Floyd looking up at him from the grainy print. Alongside the article was another news item where Floyd publicly announced that he was preparing to climb the local mountain solo. Floyd loved mountain climbing. He always found solitude in the mountains - they gave him a sense of tranquility, something he seemed to have desired mathematically and announced vociferously, proclaiming his affection for solo treks. 

Taking a gulp of his black coffee, Winston shifted his gaze to another printout - Floyd's invitation list to his pre-mountaineering celebration and the subsequent solo climbing event at the mountain site. Francis' name was there, highlighted in a fluorescent green marker and was flagged for the mountain site visit. 

Francis, a dedicated potter by trade. The artist held his craft close to his heart, even going so far as painstakingly using a specialized kiln for the inclusion of local insect fauna in his intricate pottery works. A kiln designed in a way to safely house the insects during the firing process, preserving their delicate structures within the hardened clay.

Winston grabbed his hat and coat, his next destination was Francis' pottery shop. The craftsman's shop was filled with interesting pieces - bowls, vases, statues, lots teeming with countless insects immortalized in clay. 

"Detective Winston," Francis greeted, wiping clay off his hands with a stained rag.

"Francis," Winston acknowledged, watching as Francis flitted nervously around his workshop, tidying up the pottery equipment. "I heard you craft some interesting pottery with insects."

"That's right. Gather them myself from the nearby mangroves. Interesting stuff out there. Unique clay too." A glimmer of passion flared in his eyes. 

"Did Floyd ever purchase anything from your shop?" Winston asked, casually, moving to inspect the insect filled vessels.

"He...uh, he confided he wasn't aware of my situation," Francis responded, a slight wistfulness creeping into his voice. "Business has been tough. I borrowed from some less... reputable sources, a loan shark. But with the low sales of my pottery, paying back has been difficult."

Leave it to Winston to know what 'reputable sources' entailed. The phrase 'loan shark' echoed loudly in his mind. 

"I see. Were you aware of Floyd's recent windfall?"

Francis' face turned a shade paler. "Yes, I saw about it in the newspaper."

Winston nodded, plucking a small clay insect from the shelf. 

"Maybe you should spend some time away from this shop, Francis. Take a break, maybe even visit the mangroves or go to the mountain site with Floyd? Could do you some good."

Francis gulped, nodding as he watched Winston make his way out of the store.

The crunch of gravel under Winston's shoes echoed through the night as he left the crime scene and headed toward his next destination. It hadn't been an ordinary Tuesday at all; what with finding Floyd's body on a mountain climbing site, his life ended abruptly by a shotgun blast. On top of everything else, he had just spoken to Floyd's attorney who informed him that Floyd had plans to alter his will.

Winston arrived at his destination - Camille's residence. A quick glance at a recent receipt from a gun shop on the flashy car dashboard beside a valid shotgun permit and the credit card statement visible through the glass, hinted at the daughter’s extravagant spending habits.

Upon entering the living area, Winston noticed papers scattered around. As he examined the documents, he confirmed they were the updated will paperwork the attorney had mentioned - the same ones found in Floyd's study. "Interesting reading material you have there," he commented casually.

Understanding that it was unusual to casually visit a murder suspect’s house during late hours, Winston wet ahead. The door opened to reveal Camille who invited him in.

Camille responded with a brief toss of her head, "Oh, just going through some of Dad's papers. You wouldn't believe the number of documents the man kept."

Winston gave a slight nod and steered the conversation towards mountain climbing. "Dad loved it, invited me numerous times," she confessed.

"And did you accept his invite this last time, Camille?" Winston asked cursorily.

"Yes, I did. In fact, we were the only ones on the mountain. I was on the summit before they found dad" Camille looked away out towards the window.

Detective Winston, careful to maintain neutrality, moved on - shifting his attention towards the pile of papers on Camille's coffee table. As he picked them up, his eyes immediately fell on one - a loan document in Camille's name. "You seem to have quite a collection here," he commented, keeping his tone light.

"I do have a lot of expenses, Detective." Camille defended. She quickly regained her composure and mentioned her recent firearm activities. "I even took shooting classes last summer, you know, just for something different. I even got myself a valid shotgun permit. Oh, and they had an offer on shotguns, so I bought one."

"Shotguns, eh? Do you frequent any local shooting range for practice?" Winston questioned, smooth and casual.

"I did have a couple of sessions at the local one after the classes," Camille admitted, moving around the room, her gaze absent. "According to the range officer, I was a natural with a shotgun."

Winston nodded, admiring her candidness. "Well Camille, I appreciate your time," he finally said, rising from the plush couch, his mind spinning with the connecting pieces of the puzzle. With scant evidence laying on the coffee table and considerable clues hidden in their conversation, it was clear that this case was only beginning.