MuSR / Who is the most likely murderer?

In the ominous arena of a wrestling ring, Sophie's life was unexpected cut short by the deadly crack of a pistol; now it's up to grizzled Detective Winston to interrogate suspects Willard and Miles, unmasking the murderer among them.

Winston sipped his coffee as he walked into the busy dealership, hidden behind large glass paneling. Beside the main floor was a separate storage area, cleverly concealed and invisible from the sales floor - tucked away in a quiet corner where no customer could see. Salesmen were bustling about, attempting to close deals and lure in unsuspecting customers. His gaze settled on a particular man, who was rather keenly explaining the mileage of a specific model to a customer: Miles.

"Mr. Miles," Winston greeted in his stern tone, interrupting the technical talk about mileage.

"Sorry, sir. I'm deep in a conversation," he said, not looking up from the customer.

"I believe this is more important," Winston replied, flashing his badge.

Miles made an excuse to the customer and led Winston toward the hidden storage room, away from the prying eyes of the staff and customers. Entering the secretive area that no other employee had set foot in, Miles seemed visibly unnerved, surrounded by nothing but stacks of tires and car parts. 

"Is there something wrong, detective?" He asked, subtly glancing at the locked door behind him.

"Miles, I want to talk to you about Sophie. I understand you were both in the wrestling match. Quite the tough opponent you had there." Winston began. 

Miles cleared his throat, "Well, we were more than just opponents in the ring. We've had our issues politically too."

"I'm aware," Winston said curtly, noticing Miles turning defensive.

"Sophie possessed evidence against you, she found out about money laundering carried out through this dealership, perhaps?" Winston probed. 

Miles shifted uncomfortably; his complexion changed and he cast his eyes down nervously. "I...I don't know what you're talking about, Detective." 

Winston sternly replied, "Sophie planned to reveal these illegal acts. You knew it, didn’t you? She was about to expose your whole operation.”

"Anyone would want to protect their livelihood, Detective,” retorted Miles, avoiding Winston's piercing gaze.

"I see," Winston said calmly assessing the situation, "It seems no one else knows what you do in this storage room Miles."

“Well, it's my dealership, my storage. Do I need an audience now?" Miles retorted, frustration creeping into his voice.

Deciding to change gears a bit, Winston asked, "Say, Miles, you sponsor anyone in Sophie's campaign?"

"Actually I do, I have been secretly financing a competing candidate in Sophie's campaign." Revealed Miles with a mischievous grin, sensing no immediate danger. 

"Ah, hedging your bets, are we?" Winston concluded.

"Interesting," Winston said, ending the conversation. He finished up his lukewarm coffee, thanked Mr. Miles for his time, and walked out of the concealed storage room, leaving Miles behind in the stuffy room of tires and car parts. 

As he meandered through the dealership, Winston thought about what Miles had said and not said. He stepped out into the parking lot, squinting against the harsh afternoon sun. He had a mystery to solve, and every lead mattered.

Winston took another sip from his coffee cup as he shuffled through the files, his tired eyes narrowing on the name Willard, the initial suspect for the recent wrestling ring homicide. Sophie's death had hit the community like a brick wall, and the press swarmed around it like flies.

Sophie, a champion wrestler, was shot in the ring while performing one of her signature moves. The chaos of that night was still reported in the tabloids, time seemed to have stopped, and the investigation was now up to him.

Sophie had falsely accused Willard of malpractice, however, she won the court case. It was an incident that was the talk of the town. The accusations, though false, were ratified by court, leaving Willard's career as a chiropractor on thin ice. Winston remembered Willard's hands shaking at the courthouse, his eyes burning with something Winston could not quite pinpoint.

Spotting Willard's front-row wrestling event ticket in the collected evidence file, Winston knew he had been there right at the heart of the event. It was well known that mandatory check-ins were required for attendees and part of Willard’s check-in document showed his presence at the entrance of the arena, confirming his presence at that fateful match. 

The interviews had a common thread - Willard frequented the wrestling matches. Winston had found the receipts and tickets for each event annotated in Willard's handwriting; it was an unquestionable fact.

Dr. Willard's profile drew Winston's attention. His career as a chiropractor not only required him using protective tools like support belts and gloves, but also a familiarity with the human anatomy that would be advantageous in a wrestling match. It was especially Willard’s second career—his military background—that caught Winston’s eye. Winston had heard about Willard's long career in the army. The firearm training he got there pulled him back to the murder.

Poring over reports again, Winston recalled that Willard carried a firearm for protection. The firearm was engraved into the case's backbone, another undeniable fact that Winston had to grapple with. 

He took a deep breath and decided to pay Willard a visit. 

Meeting Willard at his office, Winston perched himself on the edge of the chiropractic table, looking at the protective gloves and belts hanging on the wall, it was evident that his chiropractic practice required these safety tools. Winston could see Willard's tension, the hint of uncontrollable worry seeping from his face. He handed over his business card to Willard.

"So, Willard, you were at the wrestling match the night Sophie was shot?" Winston asked.

Willard nodded, "Yes, I was there... I... I usually go to watch the matches. I had a front-row ticket."

Winston opened his notepad, marking it down. "The court case, it was... tough on you, wasn't it?" He asked.

Willard swallowed, nodding again without a word. 

Winston stood up to leave, passing a quick glance over the firearms manual lying on the shelf, and pocketed his notepad. He didn't know if he had all the answers, but he was determined to find the truth.