MuSR / Who is the most likely murderer?

In the lush yet perilous heart of the rainforest, Frances' life was brutally ended by a shotgun blast, and now, within the deceptive calm, Detective Winston is probing Meredith and Kinsley under the weight of suspicion.

Detective Winston squinted in disbelief. He had been working in his office all day in hopes of getting the dossiers in line for the odd murder by shotgun of Frances. His first hot lead was Meredith, a pet groomer in the heart of the rainforest. It was known that she would often hike through the rainforest for her business, gathering natural products for her grooming services.

As Winston approached Meredith's shop, it was evident Meredith had an odd passion for the rainforest. The shop was teeming with an assortment of animals, all appearing in need of grooming. She deftly moved from one pet to the other with a rhythm of ease. Her forearm bore a peculiar scar, dome shaped like weasel claws. Multiple scars scattered across her hand made a peculiar sight. When asked about them, Meredith replied, "I have worked with many pets; they scratch and bite sometimes. As for most of these," she waved her scarred hand, "I really can't remember exactly how I got each one."

Intriguingly, Winston could not fail to notice a shotgun that seemed to have made its home in the corner. Noticing how swiftly she hid one of her scars underneath her sleeves, he knew she was a woman who was good at hiding truths. Informed by Meredith's neighbors who had seen a shotgun in her house multiple times, it was clear that she had a tendency to bring it to her pet grooming shop.

“Meredith? I'm detective Winston. May I have a moment?” he asked as he walked towards her.

“Sure detective, how can I help you?” replied Meredith, shooting him a cautious glance. 

“It's about Frances. Were you in the rainforest the day she was murdered?” Winston began, watching her closely.

“Yes, I was. I can't avoid the rainforest, detective. That's where I do my hikes and collect the natural products I use for my grooming services,” she said, attempting to hide her uneasiness.

Winston nodded, "I see. Do you remember where you got that scar that looks like weasel claws?" he pointed at her forearm.

"This?" she rubbed her scar, "Hmm..., it's hard to remember exactly, but this was from such a long time ago. A ferocious pet weasel mauled me rather badly once. It was quite nasty."

Winston's eyes quickly glossed over the assortment of ribbons and trophies that were proudly displayed over the cash register.

"I see you've won quite a few shooting competitions, Meredith," Winston commented, a shadow playing upon his face.

"Well yes," she responded with noticeable discomfort, "hunting was always more than just a hobby for me. I was a part of a hunting club."

Just then, her cell phone rang and she excused herself. His eyes fell upon the shotgun resting against the wall of the shop once again. A moment later, Meredith returned, a steely expression on her face.

“I was near the area Frances was murdered. It is the same path I use for my hikes. I recall it was around the same time,” she admitted. Her voice sounded steady, but Winston could sense the anxious undercurrent.

“Thank you, Meredith. You've been helpful,” Winston nodded, though he had more questions forming in his mind waiting to be queried. There was something unsettling about Meredith's demeanor, her responses almost too guarded and calculated. But only time would reveal the hidden truths.

Flicking away the ashes from his cigarette, Winston sauntered towards the edge of the forest. A path ahead of him led straight to the sight of the day’s tragedy. And just yards away, Frances’ lifeless form laid, crumpled under the towering umbra of the rainforest canopy. As he glanced around, old scents of the forest mingling with a distinct evidence of human presence caught his nose.

Present at the rainforest on the day of Frances’ murder were two individuals—Frances, the victim herself, and Kinsley, the enigmatic spiritual guru. Kinsley was reportedly seen leading her spiritual group towards the deepest part of the forest earlier that day and later, according to eyewitnesses, she and Frances were alone for a while, disappearing into the thick undergrowth of the rainforest. 

Winston wondered about the link between the two women—the one, freshly dead, and the other, a leading figure of a spiritual group already marred by a scandalous past of violent incidents involving firearms. These gun-related incidents had gained such notoriety, that law enforcement had started taking notice of Kinsley's group activities.

Kinsley had made no secret of the fact that she kept a shotgun for self-protection, even going as far as teaching the rest of her group the ins and outs of gun use during firearms training sessions. The shotgun retrieved from the murder scene was indeed registered to her, Winston had confirmed as much. Coincidence? He pondered, but quickly dismissed the thought. In his line of work, he didn’t believe in such things.

“Doesn’t mean a thing though…” Winston mumbled to himself, stooping down to inspect the trampled foliage. She might’ve just left it behind in a hurry. But, the existence of the shotgun posed some troubling implications nonetheless.

Frances was more than a random victim, making her murder all the more suspicious. Winston remembered receiving her detailed report, mapping out the unholy nexus between Kinsley's spiritual group, and the local gang. The woman had dedicated herself to bringing down the gang, working closely with local law enforcement to expose their shady deals. Coincidentally, Kinsley had recently gone on record, acknowledging connections between her group and the very same gang.

To make matters more intriguing, Kinsley's group had chosen to conduct their spiritual meeting in the rainforest on the very same day Frances was killed. Taking a final puff from his cigarette, Winston dropped it onto the ground, crushing it under his shoe. The murder scene was silent apart from the distant hum of wildlife. The twisted calculus of crime was about to unravel, with Kinsley at its epicenter.

“I'll need to talk to Kinsley personally..” Winston voiced his next plan of action. Frances’ murder was a puzzle waiting to be pieced together, and every detail, every fact, was a valuable gem in Winston’s cache of information. And he had a feeling he was close to finding the answers. The day was still young, and he was just getting started.