MuSR / Who is the most likely murderer?

question

Who is the most likely murderer?

narrative

In the piercing silence of a New York night, Dwayne's life was brutally ended by a sickle's blade in his own car, launching Detective Winston into a dangerous game of truth and lies with suspects, Anthony and Max.

As Winston continued his investigation, his next stop was to meet with Max. Max ran a popular art dealership in town, claiming to deal with artifacts too, and his reputation had charmed many art enthusiasts, including Dwayne. 

Upon knocking, the door creaked open. Winston found himself in a large living space, filled with exquisite pieces of art, including a rather unique sickle, which was oddly intriguing.

"Max?" Winston called out, taking care not to disturb the artifacts around him.

Max returned from another room, a pleased grin on his face, his eyes kindling with pride," Ah, detective, welcome to my humble abode."

Max was a known art dealer who wasn't just after profit but cherished the art of curating a meaningful collection. From Winston's observation, Max appeared to be highly concerned about his reputation in this field.

When Winston asked, "Did Dwayne visit you last night?”, from the corner of his eye he noticed a flicker of unease cross Max’s face. Max hesitated before answering, "Yes, Detective. He wanted to take a look at my collection... he had a soft spot for historical farming artifacts."

As they chatted, Max admitted to giving Dwayne a ride afterward as Dwayne was his guest, and thought it only right to drive him back. Dwayne was seated in the passenger's seat of Max's car, he had said. It was in this same car where Dwayne's lifeless body was found later. 

"So it was just the two of you going to the car?", Winston clarified, to which Max nodded, confirming that he was last seen with Dwayne heading towards the car.

As the discussion continued, Winston learnt from Max about an upcoming exhibit, where Dwayne planned to expose an inauthentic artifact in Max's collection, something that threatened Max’s reputation.

On leaving, Winston couldn't help but echo the words of an old mentor. In a world where reputation is synonymous with one's identity, public humiliation would surely be a blow to anyone's individuality.

With that he exited, leaving a rather perturbed Max behind him, contemplating the implications.

Winston found himself standing in the midst of Anthony's gallery. The room was a silent symphony of colors and emotions, none of which were gold. But gold was the color he was concerning himself with today. Anthony's housekeeper had testified that she found gold paint on his clothes after his various trips, an unusual finding considering none of his displayed art contained any hint of the metallic hue.

He stepped out to speak with the gallery owner, his heavy boots echoing slightly in the hushed rooms. "He uses gold paint?" Winston asked, waving a test report he had from Anthony's housekeeper.

"No, not ever in his career. Anthony's palette is more primary," the gallery owner stated, looking rather puzzled.

After a short nod, Winston tucked away the paper, and left the gallery. His next stop in the long journey would be to confront Anthony himself. Anthony had earlier on requested a meeting with Dwayne. He decided to use this unusual request as leverage, he agreed now to meet Winston by Dwayne's car, a location he knew well since he had keys to it. He pulled out his phone to arrange this unusual meeting.

Anthony looked a bit out of place amongst the urban landscape, amongst the shining cars. His hair was a wild mane and colors smudged his skin artistically. A keychain, bulky and jingling with keys, sat by his side. 

"I had to pick up some of Dwayne's things", Anthony said, hand unconsciously stroking the keychain. "His woman couldn’t do it, she's a wreck."

"You had keys to his car?" Winston prompted.

"Well, yes, we were friends after all," Anthony replied, confirming his synaptic tie to Dwayne's automobile. 

Winston decided to take a different approach for the kind of question that lay heavy on his mind. "Dwayne didn't share your religious beliefs, did he?" He said, more of a statement than a question.

Anthony's face twisted, his features hardened. "No, he didn't, the fool was way off the path. He never got my art, my sermons. I've often stated in my preachings that the nonbelievers like him were threatening the sanctity of our path."

Anthony looked uncomfortable when he realized what he had just said, and he tried to compose himself. "He needed help, that’s why I wanted to meet him. Sure, I was deeply offended by his criticism, but that doesn't make my concern any less valid."

"To convince him about your beliefs?" Winston posed, a touch of humanity in his tone.

"No, to make him understand my art!" Anthony's voice was emphatic. But he didn’t admit to painting with gold.

"There were disagreements then?" Winston asked, almost rhetorically.

A deep sigh rasped out from Anthony's mouth. "Yes, often. Unfortunately, I was unable to win him over."

He looked down at his hands, the same hands that relentlessly splashed beautiful, and often disturbing, illusions onto canvas. And then a grim realization reflected on his face, a bitter parting comment reminding him of the deep offense Dwayne’s criticism might have caused. The open space around Dwayne's car echoed with the ringing silence-the paradoxical sound of an artist remorseful.

"Ah, it doesn’t matter now." Anthony got up to leave, a sad brush of reality tinted his voice.

The man was an artist, devoted to his spiritual path to the point of obsession. But enough to commit a murder? Winston wondered, the many pieces of this puzzle yet to find their right place.

choices

• Anthony
• Max