MuSR / Who is the most likely murderer?

question

Who is the most likely murderer?

narrative

In a shocking twist of events, Faith has been gruesomely murdered by a lawnmower in her own kitchen and now, Detective Winston must unravel the tangled web of suspicion entangling Clyde and Paul.

Detective Winston strolled into the barber shop, glancing casually around at the collections of stuffed animals that peppered the shop floor. In the very middle of the shop was an imposing stuffed grizzly bear, imposing its dead presence on the area.

Paul was busy with a customer, chatting away about the rare bird species in the case next to the register. The customer, just one of many who had complained about Paul's excessive taxidermy talks, looked painfully bored, his eyes glazed over as Paul prattled on about the bird's curved beak, delicately preserved feathers and where he had obtained such a unique specimen.

Winston leaned by the counter and asked Paul, nonchalantly, "Do you do the occasional yard work in between haircuts?" 

"All the time," Paul responded, finishing up with the disgruntled customer and turning to Winston, not pausing his monologue about another piece of taxidermy. "Yard work helps to make ends meet. I was actually at Faith's place just before...well, you know. I even had access to her kitchen whenever I needed a glass of water."

That seemed to shut him up momentarily, a somber silence filling the barbershop. Winston looked at him, intrigued. 

"It's none of my business, Paul, but I heard your barbershop's been on the rocks lately. Times are tough, huh? Even heard you had to borrow from some loan sharks.", he tried to sound casual.

"Yeah, it's been rough. Lost a few customers, owe some money here and there," Paul’s gaze wandered to the floor, swallowed by the fear of the loan shark's due date.

Winston looked around and made an offhand remark. "Maybe all this taxidermy is scaring them off?"

Paul defended his role, "People don't understand! It's an art." His placid face turned dark, "And nowadays people don’t understand art."

A minute passed before he asked, "Can I use your bathroom, Paul?"

"Sure, Detective, right through that door and to the left.", he said, his gaze falling onto a corner of the shop. 

He let himself into the bathroom, noticing its cleanliness. Paul was meticulous, that was clear. 

As he left, he asked if he could see the papers for Faith's insurance policy. 

"Why?" Paul’s face tensed up at the question. 

"Just routine procedure, Paul." Winston lied.

Paul hesitated before conceding, and then he handed over the papers. Winston skimmed through them, taking a mental note of the surprisingly high coverage and finding that Paul was indeed listed as the sole beneficiary.

Looking straight into Paul's eyes he finally said, "You know, Paul, sometimes it pays to be the policy holder’s primary beneficiary."

Paul looked back at him, pale, but with a composed poker face as he uttered his last denial of the day, "I had nothing to do with Faith’s death, Detective Winston.”

Winston found himself examining a scene in Faith's kitchen, evidence strewn everywhere he looked. He took backward steps, tripping and almost falling on an oddly placed lawnmower at the end of the room. The heavy machine was terribly out of place and hinted at a violent use he found hard to reconcile with the peaceful intent for which it was designed; surely, only someone accustomed to wielding weapons could have wielded it so. 

"Since when has gardening become an indoor activity?" He muttered under his breath, the strange possibility of the lawnmower having been used as a murder weapon intriguing him.

A neighborhood visitor claimed they spotted Clyde, a man whose name popped up frequently during interviews, in Faith's kitchen at the time of the murder. His visit raised suspicions as Faith's husband, Greg, was out of town.

Clyde had just been recently subjected to a publicly organized demotion in his military profession, an event planned by Faith herself. This was a peculiar twist instead of an expected promotion. The profound humiliation Clyde underwent was palpable. Faith didn't just demote him; she ridiculed his past failures in front of friends and colleagues. 

Then Winston found Clyde in his backyard, tirelessly mowing his large lawn. Given his military background, the sight of him comfortably handling the heavy gardening equipment was no surprise. Clad in an army green tank top and dirt smeared jeans, he resembled a typical middle-aged soldier.

"I hear you were out here mowing your lawn yesterday as well," Winston ventured, trying to sound casual.

Clyde simply nodded, "It takes a while, you see. Large lawn and all."

They chatted about his daily chores, Clyde even admitted his preference for maintaining his own lawn. As they spoke of his military background, Clyde shared that he had extensive training in handling various types of weapons and machinery. The mention of this made Winston think of the misplaced lawnmower at Faith's house. 

As the subject shifted towards the night of the murder, Clyde confessed knowing Greg would be away. There was an eerie ease in which he knew about Faith's daily routine, which would have left her alone in the kitchen.

"It was an open secret. Faith loved to bake, known to everyone in the neighborhood," Clyde said, his tone devoid of any resentment.

Winston, before he left, broached the topic of his demotion ceremony. A grimace appeared on Clyde's face at the mention of Faith's sly ploy during his promotion.

"That was... regrettable," he muttered, "Faith had her fun ridiculing me. I swore I would get even for such humiliation."

As Winston reached for the gate, Clyde, playing with the freshly mowed grass, added, "Detective, she didn't just embarrass me, she made it personal. That day will forever be etched in my memory."

Driving back downtown, Winston pondered over the circumstances surrounding Faith's unexpected demise and the uncanny presence of a lawnmower.

choices

• Clyde
• Paul