All of the suspects had been interviewed extensively and they had the bruises to show it. The younger members of the group had taken a structured approach to solving the crime. They had a blackboard with names written on it. Some of them were real people, rather than fictional characters. They'd also drawn diagrams. Ed and Biggie had taken a more freestyle approach as evidenced by the sound of cricket bat making violent impact with crippled balls. Those 1950's British stiff upper lips were coming in handy. Thanks to that stiff upper lip your average Brit could take a cricket bat to the nuts without even flinching. Their eyes would water a bit though. The police were baffled of course, this was a murder mystery after all. The time had come for a summation of the evidence and information they'd so far gathered. Andy took the floor.
"The gun, and the bow and arrow are ranged weapons, the bow in particular has to be fired from a distance. The strangling had to be done close up. What does that tell us?
"We're looking for someone with very long arms?" Daisy volunteered.
"Precisely."
The young woman's brightened.
"Actually I was joking." She confessed. "Filling in time until the old woman or the bicycling priest turns up. What else do we know Andy? Do tell." her voice dripped with sarcasm.
The sarcasm went straight over his head. He was blissfully happy she'd remembered his name.
"The victim's name is Heinrich Schittfiddler. A door to door sheet music salesman with a checkered past. He's German, so not to be trusted. They've been too quiet for too long now. They must be up to something. He could be involved. A German agent or he could simply be a sheet music salesman. Needless to say he's got a lot of enemies. He's a German, and we all know what that means."
"He's from Germany?" Caroline giggled.
"Precisely, but it's no laughing matter. We all know what the Germans are capable of."
"Building really good cars?" Daisy rejoined trying not to smirk.
"Correct. We're building up a picture here. It seems he's made a few enemies. The sheet music market is a cut throat business with razor thin margins. He's been moving into other sheet music salesman's territories. Undercutting their prices with cheaper, more efficient, sheet music. Made in Germany no doubt. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say someone who doesn't like him has killed him."
"Given he was killed six times over it might be more than one person responsible for his death."
Andy picked up his stick of white chalk and wrote this on the blackboard.
"Excellent point Caroline. We could indeed be looking at more than one murderer."
"Which would mean they wouldn't necessarily have to have long arms." The blonde pointed out.
Andy rubbed that bit off the board.
"This is all good. Keep it coming. If you look at the diagram I've drawn it shows where each of the potential murderers was standing when the body was first discovered by Miss Bishop. We should perhaps have a word with Ed. See what he got out of her, while he was loosening her clothing."
"Is she one of the suspects? Only you haven't put her on the diagram."
"Yes I have. Look, she's that little stick figure there."
"I thought that was a smudge. So is she a suspect?"
"Everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise."
"Including Daisy and me?"
His eyes lit up.
"Yes. Where were you when Schittfiddler was murdered?"
"We were standing next to you." Daisy pointed out.
"Can anyone vouch for that?" Caroline stuck her hand up. "So we've established it could be either of you or both of you working together. What could your motive be though? Unless... it was purely motiveless crime committed simply for kicks."
The two women looked at one another, while Andy continued his rambling discourse and adding things to the board.
"Caroline, do you think he's still suffering from the after effects of all those hallucinogenic mushrooms?" Daisy whispered.
"Either that or he's taken one too many blows to the head."
"Do you think he'd notice if we went and had a word with Ed and Biggie, see what they've got?"
Andy continued droning on in the background while annotating his blackboard.
"Well he didn't notice Ed bending Miss Bishop over the trestle table and fucking her , so I think it's safe to assume he won't miss us."
Quietly and unobtrusively they removed themselves from the tiffin tent, heading next door to the beer tent. Where Biggie and Ed were doing their stuff. They'd taken a leaf out of someone's book by adopting a blanket approach to their interviews. Everyone was being interviewed. There was still a long queue outside. Many of the villagers hadn't actually been present for the murder. They'd simply seen a queue so, being British, joined it. As the ladies entered they found Ed lighting a blowtorch, at the same time drinking from a hip flask and eating dried mushrooms. He winked at them as he stood up from his chair. Biggie had the next interviewee's bare feet up in the stirrups. Ed lit a cigar with the blowtorch.
"Where were you when the murder took place?"
"At the police station." The man replied.
"So, you're a felon then are you? It's not looking good for you sonny. Do us all a favor and sign this blank confession form, we'll fill in the details later. You can get bogged down in details. They end up obscuring the truth." Something occurred to him. "Actually Biggie, we could save a lot of time by getting everyone to sign a blank confession form as soon as they enter." His attention returned to the man. "So why were you at the police station then?"
"I'm a policeman."
"Can you prove that?"
"Well there's my uniform, my stupid helmet, my truncheon and my warrant card."
"That's all purely circumstantial. Have you got anything concrete?" He turned away slowly then spun back, brandishing the blowtorch. "Why did you kill him, you evil bastard? Was it a crime of passion? If it was, and you confess, I promise they'll go easy on you. You'll only get the death penalty. It's worth considering believe me."
The policeman wiggled his toes.
"I've got black socks and big shiny shoes."
Ed looked at Biggie questioningly.
"Has he?"
"Yep. His truncheon smells a bit whiffy to."
"Oh, that was me and Miss Bishop. We borrowed it. Looks like your free to go then. We'll be keeping an eye on you though. Don't leave town. Send in the next victim. And when you can spare a moment, get me some more of these mushrooms. If you eat enough of them 1950's food and drink becomes almost bearable."
Caroline and Daisy watched a few more interviews before they decided to call it a day. As they exited the beer tent the PA system crackled into life. Announcing the winners of the rudest shaped vegetable competition. A detective from the homicide squad had just arrived. It was too late for tiffin, they only had a few fish paste sandwiches left anyway. He had to make do with transparent wafer thin ham slices nailed to some highly nutritious, and well seasoned, wood. A child ran past holding the dead frog he'd won at the flogging the dead horse stall. It's all color. Lending itself to the general ambiance of 1950's Britain.
"What are you going to do when we get back?" Caroline asked.
Daisy brushed at her sleeves.
"It's a toss up between trying to save my favorite jacket and a long hot bath with real soap. What about you?"
"Well according to Andy it should still be Friday evening. I thought we could get a bite to eat then go out."
"Have you got somewhere in mind?"
"Anywhere that's away from the men will do nicely. I've reached the point where I'm considering entering a convent."
"That might not be a bad idea you know. They get up to all sorts in convents these days. The drycleaners won't be open until Saturday anyway."