March 2, 2019

“You’re probably bewildered as to why I’m gathered here. In short, that is to say, in summary, I put it to all of you on equal, if not harmonious, footing, that the murderer is about to be revealed by none other than me, yours truly, speak name here … Wait, sorry, I’ll go again from ‘yours truly’ … yours truly, Detective Inspector Sir Reverend Urquhar Peabody, BFD.

Firstly, concerning the sheep, I realized at once that the handwriting on the critical note could not have been forged by a ruminant, of whatever breeding and erudition, notwithstanding.

Second, the footprint in the bacon grease spread on the parlor floor was not a footprint at all, necessarily. It might have been, and in fact was, a cry for help.

Thirdly, and I cannot emphasize this, so I won’t.

Fourthly and fifth, why, you ask, am I holding a turkey leg between my knees? Am I making you nervous, MISTER ALFRED CARBUNCLE!?”

“All right! All right! I confess! I did it! Guns, ammo, cheese and everything! I can’t take any more, I tell you! I can’t! I can’t! HAHAHAHAHA!!”

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