On a rainy evening in 1987, Andrew Boxer was murdered. He was found on the floor of his mansion’s dining room killed in several manifestations. This was after a small dinner party he had held for his own birthday. The town was too small for any clear answer to be drawn. I, Detective Owen Wilson, a local and attendee at the party, did some clue gathering and after a week, reassembled the same group of people to denounce the guilty party. The following is an account of what went on in the heads of each as we sat down to dinner:

Lawrence Worthing:
I wonder who he thinks it is, I bet he thinks it’s me,
I bet he caught the glance I took behind the tapestry.
I always said a man should not be caught, but all-prepared,
He knows that for the pride of Boxer I never really cared.
True, I might have stopped his death, but then again might not,
And who would know that though quite still, Boxer’s spirit fought.
I’m sure I am the suspect, it’s most clear to me, yes!
I swear I didn’t do it, but oh, I could confess!

Cathy Baker:
I wonder who he thinks it is, I bet he thinks it’s me,
I bet he saw, upon the news my face flushed red with glee.
I always feared old Box, I did; I never knew the man,
And that one night, late at his house, from which fast home I ran.
They know that I’m the one who always wished that Box was dead,
Because of that sad night when I went with him to his bed.
I’m sure I am the suspect, the look is in his eyes,
I swear I didn’t do it, I’ve never told a lie.
Edward Smith:
I wonder who he thinks it is, I bet he thinks it’s me,
I know he caught me looking murderous beneath the tree.
I hated Boxer to a fault, and that’s no less than true,
But to kill a man is unlike me, who’ve I left to tell but you?
I heard the thump upon the floor; I wondered what it was,
But never knew a sound so small could trigger such a buzz.
I’m sure I am the suspect, there’s no one here to trust.
I swear I didn’t do it, my heart’s about to bust!
Victor Bozon:
I wonder who he thinks it is, I bet he thinks it’s me,
I bet because I’m not from town, they’ve watched suspiciously.
I suffered under Boxer, as any poor man would.
But slay the man? Nay pray to man, that I know could from should.
I knew that Boxer was to die, I felt it in the air,
The damage done can’t be undone, and ’s far beyond repair
I’m sure I am the suspect; I’m just not from round here,
I swear I didn’t do it…pray what is in this beer?
Sally Quaker:
I wonder who he thinks it is, I bet he thinks it’s me,
Because that one night when old Boxer would not let me free.
He was not a good man Boxer, no not in the least,
And now the tension at this dinner rises like there’s yeast.
I knew Box was going in a less than timely way,
But I’m glad that Boxer’s gone and is surely there to stay.
I’m sure I am the suspect; their looks could pierce my heart,
I swear I didn’t do it, in this I’ve had no part.
Peter Quaker:
I wonder who he thinks it is, I bet he thinks it’s me,
For Boxer always mocked me for my old theology.
He seemed moral outside but was all amoral in,
No one knows on that fell day where it was I’d been.
I’ll leave it out, you shouldn’t know, it’s quite my own business,
When walking out who would guess, I’d be the one witness.
I’m sure I am the suspect, though I hid myself quite well,
I swear I didn’t do it, there’s nothing more to tell.
Mr. Wilson:
I wonder who they think it is, I bet they know it’s me,
I slipped the draught in Boxer’s drink, for it was meant to be.
Boxer never saw it coming, I was quite too fast,
But many things went wrong that night that never should have passed.
Ed heard the bump, Pete saw the lump, but no one knows the man,
The task was doomed to err in course as soon as it began.
But no one knows there’s poison in all the drinks around,
So it must be to save my life; no finer plan was found.
I am my only suspect, I killed Box and so,
I’m sad to say my listener, “You too must also go.”