The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) by Jeanne Glidewell Page B

Johnston didn't strike
     me as a fruit salad type of guy. I was amazed seconds later, when the detective selected
     a turkey and tomato sandwich and then devoured nearly half of it in one bite.
    After the officer had polished off the rest of the sandwich with two more bites, he
     sorted through the remaining leftovers for another. This time he chose a ham and cheese.
     While he ate the second sandwich, Stone pitched the bag of trash down the basement
     stairs. He didn't mention to the detective how he'd obtained the bag or where it had
     come from. I'm sure if Wyatt Johnston was aware of anything other than the sandwich
     he was inhaling, he only assumed it was trash originating at the inn. After Johnston
     finished eating a third and last sandwich and had wiped his hands on the legs of his
     slacks, Stone asked, "What's up, Wyatt?"
    "Right now, Ron and Orion have the black light set up upstairs, testing your guests'
     hands for gunshot residue. I just came from up there, and they were down to the last
     couple of guests. No sign of the residue has been found yet, by the way. Assuming
     none is found on the last two guests, the Poffenbargers, we'll probably release all
     of them to return to their homes tomorrow morning. Not that we're formally holding
     them here to begin with. I'm sure you'll both be glad to see them all leave, though."
    "Is there any particular reason for the gunshot residue testing?" Stone asked. "Are
     there new developments indicating one of our guests is responsible for the shooting?"
    "Not really," Wyatt said. "The residue test is just a formality, and probably all
     for naught, anyway." Wyatt continued talking, although neither Stone nor I had reacted
     or responded to his remark about being glad to see the guests leave. "The sergeant
     is across town right now, arresting a man named Randall on first-degree murder charges."
    "Randall?" I asked. The name was not familiar to me.
    "Yeah, Peter Randall. They've got him on probable cause, I guess. According to Sergeant
     O'Brien, there's a history of bad blood between Prescott and Randall. Randall used
     to be Prescott's personal stockbroker and financial advisor. Some investments Randall
     recommended a few months ago went south and caused a big fracas between the two men.
     Prescott lost a ton of money and filed a lawsuit against Randall on fraudulent practices."
    "Didn't Randall have an alibi for his whereabouts Sunday night and early Monday morning?"
     Stone asked.
    "No. At least not one that could be corroborated by anyone. He said he went to the
     old movie theatre downtown, the one that plays old classics at midnight every night
     for two bucks a ticket. It's right across the street from Randall's house, as a matter
     of fact. His photo was shown to all the employees at the theatre, and not one of them
     recognized Randall or remembered him being there Sunday night. They showed the movie, Oh, God!, that night, and when asked who played the part of God, Randall stated he couldn't
     recall."
    "He sat through the whole movie and couldn't remember that George Burns played God?"
     Stone asked.
    "That's just it. He said he stayed until the movie theatre closed just after two A.M., and yet he couldn't come up with John Denver's name, either. He told the detectives
     he slept through most of the movie. Yeah, right. Sure he did!"
    "Hmm, sounds suspicious, doesn't it?" Stone said, with a shake of his head. "But,
     it's doesn't exactly make him a murderer. Is that all the investigators have to go
     on? It seems a little weak to me. I've fallen asleep in movie theatres on numerous
     occasions, myself. Haven't you?"
    "Yeah, once or twice, I guess," the detective said. "For now, that's all they have
     on the guy, but they feel like they've got the right man pinned as Prescott's killer.
     Now they'll work to build a case around Peter Randall."
    I had doubts that Peter Randall was the killer, and obviously Stone did as well. I
     knew the Rockdale Police Department