I am not a fool. I know that a lot of you think I did it. Despite overwhelming evidence proving me innocent in a court of law (the Yellow gloves found in the conservatory did not fit, I’ll remind you), so many out there still believe I murdered Mr. Boddy on that fateful night in that horrid mansion. All because Mrs. Peacock, who we should remember is not an officer of the law, said that I did it… and arguably because I eventually fled the scene and ended up in a small chase on my trusty horse, Bronco.
Well, let me tell you this, I had every intention of tracking down the real killer. Hell, even the night of the murder, I locked all the doors and did my own investigation. Yes, I did wrongfully accuse Professor Plum of shooting Mr. Boddy in the ballroom, despite the gun being unloaded and the corpse not even being in that room, but I digress! If given three or four more opportunities, I could have told you exactly who committed this crime. It may have been the innocent looking Mrs. White, or maybe it was that lying Peacock after all.
My quest for the truth was cut short when I was ridiculously arrested all those years ago. I have already clarified that the men I was robbing had stolen many artifacts from the prime of my exotic hunting career. I was simply retrieving my own possessions. Now that I am finally being released in the coming month, I wanted to take the opportunity to finally clear my name, and during my stay in prison, I came up with the perfect way to do just that. I have written a book titled If I Did It, where in I go into a thorough hypothetical of how I would have committed the murder, clearly proving in actuality that I was not the one who did so.
In my book, you’ll read about how I would have certainly cornered Boddy in the study, probably when he excused himself to listen to a record alone. I would have never killed him in the kitchen, where his body was found. Hmmm, it seems like I am already looking more innocent with every turn of the page.
You’ll also read about how I would have undoubtedly stabbed Mr. Boddy with a knife or hung him from a rope, both of which completely contradict the autopsy’s claims that he was hit over the head with a blunt object such as a lead pipe, wrench, or candlestick. I feel that this defense is concrete, as how could I have committed this atrocity when I am telling you now that I wouldn’t have used those weapons? And no, I do not think it odd that when listing potential murder weapons, I tend to name common household objects with extreme specificity. Any amateur sleuth could have taken one look at the candlesticks in Boddy’s home and known their ability to kill another man with one single, powerful strike.
I feel this book shall indubitably clear up any remaining controversy linked to my name. Once again, I can only be known for my big game hunting of rare animals, some so rare they are even believed to be extinct. By going into thorough, gratuitous detail on how I would have committed this violent murder, if I had wanted to, I believe there is no longer any doubt or gray area. When people think about Mr. Boddy’s death, the clues surrounding it, and Colonel Mustard, they will instantly know the truth.