I have created a few of these - so much silly fun. This is the “mystery” one. It will loop, if you miss the first few frames.

Gordon and Tom bunk in the stables to take care of the horses. Both say they were there the night of the murder. But having been long time servants of the inn, they know every nook and cranny. Big men, they are perfect hires for a little dirty work… Besides, even if innocent, they very well may have seen something with their vantage point across the courtyard. What aren’t they saying?

Seemed like quibbling to her, and again there was that pause in Gordon’s answers. Or was it just a matter of him catching his breath in the cold?

Kate tensed and Christian followed her gaze to where Tom was leaning against the stall door chewing on a stick. The man had moved silently, but could challenge Tiegs’ bruisers for sheer bulk.

Mary Wicket is the daughter of the innkeeper, while Sally is the linen maid at the inn. They share a room and friendship. Mary has blossomed into a lovely young woman, putting her in the town spotlight and in a direct contest between men of the town intent on winning her hand. She may not be as malleable as some might think though. And Sally would cover anything for her friend.

Kate nodded at Mary, the apple-cheeked innkeeper’s daughter, and at the shy linen maid, Sally. “Mary, Sally. This is Mr. Black.”

The innkeeper’s daughter Mary, the epitome of the healthy country lass, was in front, her brows drawn together.

Sally collided with them as they turned the hall corner at the stairwell. She murmured a quick apology and ducked her head after giving Kate a shy smile.

Daisy and Bess both work at the Dragon’s Tale Inn. Mrs. Crescent’s maid is staying in their room. As with the other servants, could any of them have heard or discovered anything during their excursions that night? Could one of them have covered for their employer or someone who has paid them off?

Daisy and Bess, the serving wench and cook respectively, were penned with Mrs. Crescent’s maid on the hand drawn map.

After a quick gab with Bess, the cook, Kate headed for the stairs.

Mr. Wicket turned to give last minute instructions to the buxom blonde maid from the gallery. She sent Christian a lascivious wink before exiting the room.

The owners of The Dragon’s Tale Inn. Mr. Wicket is entirely too cheerful and Mrs. Wicket walks the Inn at night. Mr. Wicket, entirely devoted to his cricket team, seems to think that his daughter Mary will make a good match in marrying Julius Janson. Not everyone agrees… And what is Mrs. Wicket hiding from her husband?

The innkeeper fretfully tugged his bushy auburn mustache, which was at odds with his balding pate. “My apologies, good sir, but we are full for the evening. Perhaps the Green Toad on the other side of town?” He grimaced, obviously chagrined at having to turn away business.

“Mr. Kaden! We don’t discuss the White Stag, didn’t you know?” the innkeeper asked in a scandalized tone.

As if on cue, a rawboned woman came screeching into the room.
“Aiiieeee!”
Belying her scrawny frame, the woman pulled the only two still grappling men apart by the ears and hauled the blonds to one of the few benches that had remained upright.

Benji and Elias both work at The Dragon’s Tale Inn. Mr. Crescent’s valet, Bittens, is staying in their room. Could any of them have heard or discovered anything during their excursions that night? Could one of them have covered for their employer or someone who has paid them off?

Mr. Wicket had said Elias, Benji and Mr. Crescent’s valet were sharing one of the second floor rooms.

Kate watched as a wide-eyed Benji, a twenty year old servant who was standing with Mary, Sally, Bess, Daisy and several male servants, shuffled forward. “Yes, sir?”

Elias, a friendly, happy-go-lucky type whose eyes didn’t quite reflect the happiness he was trying to project, stepped forward as Christian and the innkeeper exited.

Christian followed Tom’s narrowed eyes to a man cowering in the corner. Bittens looked terrified.

Vicious and possessed of a cold heart, Janson rarely has a kind word for anyone. As the town’s cricket hero and the son of the squire, Janson rules the roost. There is more than one person in the inn that has been on the receiving end of Janson’s “good will.” Violent and arrogant, what was Janson doing the night of the murder?

“..and Julius Janson — the finest cricket player in four counties, didn’t you know!”

Julius Janson’s smirk grew. His green eyes took on a malicious glow. “Lake is a sore loser. Can’t measure up in any way, as a player, as a fighter, or as a man.”

Julius winced infinitesimally as he looked at Tiegs. So there was someone Julius obviously deferred to and/or feared. Interesting.

Olivia Trent and her companion Francine stop at the Dragon’s Tale on their way to London. Whispers of a black widow float in the air…

Kate let her thoughts wander as she trooped downstairs with the items she had mended. Men lingered in the taproom, and a few women had joined them, including the vivacious widow, Olivia Trent, dressed in green satin. Her quieter companion, Francine, complemented her in blue. They created a splash of color amidst the dully clothed men. Mrs. Wicket had looked upon them both with a measure of disdain, so Kate could only speculate as to their reputations.

…followed by Olivia Trent in an entirely too revealing night rail, and her companion Francine buttoned up to the neck.

“Oh, Mr. Black,” Olivia purred as she wrapped one delicate hand around the oak frame. “I was wondering when you would make it to my room.”

“Do you mind if I watch you work? I have the utmost respect for you Runners. So strong, and brave. And strong.” Kate saw the woman’s fingertips run along the edge of Christian’s arm, caressing his shirt sleeve.

Donald Desmond is a man who holds a grudge well. As the right hand man to the town’s star cricket player, he is used to getting his way and cackling at anyone he deems unworthy. Christian immediately rubs him the wrong way and getting even becomes Desmond’s greatest desire. As one of the key people that the murder swirls around, Desmond is a danger to their investigation and possibly their lives.

Donald Desmond. He thought he had heard someone call out the name earlier. The man had dark hair and dark eyes and looked to be on par with his bully friend, Janson. Desmond shot Christian a hard, cold look that promised retribution. He was obviously not the kind of man who took well to being beaten.

The hierarchy was soon apparent as the combatants tidied up. Janson ruled their side of the cricket divide, with Desmond sneering at his side.

“Donald is taking a position in London with a barrister. Some connection through his family.”

High on the instep, Mr. Crescent seeks to rise, with his wife, to the top. They stop at the inn on their way to London - or so they say. Quick to point the finger at someone else, Mr. Crescent blusters and blames. Is he trying to hide something? And is Mrs. Crescent using her husband to hide her own plans?

Mr. Crescent raised his chin above his somewhat old-fashioned, but nevertheless well-tailored jacket; his similarly styled wife stalwartly nodding in agreement.

“Mr. Crescent was particularly interested in what was happening. Mary said he cornered Mr. Freewater earlier and badgered him about something.”

Mrs. Crescent frowned, irritated at being outmaneuvered. “You should have arranged for something else, Mr. Black. It isn’t done.”