Fingerprints

I'm merely going to take a moment of your time to suggest you play our game, the wonderful Story of WTF! You can play Scrabble with Godzilla, meet Trinity from the Matrix, get eaten by a huge Kraken and visit Mars! How can you resist?

And now, regular programming : TO THE UPDATE!

The fat Belgian is crouching over the dead Doctor whose body has been put out on the floor. With your help he tried to remove the speculum, but it seemed to be lodged between something. It also elicited yet another plume of blood, resulting in your second clothes change. You peer over to see what he's doing, and he's half-heartedly checking the Doctor's fingerprints. He seems to be looking around as if waiting for someone to notice him.
You ask him if he's doing this so he can check them against those on the knife in the blonde woman.
"Naturally!" he replies flamboyantly, pressing the Doctor's last finger into one of those black ink pad things. "I am a detective after all."
You point out that he grabbed the knife earlier, smudging any fingerprints that might have been there before his. This exercise, therefore, is pointless.
"That's true," he sighs, putting away his fingerprint pad. "I guess we'll never find out who murdered her."
You ask why he was checking the Doctor - surely the same person probably murdered them both?
The Belgian juggernaut makes an excuse and waddles from the room, mumbling something about diarrhoea. You get the idea he wants to get away from your company. Oh well, there doesn't seem to be much else to do. You consider the latest bits of evidence.
Lord Barnacle-Smythe was clearly involved with something, but it doesn't seem clear what. The bingo hall seems to be a good line of investigation, and you wonder if you should get your mobile phone to make a few more calls. Finally, the Belgian's odd behaviour seems a little...odd.
You're approached by the older woman who disliked the blonde murderette. You wonder if that's the correct word for a murder victim for a moment before she starts talking.
"You know when he said about the numbers?" she mutters quietly, making sure no other guests hear her. "Well, you know. I didn't kill him. In case you think I did. Because I guess he meant the numbers at Bingo. He's the one who always picks the numbers. And I always get annoyed when I don't get the right numbers, so incase you thought I killed him because he rarely picked my numbers - well, I didn't."
You inform her none of that had even crossed your mind. You wonder if she realises what a huge hole she's just dug herself. She withdraws from your company, and you're about to go and talk to some others when something incredibly unlikely happens!

To be continued.

Questions will, as always, be answered. The conclusion is drawing slightly nearer than it was last time!