Who killed Markiplier?

No bodies there

His body was gone, the area that was left behind was a mess. Ripped caution tape, knocked over safety cones. However the bright lights that the Butler and Detective put up were left untouched. Where Mark's body had once lain, there was a crudely tapped out line with a few details made very clear. But this was impossible, dead bodies are dead! They don't just get up and walk away! "Who did this?!" The Detective cried, bring himself close to the floor, "It certainly wasn't me!" He threw his arms up in a quick defensive shrug. "No, no, somebody, not me!" He slinked up, turned to you and kept talking. "Must have moved it between the time I was the last person alone, with the body in the room and then stepped out for a few minutes." The Detective said. Wait, if he stepped out, didn't you see him? Did he hear all of your conversation with Damien? "To take care of some personal business that you don't need to know about!" The Detective rambled while pointing fingers in every direction he could. What person business? Was the truth of Mark's death finally getting to him? He let out a sigh and fixed his coat, "Could have been anybody... Except me." He scoffed. The tap of fine dress shoes came into the room, it was the Butler. "What the hell happened here?!" He exclaimed. "The body's been moved." The Detective said, he sounded like he wasn't too surprised by that fact. "On its own?!" The Butler cried, "No, of course not." The Detective said with a note of sarcasm. But paused, "Unless it did, in which case we've got way bigger problems that a simple murder." The Detective turned to you and spoke with lighting joining in on his last word. The Butler put one of his hands to his mouth, maybe the truth of Mark's death was more than he could handle. Seeing how he reacted to a broken glass bottle, "What the hell happened here?!" Another more heavy voice cried, it was the Chef. The Butler answered his question, "The body's moved!" "On its own?!" He echoed the Butler's reaction, the Detective raised a hand to calm the paniced pair. "We haven't quite ruled that out just yet. But let's not forget we've got a murder." He told them, thunder clapped to confirm his words. It seems that the Detective was more focused on finding whodunit, or he was too busy to look for a dead person walking around. But he didn't seem too concerned about a missing body. Even since we still don't know what Mark's cause of death was... The blinding light from the earlier crime scene made it had to see the Chef and Butler, as both had white uniforms. A sudden detached voice popped into your left ear, "Bully! Quite a storm out there, eh, chaps?" It was the Colonel, who almost just gave you a heart attack. He faced you than turned to the rest of the group, everyone was here. Except the Mayor, who was still thinking outside. Why was it that whenever you all were in once place, one was missing? "What are you doing in here huddled in fear?" The Colonel stretched his legs out under what was left of the cation tape, the Detective moved to stop him but the Chef interrupted shortly. "We have a zombie problem." He spoke, pointing down at the ground of where Mark's body was. The Colonel smiled, "Ah, Homeo Necrosis! The most dangerous game." He said, getting in the face of the Butler and Detective. Who each leaned back accordingly, the Colonel stepped back into the light. "Well if someone needs to put the old lad again, I'm well up for the privilege." He put his hands up as a shrug. Wait, again? Privilege? What did the Colonel mean by that? Before you could ask the man, the Detective spoke "What do you mean by 'again', and what do you mean by 'privilege'?" It seems that the Detective was thinking the same thing as you where. The Colonel moved back, "I'm just saying, I've got plenty of e-experience on the matter." He stuttered, shaking his hands around. "So do I." The Chef grimly agreed. "Yeah, that just raises more questions." The Detective said, raising a bushy eyebrow. Before anyone could ask the Colonel anymore questions, he opened his mouth. "Well I'm off to the grounds to see if I can catch a whiff of the old bag of bones, eh?" The Colonel looked at you then laughed and pivoted to the other doorway of the room. The Butler cut short some of the throaty laughter "Wait, weren't you and Mark the same age?" He spoke, but the laughter grew profusely louder from the Colonel as if he could drown the question. He let out a cough as if to confirm just that, a deep sigh was heard from your left, it was the Detective. "Alright, I don't trust him." He spoke, putting his hands on his hips. He had a point, the Colonel was the most likely suspect, but the Mayor said he was just in shock. Was he right? "Then again, I don't trust anyone." The Detective raised his broad shoulders in a guessing shrug. What about you? Did he trust you? Out of the corner of your eye you saw both the Butler and Chef put their arms up in a protective way. "Alright, lock this place down." The Detective commanded. While pointing a finger at the two. "Secure the front gate, I don't want anyone in or out of this place until we get to the bottom of this." He said, the Butler nervously stepped forward. "Locks won't keep people from getting out, sir." He said, biting his tongue. The Chef pulled down on his once white uniform and said gravely, "Locks won't, but Chef will."