Who killed Markiplier?

Stranger things have happend

         "What did she do it you?" The Detective looked at you for a second or two, the small light from the foyer painting long shadows on his face. He took the crumbled paper from your hands. "What is this?" He studied it for a bit, walking back into the light passageway. "Butler! Butler!" The Detective yelled, his gruff voice echoing off the high walls. The Butler ran to meet his call, as he met the Detective in a corner. The Chef followed him. "What? What is it?" The Detective handed him the drawing, "This mean anything to you?" He quizzed. "Well, maybe..." The Butler put the drawing in his gloved hands. "No, sorry." He said with a note of confusion in his voice. "Spit it out if you got something!" The Detective yelled, it seems he needed to know the truth. The Butler stepped back, "Well, it could be our groundskeeper, George." He began, "But he only works on weekdays." He now finished. The Chef leaned on the tan wall and kept fidgeting, the Detective threw down the paper. "Looks like your friend here may disagree with that notion!" He spat at the Chef, who then looked at the Detective and Butler with puppy eyes. "Me?" The Chef asked, pointing at himself. "Yeah, you." The Detective glared him down, "Uh... I don't know shit! I plead the fifth man." The Chef raised his arms defensively while not breaking eye contact with the Detective. The Butler aimed a white finger at the Chef. "Chef, if you know something, for God's sake spit it out!" He raised his voice for the first time. The Chef sighed, "Okay, alright, you're twisting my arm, alright." He paused, holding his breath. "George has been living on the grounds for years."  "What?!" The Butler cried, he stumbled back into the wall. Looks like everyone still has secrets. "And you just now thought to share that information with us?!" The Detective roared, but he had a point. What if the groundskeeper killed Mark? "For all we know he could be the murder!" The Detective yelled at the Chef. He always seemed to be thinking the same thing as you. Thunder clapped at the Chef. As if the Detective could summon it himself. "For the last time, stop saying that word!" A female voice carried across the back of the hallway. It was Celine, with the Mayor following suit behind her. She glared at the Detective, Chef and Butler. "Look, George. He just tends to the grounds, man." The Chef sighed, "He's a fuckin' hermit!" He finished, it was weird not seeing him speak brashly about things. It seems like the Chef and George were good friends. "I don't care what the fuck he is!" The Detective cursed, putting a hand to his hip. Was he going to pull out his pistol? "Look, all this arguing is getting us nowhere! Just go outside and talk to this George and be done with it!" Damien instructed the group. And he was right, it seemed like everyone was turning on each other at the drop of a hat. The Detective turned on a dime, "Hold on a sec. You're not coming with us?" He objected, the Mayor looked pleadingly at him. The dim light casting long dark shadows on his face, it was hard to read his expression of melancholy. "I-I need to stay here with Celine." The Mayor turned to Celine who then scoffed at him, "I don't need help. Especially from you!" Her voice echoed off the hall, "Our friend is dead!" Damien yelled. Raising his deep voice, which held more resonance off the high walls more than Celine's. He paused and took a few deep breaths, "I'm sorry, I just need answers to all this." The Mayor's voice went soft, "I already lost one friend today; I don't want to lose another." He looked at Celine, cane in hand. Looks like he still wasn't over Mark's death, and probably won't be for a long time. But this was no time to grief over a friend's death, as every clue you and the Detective have found have just lead to more mysteries. "Fine, but I need to stay here." Celine broke in, "Fine with me." The Mayor finished. You turned to the Detective, who rolled his eyes at the two. "Fine, good, yeah, whatever, who cares." He turned his back to the black and white dressed pair. "Alright, you're coming with me," the Detective motioned to the Chef. "Partner you too." He nodded. But you weren't paying attention to him, as he spoke Damien and Celine turned back into the dim hallway. The Detective took the Chef and was about to walk down to find whoever George was, when he stopped. "Hold on a sec, we're missing somebody." The Detective narrowed his tired eyes. He searched the group sharply, "Who had eyes on the Colonel?" The Detective asked. You looked around, and the recurring theme of having one person missing held true, The Colonel was nowhere to be seen. "Well, he appeared tired and went back to his room." The Butler clasped his hands together softly. "I'm sure he did, and with any luck. He'll stay here." The Detective sighed. "Alright, let's roll out. Come on." He took his leave down the stairs the Chef following hesitantly.