Who killed Markiplier?

Out of the frying pan

You took one last look down to the room where Celine and the Mayor where. You were just in time to see Celine close the door. And why did you have the feeling that something bad was going to happen? "Move it, come on partner. Come on!" The Detective's harsh words echoed. You went to follow the Detective, but you were suddenly downstairs, things just aren't normal in this house... "Lead the way, Cookie." The Detective waved his hand at the door next to the Chef. Who didn't really like the Detective from the beginning, and this situation didn't help. "Cookie? I'm not your cookie!" The Chef yelled at the Detective. "I spent three weeks at culinary school! I earned the right to be called Chef!" He continued. "I'm very impressed." The Detective spoke sarcastically. Then sighed, "Just tell us where we're going!" The Detective pointed to the door that was next to you. The Chef pursed his lips and held his breath, "Come on! Let's go!" The Detective huffed and pushed the Chef to the door. Who then opened the double doors, and lead you both outside. It was dark, the only source of light was the lamps that shined like pearls in the darkness. Without them you couldn't see your hand in front of your face, and you couldn't see the Chef or the Detective either. But you could hear them as the Detective's grim voice turned to you, "I think I see him." The Chef lead you down a set of small stairs. Which opened to a small pathway with better lighting, and from what you could see from behind the Detective, there was a man. "Hey! Buddy! Hands where I can see 'em!" The Detective ordered, pulling out his pistol at him. As you moved closer, you could see the man better. He had stringy dirty brown hair, a large nose, and a black hat hiding most of the top of his face. He was dressed simply in brown work overalls and a gray shirt with a shovel in his hands. "Hey, my hands are where they're supposed to be." He must be the groundskeeper, George, that the Chef was talking about. The Groundskeeper said, pausing his work to lean on his shovel. "Unless, of course, you'd like to dig the hole for yourself." George joked. He seemed to have an Australian accent, "What the hell are you doing here?" The Detective aimed the gun at the Groundskeeper, who simply stood up with the clink of his shovel hitting a rock, unfazed at a gun pointed at him. "I'm the groundskeeper! I keep the ground, alright?" George explained, "I'd say look around, the ground seems pretty well kept in this place right?" He asked, the Detective still held a finger over the trigger of his pistol. The ground around the house was well kept. "I'm sorry man, this dick made me bring him out here." The Chef pointed at the Detective, using his old nickname for him. You just now saw that he also had an old lantern in his other hand, where did he get that? "You shut up." The Detective shot back at the The Chef. "How do you not know about the murders going on in this house?" He rushed back to George, thunder interrupted him mid-sentence. "How do you not hear that lighting?" The Detective aimed at the sky. "Lighting's the sky's business!" The Groundskeeper cried, pointing up at the dark clouds. "Look at the ground! When the ground starts shooting up lighting I'll let you know!" He ended his rambling. "Alright smartass, why exactly are you digging up that hole?" The Detective huffed, "And why shouldn't we suspect you for taking part in the death of your employer?" He quizzed George. Who just laughed in his face."Employers come and go! Some die, some don't." A chill ran up your spine, it was the same voice that you had foreseen with Celine. George continued, out of the corner of your eye you could see the Chef nodded with him. "Some are murdered, some are not. It's not my business!" But no lighting or thunder followed after the word of murder. Before you could ask him about why that was, he kept talking. "I'm digging this hole for a burst water pipe if that's alright with your gratefulness." The Groundskeeper turned to the fuming Detective. "See? I told you, George didn't do nothin' man!" The Chef sneered at the Detective. "See? I just did nothing!" George stepped up to be on ground level with the Chef. "Forgive me for not taking you at face value." The Detective said sarcastically. "But we're all gonna come inside, we're gonna sit down, and have a nice lovely chat." He said with a honeyed tone. "And get to the bottom of this before I lose my mind and start dabbling in murder myself!" The Detective raised his voice to match the thunder. George straightened his back, "Now you listen to me, sonny." He aimed a finger at the Detective, "It's been 15 years since I've been in that house. And I am not about to break that winning streak now." Now his finger was pointed at the house behind you. The old Groundskeeper turned to you now. "I don't care how many murders there've been! I ain't going near that house!" He looked you dead in the eyes. With what you've seen while you've been in that house while you've been here, you can't blame him for not wanting to go inside. Everyone was quiet, even the Detective. George took advantage of this, "However, there is one reason. One incident, one manifestation, that will get me into that madhouse." You looked at the Detective who held up a hand to reassure you, you when looked to the Chef, who did nothing. "You had better pray to God that, that reason never comes to pass." George spoke ominously. There was a split second of quiet, and then a deafening loud crack of thunder broke it. You whipped your head back to the house, light was bursting out of the window, it was as bright as lighting. Dark clouds hung over the house, "That there's the reason!" The Groundskeeper cried.