Mafia The Third: The Seaside Town of Aifam Cove

[Kozma]

“Hello, Mister Greenhand. Can I help you?”

"Hello, Cheryl," Aaron replied. "I'm sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you had seen my rabbit, Trixie, wandering around the church somewhere."

"I am afraid not," Cheryl replied. "Is she missing?"

"Yes she is; could you keep an eye out for her?"

"Sure, Mister Greenhand; I'll do that. I can understand you're a bit worried about her given all that has been happening."

As she and Aaron talked, Cheryl pulled on her coat, hat, and finally, gloves. As their talk waned and she slipped on her last glove, Cheryl said frankly, “Christopher’s body vanished from the coat room, Mister Greenhand, if you hadn’t heard. Mister Smith was guarding the door, and there’s no other entrance to the room. You’re a magician - I don’t suppose you have any idea how one would go about making a body disappear?”

"Well," Aaron replied, "I do know how to make a lot of things disappear - there are several methods to making things vanish or appear to vanish: trapdoors, hidden compartments, and mirrors. I could explain in detail about how it's done but I wouldn't want to share my magical secrets unless it's necessary. I don't work with dead bodies, however."

Aaron scratched his chin. "But you say Christopher's body has vanished while Mister Smith was guarding the door? That is very interesting; maybe I should investigate the coat closet and see if I could find out how. I am a magician after all and who knows, I just may be able to find something important."

"Perhaps you should," Cheryl replied, "and let me know if you find anything. We have got to get to the bottom of this before someone else gets killed."

Aaron began to search the coat closet. As he did, he couldn't help but get the feeling that another murder was about to take place. He could only hope these feelings were wrong.

Even though he searched hard, Aaron could not locate any evidence of where the body could have gone (the mafia did a good job of sealing it up).

[Liou]

Leo had recognised the sound of the angry mob forming long before it got to the church and slipped out smoothly. He didn't need to follow to know what was going on - they weren't being particularly quiet about it. What a shame. The last guy he would have expected. Well, Leo knew that the angry mob could have done worse, much worse. At least it had been over quickly. He took off his top hat reverently and hummed "Another one bites the dust" under his breath, tapping a beat on the pommel of his cane.

After the ordeal, he watched the mob dissolving, from a distance. It was too convenient. Jack, the one man who had been close to the coat room. He must have known something that someone in that mob did not want him to know.

He stayed close enough to Cheryl to hear her report live - it was a lot more convenient than watching or recording it, really. He liked to munch popcorn while he watched her and her team doing all the work. The report only confirmed his suspicions that something fishy had happened around that coatroom. The entire zone was unsafe and he would do well to stay away.

He strode back to his motorbike, strapped his cane across his back, pulled on his leather gloves and removed his tiny top hat. He only wanted to get back to his salon and set up his stuff, but it would be a good idea to know the town's official position first, right?

Leo pulled his helmet very carefully over his emo bangs, then he took off his black coat to reveal a purple one. Much better. He cruised down from the chapel and back to the streets of Aifam, stopping by every character who was still wandering aimlessly in the street and offering a ride to the town hall.
"I know that dude seemed like a crazy cat at times, but if he carried all those papers around with him, I doubt he was drawing ponies on them all day long! I can only draw ponies for three consecutive hours. Anyways, we should totally go ask the town hall dudes what they usually do when an angry mob tosses one of them over a cliff."

[Gelquie]

Though Kylie was glad that Bea agreed to go on to the teashop, she couldn't help but notice her hesitation, with made Kylie only more worried. She knew that her mother probably wouldn't really want tea, but honestly, she couldn't really think of anything else. Besides, tea was calming, right? Any expression she had on her face was short-lived as she suddenly felt herself pulled towards the tea shop before she could even react. Kylie didn't want to stop her, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel her arm strain under the force, and she winced. Still, it was better than the alternative. At least, that's what Kylie told herself as she tried to keep up.

And then suddenly, Lucille put a hand on Bea's shoulders, forcing them to stop and trying to calm Bea down, as she worked her gentle fingers to unravel her mother's grasp, and Kylie feeling the warmth of Lucille's touch... And then came the suggestion for an alternative. A cake. Something to take her mother's mind off of the murders, and to keep her from reaching for her alcohol again. And then... Kylie was invited to come.

"As the Weewoo Trinity is my witness, I swear nothing will happen to her. I will return with her to the Inn shortly. You trust me, don't you, Kylie?"

The nun had flashed Kylie a subtle but sweet smile, and for a moment, Kylie couldn't answer. Merely stare, entranced. She knew full well that Lucille had ulterior motives behind her words. But... was that a bad thing? She took a step towards Lucille.

"Of course I do," Kylie said, almost wistfully. "You've been incredibly helpful so far. I trust you. I'd be happy to help bring the cake."

She was about to suggest going immediately when she paused, and turned towards her mother, and let out a frown. At the same time though, she knew she couldn't leave Beatrix alone. She couldn't risk her waiting so long that she reached into her purse again. And she didn't want to come back to... Well, even more chaos. Her thoughts danced at incredible speeds and she pondered, unsure what to do. Was this even reasonable? Could she even leave her mother alone? Kylie began looking around the crowd, looking for someone who could help her. Any-- No, not anyone. Someone she could trust...

Then she noticed something among one of the snowbanks, on the edge of the crowd. There seemed to be a medium sized malamute, sniffing at the ground and looking up at some of the surrounding people while whimpering. But with the din of the crowd as well as the crowd in general, it seemed that no one had noticed him. Not that she could blame the townspeople, but at the same time... Kylie was no expert on dogs, but it didn't seem to have a collar on, and its fur looked a little matted and dirty. Kylie looked around before approaching the dog, and trying to shout above the crowd.

"Hey! Does this dog belong to anyone?!" she shouted. A few people looked at her, but they each said their own version of 'no' before turning away. She called a few more times with no success before she gave up, and she knelt down to pet the dog. She spent some time rubbing the dog's fur (and looking under the dog's leg at one point) before motioning her mother and Lucille over.

"She looks cold," Kylie commented, looking mostly at Bea. "And no one here seems to know where she came from. I don't know where she came from either."

Staring at the dog and then her mother, it was then that she got an idea...

"Mother," Kylie said. "Could you do me a favor, and take this dog over to Melanie Porter? Maybe she knows where she came from, if she belongs to anyone, and what to do with her. And..." Kylie looked over to Lucille and gave a smile. "And while you're doing that, Lucille and I can go get the cake, okay?"

[Avery]

It all happened very quickly-- Sister Lucille suggesting that Bea return to the inn whilst she and Kylie retrieve some "cake" and then... the next thing Bea knew, she'd spied out of the corner of her eye a wolf. A wolf! She inhaled sharply and took a step forward, as if to shield Kylie... before Kylie started shouting at everyone in the vicinity asking if anyone owned the dog. Oh, dog. Yes, it was a dog, Bea realized, as her daughter approached it and glanced under its belly, declaring it to be a female.

Kylie gestured Bea and Lucille over and suggested that Bea take the dog down to the pet shop to see if Melanie Porter knew who owned it. ""And while you're doing that, Lucille and I can go get the cake, okay?"

Bea stared warily at the dog. It seemed friendly enough; it had gone from sniffing a snow bank to investigating Bea's hand, its nose cold and wet. It wagged its tail and stared eagerly up at Bea, as if thrilled that someone was paying attention to it. Bea hesitantly patted the dog's head. It wasn't that she didn't like dogs, but the idea of leaving Kylie was unappealing to her. Even if Kylie would probably be safe with Lucille, it still felt... wrong somehow. Now was the worst time to separate from her daughter. Because once you took your eyes off someone... it only took one second-- one nanosecond!-- for things to go from normal to terrible.

(a splash-- a child's screaming-- her breath frosting the cool morning air--)

The dog licked Bea's hand, and she patted it again. It let out a pitiful, hungry whine and nosed at the pocket of Bea's dress, as if looking for treats. Bea wished she had something to give it, but since she didn't think dogs liked gin, and well... she sighed. As tempting as it was to tell Kylie and Lucille that she would come with them to retrieve the "cake", Bea knew she couldn't just leave this dog alone on the cold street, hungry and bedraggled. And Melanie's shop was only a few minutes away... she'd just pop by, and Melanie would let her know who the pup belonged to, and Bea would reunite owner and pet; and then she'd go back to The Stallion, where Kylie and Lucille would certainly meet her in record time. With the "cake". Sweet, sweet cake.

"Fine," she said to Kylie. "But don't dally, Kylie. Please-- just get the cake and come right back. I'll see about finding who owns the dog."

**

Bea was slightly worried that she'd have trouble getting the dog to come with her-- after all, it had neither a collar nor leash-- but fortunately the pup proved quite cooperative. She whistled to it, and it jogged after her with a furiously wagging tail... occasionally sneaking in surreptitious "kisses" on Bea's hands. By the time Bea and the canine reached Melanie's store, the woman's hands were drenched in slobber.

As she entered the shop, the pup trailing behind her, Bea realized just how darn cold it was outside-- and made a mental note that eventually she would have to return to the church to retrieve her coat (at least she'd decided to wear a thick wool dress and heavy tights to the funeral, plus insulated boots, or else she'd be frozen solid by now).

She'd only been in Melanie's Menagerie a few times before, on errands for Kylie and the horses, but the dog seemed to know it well. She instantly trotted over to the bulk bin of dog biscuits, from which she purloined a bone and swallowed it just about whole.

"No!" Bea scolded, embarrassed; the dog, nearly smiling, pranced back over to her side.

Bea placed a hand on its fuzzy haunches, then surveyed the shop. Beyond the owner, Melanie, and her employee Marco, the only other customer was Alma Mathers-Fitzgibbons, who was ogling at the fish tanks on the far wall. There was also a dog roaming about, which the stray noticed a few moments before Bea did. Bea held her breath as her new tag-along loped over and gave it a sniff, images of the two getting into a scrap blooming in her head. Instead, they both wagged their tails, and the Malamute dipped into a play bow.

Bea breathed a sigh of relief, then turned towards Melanie and Marco. "I just found this one wandering along Fork Street," she said. "Have you any idea who she belongs to?"

[Diana]

The NPC continued to sob into his hands, completely oblivious to Winston’s magnanimous and heartwarming speech of hope. Winston was not amused.

“Blast it all,” he muttered, standing up. “Probably didn’t have any programmed reactions.” Would have been nice to know that he was one of those NPCs beforehand. Decoration and nothing more, made to make the game world feel more populated and lively than it really was. Kind of like what happened when he used ‘createfullactorcopy’ on his Champion of Cyrodiil and ended up with a character that never moved from its spot. At least his clone looked awesome, standing guard over Skingrad in its full Imperial Dragon armor.

Well, if they were going to be like that, then that was enough lavishing his time on the NPCs for today. He had a M4sT3rCH13F to take apart in Black Ops. Piece by piece.

Then – what was going on? He heard shouts. Angry shouts. He turned around, absently shoving the wheelchair away from him to get a better look. It was happening so fast - the NPCs were clustering and yelling and pointing fingers, and strangely enough, nobody was paying attention to him –

And then the townsfolk threw one of their own over the edge of a cliff.

It was a surprisingly anticlimactic death. The man did not give a dying soliloquy, did not scream in denial, did not clutch the edge and claw hatefully at a former love interest who reached down to save him, spitting at his last chance and falling to his doom. He just... cried out once and vanished over the edge. It was almost a whimper.

There was a distant splat. It sounded altogether too… meaty.

“So… he was the killer, right?” Winston frowned, trying his best to ignore that chilly, uneasy pit rolling in his stomach. “I mean, that Mick dude did just get offed. So, wait, the quest is… over?”

If the killer was dead, then there was no killer to track down – no countdowns, no trawling for clues, no climactic battle royale for justice under a dark and stormy sky. The quest was done, and… he hadn’t even done anything? That simply didn’t make sense. No, it couldn’t have been a quest, then. Was it supposed to be some kind of… background event, to establish the character of the town and its inhabitants? It still felt off. There was something terribly, terribly wrong about this entire situation, and it took him a moment to pinpoint what it was.

“What do you mean, you guys killed the killer? How did – how did you people do it? You’re just unimportant characters! You can’t do anything!” He was absolutely flabbergasted. “I was supposed to defeat him! You – you killstealers!”

[Sporty]

Melanie was about to do a quick check up on the animals while Alma went to look at the fish, but she was suddenly interrupted by a malamute trotting by and sticking her nose into the treat bin.

"No!" an embarrassed voice called out from behind her. Melanie turned to see Beatrix, the Stallion's innkeeper, standing in the doorway as the dog ran back to her side before getting distracted again by Lacey.

"I just found this one wandering along Fork Street," Beatrix informed her. "Have you any idea who she belongs to?"

Melanie chuckled in recognition. "Merry! It's been a while since I last saw..." She trailed off as she recalled the dog's owner.

"Oh no! Merry, you poor girl!" She ran over and gave the dog a quick look-over. While Merry seemed to still be healthy and energetic, her coat was matted and dirty and Melanie could guess that she hadn't had a good meal since the day before.

Melanie turned back to Marco and Beatrix to explain. "Merry was Enna's dog," she said quietly. "she must have gotten restless when nobody came to check on her after Enna..." She couldn't finish the sentence. She didn't really need to anyway.

Melanie returned her attention to the malamute as she and the Labrador played, oblivious to her owner's fate. "She seems to be all right, but she's most likely gotten pretty hungry and thirsty by now. Don't worry about the treat. I'll get a couple of bowls for her, and when she's done we can see about washing her and getting her a new collar." She headed off toward the storage room where she kept supplies for the in-store pets. "After that... I guess we'll have to see about finding her a new home."

[Avery]

Bea smiled to herself when Melanie was able to identify the dog... then her heart promptly sank into stomach like a heavy stone when the shop owner identified Merry's owner. Enna. As in, Enna who was dead and had been for nearly thirty-six hours.

"I guess we'll have to see about finding her a new home."

Bea stared at Merry, playing so obliviously with the shop dog. Her tail thumping, letting out gleeful yips that sounded like they ought to be coming from a pup a fifth of her size. Bea... she knew what it was like to miss someone. For your world to change in an instant.

As if sensing Bea's sadness, Merry paused playing with the shop dog and trotted over to Bea's side. Nuzzled her nose into Bea's hand again and gave it a hearty lick. Bea looked down at the poor creature-- its dark eyes gleaming without a care in the world. Its belly sated by the pilfered bone. What if they couldn't find this Merry a home? What if no one wanted her?

Bea wanted to grapple for the flask in her purse, but knew this was probably inappropriate. Instead, she scratched behind Merry's ears. The dog just about melted at her touch, panting contentedly.

"I... I guess I could give her a home."

The words had left Bea's lips before she'd even fully thought them through. But somehow, they felt right. And anyway, it wasn't like she could take them back now that they were out in the open. Though Bea knew it was silly-- that Merry didn't understand English-- she could swear the dog had comprehended her statement. Just the way she was gazing at Bea... her finder, the one who'd taken her to this shop and out of the bitter cold...

Bea gave Merry another scratch, then smiled softly as she realized another thing about this dog: it was big. Imposing. Hell, at first Bea had mistaken it for a wolf. Anyone who was thinking of hurting Bea or Kylie-- they'd now think again, when attempting to do so might mean the wrath of a ninety-pound ball of fur and teeth. Maybe that had been Enna's mistake: letting this Merry out of her sight. Bea would not make the same error. From now on, Merry would be with either her or Kylie at all times.

"I suppose I'll need to buy her some supplies," Bea said. "A collar, a leash, some dog food and toys... well, just give me the whole lot." Then, to Merry: "I'll keep you safe, girl. And you'll keep me and Kylie safe. How about you say we have a deal?"

The dog flopped over onto her back, revealing her belly for scratches. Bea decided she would take this as a yes.

[Ginz ❤]

“Cake would be lovely,” Anna said. “The service was mostly lovely, except for Travis. But, he is Travis, it was almost inevitable he would do something like that,” Anna said, deciding not to talk about the ending. “Enna would have been happy to have known she had so many people who cared.”

Lindsey listened and nodded while picking out a cake and cutting a couple of slices. She decided on Everington Cakes' best selling chocolate cake. She hoped Anna would like it. In her experience, chocolate cake was the best cure for sadness. As she handed Anna her slice of cake, Lindsey caught her looking at the nibbled cupcakes. She would have to clean up that mess later.

“She didn't do that, did she? That might be bad, cake and icing aren't supposed to be a part of a rabbit's diet. You should take her to the vet if she starts acting strangely. She's a lovely rabbit. She's the magician's, isn't she? Are you pet sitting?”

"I don't think she did," said Lindsey "I was with her the whole time and I didn't see her do it. It doesn't look like something a rabbit would do either." She lowered her voice to a whisper "I'm afraid someone might have broken into the shop while we were at Enna's funeral. I don't know if this is the mafia's doing, but I'm scared," she confessed.

"I'm pretty sure she is the magician's rabbit, yeah. I would recognize her anywhere, I love their magic shows. But I'm not actually pet sitting... well, not by request, anyway. I found her outside the shop this morning, I don't know how she got here. I get the feeling that she's very smart and could find her own way home, but I couldn't just leave her there. Not after everything that's happened. I tried to return her, but I couldn't find her owner with all the chaos."

"Come to think of it, she couldn't have eaten those cupcakes, but she might be hungry. I wish I could give her some carrot cake. I'd give everyone cake if I could. But I guess the best thing to do is to go to Melanie's Menagerie and get some proper rabbit food for her, right? I won't keep her for long, but... for now. Melanie might even have a clue about where to find the magician."

"Hey, Anna, can I ask for a big favor?" Lindsey said, as she finished her slice of cake. "Would you go to the pet shop with me? It's pretty close, but after the past couple of days, it doesn't seem safe to wander around alone." Lindsey silently prayed that Anna would agree. She was very nervous about the murders and the break-ins, and the pet shop didn't bring happy memories for her either. She knew it would be too much to handle on her own.

[Kristykimmy]

Lindsey brought over two slices of cake and sat down at the table across from Anna. Chocolate cake from Everington Cakes really was superb. She could only think of one cake she had ever had that surpassed it. Anna ate her slice while listening to Lindsey talk.

"I don't think she did," said Lindsey "I was with her the whole time and I didn't see her do it. It doesn't look like something a rabbit would do either." She lowered her voice to a whisper "I'm afraid someone might have broken into the shop while we were at Enna's funeral. I don't know if this is the Mafia's doing, but I'm scared."

"I'm pretty sure she is the magician's rabbit, yeah. I would recognize her anywhere, I love their magic shows. But I'm not actually pet sitting... well, not by request, anyway. I found her outside the shop this morning, I don't know how she got here. I get the feeling that she's very smart and could find her own way home, but I couldn't just leave her there. Not after everything that's happened. I tried to return her, but I couldn't find her owner with all the chaos."

"Come to think of it, she couldn't have eaten those cupcakes, but she might be hungry. I wish I could give her some carrot cake. I'd give everyone cake if I could. But I guess the best thing to do is to go to Melanie's Menagerie and get some proper rabbit food for her, right? I won't keep her for long, but... for now. Melanie might even have a clue about where to find the magician."

"Hey, Anna, can I ask for a big favor?" Lindsey said, as she finished her slice of cake. "Would you go to the pet shop with me? It's pretty close, but after these past couple of days, it doesn't seem safe to wander around alone."

“Looking at those cupcakes, I'd say whatever broke in here was some kind of animal. They were clearly eaten, not just knocked over and crushed. But, I'd be glad to go with you to the pet store. It has been an awful time for the town and it is much safer just not to give anyone an opportunity for any kind of mischief,” Anna agreed finishing her slice of cake. "The street is strangely deserted still."

She got up and put back on her coat, which she had hung on the chair. She picked up the rabbit when Lindsey took the plates away and handed her to Lindsey outside of the shop after she'd locked the door behind them.

They walked quickly, the air cold. It was a quick walk, after all, the pet shop on the east end of Main Street. Anna opened the door for them, so Lindsey didn't have to disturb the rabbit, who she had cradled close for warmth. The shop was surprisingly full, Alma Fitzgibbon and Beatrix Devon were there, along with the shop boy. Anna didn't own pets, she went away on short notice too often to be a responsible pet owner, so she only knew Melanie's name because it was part of the shop's name.

Melanie was nowhere to be seen, but there was a large dog with Bea. Anna couldn't help going over and bending down to pet the dog, who proved to be very friendly, covering her face with kisses as she pet her.

“Is this your dog, Ms. Devon?” Anna asked.

[Tiger]

Cheryl wasn’t sure leaving Aaron alone at the crime scene was a good idea - but she couldn’t make herself linger in the church any longer. Besides, if Aaron was part of the mafia and did destroy any part of the evidence, that destruction would be suspicion enough to get him arrested. Hopefully just arrested.

The studio was only a few buildings from the church, and in the news van they would arrive in a few minutes. Though Cheryl was tempted to hover over Pratchett’s shoulder, she knew that wasn’t exactly going to be effective. Instead, she directed Albert to the Burger Hut. The food wasn’t as good as something from one of the town’s legitimate restaurants, but greasy food and carbonated beverages were comfort food for Cheryl and Pratchett both. Albert ate whatever was offered to him without comment or apparent opinion. Laden with burgers and beverage cups rattling with ice, they entered the cold, dark halls of Channel 24 News Studio and Associates. Hermia Smith, the print news reporter, didn’t seem to be in. Cheryl guessed she was out gathering material for a story, or even working outside the building, given all that was happening.

The building was mostly empty. The studio had been built with the intent of making a bustling media center for Aifam Cove - not just multiple television stations, but a fully-staffed radio program, a hub for the tourism board, a few rooms for local events, and what was intended to just be an outpost for Aifam Cove’s newspaper building. Why, exactly, this hadn’t all happened was anyone’s guess - but money probably had to do with most of it. Nobody in the town needed to watch the station programs they’d planned. The tourism board had a perfectly fine office inside City Hall. The local events rooms had been used for conferences for a while, but then the projectors started breaking down and nobody seemed interested in fixing them. The radio station had been…weird, to say the least. Very difficult to describe. Almost Twilight Zone-ish, but...not quite that, either. It went off the air very quickly. On the plus side, that had freed Albert to be a cameraman.

Despite all the open space available, Pratchett worked from a small room mostly bathed in shadow. The only light came from a single dim ceiling bulb and the plethora of screens. Pratchett swiveled around as they entered. “No, Cheryl, I’m not done ye- burgers? Are those burgers?”

They ate in silence, Pratchett occasionally pausing to press a key or fiddle with the mouse. The terribly unhealthy food was not having the desired effect, at least not on Cheryl. Apparently food that helped you feel better while you waited out something you couldn’t control didn’t have the same effect when there was a more active crisis. Like murderers roaming the streets. Bodies disappearing. Crowds of people playing murderous vigilante.

“There,” Pratchett said, swiveling one of the screens toward Cheryl and passing her a keyboard. “Isolated it so you can rewind. Enhanced it a little bit. Just for you. You’re welcome.”

“Yes, yes, you work miracles, Pratchett. And I bought you dinner, don’t say you weren’t rewarded.” Cheryl’s heart wasn’t really in the banter, though - here was her chance to find some real evidence.

Her eyes scoured the frames, scrutinized the expressions on people’s faces, tried to follow their gazes and see if anyone looked more often at any one else, or if anyone’s schock seemed a little faked.

Cheryl Roxanne Lewis...was not very good at determining any of these things.

She did find one...unusual thing, however.

“Holy - Christopher?!”

“What?” Pratchett leaned over to see Cheryl’s screen. “The camera never got inside the room, what’re you talking about?”

Cheryl jabbed a finger at the screen, at the not-entirely-solid, clearly distraught Christopher. “Right there!”

“Right...where?”

“How - how can you not - Albert! He’s right there! Right?”

Albert leaned forward, and slowly...shook his head.

“How are you not seeing this?! He’s - he’s right here!” Pratchett didn’t seem to know what to say. Cheryl stared at the screen, at the translucent, ghostly…well, ghost. A memory struck her. “Pratchett - Tourist Profiles from June - bring them up. I need to see...oh, who was it...the woman...with the straw hat...her shirt had a flamingo on it.”

Pratchett obliged, though with a slight hesitancy to his typing and clicking. The old footage filled one of the screens - Cheryl standing beside the woman she’d described. Pratchett pressed play.

“Miss Hershel, thank you for agreeing to speak with us! Where’re you from?”

“Oh, just the little town of Wuffle.”

“Wuffle, I hear it’s lovely this time of year!”

“Oh, it is, but you want to get away from home, you understand - my husband wanted to go to Netwaffle, but you know, ghosts are just not appropriate for children, I think - Jeremy’s only eight, that’s a little young to consider the implications of death and the afterlife and the impermanence of - “

Pratchett paused it. “Uhm. Did that do anything other than make me more concerned about you, Cheryl?”

Cheryl put the footage of the funeral on fast-foward. She couldn’t deny that she’d been close enough and at perfect angles to see Christopher’s specter. Why hadn’t she seen it? Others had spotted him - were clearly interacting with him on the film, even. But Albert and Pratchett couldn’t see the ghost on film...

At some point, the camera shifted and lost sight of Christopher. The church filed out, but it was too crowded and the angle too narrow for Cheryl to see much more than the closet and the main church entrance. So...was Christopher still in the church?

“I have to go back.” Cheryl hopped off of the table where she’d been sitting and headed for a cabinet in the back of the room. As she dug through cords and old keyboards, she said, explained before Pratchett could ask, “Christopher’s ghost was there - if he’s still around and I can find someway to talk to him, maybe I can find out who the mafia are. At the very least, he shouldn’t be left there alone. And I ought to check in on Mister Greenhand as well. Perhaps he’s found a lead.”

“Cheryl, look, I know you’re stressed out...are you sure you weren’t just...imagining the...ghost? What happened to the kid is really terrible - but - maybe it’s just wishful thinking that you - “

Cheryl plucked a small camera from the depths of the drawer and hit the on button, triggering a few happy-sounding beeps and an icon displaying a half-full battery. A little more rummaging revealed the charger that went with it. “Pratchett, I’m a reporter. I follow the facts. And the facts, in this case, suggest that whatever is in charge of our little universe has noticed that I spend so much of my life on and gathering video footage - that the only way I can see ghosts is through the same medium.”

Grasping the camera firmly, Cheryl Roxanne Lewis left the studio and headed back to the church. It was a quick but cold walk, and doubly eerie for the fear of mafia members finding her comings and goings suspicious. But she reached the building safely, if with a little more snow in her boots than she liked. At the door, she paused, turning on the camera. As she pushed open the door and stepped inside, she swept the viewfinder carefully from wall to wall. “Hello?” she called. “Mister Greenhand?" Slightly quieter, "...Mister Dylans?”

SPOILER: Click to show

Summary for Carrie/skimmers:

Cheryl returned to the news studio and discovered that, while other people can't seem to see ghosts on film, camera footage is the only way she can see ghosts. She took a camera back to the church to see if she could find Christopher and/or see if Aaron found anything in the coat closet.

[icon]

She walked into the diner like a hurricane, a dame with the kind of blustery presence that really ought to have warranted all sorts of whooshy sound-effects, but the weather wasn't cooperating with the narrative, so we only ended up getting a bit of a draft. I glanced up from the remains of my despondent lunch and littered gum wrappers (three of them on the table, a half-dozen more strewn underneath the booth) to size her up.

She had a pair of legs like two… legs. Yeah. Lemme tell you, they were the kind of legs you could trust; you could look at a dame like her and say 'yep… those are legs alright.'

At least, I’m pretty certain she had legs. I couldn't really tell, on account of the fact that she had clothes on over them, of course. But you could see feet coming out from below the clothes, so it seemed reasonable enough to assume that she had legs. I mean, that’d just be weird if she didn't.

Yeah.

Anyways, I turned back to my lunch; I don't have time to deal with every hysterical dame's business. My partner, however, seemed to take a bit more stock in what the dame was saying to the people at the counter.

"Did you hear that?"

I informed them that no, I had not. Primarily because I was in the middle of fishing around for another pack of gum.

"Ghosts," Coena said. "That's what she was saying. Apparently some people claim they saw Christopher Dylans's ghost, and another one appeared when they killed Mr. Smith."

"Agh, the supernatural," I grumbled, but since I had about three sticks of Firecrackers' Minty Fresh in my mouth it came out to something like "arghhh, rhhe shhulpranaashll".

I don't like ghosts. There's something final about death, and you think it's all dramatic, but then it turns out that the person isn't actually dead. It's like, you think you're being all somber and then the corpse turns around and starts trying to lurch towards you and eat your brains and--

Oh wait, no, that's zombies. I don't like zombies either. But Coen was starting to monologue now, so I decided to cut my rambling short and listen to them...

"Ghosts, and giant tracks, and mafias, and murders," Coena said. "This is all connected together, somehow, I know it. We just need to find out how they line up, and then everything will click..."

I don't mind telling you, we ended up sitting in that diner for a few hours even after that, turning the ideas over in our heads, occasionally mumbling our thoughts to each other.

Everything is right in front of us, I thought to myself as we left the diner. We just need to see it from a different point of view.

[Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)]

Alma turned back around. "There now, child," warmth slipping into her shaking voice.

He was such a child. He went straight towards her voice. He felt the urge to collapsed and sob, then go to Dakota and collapse and sob in their arms, and just repeat it until it was over and there were no more tears to be had.
"I-" he wasn't sure if he was even near Miss Alma but he just sort of fell forward. If he did collapse onto her as intended she wouldn't have felt it. It was like a leaning feeling, like something is pushing on you but you can't really pinpoint what it was.

He sobbed and sobbed. And he wanted... He was such a child. He wanted his mother. That was so terribly... he was 15 he shouldn't have such silly feelings like that. But when he thought of his mother he didn't think of his mother he thought of...

No

She isn't his mother. She isn't. He hates her. He doesn't hate the killers or the mafia. There is only one person he is allowed himself to hate. One person that his wrath is justified. That was her. He hated her so much. He hoped she was dead on that island and animals had come to rip her flesh a part and...
He wanted that! He had to keep telling himself that.

"Hey, sweetie, why don't we go somewhere? Like... the cake shop, if it's open? Or we can get some tea," they said. Anything to get him away from where his body lay, behind a closed door.

"O-o-ok" he said, "Not the cakeshop." He added quickly.
The delivery girl talked about Thomas too much. Like she expected him to come back. It made him feel guilty. It should have been Thomas that got of that island. It should have been anyone but him.

Then it happened.

He didn't see. He wouldn't open his eyes. But he heard like he always did. They killed Jack. And Jack was innocent. He screamed and screamed but no on listened. Apprently they threw him off a cliff into the ocean below. He had been innocent.
Christopher could hear Mina's screams in his head.

"I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU"

He wasn't sure who he was screaming at. He just needed to yell.

"STOP KILLING. PLEASE" his entire body (or form in this case) shook.

"STOP STOP STOP" he screamed until he couldn't anymore and it turned into a mumble.

Everyone was going to die.

Everyone always died.

[Coaster]

Fella internally chided the sour folks who'd been at the funeral--so far, not one of them seemed to want to play tag, except that guy at the front who'd been caught fairly quickly.

Oh, looks like we're playing hide and seek, now.

Fella went off as the guy who jumped down to the beach presumably started counting in his head. Many of the other players, likewise, panicked as they realized they only had a few seconds to get away, and dispersed to their respective hiding places.

There were a few mutterings about "mafia" and "lynching", but everyone knows that eggs don't die until the yolk starts oozing out.

Eggs... eggs.

Hmm. Yeah, it's been a while.

Come to think of it, after the gong show that was supposed to be the cookout, Fella's hungry belly was starting to protest.

He sent his secretary a quick text message saying he'd be a little late to the office, then proceeded to check through the outdoor fridges for any sign of eggs.

Eggs...

Somehow, he couldn't tear his thoughts away from the rumours of killings. Trying to figure it out.

It was always the butler, that was for sure, but there were no butlers in the Cove that he knew about.

But there at least had to be a waiter--no, a waitress, or something. A robot waitress. With fruity drinks and eggnog. Or a velociraptor. Female, single.

Maybe an available robot velociraptor waitress with some red cupcake lipstick. Mmm. Actually, ixnay the robot and he could maybe get to know one. Hopefully there was one somewhere in town.

This train of thought collided head-on with the delicious yolky goodness that his gaze now beheld at the bottom of the fridge outside the cake shop, which he proceeded to voraciously ingest posthaste.

SPOILER: Click to show

Fella mistakes the lynching for a game of tag and joins in. He then resumes his earlier task, finding some eggs in the town's dumpsters, as he briefly considers the murder and fantasizes about another velociraptor being in town.

[PFA]

Professor Bardsley was about to go back into the church, hopefully to convince whoever was watching over the body to allow him to fetch his coat, when Mr. Endicott stopped beside him on a motorcycle. He alluded to the investigation notes Mr. Smith had been making, perhaps insinuating that there was something useful contained within. He also suggested going to the town hall and asking what they should do in this situation.

"Hm. That may be for the best, actually," Professor Bardsley agreed. If nothing else, the mayor would surely be interested to know what had happened to his assistant. He decided he may as well accompany Mr. Endicott to the town hall, thinking on what he might say to the mayor. He also pondered over what Mr. Smith might have learned about these murders. Perhaps he had learned something that could help them determine who was behind all of this...

[Ginz ❤]

“Is this your dog, Ms. Devon?” Anna asked.

"Merry!" exclaimed Lindsey, unable to help herself. There was no mistaking her friend's dog. Enna used to let her sit outside the shop all the time. Well, before Thomas ate Pengy, that was. After that, Enna had never brought her to work again, but Lindsey knew it had to be her.

Anna bent down to pet her, and Lindsey was about to follow, but she still had Trixie cradled close, and she could tell the rabbit was less than eager to get any closer to Merry. Lindsey had had to hold her tight avoid her jumping out of her grasp. Merry was, after all, a pretty sizeable dog.

She decided to keep a bit of distance for now, but stayed close enough to hear what Bea would say. The pet shop was unexpectedly busy. Aside from them, she could see Mrs. Fitzgibbon over at the fish section.

She couldn't see Melanie, so she turned to Marco instead. "I'm looking for some rabbit food, can you recommend something? I figured cake wouldn't do. Also, if it's not much trouble, do you think I could put a 'Found' sign on your window? I'm trying to return this bunny to her owner, maybe he'll come by looking for her. I'll wait and ask Melanie if I need to."