Mafia The Third: The Seaside Town of Aifam Cove

[Kozma]

On this morning, Aaron had left Trixie at home. It was a good thing to do because it's very rude to bring a pet to a funeral. However, as he sat silently through the service, Aaron suspected that Trixie would somehow show up at the Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo Feather in some way. She liked to cause trouble so he made sure to lock her up in her pen whenever she was to be alone. However, she seemed to be a brilliant escape artist because she would always find a way to get out. Aaron suspected that the extra locks and chains he used would not keep Trixie away from causing mischief at this funeral.

Throughout the funeral, there was no sign of Trixie and Aaron had begun to believe that it would be uneventful.

Then he heard the screams.

At first, he thought it was Trixie - escaped from her pen at home and at the church causing mayhem. But then came the screams of 'The mafia,' and then a cry from Dakota:

"CHRISTOPHER! No! No, no, no!"

He then knew there had been a second murder.

---

Just as Aaron expected, Trixie had managed to escape from her little prison that was meant to keep her confined. However, rather than going to the church to cause trouble, she decided to return to the scene of the first murder. There had to be some way to get that snowman witness to talk.

As the rabbit investigated the scene, she heard a snow mobile. Soon she could see Lindsey Lukas riding up towards Everington Cakes completely upset. The young girl went inside the shop and shut the door. As Trixie went up to a nearby window, she heard sobs coming from inside...

[Chao]

Once more Siddhi stood out of the crowd due to choice of colour, but the only appropriate mourning clothes she had were white from back when her great-aunt Nandini had died and Aunt Nandini had been a Hindu. But as Enna's body was also cremated, Siddhi decided that white was still okay.

That was until everyone filed out only to find that the blind boy had been murdered. During the memorial service nonetheless.
In an initial wave of panic, Siddhi wished she had worn black as well, so that she could hide in the crowd, as obvioulsy at least one Mafia was targetting people, who due to physical differences appeared as easy victims... a blind boy who could not see his murderers coming... or a mute woman who could not cry for help.
Then she chastised herself for such silly thoughts. Mafias were not discriminating in this way. They were simply and generally evil.

Yet Siddhi could not help and wonder how many more paintings she would create, where the waves suddenly were capped with red instead of white, as had been the case with her work yesterday, or where not ashes rained down on the salty water as would undoubtedly happen when they scattered Christopher's ashes.
Still, the Indian painter felt that she owed it to those dead members of the town she had come to love, to remember them in her art.

With this, she hurried home, only to pick up her art supplies and set herself up at the shore, not caring for the bitter cold wind, as her gloved hands wielded the paint brush.

[Celestial]

All throughout the service, Sister Lucille remained in the background. Some nuns sang, some read eulogies, some described their personal encounters with Enna but Lucille simply stood back and let her thoughts mull. Whether people liked it or not, things had changed. Even if this was just a one-off, the mafia had killed and they had declared war. Lucille did not like people killing off her loyal customers. Besides, if it was not a one-off, who else was next? Bea or Stal or even...not Kylie. They would pay dearly if they killed Kylie. But nevertheless, she needed to continue with business. The orders had been stashed in a cove near Sirensong beach and she would lead people out to them whenever the funeral was over. She had to keep on going, work through this...do something about the mafia. The other townspeople were helpless but she was not. She was a criminal too, though one much more noble than a band of murderers. She had taken lives, sure, but they were not human and only when she had no other choice.

As the service came to a close, she waited by Father Niles as people gathered their coats. However, the screams from the cloakroom and the panic around it gave even Lucille a sinking feeling in her stomach. There had been another one. Inside the church. Somehow, that made her very angry indeed. This was a sacred place! She may have been a terrible nun but even she respected it.

Then her blood ran cold when she heard the name. Christopher? The poor blind boy who worked at the morgue? This was cruel, so cruel.

She pushed her way through the crowd, past poor Father Niles who just stood there, completely dumbstruck and past several Sisters who were either screaming or had fainted. She covered her nose with her sleeve against the smell and went forward, not looking too much at Christopher's injuries and closed his eyes. Not that it would have made much difference either way but it was respectable.

"Poor child. May the warm bosoms of the three Weewoos recieve you safe and sound," she prayed before getting up, glimpsing at the note. Abominable Aifam. She made sure to remember that name. This was her town. Nobody got to it.

"Please," she turned to Cheryl, "Out of respect for the poor boy, do not film him. We need to take care of the body and I doubt the morgue will be able to handle this one any time soon," she said, glancing at Dakota weeping over Christopher. She stroked thier head comfortingly before she looked up at one of the sisters who was still standing. "Sister Meridith? Bring me the altar cloth so that we may cover him."

Sister Meridith was in shock so at Lucille's authoritative voice, she took the altarcloth and yanked it off before anybody could protest, handing it to Lucille. She in tern covered the body with it so that the boy's corpse at least was dignified. She looked up at the rest of the crowd that had remained instead of rushing out of the church.

"Please, I know this is beyond awful. But we shall finish mourning Enna before we may arrange the funeral of Christopher. We shall finish scattering the ashes before Christopher's mortal remains are to be dealt with. His soul is in a better place now, the Weewoo has accepted him into its loving feathers. And the mafia will pay for their sins," she nodded and kneeled down beside Dakota, murmuring gently to them. "I know it is distressing but please take his body to the morgue. I don't think he would have wanted anybody else to take care of him like you."

With that done, she waited for her words to take effect and walked into the crowd, standing next to Bea and Kylie. Business had to continue and she slipped Bea a note.

Today, after the service. Join the group I lead for reflection. There, you shall find salvation.

With that out of the way, she switched sides, approaching Kylie this time and almost rested her head on her shoulder. "Be brave and stay close to me. I won't let any mafia get their hands on you, my dear," she whispered, slipping her fingers in between Kylie's for a brief moment, separating before anybody noticed them. She wanted to reassure Kylie, let her know she was there. And let any mafioso, for she knew they were around, know that Kylie was not to be touched. She was sure they knew of her business and why she had kept it running for so long, despite the police and other smugglers deciding that Aifam was not her's.

[Draco]

Jack was sitting on a bench outside. He left the funeral early. Even though he followed things to a schedule, he couldn't sit and watch the rest of ceremony. For it was time for his snack. He quietly ate his crackers in peace.

"Excuse me mista Snape. Do you wanna build a snowman?"

Jack looked down to see Lil' Gavin... He remained silent waiting for a answer, but before Jack could give it he heard a commotion inside the church.

"No."

He got up and walked over to see what the ruckus was about. Pushing through the small crowd he could see what had happened, another death, another murder. Now who was it this time? He examined the body from afar, and once again couldn't recall the person... Looking through his notes he found who he was looking for. Ah, yes, the blind one.

"BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOOOD, BLOOD, BLOOOOOOOD!"

"Excuse me, but this is a crime scene. Since the proper authorities are not currently here, I will take care of the situation."

Scanning the group he saw to many people in the area.

"First order of business, everyone should start to vacate the area. It's to crowded and you may disturb evidence."

Staring at the group again, he can't help but feel they won't listen to him right away.

"I'll allow a few more minutes for you to view if you must, but I assist this door be shut so no one may enter. Once shut, we can gather a few people to make notes of the crime and move the body. Until then, no one may enter the actual room of the crime."

Leaving the door wide open, he stands to the side of it so others may still view and take their own notes.

---

Meanwhile, while everyone is busy and distracted, a small shadowy figure slips past the group through a small window inside the building. They snatch the urn inside and go back out through the window. A small giggle is heard as the figure dashes off through the snow.

[Diana]

"Waste of time… sissy beverages… didn’t even have doughnuts…”

A day had passed and Winston Teakes’s life was still worryingly devoid of cake. He judged his HP to be somewhere around 55 percent and fast dwindling, which was why he had once again braved the wintry chill and the threat of possible NPC encounters.

He bundled his scarf around him and waited for his energy meter to recharge. Walking was just so slow, but he was only allowed short bursts of speed before he had to let himself rest. It wasn’t his favorite mechanic, but he supposed that he needed some constraints on his sheer power.

And – joy. There was another crowd. Usually, Aifam’s NPCs were not very much the crowding type, at least not during the winter months. This obviously meant something was going on, again. But maybe it was the same crowd from yesterday, meant to remind him that he had a quest pending? He briefly debated simply motoring on past - they were outside the heretical church, and Winston paid his proper respect to the Elder Gods – but then he heard a scream.

And, well, he was the hero. There was no ignoring a scream.

He fought his way through the throng of panicked NPCs to peer inside the church, where more still were pouring out into the winter cold. It didn’t look haunted. Could never be too sure, though - the ghosts and demons generally didn’t leap out at you until you were deep enough in the dungeon. The townspeople would at least be out of sight before he encountered any enemies.

The church was well-lit enough - clearly they had just finished some sort of pagan ritual - but the first room he found himself in was surprisingly dim. Where was his light source? He fumbled for his DS and flipped up the cover, letting the light from Pokemon Soul Silver illuminate the path before him.

…

There were no demons this time around, but the scene in the coat room came frighteningly close.

Well. Winston looked at the body, the viciously slashed throat, and swallowed back a stir of unease that most definitely had no business tangling with the world’s greatest hero.

The woman yesterday had been pretty generic. Dead body, pool of blood; he saw that two hundred times a day. This… it was just him. Him and the body. Everything was quiet. Too close. The head was slightly upturned, eyes sightless and glassy. Facing him? Was that - accusation? Had his preparatory levelling caused this? Had he… been on a time limit?

“That’s not how quests are supposed to work,” he mumbled. “I – I didn’t see a countdown. There wasn’t a timer. I–“

He turned on his heel and hurried out of the church, making a point of not looking back. That gash… maybe the graphics here were just too good, but he’d never seen one so angry-looking, so puckered and jagged. The skin, so bloodless, mouth twisted up in a scream…

He swallowed again, as if this unsightly fear were little more than a piece of chip stuck in his throat, and might be cast away as such.

“So, um. I know this was bad and all, and… but, no worries, people of Aifam Cove, for I am here to protect you! And I’m at least level fifty-three now. Where’s that ballet woman?”

[Liou]

The chapel of Aifam Cove was not particularly bright or fun, but it was welcoming and classy, and it was full of Aifam Covers, with all their hearts turned towards the same person. They were hunched and they looked drab, but they were beautiful.

Leopold sat among them, fitting into the decor with his black attire, complete with bow tie and nail varnish. He gazed at the ceremony from behind the coy curtain of hair that covered half of his face, un-gelled and un-spiked for the occasion. He was charmed to see what Lili and Miko had done to their hair for the occasion. It lacked his touch, but it was so spontaneous, so them.

His face was not scrunched up in grief or sorrow. He sat straight, proud to share this moment with the town. For Enna. There was no need to dab at his face yet. While Travis's eulogy was certainly unorthodox, Leo enjoyed it. Unorthodox was his style, after all. It was passionate, and it was probably one of the best performances he had seen Mr Richem give.
Having kept his coat, Leo waited in his seat while the crowd slowly trickled from the pews to the coatroom.

He jumped when the scream came. One of his hands twitched towards his inside pocket, but he caught the reflex and set it back on the pommel of his cane. He did not turn around, understanding what Dakota's sorrowful shouts meant. The young boy with that lost, angelic look, his hair as soft as the feathers of the Weewoos themselves. Leo focused on that image.

His hands clenched around his cane. He had to see, even from a distance. He had to stand up for Christopher. He got up and took a few steps towards the coatroom.

It was the sight of Dakota that really got to him. Sister Lucille had reached them. Bless her. He nodded at the nun when he thought she was looking in his direction. The mascara had already run down to his chin.

He heard someone mention the Abominable Aifam. So it really was that kind of gang.
"Is there any town that doesn't have a bunch of sickos running around?" he muttered.

[Lizzie]

Dakota, petting back Christopher's brown hair, felt a hand on their shoulder.

“Dakota, I know this is hard, but we should leave. [...] Please, come?”

Their eyes squinted. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Sister Lucille close their cousin's eyes.

"Uh, excuse me, but I work at the morgue, I kind of will have to take the body away anyway. Besides, he was t-the only family who still c-c-cared about m-" they broke off, shaking and crying. Their normally bright eyes dripped with tears, and their words were replaced by noises.

"Excuse me, but this is a crime scene. Since the proper authorities are not currently here, I will take care of the situation. ... Once shut, we can gather a few people to make notes of the crime and move the body. Until then, no one may enter the actual room of the crime."

Dakota, through their tears, stared at Jack, and stood up angrily. They prepared to protest, to yell, to do anything to keep him from the body. They had to carry it away anyway. However, knees weak, they wobbled back down to the ground and looked down at Christopher.

Dakota was still crying, leaning over the body, when they heard the scream.

"MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP"

They sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.

"PLEASE MAKE IT STOP, TURN IT OFF TURN IT OFF"

"Christopher?" Dakota squeaked, gazing around the room. Finally their eyes rested on the floor nearby, where... something was seemingly squirming in pain, clawing at their eyes. It looked like Christopher, but it... couldn't be, right? Christopher... he was dead. But it looked like Christopher. So, waveringly, they approached, hair hanging down in their face, and whispered, "Topher?"

[Pixie]

Lili had tried her hardest to remain detached from death, even as she sat in Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo Feather for a funeral. Enna had been only a passing acquaintance, but the heartfelt speeches made Lili wonder what she had missed by not befriending her. Heartfelt speeches did not include Travis's tirade, which irritated her and made her clutch the teddy bears sitting in her handbag. Those, she had brought along in case Enna had young relatives who needed comfort. When she heard Enna had no family, it made Lili think of her parents, whom she had left behind far away from the little island of Aifam. She thought to write to them and find out what they had been up to in recent years. There would perhaps be time to get back in touch after the aftermath of Enna's death settled down, when the sea had claimed Enna's ashes, and everyone went their separate ways. As the conclusion was announced, she was just about to grab for her coat when something stopped her.

It happened all far too quickly. She heard Dakota's piercing, tormented cries. When she ran forward, into the coatroom she saw the young blind boy lying against a coatrack, his neck sliced open with red, red, blood darkening his black clothes. It was followed with a horror to have realized that he had bled out in a church, with so many nearby already consumed by death. He had died like he was dressed for his own funeral.

Abominable, the ransom-note letters printed on a playing card in his hand, was the correct word to describe it. She knew what the card meant; it was the murderer's signature. From the name Abominable Aifam circulating the town, It was Mafia who had slit the poor boy's throat. They had taken him from life far before his time.

Practically, the second murder would throw off the investigations plans she had made with Professor Bardsley the night before. The case became increasingly more complicated. Were the two deaths connected at all? Abominable Aifam was now an important lead, but how could they know if the same mafia had killed both Enna and Christopher?

Lili stopped her investigative train of thought when she heard a soft crying sound. She stood alert. It must have been a mourner, but who? The voice wasn't Dakota's. It grew louder, more distinct, and it sounded like the dead child's voice. As it became progressively clearer, it sounded like he could see, and that he wished he didn't. It sounded like he was being tortured. She made up her mind that second that she had to help. All she had was her teddy bears and sympathies, but she hoped it would be enough. She didn't know the boy very well, but his pain was obvious, and if she could hear him, she needed to show him kindness.

Taking a teddy bear from her purse, a white plush bear with a little blue bow, she focused on the sounds of his cries. She saw a apparition in his form. It made no sense, but there was nothing she could do about it. Christopher was there, grappling at his face, even if he was slightly out of focus. She held out the stuffed animal, and tried to look him in the eyes. She murmured "Would you like this? I am very sorry for what happened to you. I can hear you and you can talk to me, so do you want to tell anyone something? I think... I think your cousin is calling for you."

[Ginz ❤]

Lindsey tried to take deep breaths to quiet down her sobbing, and that's when she heard it. Was someone knocking? Lindsey thought she heard it faintly. She turned to look at the window to see if she could distinguish anyone outside, perhaps a costumer. But instead she saw a white bunny sitting on the window sill. Lindsey stared at it for a moment, but it didn't move. The rabbit seemed to be staring back.

Lindsey took a step outside the cake shop, and started approaching Trixie very slowly. She didn't want to scare her. Once she got close enough, she started petting her. Trixie didn't try to get away, it seemed she trusted her. Her white fur was soft and warm, and it made Lindsey feel better.

"You remind me of a pet I had a while ago, you know?" she said to the rabbit, even though she knew it probably didn't understand her. "I got him from Melanie's Menagerie, his name was Pengy. He was the sweetest little penguin you could imagine, always following me around!" Lindsey smiled at the thought, even though her eyes were still red and puffy from crying.

"But then one day, I decided to bring him to work to show him to Enna. We let him play around in the fridge area, since it was too warm inside for him, but at the end of he day I couldn't find him anywhere. I was really worried." Lindsey's expression turned dark. "Enna and I looked everywhere, but to no avail. Then near closing time, who shows up but Thomas. He turned to me, and you know what he said? He said 'Your chicken tasted horrible. here's its mouth back.' and handed me Pengy's beak, just like that!"

"It was dreadful. The worst day of my life. Well, until..." Lindsey's voice trailed off, and she had to fight some fresh tears wanting to come out. She took another deep breath before continuing. "But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that your owner must be looking for you, and they must be worried sick like I was."

Come on," she said scooping Trixie into her hands. "I think I know exactly who you belong to. I'm a fan of your magic shows too, you know!" she winked.

Lindsey sighed. She was pretty sure she had seen the magician at Enna's funeral. She really didn't want to go back, but what other choice did she have? She didn't know where he lived, so she would have to look for him at the church first. She put on a new coat, packed a small carrot cake (surprise cake deliveries were her favorite), closed the shop, and went on her way, but not before hanging a sign that read HELP WANTED on the door.

She doubted anyone would apply, but it was worth a try. It's not that she wanted to replace Enna, because that would be impossible, but having someone else around meant she wouldn't have to close the shop every time she was out to make a delivery. Lindsey wasn't very fond of the idea of stopping deliveries and sitting behind the counter all day, either.

When she got back to the The Church of the Most Blessed Weewoo Feather, she found a lot of confused and panicked people on the street. The assistant mayor was getting everyone to vacate the chapel. She looked around with Trixie still nestled in her hands, but she realized finding her owner might be harder than she thought...

[Coaster]

Cookouts were rare in Aifam Cove, especially during the winter.

To make it worse, the church folk were hosting it again, and as always, they managed to burn the food.

The whole thing.

Not even anything substantial left to cover up with ketchup. (Or hollandaise sauce, for that matter.)

Needless to say, most of the town stayed and moped around for a while, evidently sad that the barbecue had to be cancelled. Quite a shame, too, especially since they'd decorated and dressed up so well for it. (Also as per usual, they forgot to give him the memo when it was a formal dig.)

He surveyed the scene a few minutes at the start--people socializing as if there still was going to be food, or as if there was anything to do here besides eat; more attention overall given to the lady with the curly hair than to the outraged guest who had now taken to the stage; one other lady tapping her toe to a quick and cheery tune; Fella's secretary unsurprisingly absent, probably absorbed in his work as always; overall, not much reason to stay.

Accordingly, the logical Fella C. made a casual exit when the church folk took to the stage to make their formal apology.

However, just before departing with an empty belly, he was invited back by the familiar sound of screaming--the manner in which he was customarily greeted, from his experience--and so he followed its source to the coat room and peered around the doorway.

Oh, good. They must have still had some meat left in the freezer!

Fella let forth a celebratory screech and went back outside to let some of the stragglers know that the feast would be happening after all, stopping to poke and chirp in greeting at a guy who left in quite a hurry and smelled strongly of cheese powder. (Winston, apparently, but Fella never really bothered to get to know any of the townsfolk very well, except his currently vacationing friends.)

SPOILER: Click to show

Fella mistakes the funeral for a potluck and is annoyed at the church folk for burning the food. When Christopher is murdered, Fella assumes the scream is someone beckoning him, sees the body, assumes the cookout is back on, and starts telling people outside.

[Tiger]

Ms. Fitzgibbon’s camera-bombing startled Cheryl, but of course, she knew the woman’s story, had reported on her missing daughter, and made the connection between the freshly murdered child and Lynna’s disappearance. She ran off before Cheryl could say anything.

“Cheryl,” Pratchett asked, “Keep that last bit, or…?”

“You might as well.”

“Okay…”

She heard approaching footsteps and looked up – she almost breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out to be quiet Nathan Lukas, owner of the Starlight Teahouse, instead of someone just looking for a place on the camera. “Hello, Mister Lukas. I’m afraid I don’t know anymore than anyone else here – maybe someone will call into the station with news, but I wouldn’t expect to hear anything for a while yet.” Her eyes drifted over the crowd near the closet. It would be some time before anything productive was done, she thought.

One of the nuns, Sister Lucille, approached Cheryl. ”Please. Out of respect for the poor boy, do not film him. We need to take care of the body and I doubt the morgue will be able to handle this one any time soon.”

“Of course, Sister. What sort of person would…well. Nevermind. In this town that’s a valid request.”

The Sister quickly got to work organizing and...announcing that the funeral would continue. “Wait – wait a moment. Sister, couldn’t the people who…couldn’t the Abominable Aifam still be nearby?”

Mister Smith, the mayor’s assistant, seemed to be of the same mindset. ”Excuse me, but this is a crime scene. Since the proper authorities are not currently here, I will take care of the situation. First order of business, everyone should start to vacate the area. It's to crowded and you may disturb evidence." Cheryl was less thrilled when he allowed a few more minutes for viewing – but at least they would get out soon.

Albert was looking at her questioningly; Cheryl sighed and nodded for him to continue filming, but she didn’t pay attention to the work of her cameraman. Her eyes were on the people in the room, wondering…searching…had any of them been gone from the room at the same time as Christopher? The killers could be right here. Blood stains hidden under jackets and gloves. Or maybe they had escaped and were out on the streets already.

There was no way to know.

[icon]

It looks like a storm’s coming into town.

You know, they used to tell me that the snow falls just as softly on a town that’s not already broken. We’re not there yet, but two deaths in as many days? That’s gotta be portentous of an uneasy future.

And still it snows. Above all else, it keeps on coming down from above. That’s the thing about the weather; it moves on, whether you’re prepared or not.

Nature never offers concessions. You always have to bring your own snacks.
Or come to a place like this; the Burger Hut. One of the greasiest spoons this side of the highway...

Coena and Ris had been sitting in one of the Burger Hut’s booths, trying to eat lunch, disconsolately listening to whatever came onto the jukebox, when the news bulletin announcing the death interrupted the music. There had been a couple of other folks in the diner; some of them excused themselves shortly after the news. Probably students from Prettyboy, Ris thought.

She and Coena had chosen to pass on the service- Coena felt uncomfortable with going to funerals, and Ris could have gone either way but ultimately made the decision not to attend. The excitement from yesterday had died down. The two of them knew Christopher Dylans, they'd talked to the kid and occasionally dragged him on their adventures; he wasn't just someone in town. He was a kid, he was someone they knew. 

And just like that, now he wasn't.

They sat in their booth in near-silence, punctuated with Ris's staccato bubblegum bursts. Occasionally one or the other shivered, but it was hard to tell how much was from the cold.

[Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)]

Oh right.

He hadn't told anyone about ghosts. Or anyone about anything that had happened on the island for that matter. It was a cruise ship mishap. Simple. Plain. It was a peace town and no one would ever kill anyone else. Simple. Plain.

Maybe he should explain. He wasn't exactly sure how to explain. He actually wasn't thinking clearly. How did he make everything stop?

He closed his eyes because he suddenly remembered he could do that. Everything was dark again. It was comforting. He liked the dark, he liked not seeing things.
But if he wasn't blind maybe he could have seen... he wasn't even sure if he would tell.

"K-K-K-KOTA" Christopher trembled, "Kota, ghosts are real."
WELL DUH.
He was so overwhelmed he barely grasped the teddy bear Liliana had given him. Apparently he could do that. He could feel it, it felt soft. It was so nice.

(People sounded upset all around him. Upset he died? Besides Kota who could care that he died? Why would Kota even care? Wasn't this supposed to happen? Wasn't he supposed to die. He was supposed to die a long time ago. Maybe he wasn't even supposed to be born.)

"Kota, Kota, I know Thomas Everington." He wasn't sure why that was the first thing he said, but he felt like he needed to say it. Maybe he felt guilty about keeping it a secret. Maybe he felt guilty about a lot of things. He kept his eyes closed the entire time. He didn't want to see anything. He hated seeing things.

He got up. Which wasn't as hard as the thought it'd be. He shook a bit. Ghosts can still shake and feel like falling to the ground? Maybe his tendency to do things like that was so strong it carried over. Or maybe he was just a bad ghost.

"I-I k-know the mafia is here... somewhere."
They could have left right? Well, at least one of them had to hear this.
"I'm not mad. I'm not I promise. I forgive you. There isn't anything to forgive you for, really! This was a long time coming!" His voice was shaky. Ghost's voices could shake. Noted.
"A-A-And you can't take back killing Enna," his voice got lower, "But maybe everyone can forgive you. It's over now, ok? You can stop. No one else has to die! Please! Let's just stop"

That was pathetic. But maybe they'd listen to him? Maybe it could just end like that. The end, everyone lives happily ever after. He was dead but he didn't feel very different. Besides the sight thing.
And... he felt phantom pains. Around his neck he could feel the knife digging deeper and deeper. It was not a nice and easy cut. It was a cut meant to hurt. And he could feel hands gripping around his arms. He wondered if there were bruises on his corpse. He doubted it'd help identity the killers, they were smarter than that.

Suddenly he thought of something.

"KOTA DON'T LET THEM EAT MY CORPSE."

[Lizica]

Yesterday, Piper had thankfully scarfed down Miss Tumble's Crab Cake Supreme while helpfully explaining to Mr Stal how the diabolical Webster had destroyed her late camera Snapping Turtle.

This meal sufficiently restored her nerves, and Piper returned to the beach. There, she had sat by Webster's previous burrow--for by now he'd surely relocated after last night's fiasco--and did something she hadn't done for a long, long time. Piper took photographs of the ocean. Photos of the snow and sand, of the cold sea foam, of black skimmers flying above the waves.

And she realized, if she wanted to keep Aifam Cove from imposing a curfew--a curfew that would ruin all her Webster hunting--then tracking down the disruptive mafia must be similar to tracking down Webster's elusive holes. And that meant figuring out where mafiosos were likely to make their burrows. It meant listening for specific communications. It meant avoiding their 360-degree vision with their creepy eyestalks.

Because mafias were really just more homicidal versions of ghost crabs, right? Webster didn't stand a chance.

--

Piper hadn't been to many funerals before. It seemed like a pretty nice sendoff for Enna, though, and Piper rather wished she'd known her better. Though truthfully, in spite of living here for six-odd years, she didn't know many people in Aifam Cove very well. Because clearly she'd had more important errands. Maybe when she finally got that photo of Webster, she could spend some time getting to know the townspeople. But it would have to wait. Stopping a potential curfew and catching Webster came first. As the Travis guy gave a speech, Piper pulled out her camera and reviewed her ocean photos from the day before, studying the smudged crab tracks left in the sand.

Piper again skimmed through her photos after the funeral ended and as the congregation moved towards the cloak room. She wanted to get a shot of the altar and the flower arrangements after everyone had left.

Then someone screamed behind her. The voice was muffled, but its tone of horror was unmistakable. The mafias!

Piper shivered and quickly snapped a photo of the flower arrangements, nevermind that the florist was blocking half her frame. Right. She'd have to be swift: The tide was rising. Her next stop would have to be Town Hall. From one of the upper floors, she'd map out Aifam Cove and figure out where mafiosos were most likely to burrow. Ghost crabs used the water's edge to gauge for a good place to dig. And mafiosos probably had a similar logic.

Then she suddenly paused, staring at her photo quizzically. Piper tapped the florist, Miko, on the shoulder as the other woman examined the flowers.

"Am I just going crazy, or is the urn that was just here now gone? ...Like a camouflaged crab," she added to herself, looking over the area again. It was too bad they didn't have a blanket of sand in the church. Tracks were much easier to spot then.

[Alyssa]

Marie Robinson was having a weird day.

She sat in her repair shop, thinking about the past two days. She’d nearly been blown up, there had been two brutal murders right there in town and the Mafia was rumored to be involved, chaos and general terror reigned in the hearts of the townspeople, and the worst part was that she’d somehow lost her very favorite screwdriver.


“Fritz, I don’t know what’s going on,” she whispered to her cat, who looked up from his meal of motor oil to blink solemnly at her.

When Marie moved to Aifam, she’d been merely searching for a place to settle down for a while, to start a new life. Her old job had not worked because she was far too clumsy to be working on such an important project. She’d made a mistake and had to pay the price. But the wages had not been limited to her job: she had been oddly scatterbrained and forgetful since then.

She felt useless. She had failed before, and now that people were in trouble in her new home, she felt oddly responsible. She was a scientist, an engineer, an inventor! Surely she could do something to help these people and try to keep them as safe as she could, even with the mafia in their midst.

“I just wonder what I could do,” she mumbled aloud. Her robo-cat looked up at the sound of her voice and gave a rusty, clanking meow. Marie picked Fritz up and gave him an appraising look. He could use a new voice box, and maybe a good polish and oiling.

Suddenly she was struck with the perfect way to help. Fritz could use much more than just a touch-up. With cat in tow, she dashed inside and began to rummage through some boxes of spare parts.

As a few piles of parts grew quickly around her, Marie wondered “I wonder what he’d look like with a couple of rocket launchers?.”