Mafia The Third: The Seaside Town of Aifam Cove

[Birdy]

Hermia Smith sat in the chapel, listening to the eulogies being given. But as the givers spoke, as they told of their memories of the late Enna, Hermia couldn't help but wonder if anyone had actually told Enna these things while she had still been alive - while she could actually appreciate them. Why was it that people always waited to say nice things about someone until it was too late? Until they were gone? Even as she asked herself these questions, deep down she already knew the answer.

Because you never expect that the ones you care about will be taken from you without warning.

You take for granted that their life could be snuffed out without warning.

You take for granted that you see them every day.

You think you'll have time to say all those nice things, someday, when you find the time.

But as Enna's death had proved, sometimes they run out of time before you find it.

-

As the service concluded, Hermia rose from her seat and shuffled out the door with the other mourners. As the group walked to the coat closet, some spoke quietly with eachother, while others were quiet.

It was then that the screams came.

Hermia froze. Being at the back of the group, she could not see what had happened ahead of her, in the closet, but she knew that whatever it was, judging by the scream it could not be good...

"The mafia!" shrieked one of the mourners...

The mafia. She'd heard those words too many times recently for comfort.

But now, someone was pushing their way through the crowd, demanding to know what had happened, despite protests from one of the nuns.

"CHRISTOPHER!" came the heart-wrenching shriek. "No! No, no, no!"

Hermia's stomach twisted as a wave of nausea passed over her. She couldn't stay here. She needed air.

But it was then that pandemonium broke loose.

Some began to shriek of ghosts, the assistant mayor began to ask that people leave the premises (a request Hermia was glad to grant), and Travis Richem began to spout some nonsense about the deceased being his brother.

Hermia didn't care to stay to listen to Mr. Richem's blubbering, so she joined some of the mourners exiting the building.

As she stood in the cold, she rubbed her arms, trying to spread some warmth into them. She hoped someone would come along soon to give further instruction.

[Liou]

Just as someone mentioned the possibility of the culprits' presence among them, Leo clicked. His eyes went over the entire crowd several times, then, cursing under his breath, he hurried to the doorway to glance at the car park. No unfamiliar cars. None of those he had noticed before the service were gone. They had already had plenty of time to escape, anyway, and he would have recognised the sound of the engine.

Thoroughly unimpressed by his own reflexes, he wandered back inside the chapel, gazing at the now-closing crime scene. He refrained from scanning the others' faces and clothes. It would do no good to become suspicious of everyone, especially in this town, where not a single person could slip past the weirdness radar.

He remained silent through the screaming and appeasing of Christopher's ghost. He shook his head at Lili. "Girl, you cray-cray!" he muttered, eyes fixed on the wonderful magical floating teddy bear. "But if you got telekipsychic powers, that could be real good. I think peace is what this entire town wants... minus a few."

At the very second Winston's hand landed on Travis's shoulder, Leo turned around, his eyes sparkling. He squealed under his breath. At least something cute had happened.

After Mrs Fitzgibbon had leaned on her chair, Leo's eyes widened. He strutted over. "Lady, some of us may like to hang out, but we sure as haute couture ain't gonna hang each other! Obviously there's a mafia goin' round. It's killin' our cake ladies and cute lil' boys, it's sneakin' into our chapels, it's losin' its playin' cards, and it's got fantastic abdominals, I presume. Someone's gotta find those creeps, figure out how they train their abs, and kick them outta town." He stopped for a second as an idea struck him. "I got it! We have to find someone whose deck of cards is missing one!"

He went over to Lili and laid a hand over her shoulder. "Girl, I ain't no psychic or supersleuth, but if you or your sexy professor boyfriend need anything, Jennifer will be glad to give you a ride on her seat. I have a basement with some cool stuff in it, too. You're welcome."

[Draco]

Jack stood there waiting for some volunteers to help, he couldn't help but listen and watch everyone who were around. Studying them. Taking notes on them. Then there was the one in the wheel chair. Going through his notes, he didn't recall someone in a wheel chair. Of course, it could have been recent, but still seemed odd. With more studying, he realized the issue... The dramatic one, the thief, the 'star of the show.' The Mayor allowed his antics. Unsure why, but he did. But with what was going on currently, it wasn't right to humor him right now. He walked over and took the handles of Travis' chair.

"Come along now Mr. Richem."

He wheels him outside and leaves him outside.

"We don't need needles dramatics at this moment."

He walks back inside to stand near the coat closet again.


---

Outside the church and the surrounding area there are more and more snowmen appearing. The kids are going nuts making them. Each different in their own ways. Some were bigger, some smaller, some had noses of carrots, some of coal, some had clothes, some did not, and some even had accessories. One, not that far from the bakery held a small chocolate cupcake. Another, hidden behind a few others, near the church had no eyes placed on the snowman.

[Stal]

Mr Stal was having a terrible day.

First he woke up to a message from Miss Tumble informing him she was leaving down after the murders and would be on a crusade to save the undead penguins. So he was short staffed for the day.

Then there was the funeral for poor poor Enna. Her poor soul, moving forward. She had been sweet enough, and Mr Stal did hate to see her shuffle off the mortal coil...

Then the Abominable murder happened. Poor Christopher (and he still owed Mr Stal money for some of his meals! How dare he die with debts left to settle!).

Mr Stal didn't like being in this church. He specifically was not an adherent to the religion, and despite his pub being next door to the church, he did not much care for the nuns.

Yet he watched the panic. Everyone panicking, everyone bustling around. Mr Stal was not bustling. He was staying still, observant. Watching Sister Lucille who was not panicking. Watching her take charge, covering the body quickly, trying to direct attention....

He found it very curious for a nun.

He narrowed his eyes. "Sister Lucille... I may want to keep an eye on her..."

[Avery]

Friendly Narrator Note/Reminder: Recall, execution votes are due tonight at 6pm Eastern (about eight hours from now). So far less than half of you guys have voted, so make sure to get your voice heard-- and your lynch vote in-- as soon as you can! Also remember, everybody except Mafia members get to vote-- that means regular townspeople, both Constables, the Chemist, and the Bomb, all get votes.

[TJ Wagner]

She was surprised to see that the Urn was missing, but she had no real answer or response. Other people could look for it. Although it wasn't the popular response, she honestly didn't care that much. It was just some ashes. She didn't even know why someone would have bothered stealing them.

This was boring anyway. You would think that the discovery of another body would be interesting, but it was rather dull after the initial scream and rush to catch the glimpse. Besides, she hated being in church.

Casually, she walked through the crowd and made her way outside. It was cold, bitterly cold, and that was exactly how she liked it. Removing her coat, she made her way back to the small, flower shop. She walked slowly with an exaggerated twist and wondered if anyone was noticing.

The warmth of the shop hit her with full force and she frowned darkly. The odd plant in the corner perked up as she entered. She knew that Miko wanted to talk to this weed.

Personally, she'd just as happy to torch this whole place.

[Kristykimmy]

The closet had finally been closed by the assistant mayor, and the church was gradually emptying. The scene in the coat room had gone from tragic to bizarre rather quickly. She wasn't sure if she'd actually seen Christopher's ghost, but if she had, the talk of hangings was ominous, what could he mean by that? The boy had obviously been through awful things even before this terrible and abrupt end to his life.

Anna walked through the church, pulling on her coat. She thought about going to Stal's restaurant for lunch, she was not really in the mood to cook, but he was there in the church, so she guessed it would be closed. She'd been surprised to see both Stal and Miko at the service, but then again, her own appearance might have been surprising. Despite being religious, Anna had never liked the church in Aifam Cove and had been in it only a handful of times.

There was some element about it that always bothered her. Having Enna's ashes stolen during the chaos over a murder in the coat room wasn't going to help that any. It felt awful, but she was annoyed by the knowledge that she would likely to have to be back for Christopher's funeral in a few days.

She walked along, deciding to go home. When she reached Dywight Antiques, she happened to glance over her shoulder at Everington Cakes. There were lights on inside. She remembered that she hadn't seen Lindsey during all the drama over the second murder. Despite the fact that she just wanted to go into her warm apartment above her shop and try to forget everything that had happened, she turned on her heel and crossed the street. It wasn't about her. Anna was still alive and had lost no one who meant anything to her. She could get over herself long enough to see if Lindsey was there and needed anything.

She knocked on the door of the cake shop.

“Lindsey, are you there? It's Anna from the antique shop across the way. Are you all right?” she called.

[Lizzie]

Dakota was lost in a state of confusion, their tears finally drying fully.

"K-K-K-KOTA, Kota, ghosts are real. ... Kota, Kota, I know Thomas Everington."

"I know, you're here, that's proof enough ghosts are real," they said softly, reaching out as if to touch Christopher on the cheek. They found that their shaking hand went right through his ghostly body. They missed his baby soft skin.

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

"I really don't think anyone here is a cannibal," Dakota said as the group was shoved out of the room by Jack.

But suddenly, watching Christopher screaming about being hung, they had an idea.

"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.

Dakota's phone rang, Party in the USA playing loudly. The noise was jarring, completely different than the mood of the room. They managed a smile, and let it ring.

[Gelquie]

It wasn't long after Kylie's suggestion that the three of them stepped out of the church, heading in the direction of the beach. She felt utterly relieved when they had left the chaos inside the church, although she kept casting a worrying glance towards her mother. One murder was enough to stir things up... But two? She couldn't deny that she was afraid, but she couldn't help but also be afraid for her mother; if something happened to her...

She noticed quickly that Lucille had taken to her side, although she didn't make any movements towards Kylie this time. When the nun extended her protection to Kylie... It was clear that she was sincere. She was happy for this; with things as chaotic as they were, it was better to have company than not. Especially when it was someone so... compassionate. Still, she took another glance at her mother and resisted the urge to make any motions towards Lucille. Besides, this was business; she didn't want to attract too much attention.

And for that same reason... Kylie resisted a sigh as they neared the inn and stables. It was probably for that same reason that they couldn't all ride there on horseback. As much as she wanted to ride with the wind in her face, to feel the cold air snapping her out of her day and hallucinations, she wasn't quite sure it'd be a good idea at the moment. Besides, she didn't know if Lucille could ride a horse either, and an inexperienced horse rider would also draw attention to their activities.

So on she walked. She did her best to stick close to Bea, but she couldn't help but feel herself drawn closer to Lucille... And sneaking glances her way. The way she handled all the situations before... If anything went wrong, Kylie was sure she could trust her to help out, and to keep themselves alive.

[Ginz ❤]

Going back to the church had been a terrible idea, Lindsey realized. She had tried to ask a few people if they had lost a bunny or knew of anyone who had, but to no avail. Everyone was, understandably, more concerned about the most recent murder. Lindsey was too, and that was exactly why she didn't want to leave Trixie to wander on her own. The mafia had attacked a young, blind boy. She didn't think killing an innocent animal would be beneath them either, and there were rumors that there were two mafias in town. She couldn't take any chances. She wouldn't let anyone lose their pet like she had lost hers. She decided to go right back to Everington Cakes Limited once again. She could hang a few 'Found' flyers later.

When she got to the shop, however, she noticed a few odd things. There were strange footsteps all over, the door had been scratched and the doorknob was broken. She could feel cold sweat all over her body. Had the mafia broken into her shop? Were they waiting for her inside? They had killed Enna, what made her think she wouldn't be the next victim they'd go after? The mere thought made her shiver. She put Trixie down and pushed the door softly. It opened.

"Hello?" she called and waited for any sound, but there was none. She took a step inside and looked around. Her cupcake display was a mess, some of the cupcakes had been eaten or nibbled on, but other than that, nothing seemed different. "Did you do this?" She asked Trixie. There was no reply.

Adrenaline was still pumping inside her body, but she decided not to let it get the best of her. There was no use being paranoid. It was okay. Everything was okay.

A knock on the door made her heart skip a beat and start racing again. “Lindsey, are you there? It's Anna from the antique shop across the way. Are you all right?” a voice called.

Lindsey hesitated for a second, but then she remembered how just the previous evening, Miko, the florist, had delivered a beautiful arrangement of lillies to her. The card said they were from Anna. She figured she was someone she could trust, so she opened the door.

"Hey, Anna, it's good to see a friendly face," she said, trying to her her voice not to shake. Recent events had made her jumpy. "Things have been so awful lately, I can hardly believe all that's happened."

"Thank you for the flowers you sent yesterday, by the way. It was a really nice gesture. Look, I put them on the counter," she pointed to them vaguely, "right where Enna used to..." her voice trailed off.

"Anyway, can I help you? Can I offer you some cake?" She attempted a smile, but it wasn't a very good one.

[Nova]

“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.”

It was true. No one's heard anything. The townspeople were getting restless, with two murders and no evidence, no confessions, nothing. There was going to be a a catalyst soon, and the townspeople would strike against the Mafia very soon. Cheryl turned to the nun, and Nathan took his leave.

All this negativity. He turned to happy thoughts: fluffy bunnies, the murders will stop, all the money he'll make in the summer, the mafia will leave, Lindsey and him playing video games together.

That was better!

He wandered the streets, hands in his pockets, surveying the beauty. It was an overcast day, but Aifam in snow really was beautiful. Perhaps he'd bump into somebody for a conversation. 'Woo knows he needed some good company before the town revolted, and possibly killing one of their own.

[Avery]

Somebody needed to pay.

After Enna’s death, the townspeople of Aifam Cove had been frightened and devastated, certainly—but with most clinging to the steadfast delusion that her murder had been a one-time event, sure not to repeat itself, they hadn’t let their minds drift to revenge, or justice.

But then, Christopher died. A sweet little kid not even out of high school, his throat cut like an animal’s as everyone in the town sat just one room over. The victim could have been anyone: this realization dawned upon the town, and once it took root, it wouldn’t let go. As the day progressed, it festered in their minds like an untreated wound—an itch at first, then a burn, then something that consumed their thoughts completely.

Somebody needed to pay.

**

He was too collected. Too bossy, his reaction too neat and tidy. Ordering everyone out of the church with hardly a scrap of emotion—stalking off yesterday to alert the mayor, his head far too level, given the shock of the situation. Or so the townspeople decided.

“You seem to be taking this well, Mr. Smith."

The jeers came slowly, the veiled accusations dripping from the townspeoples’ lips. But then, as more citizens latched on to the idea of this man as a mafioso, the finger pointing grew more overt. More heated. Within a few hours of Christopher's death, the claims had reached a fever pitch.

“Well, it’s my job to stay cool and collected,” Jack refuted, trying to brush off the venomous allegations. “With the Mayor busy, who else is there but me to make sure that this town doesn’t go absolutely crazy? I mean, some of you were mad even before what happened yesterday.” His eyes fell on some of the crowd’s more eclectic members—the ‘reality show’ star, Travis; the deluded gamer, Winston; the crab-hunter, Piper.

“But there’s a difference between staying collected, and being unaffected,” spat back the townspeople. “And—who’s to say you even ever alerted the mayor yesterday? Perhaps it was all a game of pretend. And you’re trying to control everything we do so that it’s easier for you and your mafioso friends to kill us all!”

Jack tried to counter the accusations. Tried to use logic to convince the townspeople that such ideas were insane: the mayor really was just busy, and had appointed Jack to manage the situation in his absence. He was the mayor's assistant, after all; he was just doing his job! But the townspeople could not be swayed.

As Jack guarded the coat closet, where Christopher’s body still lay propped against the coat rack with a split-open throat, the crowd formed loose rank around Jack. He demanded they step away.

They did not.

Instead, they grabbed him. He screamed and kicked, but they gagged him with a scarf. And then they dragged him—adrenaline surging, pulses racing, possessed by a feeling of revenge and justice for poor Christopher and Ena—out of the church onto Stalberry Road. They quickly crossed the street and began through the deep snow on the other side of it—towards the cliff edge.

It was a sheer drop, below it snow dunes and jagged rocks. There was a guardrail at the edge to remind people of the danger, and signs warning not to perch atop it; but the townspeople ignored these. As Jack continued to kick, they draped him over the rail.

“Stop!” he cried, spitting out the crude gag. “Stop it, please! I’m innocent—someone tell them I’m innocent! Gavin or—or anyone!”

No one spoke.

The people holding Jack let go of his arms, and down he fell, his body tumbling in a free fall. He hit the ground headfirst, his neck connecting with a particularly sharp rock. It broke instantly.

He was dead.

And afterward—

The mood in the crowd was… strange. The energy one of agitation and relief mixed with some sort of shock over the fact that their town had devolved to this. If you’d been looking closely, following gazes… you might have noticed certain eyes connect. Certain pleased smiles forming between lips, as the members of two separate mafias thought to themselves: Hah! Jack, a Mafioso? What fools!

Jack Ryan Smith was an INNOCENT TOWNSPERSON.
Both mafias will kill tonight.

[Draco]

Jack was a simple man. He liked things done with a plan, a reason, and order. But there was one flaw to him, he lacked most emotions and had a memory problem. As he was pushed over the edge, he whispered to himself.

"I don't want to go..."

As he fell over the cliff, he started to count how long it took for him to fall.

"Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Si-"

His ghost rose up from the body, pulling out a now ghostly notepad, and scribbled down some more notes.

"Twenty-Six seconds to fall."

He looked at his body and shook his head in disgust.

"Wish I could have fallen more precise..."

His body was like a rag doll, flailed out everywhere, but at least he was whole.

"Now for the other order of business..."

He stared at another ghost that floated next to him. This one, looked exactly like him... In looks that is. The difference was he was spazzing out every few moments, he wore a pear of boxers on his head like a hat, and he had no glasses. Oddly he also had a tint of purple to his ghostly form.

"It's the end... but the meat has been prepared!!!"

"I think you meant, 'It's the end... but the moment has been prepared.'"

The crazier version of Jack... Just what he wanted to deal with. Ont he plus side, he could actually freely think now. That, was a plus.

"So... You. What was it you called yourself at times in my head? Afe? Yes, that was it, I remember for once. Afe, what do you plan to do with yourself?"

"Mahahaha! My mind is on fire!"

"...I see. Well, have fun with that."

He floated back up the cliff, counting as he went.

"Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight... Well that seem's off."

He glared at the people who remained flew off towards Town Hall to see the 'Mayor.'

Moments later Afe flew up following him and looked at the people.

"Over here, my sweet meats, your prince of justice and genocide has something to say: Gone are the days of the tentacle and the age of the gods and mercy is far away... We are the fighters of the middle, the second act in the three-part MEAT play, AND I WILL WIN BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR!"

[Tiger]

Cheryl Roxanne Lewis didn’t agree with Lucille’s judgement at all – but there was really nothing to be done. The nun was already gone. The town’s craziest were already reacting to Christopher Dylan’s body. She reported in tired spurts.

“Travis Richem, the man who thinks invisible cameras record his antics and that he can make anyone do anything he wants through the power of these nonexistent devices, is currently throwing a fit at the coat closet. Dear viewers, for the sake of decency I will not repeat his insane ramblings, merely remind you all that he is a liar and anything he says about Christopher should be treated with the same dignity and consideration as the slush piles in the streets.”

“There’s still commotion around the body. Mayor’s assistant Jack Ryan Smith is investigating the scene as best he can. Also, he has removed Travis Richem, the man who believes he is so important that surely, surely cameras must be watching him from on high, from the church and improved the atmosphere tenfold. …Also, if anyone from the morgue is watching, since, you’re apparently not answering your phones, please send some representatives to the Church.”

“The service has ended…the church is starting to clear out. Dear viewers…I’ve started to notice a few people acting oddly around a certain spot. And…there also seems to be a floating teddy be- oh. Wait. No. Now it’s fallen to the floor. Hmm.”

As the station cut to commercial…the remaining crowd began to simmer. Cheryl watched, nervous. Albert filmed, silent. Pratchett didn’t say a word but Cheryl knew he wasn’t running the footage. While sponsored messages played on live television, the crowd grew angry – violent – they dragged Jack out of the church – Cheryl looked around for the nuns but there were none to be found.

She hurried after the crowd, already too late to do anything more than shout at them to stop. Albert filmed. Silent. The crowd didn’t stop. Jack Ryan Smith, mayor’s assistant, was pushed over the cliff edge. Cheryl saw their mood change from rage to relief and confusion. Her stomach chilled and she backed into the church, almost dazed.

She stared at the camera. Commercials wouldn’t be over yet. They would be expecting a report – the people would expect a report. But what could she say? Reporting on Enna was one thing – reporting on Christopher was a slightly different thing – but she had seen Jack murdered. The dead – one thing. The dying – another.
She handed the microphone to Albert and went to the closet door. Had he been hiding something? Was there something on the dead boy’s body that would at least incriminate him as a mafioso? There had to be something that meant Cheryl Roxanne Lewis hadn’t just seen her townspeople, her loyal, dear viewers, murder an innocent man.

She pulled the door open.

The body was gone.

There was blood. Blood everywhere. But no body. Where had it gone? Cheryl had been watching, Albert had been watching – no morgue workers had arrived. Where was the body?

“Cheryl – on in five, four…”

Cursing, Cheryl closed the door, leaned back against it, stared at the camera. Albert leaned forward and handed her the microphone. Cheryl Roxanne Lewis slowly took it from his hand. She straightened. She brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Aifam Cove – I intended to be elsewhere. Covering a different story. But. Things in this town compel me to stay here. Loyal viewers…I – I must report two things. Firstly…the body of Christopher Dylans…morgue-worker…has vanished from the room it was in. Nobody has entered the room since it was closed.

“I also regret to inform you that…that Jack Ryan Smith is…is also dead. Details…details to come.”

“Cheryl!” Cheryl ignored Pratchett. He was forced to cut the feed. “Cheryl – I saw – I didn’t broadcast it but I saw it – details to come?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Her voice echoed loudly in the church. “Get the film put to tape. Of the entire funeral, from the moment I leave the coatroom. I’m coming to the studio, and I’m going to watch it and find what happened.”

“Cheryl, I already looked, I didn’t see – “

“Pratchett. Just do it.”

[Kozma]

After Jack Ryan Smith had been dealt with, Aaron decided that it would be a good idea to go home and contemplate all that was occurring. Three residents of Aifam Cove were now dead and it didn't seem like things would be getting better soon. Who would be dead next? Would it be the news anchor, Cheryl Roxanne Lewis or would it be the other morgue worker, Dakota Allen...

or would it be him?

Upon returning home, Aaron immediately noticed Trixie's pen. Trixie was absent and the chains around her pen were completely secure and undisturbed. It seemed the little escape artist had done it again.

Aaron wasn't too worried about Trixie's disappearance; she always showed up sooner or later whenever she vanished. However, Aaron was a little worried due to all these recent events. There was no telling what could happen to the rabbit.

Aaron decided he would have to go out and search for Trixie. It would not be an easy task; she could hide almost anywhere. His best hope was that one of the other citizens had found her so he went off to ask them if they had seen her.

He decided to check over by the church first. It was there he saw Cheryl Lewis reporting on the disappearance of Christopher's body and of Jack Smith's demise.

“I also regret to inform you that…that Jack Ryan Smith is…is also dead. Details…details to come.”

“Cheryl!” Pratchett responded. He was forced to cut the feed. “Cheryl – I saw – I didn’t broadcast it but I saw it – details to come?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Her voice echoed loudly in the church. “Get the film put to tape. Of the entire funeral, from the moment I leave the coatroom. I’m coming to the studio, and I’m going to watch it and find what happened.”

“Cheryl, I already looked, I didn’t see – “

“Pratchett. Just do it.”

Aaron wasn't quite sure what was going on but he decided to ask Cheryl if she had seen Trixie. There may be a few other things he would ask her as well...

---

At this time, Trixie was still with Lindsey Lukas at the cake shop. She hoped that Aaron would find her soon, otherwise she'd have to go out and find him.

She watched as Anna entered the cake shop...

"Hey, Anna," Linsdey greeted, "It's good to see a friendly face. Things have been so awful lately, I can hardly believe all that's happened."