"Last refuge of t' vagabond, is diplomacy." He leans over to say to the person next to him. "Though 'aving it out in t' open can be worth it. Guess that's what the meeting 'tis for."
Moving over to Tina; "Well, from what the Sheriff said they were 2 separate vigilantes that tried to stop crime. Though as Duke Leto said it could have been Bad German, which would fit with t' plane." Dan ponders, nodding to the noble.
"Old Sheriff 'e 'ad a bit o' an accent." to the carter he asks; "Clara, you do a bit o' tinkering - you ever fly an Aeroplane?"
"Reet true, ne'er heard a man talk more 'onestly than after a drink. Or more fractiously." Dan sniff the drink for a second wary that it might be poisoned then sips it anyway.
Clarence sighs. "We aren't gettin' anywhere wi' this, laddies, an' all of us have lives ta be livin'. Unlock the door, I say, an' let's be off. Ye can only ignore tha world for so long."
"So the wine is a metaphor..." Willard murmurs, scrawling some more notes down on his page. "Yeah... good stuff, good stuff. There could be this philosophical scene where they are drinking wine together. The wine means..." He looks up from his notebook at the Duke. His pen doesn't stop moving. "Well?"
Coraline looked troubled.
"Why can't just get along?" she said quietly to herself.
"If anyone wants a little extra to defend themselves with, we have some cheese balls that accidentally hardened back at the shop. And if all this proves to be a tempest in a teapot, they soften nicely when steamed."
All this talk of badgerman and the chicken greatly confused her.
Coraline then sought out Clara.
"Thank you for carrying our cheeses. The stationmaster, Mr Descartes, said they were at the cargo depot in plenty of time and in good condition for the train. We should have another load in a few days, if that is all right? And there should be a couple of crates for the shop for the return trip. We're getting low on wax, rennet and annatto. Thank you so much."
"This here coulda been catered at leas'..." Thadius grumbles, "I'm gettin' a powerful need for some vittles, some crawfish etouffee... and where da tabasco?"
"I could eat a meal. Who knows how long we might be here."
"Why shore, Cora! Ain't no trouble 'tall, leas' not with Bessie -- that's the new truck. She'll get it all thar and back fast, don't you fret none." Clara beams at the prowess of her new vehicle, then looks to answer Dan. "Naw, I don't tinker with Bessie. Don't wanna break nothin'. Shore wouldn't know 'bout them planes. I seed one once, way up in the sky. Plum amazin'."
*scritch scritch scritch*
"Would you... like some... cheese with that wine? Ha ha! Perfect dialogue!"
"Crawfish etouffee! Son, I had no idea you had such fine tastes, do you make that dish yourself?"
"There's some iced buns at the back of the hall." Dan states softly; "Near the tea urn, there's some butter too."
He looks to the observer scratching down words, and sidles over to him trying to get a look at the writing.
"Heck naw, once you had Mammy's dey' ain't naught that compare, Mon Ami. What I make is but shadow of dat." Thadius says back to the General, "I ain't had none so good since I when back up Acadie and come on back home for dem' southern crawfish."
"There's some iced buns at the back of the hall." Dan states softly; "Near the tea urn, there's some butter too."
Jin still sits at the bench along the wall of the town hall... his head spinning from the echo of the doors being locked. Things seemed to move so fast he still trying to catch up on all the conversations.
Food? Why not... something so normal in all this craziness."Back of the hall??" Jin moves off to grab a bite to eat, it looks like we'll all be here for a while.
"Aye, the Duke speaks true, a well fed man is a happy man, and that makes the Baker's offer that much more important. There, lad," the General calls out to Jin, "Bring some of those rolls for all of us. If we're to be locked up here 'til the Mafioso's are dead, then let us break bread and sit together while we sort out this mess."
Jin smiles through a mouthful of roll. "Aye aye - they're pretty good too, but you'll want the butter." He tries to find a way to juggle the two plates while not getting any of his printer-inked hands on anyone else's food. He manages to make it over to the General and Duke with the smile still on his face.
Clarence watches the proceedings quietly. When the rolls have been retrieved and passed around, he clears his throat. "So... how're we gonna be findin' out who's who?"
Enjoying that the gentry like his rolls, Dan adds; "Questions? And answers? Maybe someone will crack, maybe someone who is good at t' investigation & knows he can trust someone will work it out."
Pouring a couple cups of tea, he hands one to Clarence. ".....sugar.....milk?....."
"Whiskey?"
The Irishman shakes his head wryly and accepts the tea with a grateful nod.
Dan nods towards The General; "Think 'e might have something, t' make thee tea 'Irish'." He winks warmly, "Or Thadius? I haven't got a flask or liquor...." with a pause, and a shifted look he adds. "not on me at any how."
Putting a hand on the mans' shoulder, "Though choose thee cup, wouldn't want to be accused of poisoning you. Ain't like I'm a Sicilian." he jokes.
"Ah heck, I got a flask, good stuff too." The General pulls a silver flask from an inner coat pocket and passes it to the Baker, "Seems right to be sharing what I got, 'Irish' up everyone's drink, if they be wanting it."
Absorbed in his writing, Willard does not take any special precautions to hide his notes from prying eyes. He doesn't seem to even notice that Dan has taken a peek.
In addition to the notes he's been allegedly jotting down, Willard has been transcribing every last word that the people around them have been saying since they've been trapped in the town hall, accompanied by annotations indicating any particularly "cool" lines.
|
Duke Leto opens his leather travel bag, pulling forth bottles of wine...
"I would not normally be burdened with this much drink, but I was looking for opinions of variations in the harvest of these different seasons."
He holds up one of the bottles...
"A fine 1918 House of Atredies."
"So much depends upon the weather an how it heats and cools the grape."
Taking a small sip of his tea, he looks to The General with a smile for his kind offer. Followed by a guilty glance at Clara, he then quickly turns and passes it to Clarence.
"A good year, the end and a new beginning for many. I'm sure a fine vintage, much too good f' like o' me." Dan looks to the Duke with a harrowed darkness in the edges of his eyes. For the War was not kind to Dan.
Clarence nods appreciatively at Dan, and then at the General, and adds some flavor to his dead plants steeped in hot water.
"So, what with dis mafia anyway? I hear dey rob an' kills goo'folks, po and wealty both. I hear dey be havin' fas-cars and beatin' shopkeeps. Sounds mighty stupid, if'n yah ask me. May be big talk all up in little town, how dey do when dem federalies come on down?"
Thadius looks about the room, glancing at those remaining quiet. "Ey, you all hear da one 'bout the barrister up in Atlantie? He try to do his math, so he call in his secretary and ask her, "If I gave you twenty thousand dollars, minus fourteen percent, how much you take off?" She say, "Erything but my earrings, sug'." Thadius begins chuckling to himself.
Dan laughs at Thadius joke, it's a rich but dirty laugh with earthy undertones. "Aye, seems to me that the Mafia-types be thugs, though I expect thar leaders be posh lads or summat. But tis terrible if they be doing all those things, that and killing Sheriff."
"What you think Coraline, Tina? You had any thugs trying to break your shop? Or demanding cash?" Dan wonders.
Jin mummbles to himself, "I guess with Sheriff Rastley gone all laws are being broken." Now, Jin's not one to shy away from the drink (his father Draper never drank, but Jin's brother James more than made up for the lack - Jin's consumption falls somewhere in between)... but drinking so openly, and in the presence of superior officers is a bit shocking. ()
Jin's wide eyed stare is finally broken by Thadius's joke. He nearly spits out his roll as he laughs.
Coraline's eyes widened at the question. "Oh no, nothing like that! Of course last year this shifty looking man said he could get us discount Roquefort, no questions asked, but I showed him the door and haven't seen him since".
"What you think Coraline, Tina? You had any thugs trying to break your shop? Or demanding cash?" Dan wonders.
Hamish pipes up at Dan's comment.
"Even if she did get a good glimpse of any of these, as you say "Thugs", she would likely never recognize one. They take measures to cover their faces and other distinguishing features. They wear gloves."
"Organized crime is a serious business. These people are professionals. They are methodical in their behaviour. I'd say the word "Thug" hardly describes these people at all. I'd even go so far as to say that they'd even find it offensive."
Standing in the shadows, leaning against a pillar within the town hall, Getika Littlemoon has stood listening to all the rest with half an ear but keeping watch on the writing going on in Willard Wainwright's notebook. This was not the place to make herself noticed and if anything they may be setting to string her up as she was not a regular town person as far as anyone else knew.
There was more going on in this room than some knew and the native was not about to get into the middle of any argument but then hears something which amuses her.
"Thugs they be what they wish. If they want seen to be, seen they shall be. If not then seen they are not. The fairer sex may know more than the likes of you. Then maybe not. Depends. Maybe you look where danger is not. Ignore where danger is thinking it not there."
Her deep chocolate eyes are fixed at the wall where she can seem to be ignoring everything when she can see movement from the sides of her eyes and is positioned where no one can get behind her. This would not be the first time a native had their throat slit for not being "too careful."
"Calm yourself lad, we are in the company of the fairer sex, some things are best left among men."
"Apologies Duke, some things have the tendancy set me off. It's just a bit of post traumatic stress left over from when I was on the police force. Dealing with the death of Sheriff Rastley has been hard on me. He was a good friend."
"Dey thugs. You think a tie change that, or a hat?" Thadius asks, tapping his knuckles on the back of his chair. "You seem take offense to it. You be one o' dem boys? Huh? Who you be anyway?" He looks at Hamish.
"Well Thadius, the only thing I find offensive is your accusation. Check the case files, you'll find the proof in there. Or maybe you just have a thing against cops, or former cops? I've done more good for the people of Scrafton than you'll ever know."
"I don't see you explaining yourself."
'Yes, I thought the accusations would start flying soon.' Dan thinks uneasily.
"Glad to hear that, Hamish. It's shocking what's happening in the town. It's usually so peaceful."
"I never did hear the right of it, what exactly happened to the sheriff? We all know he was murdered, but I've never been told a how, where, when, what, or why about it?"
"Aye, so who do we string up...." the baker pauses looking melancholy to the others; "That's if we have to string up anyone at all, those of us who'd know 'bout detectorising... Well I'm sure they haven't had time to work out which of us is a vile thug."
"As for me own opinion; well we let bread rise in it's own time." he says obliquely.
Clarence sighs and shakes his head. "Sure an' I'm glad yer all here ta work this out. Ye've decided the Mafia can be rich or poor, hard-workin' folk or idlers, fancy or jus' normal... aye, an' that sure narrows it down! Did ye want us all ta line up ta see who can dance, too?"
"Dance! My knees hurt just thinking about it! I say the baker has the right of it, we let bread rise in it's own time. You gettin' that writing boy?" the General calls over to Willard, "There's your metaphor if you're still needin' one."
"My shoes are too tight, but it doesn't matter, because I have forgotten how to dance." Dan says dourly to Clarence.
"Well, yesterday I was up early as usual. Up wit' t' lark and making fresh bread. Clara, didn't you come by around 8-ish? For a loaf." Dan rubs his chin trying to remember how he spend the rest of the day; not even knowing what day the Sheriff was murdered.
"Who I accuse? You? I just be askin' who you is..." Thadius winks at Hamish, "Quick to be turn' around, no? Dis what they want from us, no doubt. It no matter if dey rich o' po, smart lookin' or what... fact o' matter is dat they be somebody here. Don't go sayin' who dey not till we find who dey is."
Thadius rolls his eyes, "You need alibi? I get pick up by Rastley for disorderly conduct. He throw me in jail that night, when I wake up I got the best hangover I ever did have and they tossin' me in da streets again. Nearly got run over by Clara, prolly on her way to see you Dan."
Looking apologetic to Thadius, knowing that the Southern gent was a fine man - even when inebriated.
"T' grand thing is that we can all do our part in uncovering t' truth. Even those of us without a proper education, or clever detectorising skills can help." Dan walks up and down the room.
"Firstly, I'm sure t' murderers will reveal themselves in their words." He glances towards Willard, "'twill be too tricky for t' guilty not too. Then we can facilitate communications." the baker looks proud at saying the word and knowing its meaning. Obviously the word of the day calendar has increased his vocabulary.
"If we occasionally whisper amongst ourselves we can allow those who is detectives and those who trust one another to communicate." Dan rasps his chin, then leans down to talk to Willard.
"And if it's alright with t' wordsmith, we could borrow scraps of paper to pass messages?"
Thadius rolls his eyes, "You need alibi? I get pick up by Rastley for disorderly conduct. He throw me in jail that night, when I wake up I got the best hangover I ever did have and they tossin' me in da streets again. Nearly got run over by Clara, prolly on her way to see you Dan."
"Can you confirm this statement Clara?"
It takes a few moments for Willard to realize that he has been spoken to.
"Huh oh wha? Ah, paper. Yes, I have plenty to spare. I am only taking notes after all - cannot very well start writing a novel with all this going on."
The writer pulls out a few clean sheets of paper, holding them out to Dan.
"So, why you former cop, huh?" Thadius looks back at Hamish, "You fired? You quit? Whachu do?"