"Huh. Name a day of the week when I ain't nearly runnin' over Thadius in the street or lyin' in the gutter. 'Afore I got Bessie, ol' Henri used to nip at 'im. He probably got the tooth marks still," Clara snorts. "If you's a cop, howcome you's so rich, Hamish? I thot the policin' don't pay."
"Couldn't been almost run over by a prettier lady, mon cheri. 'ceptin' when you had dat horse..." Thadius rubs the back of his hand.
"Well, shucks, if we have to accuse someone then I blame the German, Gustav, never did trust you Kaiser, no hard feelings now."
"I was there when Sheriff Rastley was murdered, albeit he didn't know. I was doing some Detective work on the side at the time. I was trailing one of those Mafia scumbags, but little did I know that his target was Rastley."
Hamish pauses for a moment. This is obviously very emotional for him.
"By the time I realized what was going on it was too late. I couldn't save him... Worse yet, I got caught myself. How do you think I got this pretty face of mine? It was luck and quick wit that let me escape with my life. I never came forward about it because I didn't want to be a target. I swear I'll get revenge on the Butcher who killed Rastley and left me looking like this, no matter what the cost."
Hamish gets serious again.
"I quit the force the next day because I couldn't handle the guilt"
"As for my cloths Clara, I made some wise investments in the Stock Market that paid off after I quit. Not that it would matter either way. I wouldn't be caught dead being dressed as a commoner."
"The tragic martyr, murdered by the insidious mafia... a daring detective, horribly scarred during a case... a pair of mysterious vigilantes, hiding in the shadows... Friend or foe?" Willard mumbles excitedly as he transcribes his words. He takes a second to read over what he just wrote, to see if it looks as good on paper as it sounded. "Yes, this would be perfect!"
The writer's excitement suddenly fades, the man returning to his reserved state. "Hm. But it's still missing something. There has to be a twist."
Geoffrey sits in the corner as the talk turns to killing and the General is the first to suggest someone for death. He feels very, very alone upon hearing these words and he sighs to himself.
"...I vote for Mr. McFadden..." the quiet boy says.
"What a surprise, topic turns to murder and Mr. Jacks pipe up." Dan says quietly to the nearby General.
"Now about this Hamish, so did you spot the Mafia man, or woman's face?" the baker queries the ex-detective, whilst pulling up his sleeves. 'Bluff, or double-bluff. This scarred man is very clever.'
"No Dan, I did not. As mentioned in my earlier statement the Mafia are smart enough to conceal their identities. I didn't catch the Butchers gender either since I was taken by surprise."
"Point well taken our criminal could very well be a lady, though the term would be applied in the least restrictive manner."
Getika nods slowly to the man and watches him for a moment before going back to listening to the conversation. This would soon become a tense situation as everyone wonders about everyone else. At this time it seems to be calm enough but people who are in fear react more negatively over time.
"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."
"Too early to tell who is who yet. Criminal finding time it takes."
The native listens and wonders who would be the first to be strung up. She has no clue as of yet as to who was the culprit or culprits in this situation.
"Duke, he looks the clever kind of fellow." Dan adds smiling at the writer.
Picking up a chair and easing his weary bones, with a feeling that it'll be a long night.
Willard's pen stops. "Me? A detective?" he says with a frown, looking up from his notebook again, "Perhaps you're mistaking me for the protagonist from one of my earlier novels, The Storm Peace Betrayal, William Gainsborough. He was a detective. I suppose I can understand why you might be confused, though. It was in first person, and my name was on the cover in rather large letters... perhaps you mistook it for my autobiography?"
Tina is quite surprised at how openly most people defy the laws prohibiting alcohol, if they have no respect for those laws why follow any of the others? They couldn't all be mafia could they? She looks nervous, and stands near Clara who had stated she didn't drink feeling a little more secure near her.
As Dan mentions his shoes are too tight she brightens a bit and pipes up "I can fix that for you Mr. Dan... I wouldn't charge you nothin, just make me one of those cherry pies!"
As the talk turns to murder and killing, and people start putting out names of whom they would like killed, the young girl goes from seeming nervous to downright scared, she looks like she might cling to Clara or hide behind her. The nice cargo hauling lady couldn't be mafia right? "I... I just want to make shoes, I don't want to hurt anybody."
"Hey General, whatchu do round here since you gone from de arsenale? Where you get your etouffee?" Thadius asks, "You from Louisian'?"
"You are too kind, Ms. Wolfswift. Of course, it would be an honour." Dan adds noticing that the skilful young craftsman is nervous.
"Tis my fault, I were up in t' hills...." he holds up a hand; "I know, these are solid boots you made us; but not meant for galavanting in t' hills."
Clarence grunts. "Aye, an' why would ye suspect me o' bein' one o' them, lad? I'm no more ready ta go killin' folk than Clara's horse is ta sprout wings an' fly."
Geoffrey looks embarrassed at Clarence's question, and he ducks his head to hide his face under the brim of his hat.
He mumbles very quietly, "Don't really 'spect you...not really...but I gotta be a good citizen...a good citizen votes...my pa always say so...gotta vote fer somebody...ev'ry-time. Guess I can change my vote...who should it be?"
Dan comes over and claps a meaty hand on Geoffrey's shoulder; "Aye, you Pa was a good man...in many ways."
He looks back to see how Clarence responds, not doubting too much the innocence of the farmer.
Things were dire indeed!
"I don't think killing anyone is a good idea right now. What if you kill an innocent? I'm pretty sure that's a mortal sin. Not to mention, they might be a customer."
Coraline looks as though she is about to cry.
"I don't think killing anyone is a good idea right now. What if you kill an innocent?"
"Unfortunately Coraline, waiving your vote would only give the Mafia the advantage. You see, I have it on good authority that they can strike at any time without notice. The longer we hold out the greater their odds are of picking off the "Good Guys" or rather discovering one another's identities."
Hamish puts a hand on the sad girls shoulder and says in a sincere voice:
"Not doing anything is worse than voting because you are condemning only the innocent to die. So tell me, can your conscience handle that?
"Well, lad", the General responds to Thadius, "I don't rightly do much of nothing since I retired, 'cept sit on my porch when the weather is nice. I'm not from Louisiana, but I spent a little time there. Years ago I hired a lovely maid that treats me better than I deserve, when I'm lucky she makes a pot of etouffee, a right bit of incentive to keep an old man like me in line, I tell you."
"Well, kind sir, if we be walkin' from dis I'd be much obliged if'n you'd let me try some o' you cook's food. I ain't had none so good in a while. I bring the refreshment." Thadius grins at the General.
Thadius looks over at Hamish again, "Or we's condemnin' two ta die. We all know that there more than one among us. We kill the wrong body, dey still gon' kill 'nother to get out. If'n she no wanna vote, that her right."
The Irishman nods at Dan, and again at Thadius' words. Though he addresses Geoffrey, he looks around at everyone as he speaks. "Y'can't be killin' people wi' no evidence... y'd be as bad as they are."
"Ha! That's a deal, boy, you bring the drink and we'll sit down to a right good meal and share some stories." the General tips his glass to the southern gentleman.
Thadius laughs at the Duke's words, "When a man ever change a woman's mind? Heheheh" He slaps his thigh, rocking in his seat.
"Not doing anything is worse than voting because you are condemning only the innocent to die. So tell me, can your conscience handle that?
"I don't really know Officer Cunningham, but he makes a good point. It was an Irishman that pointed out something along the lines of the only way for evil to win is for good people to do nothing... if we just abstain, the mafia gets to pick us off one by one. I might've just been a coalsailor (), but I figure a shot in the dark, is still a shot at the enemy..."
"Hmm. I reckon if we has ta pick someone, it's justice, not murderin'. We're like the jury, only this time us wimmenfolk git ta sit, too. We should do it, ladies, so the men stop thinkin' of us as weak fools. I'll be votin', that's for shore. But who? I'm thinkin' our deli man is awful quiet-like. Mebbe a guilty conscience? Mebbe jus' a big dip in that ol' pickle barrel o'his. He'd best speak up fer himself quick."
Getika snorts and looks about, "When hunting criminals a person then can shoot at the first person they see on the street?" She pushes herself from the column and shakes her head, "Doing such does not stop the true culprit from crime again."
The native woman goes to a stool and sits on it calmly, "Killing just to kill right it is not. Less of innocent gives criminal more time."
"Aw hell, I be votin' fo' Gustav too. He just ain't been right since that incident wit' da mule, too quiet..."
"So's ya know, the law in this here town is dead, slaughtered. Ain't nobody gonna protect us but us. An' it seems to me that some varmint with burden o'guilt weighin' down his wicked heart might see fit ta keep his mouth shet 'less'n it let slip his evil. I done work for Gustav and he always dealt square. 'Sides, his food's good. I like Gustav, always have. Nothin' ud cheer my pore heart more than hearin' him defend hisself."
Clara sighs and drifts to the serving table to take a glass of tea. "Cora? Tina? Miz Littlemoon? Care for somethin' a bit lighter than the gennelmen are havin'?"
"Dis still a democracy or not?" Thadius asks jokingly, then his face begins to sour into a more serious one, "No, really. We a democracy or not? We a mob? We all just t'inkin' who gon' live and who gon' die. Dey abstain, that on them. Let the res' o' us decide. I good wit' dem lettin' us make da choice fo' em."
Thadius turns to Getika, "I'cn 'spect your decision, mon petit chou, but what if he be one? Nobody gon' force you, s'your right to say nuthin'. You take dat chance, though?"
"We outnumber the criminals, we're more likely to enact justice upon ourselves than we are the Sheriff's murderer." Dan thinks hard.
"We've got to hope that 'the German', or badgerman" he throws up his hands slightly confused, which causes his cup & saucer to rattle. "Well that they can stop t' klling, tho' I doubt him, or was it t' Chicken you said Thadius, even exist." The gruff bakers words are confused. Clearly torn between acting and mulling it over.
Sipping his tea, he looks to Clara a forlorn expression upon his visage, which is opposed by the twinkle in his eye. "So, I'm not a gentleman?" he cannot keep the teasing tone from his brogue.
He picks up a Chelsea Bun putting it on a plate for Clara. Underneath there is a napkin, of course.
Hamish flips a coin.
"For now I'm voting only for those who refuse to be a part of the process."
"Ooh, xenophobia. Makes for a good dramatic device."
Dan looks across to Hamish; "True but sometimes thee's got to act against an unfair system. So I ain't gonna be upset with those who don't want blood on their hands."
Although he shrugs whilst he looks in the tea pot. "I would however say, those that kept silent completely are a tad suspicious."
With a soft clank of a teaspoon grasped lightly in his calloused heavy fingers, he adds; "Geoffrey has been asking for people to be bloodied. This could be the action of a butcher?" unusure it's half a query.
"Or just that o' a wee laddie who's got no business bein' drug inta this in the first place."
"Suppose so, I'll see what he has to say before I change my mind." Dan acknowledges, feeling the burden of democracy upon his shoulders.
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"A small glass of sherry, might be nice. To settle the stomach."
Coraline glares at the odd scots. He not only voted for her, he did it randomly and didn't spell her name properly. If there were anything or anyone than a well dressed, scarred, illiterate, gambling scotch ex-policeman, she didn't know what it was. Life could not be so cheap as to flip coins for it.
She resolved that if ever he came to her shop, she would over charge him.
Tina shakes her head when Dan talks of it being an honour to have his shoes fixed by her "Oh foo Mr. Dan, fixin shoes is what I do, and bakin's what you do, just makes sense we help each other. Besides momma loves your pies."
The young shoemaker nods to Clara at her offer of tea "Thank you Clara that would be lovely." She stops to think of Clara's point that the women should vote and not just leave it up to the men to decide.
She looks up wide eyed at Hamish when he decides he'll chose at random from the people who didn't think they had enough information to condemn someone. Tina shrinks away, this time not resisting the urge to partially hide behind Clara, one hand clinging to the woman's clothing. "Is he really going to make a decision that could mean someone's life by flipping a coin?" Her voice trails off, and if she says anything else it's not loud enough for the group to hear.
"Thank'ee, Dan," Clara nods as she takes the roll, "I'll jes pour you some tea, Tina. An' for all the fancy talkin', I doubt but that Mister Cunningham's makin' as good a decision as any. Still an' all, it ain't what I'd do."
She hands Tina a glass cup of clear amber fluid, slightly steaming.
"Ye might as well be doin' that, lass; how's your way any better than 'is? We've got no evidence... y'can't just be killin' people without any evidence. There're some in here who're actin'... suspicious, if ye ask me. Maybe it's nothin', but how many have suggested we kill a man when we don't know anythin' at all 'bout the circumstances? Look ta them..."
Clarence looks a bit abashed at having said so much, and gazes down into his teacup thoughtfully.
"Ye might as well be doin' that, lass; how's your way any better than 'is?
"Thank you for seeing it my way Clarence."
The Irishman's face hardens. "Don't ye twist my words, man. I'm sayin' we shouldn't be killin' anyone afore we know more."
"In that case I apologize. It was not my intention to offend you."
Seeing Hamish and Clarence make up; "See that's better, just cause of the murder. We mustn't lose our humanity jus' cus someone else did."
Then he blushes and rubs his lightly bristling forearms at Clara's words and Tina's compliments of his confectionery. "What type of pie would thee Ma like, Tina? Cherry?"
Getika shrugs and responds to those who have gone against people who refused to choose, especially Dan Haworth as she looks directly at him with dark, uncompromising eyes then to Thadius Lumpshire, "Being called what I am not, this I am used to. Getika can have blood on hands yet when shoot a killer bear I track, shoot right bear."
"Tea is nice." She answers the other lady calmly.
"G'luck wit' dat, mon amie. Just r'member, we got mo'n one bear to be huntin'."
Thadius mumbles to himself... "Can't see the bears through the trees..."