The Irishman shrugs and takes his seat. "I've said me piece. The wise'll be th' ones listenin'."
"Damn right, get out o' here." Thadius wipes his nose.
Clarence chuckles. "Nobody's goin' anywhere, lad, as ye well know."
"No, but you not defendin' nothin. Makes a 'body mighty suspicious. It gon' be real funny when you tryin' to get somebody lynched who ain't deserve it. Then how you gon' feel, old fart? You gonna feel vindicated, or like the Lord watchin' you make a damn fool of yourself?" Thadius grins at Clarence.
"Can't say as I've had t'deal wi' makin' a fool o' meself yet, nor killin' any innocents, unlike some... nor do I expect ta be doin'."
"We got a butcher, two mafiosi, and den dat crime boss n' you ain't make your peace wit' da lord? How old is you really?" Thadius quirks an eyebrow at Clarence; a clear what in the world is that man thinking?
"You know wha' Clarence. When the time comes to lynch, you do it yourself. I wan you to feel it when you sully a good name. Heck, I volunteer. Don't nobody gotta vote now, jus' kill me and we be done wit' it." Thadius stares Clarence right in the eyes... then immediately turns his gaze on Hamish.
"It you ain't it? You da butcher. I think it clear as day."
He grins, "Dat, or you a detective and you f!#% up bad. If dat true, Mafia should be shootin' at Hamish now. Dey gon' find out one way or da other ain't dey?"
Dan looks around, not sure if he's being played or if the animosity is real. There's a distressed look on his face at the flying accusations, seemingly with logic to back them up; but maybe not with proof.
"So someone should protect Hamish? Then they can get no information from him. And we only get information to take with a pinch of salt?" Dan turns to the pair of ladies beside him wondering what they think.
"No, somebody ought to kill Hamish. I sayin' we should lynch him. He tellin' lies to this ol' fart 'bout us. Then he say he near the death and butcher do that to his face? Uh huh. So what he sayin' to Clarence there, huh? Clarence don't say, but he sure b#&++ and moan when anybody else say somethin'. All Hamish do is get us riled up. That ain't no way to be catchin' no Mafia. I suggest, therefore, dat he be one o' dem... and based on what he say I be thinkin' he da butcher. Prolly gon' die now from makin' too much sense." Thadius spits on the ground.
"A strong accusation Thadius. I think it's pretty clear that I'm on the side of good. If I were Mafia I'd have jumped on Clarence's bandwagon to off The Duke rather than stick my neck out for him. Your moral conscience is still unaccounted for, And despite what you may think about me, I think you're one of the good guys."
"Then what you be sayin' to that old coot? E'rytime I turn 'roun' you doin' somethin' to spook a fella. Tell us why you ain't one o' dem." Thadius watches Hamish as he seats himself at the table. "What I 'sposed to be thinkin' huh? Whisper a few words to that feller and he 'straight up accusin' me? Nuh uh. Gimme somethin' work wit' here and we koshah."
"Couldn't Hamish be a normal villager, just provoking t' Mafia into attacking 'im. In t' 'opes of being protected by BadGerMan?" Dan wonders, "If so then, that'd 'ave given us an extra night ....unless some dumb baker spilt beans." he realises and looks ashamed.
"That bull-plop. We ought' be workin' on catching the actual mafia. If you gon' throw damn accusations, then we gon' throw damn accusations. Lees' I give a reason. That man col'. He just flip a coin and still wan' kill. That col'. That butcher stuff." Thadius shakes his head at Dan.
Dan looks up from Tina, back to the argument. "Aye, maybe. I don't like flipping coins, fate don't hang kindly." tapping a finger against the side of his face, a symbol of him thinking. "Sorry, jus' sharing possibilities."
Tina pats Getika's arm lightly hoping to comfort her somewhat "Little sister would be good, I've never really had someone like that, that I can rely on."
Her eyes widen when Dan comes over to her and she wonders for a moment if somehow he heard her "I'm sorry Mr. Dan, it's not that I don't think you're trustworthy, but I didn't think it was a good idea for anyone to go off away from the group on their own."
When Clarence mentions there's too much whispering going the young shoemaker looks like she's been scolded "I'm sorry, it scares me not knowing who I can depend on... I guess it feels safer not telling all my thoughts to the whole group, I was only agreeing with Clara that we don't know who to trust, and told Getika not to go off alone with anyone."
She watches the argument between Clarence and Thadius nearly turn to a fight, she didn't want to get involved in it, and even if she did, she couldn't say which was right. When Thadius turns his attention to Hamish she looks towards the man in question, still finding it somewhat difficult to look directly at him the scarred face and stern manner was rather intimidating.
She gives Dan a somewhat startled look when he seems to look towards her for some advice "I ummm I don't know about detectives, Mr. Cunningham is real scary... and he didn't seem concerned at all when Gustav and the general were... hurt. He's not the butcher though, I bought roasts from him just the other day I think his name was... Tim? I don't know what bandwagon he's talking about though I don't remember anyone accusing him... does that mean there's actually no mafia?" she says hopefully
"Then what you be sayin' to that old coot? E'rytime I turn 'roun' you doin' somethin' to spook a fella. Tell us why you ain't one o' dem." Thadius watches Hamish as he seats himself at the table. "What I 'sposed to be thinkin' huh? Whisper a few words to that feller and he 'straight up accusin' me? Nuh uh. Gimme somethin' work wit' here and we koshah."
"Do you have any proof that I was actually discoursing with him aside from his word?"
"You know what the worst thing about having a face like this is? It's impossible to make a impression on people. Even beyond the physical, underneath all people see is a creep. Well I tell you, I've been places! I've seen things! I've done nothing but good for people. It's no surprise that you'd accuse somebody like me. Hell, I'd think it was me."
The fact of the matter here is that I've defended more people here than I've accused. Yourself included Thadius. Just because the old man claims something does not make it true. When it comes down to it he's just doing the same thing you and me and everybody else here is."
"Trying to save their own skin."
"Yeah yeah, Mistah Cunningham. Is all well an' good to hide behind yo' face. I ain't judgin' you on yo' face, tho'. You like my daddy, a right bastard."
Getika almost snarls when Tina gets upset and glares at those who have upset her, "Whispers are in the wind as no bear is found. We cannot see bear and finding tracks takes time."
"Protection," Getika shakes her head after wiping her eyes with Dan's handkerchief and handing it back with a nod of thanks, "Expect this we cannot. People not commodities to do with at will. Truth eventually tells on lies but slow it is."
The arapaho walks over to Hammish and looks at his wounds to see if she can tell how old they are as she had been training as healer of her tribe, "The wounds be true and new but truth," She shakes her head, "Not all is he telling." She had heard words about metal and zero gravity while near the man and knew it was stranger than normal.
"Part truths. Not all facts. Facts will tell the path." The native woman looks about calmly at each person then notes, "Start with pockets. Not all emptied so truth can be there. Excuses tell much."
"Thankee, Getika!" Thadius smiles with vindication and nods toward her with approval.
Getika glances at Thadius and back to the others, "I mean all who felt not to empty pockets. As for mister Hamish, more so. Mister Hamish chose from those who refused to vote. No care for facts. No care for life." She walks back to Tina's side as if to protect the other woman.
Coraline quietly emptied her purse on the table. Her dress has no pockets.
On the table is a small enameled keepsake box, a locket with a cameo of a plant (rue), a small silver box for cosmetics, a compact, three unused handkerchiefs, a small bottle of astringent, a small amount of loose change, a thin ladies wallet, a leather notebook, three fountain pens, a pencil, a small pocket knife, a hairbrush, a comb, at least ten hairpins, a hat pin, a tiny geode, six feet of twine, three packets of what appears to be correspondence, each one tied up with ribbon, various bits of ribbon, a hand written recipe for chess pie, a small breviary, a rosary, and a slide rule.
She commonly wears and is wearing a chatelaine, which has keys on it.
Taking back his handkerchief, he stuff it in a top pocket and is pleased that the native lady is so wise.
Dan smiles at Coraline, not wishing to intrude upon a ladies personal effects. However he feels obligated a quick glance and a small nod of his head; "Things get a bit heated. As they will." he says quietly to her.
After scribbling a few more things down, Willard sets his pen down and sighs. "Well ladies and gentlemen, the end of the hour is rapidly approaching. I do believe we have another decision to make," he says in an unfortunate tone, "Might anyone have any ideas that do not amount to nothing more than inane conspiracy?"
Geoffrey stands from where he has remained slumped and without a word goes over to the "confession" table and removes the following items from about his person:
- One grocer's apron
- A whittling knife
- Several small stubs of cut wood
- A few small branches
- Some loose coins
- An apple
- A pad of receipt paper and a pencil
- A note with a woman's handwriting saying, "I think only of you, my love."
- A woman's perfumed handkerchief
After a moment's hesitation, Geoffrey also produces a small two-barreled gun from his boot.
- Derringer - both barrels loaded
Geoffrey looks at Hamish. Then he looks at Clarence.
"Seems you two er the ones with suspicions...who is the next to die and why?"
The Irishman remains seated and speaks calmly. "I've said me piece, an' I stand by it."
"In all honesty I still haven't a clue who the Mafia are. I only know who is innocent. Another random vote wont go over well with you people so for the moment, I am lost."
"I don't know how y'all could even think 'bout food now. Mebbe you soldiers got used ta killin', but us townies ain't." Clara sighs. "Now everyone's spoke up fer themselves, I dunno who ta vote fer. 'Cept Clarence be makin' me purty mad, throwin' claims around willy-nilly. He tryin' ta confuse things, I think. Or he's just cornfused hisself. Don't make him a mafia though, even if he be a mite crazy."
"If anyone has an idea as to who the miscreants may be, perhaps they should say so clearly."
"One mistake has already been made. It's important we not make another one."
"Detectives may have some ideas, but they can only be so sure. With a bit of fortune, we can stop a murder from 'appening." Dan grits his teeth, knowing trusting that everything rises in the end is not good. But also that to lynch an innocent would be equally bad.
The author ponders Coraline's words, humming under his breath, "Yes, perhaps that might work..."
"If anyone has an idea as to who the miscreants may be, perhaps they should say so clearly."
"One mistake has already been made. It's important we not make another one."
"Unfortunately, without concrete evidence throwing claims like that around can make you a target. It seems for now that time and luck are the only things that will yield answers."
Coraline gathers her personal items and returns them to her handbag.
She listens attentively to the men speaking but remains silent herself, having said her say.
Dan moves over the door and opens it, the waft of corned beef & cabbage enters the hall. "You were right Duke, in many ways. Smells nice and homely."
"Calm heads need to prevail. Not that I've got much appetite, but..." Dan looks to the kitchen.
"Wish der were magic, cownbeef ain't what I had in mind for a last meal, mon amis."
Eyes downcast, Geoffrey also retrieves his belongings. Inwardly, he finds the whole situation terrifying and agrees with Clara regarding the food. He doubts he should even dare to think about eating as his stomach clenches and roils. The two corpses still cooling in the corner, both men worthy of a decent and honorable burial, were still very much on Geoffrey's mind. He knew that in order to survive this night he needed to trust and help the judgement of others. But being a part of a mob was almost as frightening as the thought of being the one facing them, and he had a hard time not putting himself in the shoes of someone being accused. It seemed it would be all too easy to find oneself there.
Getika watches as Geoffrey and Caroline empty their belongings and listens to the others speak. She turns to the two and nods respectfully to them, "Thank you for showing us. Strong it is to open to others. Geoffrey," She turns towards the man, puts her hands together and bows, "Brave it is to show a weapon of distance. You are open and true." She smiles at Geoffrey showing him that she now trusts him.
The native's eyes move and she takes a breath through her nose to steady herself, "Four have not shown their selves for what they have upon their bodies. The wind blows ill for concealment."
Hamish looks on at his spectators.
"Please don't think ill of me for this. I thought I'd be hanged on the spot if I had presented it earlier. However since Geoffrey's honesty is so well received I'd rather you find out this way."
Hamish reaches into the breast of his trench-coat and removes a police issue revolver from an armpit holster and places it on the table before him. The side of the pistol is clearly stamped with the insignia of the Scrafton county police force. He then reaches into his side pocket and pulls out a Police badge and gently tosses it on the table beside the gun.
"A few items that I "forgot" to return to the station after I resigned. Check the chamber, its fully loaded. I haven't shot this in a while. If you smell the barrel you'll know it hasn't been fired recently."
The native woman nods at Hamish and does check out the weapon, "Truth is told." She says calmly and puts the weapon back upon the table, "With this truth I relinquish my last weapon. It is priceless to me as a gift from my sisters." She removes her little knife from it's soft hiding place, takes the leather band off over her neck and puts it down beside Hamish's revolver. It is a strong show of respect for this small weapon has been upon the woman day and night since it had been given to her.
"Only three are left. We do not wish to hang innocents but if truth is not shown then guesses resume. Rumour has more strength than truth if not shown."
"On the contrary, Miss. There is no better lie than the Truth."
Getika turns and chuckles at the writer, "That can be correct. Will you show us your pens?"
With an indifferent shrug, the writer empties his pockets.
Numerous fountain pens clatter onto the tabletop, several of which are rather expensive looking. They are followed shortly by five small jars of high quality ink, two of them all but empty. He takes more care with these, gently placing the glass vessels down one at a time. A white handkerchief embroidered with WW flutters down, a couple of ink spots blotting its otherwise clean surface. The lot is joined by a silver pocket watch, attached to a length of slender chain.
Reaching into his pack, he finally pulls out a large stack of paper, setting it down next to the rest of his belongings.
"Thank you." Getika says as her eyes lower in thanks then she sits beside Tina and sighs, "Two left. As for eating it is good. Hard to do but necessary like mafia search. Bodies need food or brains get weak. Good thinking needed is. I shall eat and in thanks, and memory, of good people."
"Y'all dig in; I ain't gonna eat nothin'. If I figger right, only one person's voted ta kill someone this hour and it's Mister Clarence, on the grounds that Mister Thadius voted to kill someone last hour! Mebbe somebody kin explain to this dumb country girl how that make a lick o' sense?"
Clara shoves her possessions back into the pockets of her overalls in disgust.
"I s'pose next hour it'll be me gittin it 'cause I voted first hour, too. Sound like justice, don't it?"
"A vote's ben cast...shall Mister Lumpshire be sent to death on Mister McFadden's vote alone? Good citizens need to vote, too...we shed let the guilt of er d'cision hang on the heads of all...not jes one. 'Unamus' should our naybors die iffin they must die at all."
Geoffrey briefly looks up from under the brim of his low pulled hat at the room's occupants.
"Does any-body hava reasun for any-body other than Mister Lumpshire to be done in as a mafiaman?"
"Don't have no reason for Mister Thadius, meself. Agin, I worry 'bout the quiet ones. Guilty conscience, I think. Mr. Warren bin awful quiet since the General was shot, ain't he?"