Search Posts
So who did the investigators (detectives and butcher) investigate each round, and what did they find? Clara's votes for assassination were: Hamish (to either kill quick [detective] or test [mafia]), Geoffry Jacks [blood brother], Duke Leto [protector], Coraline [suspected townie], Getika [suspected protector - great bluff on that, darn you!], and Coraline [too late!].
I thought Tina was the other mafioso until she said 'but you'll vote for me anyway' which totally confused me. Then I thought Coraline was just playing it safe and quiet and Tina was the protector.
"'Cept I already sed it, Mister Thadius." Clara half-smiles at Thadius.
"Damned shame, too, 'cuz I allus thought Mister Thadius was downright handsome. Hard to believe he could be so cold."
"I don't care so much fer myself, Miz Coraline, but if you let Mister Thadius live, he's gon' kill you, too, jus' like pore Mister Jin and all them others." Clara swallows. "Then the town'll be all his, jus' like he wants."
"He's right even when he wrong, Miz Coraline," Clara smiles grimly. "Glad I ain't in yore shoes." She grimaces as she realizes what she said and looks ruefully at the body of Tina the cobbler.
"Nah, I'm not the Chicken, Cora." Clara sighs. "Wish I was, then I coulda done more ta pertekt folks. I just works, is all."
"She was... Miz Tina was one of 'em," Clara sniffles, "I cain't hardly believe it. But Miz Coraline? I cain't see you bein' no killer. But you, Mister Thadius, was always callin' fer blood. I tried ta believe Mister Jin, but mebbe he got it wrong, poor strangled feller. I voted agin' too many friends today. I cain't vote 'gainst Miz Coraline."
"This is awful," Clara whispers, tears starting, "But if we don't find the mafia, we'll all be dead. Tina... I'm so sorry."
"Mister Jin trusted you, Mister Thadius. Did he tell you 'bout who is mafier?" Clara folds her arms around her body and shivers. "'Cause I sure ain't knowin' who ta vote fer."
"Wal, if Mister Jin was right, two of the wimminfolk be mafier, right? Lessee, that's me, Coraline, Tina, and Getika. If'n we lynch one, we gots a fifty-fifty chance a' gittin a mafier. If'n we don't, the mafier gits a free kill, purt near." Clara shakes her head in confusion. "'Course, the Chicken is still out here somewheres. Could be any of us, I guess." Clara's eyes practically cross as she tries to figure out what to do.
"Miz Coraline, you sayin' the one what din't vote mus' be mafier? You think Miz Getika's a killer?" Clara says unbelievingly.
Clara sobs as Dan slumps to the floor and gives a cry of dismay at Jin's death. "Now what we gonna do, with no detective?" She glares around defiantly. "Y'all may think ill of me, but Dan was a good friend ta me and Mama 'afore she died. He made sure we got bread every day, even if it was what he din't sell that day. Some days was all we had. He had a good heart. Guess I didn't know everythin' 'bout him, but he was a good guy in some ways." She sniffles. "I'll miss 'im."
Clara covers her face and sobs, unable to watch the fate of one of her oldest friends.
"Waal, I sed I'd vote the way Mister Jin did, 'cause he picked out the Butcher. Guess I better. Makes me sick, though. Dan, if you's not guilty, I swear I'll not rest 'til the ones who called you out get theirs." Clara sits with head bowed, tears dripping onto upturned hands resting in her lap, bathing the hard-earned callouses.
"Hardly, Dan. Mister Clarence kept slanderin' me, if ye recall, which got my dander up, yes it did. I'm sorry for it, but the ol' coot shouldnt'a oughta said those things 'bout me. I barely kent wut he sed 'bout Mister Thaddius." She gives Thadius a little shrug. "Sorry, but it's true."
"I ain't turned on ya, Dan. But is what Mister Thadius said true? Did you turn pore ol' Clarence agin' Mister Thadius an' me? Why wouldja do that, Dan?" Clara regards her friend with tears in her eyes.
Clara pales as the votes against her old friend pile up. "What do I do? I don' think Mister Thadius is mafier, but Dan? I cain't believe it. He coulda pizened us all iff'n he wanted." She sits and mutters quietly to herself. But if Dan nor Thadius is mafier, nor Jin, that means most of the ladies is... and ladies ain't like that, nossiree.
"Mister Jin were right 'bout the Butcher, an' he been sayin' all along that Mister Thadius be innocent. I'm inclined ta bleeve Mister Jin if he kin tell us who's ta blame fer the killins."
Clara watches the accusations fly with dulled eyes. "Mister Jin, might y'all be able ta tell us aught 'bout Mister Dan or Mister Thadius or Miz Tina?" she says heavily, "Else I cain't vote a'tall."
Clara ducks back in horror from the spray of blood and the Butcher's horrid visage, hands clapped to her mouth and tears starting in her eyes. "But... he..." she chokes, after both bodies have fallen to the floor, then takes a deep breath, swallowing hard. "So the Duke was Badgerman?"
"Mister Hamish seems awful eager to do the job hisself. I think he be the butcher."
"It's a tie. What... what do you think, girls?" Clara asks Tina and Getika.
"Goldurn it, I jes' voted! Now Mister Jin, yer throwin' rocks at the hornet's nest. I think ya might be right, but... oh, shoot. Lemme think 'bout it."
"Welp, I don't b'leeve Hamish, I think the Duke done bin fooled, an' I ain't sure Dan is a Crime Boss. But there's two 'ginst Thadius and one vote fer Dan. I'm gon' tie it up. Do what the Duke said in the firs' place, not kill nobody."
"Thadius does have that spyglass and looks at stars at night. Mebbe he seed things he warn't s'posed ta, so they want him gone. Then they point the knife Getika's way. Them two might be purely innocent. I kin unnerstan' Thadius agin' Hamish and the Duke. They was for not lynchin' 'til Hamish said his piece." Clara stands and paces, ending up next to Getika. "I'm sorry I said bad things about ya', Miz Getika. Everbody tryin' so hard to make it look like you that I don' think it is." She turns to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the native woman, eyes flicking between Hamish, the Duke, and Dan. "Ain't sure who ta vote fer no more."
"Dan? A crime boss? That don't rightly seem possible, even if'n his pies is downright sinful. But Mister Cunningham, now, he's got the wool pulled over everbody's eyes. Howcome he don't help before this, huh? I tell you why. 'Cause all he needs is one townfolk kilt and the mafier kin take the rest of us by vote. He didn't say nuthin' 'til he knowed he was safe if one more townie wuz kilt. 'Cause then when they's sure to be a townie, he's proved ta be a mafier, but cain't be lynched no mo. Ain't that right, detective?" She shakes her head reproachfully at Hamish. "Y'ain't no detective. You's a killer."
"I'd 'spect Badgerman ta pertekt ya, Mister Hamish, then the Chicken could pertekt him. They gon' want you alive, right? It's the folk who ain't got no information what's in danger."
"Badgerman and the Chicken kin keep a eye out fer bad guys if we don't want to vote. Mebbe nobody gits kilt no more, huh?"
"I'm sure you'll be pertekted, Mister Hamish. Badgerman will watch over ya." Clara looks around at those still gathered. "Won't he? Or she?" She shakes her head, muttering, "Howcome menfolk allus think it's men who do the pertektin? Ain't they ever seed a momma dog with her pups?"
"Leastways we got a better shot at hangin' a mafier now," Clara says grimly from her chair.
"Sweet Jesus, not lil' Geoffrey! I thot shore Badgerman woulda watched over him, seein' as how his blood brother is gone. And Dan... I didn't... I don't wanna see anyone die, not even that crochety old coot Clarence. Kin someone else please do fer the bodies... I cain't..." Clara buries her face in her hands.
"Dan, dammit man... whydja go and change...?" A tear slips down Clara's face.
"Hells bells, why should I die fer this crochety, backstabbin' old fart? He's got one foot in the grave anyhow. He been causin' all the strife. Without him, we kin talk peaceful-like and maybe figger this out."
Clara shakes her head. "Attack? No, no. You want someone who attacks, take a gander at Clarence there. I din't like the ones who were quiet 'cause it seemed they had somethin' ta hide. I begged 'em ta speak up fer themselves, 'member. But yeah, I done voted. I'm ascared and don't mind sayin' so. I don' wanna be kilt." "Then Thadius I don't think is a bad person, 'cept he's rich. Seems too lazy to bother with the mafier, though, and why would he need ta? I wuz tryin' ta support Clarence, who voted fer Thadius last time. I thot mebee Clarence had some smarts the rest of us don't. But no. He done stabbed me in the back and voted fer me. Well, I guess he do have some smarts. He outsmarted me, huh? Gonna die by his hand fer supportin' him. Nice one, Clarence." "You scare me, Miz Getika, 'cause I don't know why you'd have a speck of loyalty ta people here. Makes you a good paid killer, don't it? Or nobody at all, jus' an un-for-tu-nate caught here with us'ns. But folks here, they're like kin ta' me. If I had ta pick somebody, had ta, it'd be you. Sorry, but that's the truth. 'Cause you ain't one a my kin, see?" "So I voted fer nobody this time, 'cause everyone has spoke up fer themselves. But I'd already messed up and nobody was helping Thadius. So I had to. An' I'm likely ta hang fer it. Ain't it grand? But thank'ee, Dan. Yer a good fella. Always have bin."
"Huh? I don't parlay yer lingo, Miz Getika." Clara scrutinizes the outsider with some confusion.
Clara shrugs. "I got nuthin' anymore. I know y'all exceptin' Miz Getika, but she don't seem like no harm, jus' a stranger is all. But right now, only Mister Thadius is in danger, and that by his own self. Well, that don't seem right, 'specially since I started it. Ain't gonna let him do that. I'm tyin' the vote."
"Ah, hell." Clara plumps down in a chair and leans her head in her hands. "I don't think Thadius would do nobody no harm, really. I don't wanna have somebody kilt just ta spite that old coot. Sorry, Thadius. Jus' because you ain't much good don't mean you'd go 'round killin' folk. After all, that's a lotta work, ain't it? I take back my vote and don't vote for nobody yet." She sighs. "I'm so confused."
"You ain't listenin', old man. I cain't figger her. Dunno why she'd care iff'n a bunch of strangers die, but dunno why she'd come here and kill us, neither." Clara cocks her head at Clarence. "Dunno why you'd think I'm in anything with Thadius. He ain't never done me no good, nor no harm. Frankly, I don' see much use in him. His life seems' mighty suspicious ta me. Since you think he's suspicious an' voted fer him, so will I. An' I hope yer happy if he's innocent."
"If you'da asked me what's fishy, I'd say this gal from outta town tryin' to act like any of mean a danged thing ta her. What's she all upset about, anyway? Not like she's knowed us from the day we was born, like the rest of us. Why's she here anyhow? Why's anybody think she's mafier?" Clara shakes her head in confusion, pointing at Getika. "Fer the life a me, I cain't figger if her bein' a furriner means she's more likely ta be mafier or less. I mean, who else'd be able to kill folk so easy? Somebody that don't know 'em, right? But why would she, 'less the mafier hired her to git rid of us."
"Naw, he war jus' always scribblin' away. Even if he warn't a detective, somebody'd prolly thot so. Too much booklarnin's bad for a body." Clara shakes her head sadly, removes the cup from Warren's hand, closes his eyes, and hefts the body onto her shoulders with muscles grown strong from a lifetime of hard work. She carries him to the far side of the room and lays him next to the General, then returns for Willard's body, gently removing the pen so the body will lie flat. "Don't nobody say nothin' 'bout takin' them to another room. I want y'all ta see what price we're payin' here 'cause a them mafiers." She bows her head and murmurs a few words, then drifts back towards the table where Willard had written his last manuscript and begins to shuffle through the papers there. "Mebbe he wrote down whut he thot?" she ventures.
"Is... is he still alive? Mebbe the mafier done struck agin whilst we was all argufyin'," Clara breathes, looking nervously at Warren's still form.
"Clarence, ya ol' coot, ya keep sayin' I wanted the General dead like I had sumthin' ta do with it. I din't, and that's truth. He was a fine man an' I liked him. I don't rightly know who'da kilt him." Clara picks up a piece of the ribbon candy and goes to the window to keep an eye on Bessie, crunching the hard sweet loudly.
"Mr. Warren, ya seed we warn't afeared ta punish those we thought wicked. We wuz wrong, yeah, but we warn't afeared. Iff'n you cain't speak up fer yerself, I gotta vote fer ya." Clara practically wrings her hands in distress. "Cain't ye stand up fer yerself? Empty yer pockets an' show goodwill?" "An' you, Clarence, I guess we're all s'posed ta vote like you want jes 'cause it's you?" Clara shakes her head in disgust. "Ya say we ain't listenin', but you ain't answerin' questions, neither. Ignorin' ain't answerin'."
"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?"
"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?"
"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."
"Wait jes' a tick, Mister Clarence. Warn't you sayin' we shouldn't oughta be accusin' anyone and that we was wrong fer accusin' Gustav? But now yer accusin' Mister Thadius. So... you mus' know something. Else yer jes' a dam hypocrite. Well? Which be it, Mister Clarence?"
"I may not be edjikated, but Mister Cunningham, Mister Duke, an' me - thass three," Clara says, ticking each name off on her fingers.
|
