Jimmy C Smith's page

Sorry for the deceptions. There was nothing personal in the targeting, and we did get lucky. Round two we had Geoff in our sights, but when he accused Jimmy we had to switch and picked Mike at random. Harold was another lucky guess.

PMs were really useful for communication with Kitty. We were able to coordinate our efforts and share ideas.

I had been afraid that I'd be deluged with PMs and wouldn't be able to respond to them all. I was also terrified that there were sharks swimming in a whirlpool of PMs swirling around me in the eye.

"Looks like the tide's flowing against Corbyn. I can't bare to think it might be one of my friends. But we've got to act now before it's too late. Sorry stranger. "
Jimmy votes for Corbyn.

"See if you can find some jazz, please." Jimmy requests from behind the bar. "We're going to have to make some tough choices soon. Does anyone want another round?"

"Could have been luck, Corbyn. We're all punching in the dark here. But I'm willing to accept your argument because I don't have anything else to go on. Right now I'd say Geoff's got the strongest defense. Harold offered Geoff a drink to show that he trusted him. It's thin. But it's something Harold did, and it might have meaning."

Jimmy looks at his longtime compatriots. "I just can't believe this. How could I accuse any of you?"

Jimmy clears his throat. And remains silent.

This last minute voting plan is not working out for me. I keep just missing the deadline.

"Tell us, Marlene. We can protect you if you can finger the cops."

"Was Mike the only one on our side who could spot a cop? Mike's death has really shaken me up. I'm not 100% sure he was right about waiting. The cops sure aren't."

Jimmy raptly follows Corbyn's elucidation until he reaches the auras. Then the young bartender kind of shivers and slides back down the bar while shaking his head.

"Rick, Geoff. I thought Corbyn was making sense there for a second, but he and Harold -- they're just talking nonsense. What should we do guys?"

Jimmy pales again. "Jesus,Mary and Joseph! Not Mike! He was a stand up guy. I've known him half my life.

"Do you really think Jeremy's a cop, Corbyn? Did I kill Mike by sticking to his plan?"

"Look, guys. I don't know Jeremy from the devil himself, but Mike's cautioned us all not to be hasty and let the ones with the skills sort us out. Mike's smart and he's been the bouncer here for a long time. I trust him."

"Right now it's two to one against Jeremy. If I tie it by voting for Harold, what happens then?"

Jimmy votes for Harold.

Jimmy picks up a glass and begins wiping it dry.

"So what now? Harold tips like concrete foundation, and he's no Yeats, but I won't condemn him. I don't know what to do."

A very pale Jimmy stares at Geoff. "I thought we were friends, Geoff. We've been cook and barman here for years now. It was strange enough when you pulled out that knife and gun, but trying to finger me? What were you thinking?"

"Maybe you're on to something there, Rick. Willard kept the books for all Tiger's businesses. Maybe there's a clue in his papers."

Jimmy dodges around the end of the bar and seizes one of the ledgers. Then he puts it down. "Maybe we should clean up Willard and Dominic first. We can put them in the corner by the door. That way we won't have to look at them."

Jimmy leans heavily against the bottled loaded back of the bar.

Jimmy stares at Geoff with his mouth hanging open a little before addressing the crowd of regulars.

"Looks like I've been a little naïve about everyone here. I just pour the drinks, and listen to the music. I don't know anything about killing or cops, or any of it. So, I'll back you Mike, and Rick and Geoff. We'll let the cops sweat, and maybe they'll tip their hand."

Jimmy slides down the bar and pulls a plain whisky bottle from underneath. He pours himself a shot, corks the bottle, and throws it back. Then he slides the bottle back under the bar.

No vote for lynching.

"I hope it doesn't come to that, Mike." Jimmy says solemnly and leans his elbows on the bar.

" I just sling the suds and listen to the music." Jimmy glances wistfully at the empty bandstand. The regulars know that jazz is Jimmy's other passion. He service improves as the music gets better, up to a point. If an improvisation is hot enough, Jimmy will just stop working until the solo is over.

"Rick, you do this for a living. Any idea How to sort out the bad pennies?"

Jimmy pulls a squat brown bottle from the low counter in front of the mirror and thrusts it at Jeremy. "Pine spirits. Just the thing for someone of your sensitivity."

Then he looks around. "Mike, what do we do?"

Jimmy is visibly shocked by Tiger's spectacle. Leaving Jeremy with a towel, he staggers behind the bar and down to the regular's end, while muttering, "I heard Mr Ruggiero played rough, but we've never had anything like that happen inside the club before. Blessed saints save us all."

Reaching his knot of comrades in hospitality, he listens to Kitty before replying," I don't know any of them. Maybe they're here for the boss. Maybe they're just unlucky."

"I can't believe this."

...

Continuing toward the door he gives Geoffrey and Jimmy a quizzical look, "The Boss locked the door, right? I should have checked the door myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!!! Mike opens the door, looks around quickly for others before closing and locking the door.

Turning around he looks over the intruder to see if he recognizes him, "You look like you have had a tough night fella. Who suggested you visit our stage?" After a short pause he continues, "Do we know you?"

Willard lowers his report, uncertain of who he had been reading it off to to begin with. Tony certainly seemed too distracted to pay him any mind, and the rest of fellows present did not seem very interested in business. And, as a glance at Corbyn and Jeremy indicates, at least two of them were insane. He scratches the bridge of his nose, contemplating their strangeness. Huh. They must be European.

"Oh, bartender?" the accountant calls out to Jimmy, finally finding that he was indeed parched. "Some soda water, if you would."

"Geoff, can you help Willard?"

Jimmy arrives at Jeremy's side and offers him a towel. "Here, put pressure on that to stop the bleeding."

Corbyn swats madly at the air, trying to catch what only appears to be nothing to spectators. He has clearly lost the memory of his request for drink.

"CURSE THESE MAGICAL BUTTERFLIES! The colors, they're beautiful, and their glow trails on for meters at a time, but they're both intrusive and obstructive! How is a gentleman supposed to get intoxicated in good company with all these distractions fluttering about?"

Spinning in circles and tripping over furniture, personnel and customers while trying to catch the air, Corbyn replies to Jimmy's option:

"The Absinthe! And a butterfly net to go along with it! At very least a fly swatter or perhaps a large shoe!"

Jimmy retrieves the green bottle from under the bar and a tall narrow flute from the rack above. He pours a generous measure and offers it over a towel-draped arm to the eccentric Corbyn. Then he steps back to observe the man's reaction.

A bedraggled individual stumbles through the door, clutching his arm tightly to his side, fresh bandages red with blood. ... After haltingly making his way to the bar, he lifts his eyes, bloodshot from recent tears and and obvious lack of sleep, and whispers "Something strong?" before collapsing into a barstool and holding his head with his one good hand.

...

Harold then notices the beaten man approaching the bar. Harold's eyes widen to almost inhuman size and rushes over to the man.
"Who are you and what can you teach me?! I have never seen stealth such as thee! The door was locked and impenetrable by near most, but you walked through it as if you were a ghost!

Jimmy's voyeuristic reverie is broken by the appearance of Jeremy. He tears his attention from Corbin and scoops a clean towel off the pile under the bar's long mirror.

Rick moves over to the bar sliding into a stool and setting his bowler on the bar with a sigh. "Gimme the usual would ya Jimbo? And stick it on my tab." Rick knew some day Tony would probably actually make him pay ....

"Right, Rick." Knowing Rick would probably steer toward Kitty, Jimmy quickly pours the drink and intercepts Rick in mid stride. The gumshoe needn't slow a hair as the drink is pressed into his hand.

Harold pulls out four bits, all the money he has left.

...
After spending a few seconds writing on his paper, Harold proclaims
"I thank thee bartender, provider of drinks and splendor! For the assist in my inevitable courtship, I award you the highest honour, a writers tip!
Harold gives the bartender four bits and proceeds to tear off a piece of his notepad and hands it over.

"I hope you know the ponies," Jimmy smiles as he palms the note.

While Jimmy might have preferred cash, I'd like to know what Harold wrote. I'd also save PMs for serious skulduggery.

Jimmy takes his attention from Harold just long enough to toss a "Sure, Mike. Let me settle these new customers first."

He nods significantly to Harold and hurries down the bar to pour the two drinks. While so engaged, he eyes Corbyn again to see if the absinthe is the man's desire. Getting no immediate response, he returns to Harold.

"That's four bits. I can start a tab if you like." He slides the drinks across the broad mahogany bartop and drops his voice. "Never a good idea to advertise that you're buying a lady cheap drinks. She wants to feel special."

Jimmy eyes Corbyn again while he pulls Mike's beer. With well practiced precision he slides the brimming mug down the bar to the bouncer. A shot quickly follows. "Honey brown, hoppy and rye."

Jimmy swivels his head back toward Corbyn. He holds up one finger, and says to Harold, "Think about it. I'll be right back."

He glides smoothly back toward Corbyn. "Something special, sir? I've got something right down here...." He reaches below the bar and comes up with a green bottle, no wrapper. "This is French absinthe, a rare drink appreciated only by a real connoisseur. " His smile droops a little. "A also have an extraordinary brandy favored by more people than the absinthe."

Something in his intonation says that popularity is not a measure of quality.

Jimmy hustles through the doorway. "Sorry I'm late. Ma needed a little extra help."

He scoots smoothly across the not-so-crowded floor and slips behind the bar. He gives a nod and a smile to Geoff and Kitty that says 'I'll be right with you', and frowns at Willard. The look, the movement is so quick as to be nearly imperceptible to those who aren't regulars. He tosses a towel over his vest and shoulder.

Then he turns to the one new paying customer.

... "Bartender, What do you have?"

"Welcome to Tiger's. I'm not sure what we've got fresh today, but last night we got some Haitian rum and Irish whiskey. And a smattering of other liquors. I've got a mellow brown ale, and a couple pilsners on draft. If you don't mind, I'll let you stew on the choices while I catch up with the others. I promise I'll be right back."

The small young man wheels and and slides down the bar toward Harold. He smiles confidentially at the poet. He leans in to whisper, "You look like a man on the outs. I saw you with Kitty there. Don't give up. She's a peach, I'm telling you. A sweet girl who needs someone to get her out of a place like this. I'll tell you what. I'll water your drinks and charge you half price. She'll never know the difference and you'll keep a little change in your pocket. What do you say? What'll you have?"

Jimmy reaches for a whiskey glass and shrugs the towel off his shoulder to begin wiping it. He tips Geoff and Kitty a quick wink.

... and new personality.

Suave new look to go with my new bartending job!

Yay!

Azih, it was fun playing with you. Dash's decision to reveal himself and Robert as the roommates really drive my decision to come out and put all our cards on the table.

Meows reveled stuff to you after you died?

Man, I didn't even get a free edition of the home game.

:-)

I told you I was your best hope!

"Duke, They're gonna lynch me now. What can I lose? Sure I'm capable of lying for my own benefit but this time I'm just trying to make sure the nunnlifs don't win. "

"Sorry, Tharp."

Jimmy votes for Avistan.

"I trusted Dash's defense of Robert because I know Dash is human. The monsters came for him but I stopped them. Unfortunately I couldn't get a good look. I don't know who the attacker was. With Robert and Tharp cleared, my list is down to Mike and Duke Leto. I'll support any vote against them."

He cradles his head in his hands. "Now they'll be gunning for me. I won't be able to hold them off long. I'm getting my sawsall!"

Jimmy will support any vote for either Mike or Leto that would carry with his vote. First come first serve.

" It's true, Russ fistbumped Tharp. But he was slow doing it and passed it off as placating the boss. Still, on the strength of that I'll reverse my vote. I was merely guessing anyway."

"Now I've got to convince you not to waste your votes on me. Whatever I look like, I am not a nunnlif. Unfortunately there's only one thing I can say, and it will be like signing my death warrant"

Jimmy rescinds his vote for Tharp.

" Sven, change your vote."

Jimmy cocks his head. "Boldly spoken, Dash. I can't see a reason for you to lie about that. My carefully structured suspicions against Robert are laid waste. I can't believe that Alex is a monster. He saved me when I would have been lynched. And Sven outed Clive. That leaves Mike, Tharp, and Duke Leto.". Jimmy sighs. " I guess Tharp."

Jimmy rescinds his vote for Red Robert. Jimmy votes for Tharp.

What a reveal! So happy that I had internet tonight.

Jimmy laughs. "Because I'm a scientist, Mike. I'm a cheat, but I am a scientist. I took pictures of the cat. I cryo-preserved the cat. Because if we get out of this, the world's got to know. If we all die here but take the monsters with us somehow, the world's still got to know. And it's got to know more than just 'monsters!'. It needs a handle on these things. Who knows what's in that DNA and what we could do with it. Poor dead Meowselworth may do more for mankind than killing off a few generations of mice. And he might just rehabilitate my reputation."

"I haven't followed up with Clive, but he won't fit in the freezer. I'll get to it yet. Meanwhile I've been a little busy defending my life."

Jimmy nods gratefully to Sven. Then he sizes up those voting against him and the two on the fence.

"Dash, you're on the wrong side of this. You belong with us. Change your vote to Red Robert. I'm as human as you are."

"Mike, I don't how you could turn on me. How could you side with the puking wonder over me?"

"Tharp. I know we don't get along, but don't let that cloud your judgement. If Russ was still alive, he'd tell you that I'm human."

"Duke, I hate to say it, but you've got to make a choice. Make the right one."

" A duel is it Robert? What happened to your noble speech about giving yourself up rather than letting anyone else die. It was just a bluff.

And you didn't vote for Clive. That's the only reason I'm nominating you for the chair. But at least it's a reason. "

Jimmy looks around somewhat desperately at the hardening faces. " You're picking me because you don't like me, maybe you're jealous of the Nobel Prize I nearly had. I'm smarter and was more successful than any of you. I can still figure this out. But if you put me in that chair, you'll not only kill a man. You'll significantly improve the odds of dieing surrounded by monsters you thought you liked."

"Way to stretch yourself with the arithmetic there, Dash." Jimmy shakes his head.

"These monsters are cunning, smart. But I think one has overplayed his hand. I think Red Robert is a slimy tentacled BEM at heart. And I'm willing to risk his life to prove it."

Jimmy votes for Red Robert.

"Red Robert and Sven didn't vote for Clive. Although Sven rooted him out.".

Jimmy stands and sweeps his glass around. " Duke, you and Robert seem to have some history. Does he seem right to you?"

"Clive had one thing right. There's no scientific evidence that points to anyone. The whole game is psychological now. Duke. help me farther up the Ballmer curve will you?"

Jimmy holds out his glass.

Guys, just a heads up. I'll be leaving on vacation early Sat morning. I may not be able to post Friday. Internet access will likely be impossible until I return on Sunday, the 28th.

"That's one for Russ and Elora. We're lucky he was shrewd enough to code that message, and luckier still that Sven was smart enough to decode it. "

Jimmy raises his glass to Sven.

" Unfortunately, unless Sven has another brilliant idea, we are reduced to merest chance. The monsters can kill at their leisure, but we can't afford to give them time."

"Dash, you sound gleeful."

Jimmy shakes his head.

"Sorry, Clive. We're in desperate straits."

Jimmy votes for Clive.

Does the round end tonight?

"That's what's bothering me too, Mike. It's like the monsters had inside information and I keep coming back to the personnel files and who had access."

"So you think that by teasing Clive about Elora and cheese, Russ was actually trying to tell us that Clive is a monster? That seems pretty far fetched. It's so tenuous."

Jimmy stares into his drink. "This will be like swinging at a piñata with a sansetukon. We'll be as likely to kill ourselves as them. But we've got no choice."

"Duke, another drink please. I need to peak on the Ballmer curve. "

Jimmy slumps in a chair. " What are the odds that the monsters get the geneticists one two."