The doctor’s visit fixed me right up. He gave me a vile tasting draught of something and my headache went away after a short while. I suspect that the taste of the potion was all it took to make the pain run in fear. Nasty stuff, that. Three cups of tea and I’m still tasting it. Perhaps Cook has something to try, to counter the residue.
I had the pleasure of luncheon with Mr. Soapy Witherspoon. He introduced himself and asked if he might join me, as I was dining alone at the baker’s small restaurant. He asked that I call him Sopwith, as his friends call him. I could not quite bring myself to such familiarity, and compromised by calling him Mr. Sopwith. He was a delightful companion for enjoying the noon repast, and I found myself happier than I have been in days. He had beautiful taste in clothing, I could not help but note. And it did not hurt that Mr. Witherspoon had the loveliest eyes, which I met often, but not too often for him to get the wrong idea about my character.
Unfortunately, Mr. Soapy Witherspoon was not quite what I understood him to be, in our brief acquaintance. I mentioned him to Peggy, and was surprised to see her face. Her lips thinned and she got a crease in between her eyebrows. I could only guess she disapproved of him. When I asked her about him, she replied with the most scathing diatribe on the wickedness of men I’d ever heard this side of Aunt Gwendolyn. Auntie Gwen, as you may remember, dear Diary, is a legendary man-hater. I always believed that it was simply because she hadn’t met all men, especially not my own perfectly perfect Freddy. But perhaps it runs a bit deeper than that.
In any case, it turns out that Mr. Witherspoon owns a black horse. He was boarding it at a small farm outside of town. The farmer had not been in town for weeks and so was unaware of the recent communal sensitivity toward horses of that color. He came to town to deliver a load of potatoes, and let slip to Mr. Hart’s son, Ryan Jr. that he was boarding a black horse for a glib mouthed dandy by the name of Witherspoon. Rumor flew like wildfire, and in no time, the whole of Hatrack River tracked him down and carried him bodily to that ugly tree. Someone had cut Narnia and Mr. Hart down already, so Mr. Witherspoon was hung alone.
After a few kicks, the snap of his neck was audible to all, and his face, black with asphyxiation (a new word for me, dear Diary, do you like it?) was not nearly so pretty as it had been during our lunch. The dour, ever-black undertaker cut him down almost immediately, and announced (after finding the man’s wallet) that indeed, Mr. Soapy Witherspoon had not been a good citizen of Hatrack. Indeed, plans for Hatrack’s ruin were laid out and folded carefully in with his money. Apparently, he was a land dealer, and sought to scare the owners in this area away by engaging mysterious murders, one each day. He planned to buy this beautiful green place at a pittance and sell at great profit.
This is the scariest part -- not all of Mr. Witherspoon’s assassins have been caught! I am tempted to catch the next coach home, but take comfort in knowing that as a visitor I am not a likely target.
Today’s murder was terribly sad. Young Evie, daughter of the coach conductor, was discovered in her bedroom this morning. Her little maid, Anna, thought she was just sleeping, but when she touched her sweet mistress, Evie’s skin was as cold as ice. I can just imagine. Like a tragic heroine of old, Evie’s long golden tresses cascading down from her pillow over the lacy bedclothes, her perfect features grown stone still in death. When I die, that’s exactly how I want to go -- beautiful and elegant. One could just imagine that should America have Princes it would take just a single kiss to light her awake again.
Alas that we do not have even one Prince to kiss our dear Evie awake. Her funeral is this afternoon, and I am despairing for what to wear. I’ve worn every bit of black I own, and cannot think that it should be appropriate to wear the same clothes for Evie. A quick trip to see Peggy may fix that problem, so I shall sign off now, dear Diary.
Always sincere, Miss Jenny Wren
**********************
JATRAQUEROS:
asQmh -- CITIZEN, died of natural causes eslaine -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia Evie3217 -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia hansenj -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia msquared -- CITIZEN, killed by mafia rivka -- POLICEMAN, killed by mafia jehovoid -- MAFIA, lynched Narnia -- CITIZEN, lynched Ryan Hart -- CITIZEN, lynched Sopwith -- MAFIA, lynched
Citizens, we're on a roll! Let's kill some more mafia!
My guess is out, and hopefully I will get a reply before 3EDT, because if not I will be in a car and not have access to a computer the rest of the day, but I'm sure, if that happens, that jeniwren will come up with something clever.
Yes, I am police, and I have three mafia suspects, and am waiting for an answer on one of them. The suspects are PSI Teleport, Avadaru, and Advice for Robots. For all we know it could be all three because we don't know how many mafia there are. I think fugu and dead horse are okay, and of the remaining people I know that Brettley and SirReal are citizens.
Posts: 119 | Registered: Jan 2003
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posted
Somebody bookmark this...unless there really is a Dr in the house, we're going to lose our dear policewoman and we'll need to remember her prime suspects...and if there is a Dr in the house...let's hope the mafia can't guess who it is. Posts: 6415 | Registered: Jul 2000
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Fine, kill me! I would rather die than be without my true love...that's right! Ryan Hart! How can I go on living knowing that I kept silent while they hung my darling next to Narnia's already-rotting corpse? So hang me! You'll be doing me a service! Soon, I'll be able to look again into his beautiful eyes. I'll see you soon, my love!
(Disclaimer for my hubby: You're still the only man for me!)
Posts: 6367 | Registered: Aug 2003
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We'll break for the weekend, including Monday. We'll pick this up again Tuesday. Please go ahead and get your votes in, though.
Posts: 5948 | Registered: Jun 2001
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There are three mafia left. 5 was the only number consistent with the inside info I received.
Posts: 15770 | Registered: Dec 2001
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Look at Avadaru's post! A mafia member would wait until after the deadline and after everyone else votes to vote for one of their own.
Posts: 1379 | Registered: Feb 2002
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Wow..I'm a princess....hee hee hee. This really does help my self-esteem, thank you Jeniwren! I always knew I was the pretty one!
Alright citizens! Let's lynch some mafia. And doctor, you REALLY need to save Demander. We need our policewoman to kill as many mafia as possible!
Posts: 1789 | Registered: Jul 2003
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Oh dear...yes, I do seem to have posted after the deadline. My bad. It was not intentional, I assure you.
Posts: 1225 | Registered: Feb 2002
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Now get back in your ghost lounge where you belong! ![[Wink]](wink.gif)
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It was not intentional, I assure you.
