The Masque of Gilded Gold

⊱≼≽⊰The Masque of Gilded Gold: Chapter 6⊱≼≽⊰

The news spread like wildfire.

Mark clenched his jaw, his arms and legs shaking. "Woah, is this really happening right now?"

"Now, let's just calm down...!" Alcott said as loud as she could. "Let's try not to panic, okay?"

"Calm down?" Maragret grit her teeth. "Alcott, tell me right now how we could possibly calm down in this circumstance!" She threw down her masquerade mask, shattering it upon the floor. "Fitzgerald is dead!"

"W-we don't know that yet, Miss Mitchell. The doctors already took him. There's a chance he's still a-"

"Alive? I hope so! But what are we to do if he is dead? And what about you, John? Don't you think you're just a little bit calmer than you should be?"

Steinbeck ignored her. He was far more focused on the tree. "This engraving...it's the same as the symbol of the bomber that attacked us last week."

Margaret crossed her arms, flashing a condescending glare. "You mean to say?"

"Put the two together, ma'am. You are very much capable of that." He smiled.

"I am not taking sarcasm, especially from you, grape boy. Why, if I had to guess, I'd say you're happy about this. You always wanted the boss dead."

"Wow, she's real disturbed." Tom perked up from Twain's pocket. "You think she had a crush on him or somethin'?"

Huck covered his partner's mouth. "I do not believe this is the right time, Tom."

Margaret flicked a finger and a small vortex formed in the middle of it. "Mark, shut up those little devils of yours before I do it myself." She hissed.

Tom and Huck exchanged quick looks before they disappeared immediately.

Alcott cowered behind Steinbeck. "D-don't you think you could be a little nicer, Miss Mitchell? We're all just as worried as you are."

"Do you not get it, Louisa? This isn't about Francis. The bomber intends to kill the entirety of the Guild's executives. Do you understand what that means? That terrorist got Nathan first, then Francis, and we're all going out next!" She turned her back, put her hand on Lucy's shoulder and walked off, turning her head only to say this: "I will be staying in Lucy's room with some of my trusted associates. I better not see anyone else enter or..." She held up her index finger again and pointed it at all the Guild members present. "Well, let's just say you'll be gone with the wind."

And with that, she left, and one-by-one the others followed.

Poe merely stood, observant and unwavering. He had seen this all before. And he knew what came next. Ranpo, however, hadn't. Perhaps this was a bit too unfair on him, Poe thought to himself. He never knew any of these people closely, after all. Yes, this mystery was surely impossible, despite how formidable of a detective Ranpo was. Shuffling over to him, Poe leaned over to stare at what he was looking at. Ranpo ran his finger over the engraving in the tree, rubbing his index finger and thumb together, releasing chips of paint.

"It's fake."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The engraving-it's not carved at all. Just painted."

He rose from the ground and started tracing the tree before stopping, pausing, and staring at a certain area.

"This splatter here..." He licked his finger and rubbed it on the tree, clearing away some of the paint surrounding the discoloration. "It's blood. The painted symbol was made to cover it up."

"And what do you believe could have possibly made such a mark? It's far too high to be from a stab wound in the chest."

"Simple: this."

He reached behind the tree and held up a small plastic bullet.

"It was purposefully hidden from sight. Someone wanted us to think he was only stabbed.''

Ranpo rose from the ground and dusted his hands together.

"And the only person who'd need to do that..." Poe began, watching the detective carefully.

"...is someone who wanted us to believe that Luchesi was the killer." Ranpo concluded, adjusting his glasses with a grin. "Now, why don't we start investigating Miss Mitchell first?"