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Chapter Text

This is not a story I wanted to tell.

Seven months ago, my friends and I solved the murder of Mayor Lewis of Pelican Town. You can read about that in the account filed alongside this one. I left instructions with Gunther that these archives should never be unsealed until everyone involved is dead. If you've read it already, then it's either the distant future or somebody's made a huge mistake.

After what happened the week I moved to Stardew Valley, my appetite for another murder mystery was pretty low. Even my friend Abigail, who still mainlines true crime podcasts in every quiet moment, never went so far as hoping it happened again.

For seven months, Yoba obliged. I lived the rural life I'd dreamt of through all my long years at Joja Corp. The farm flourished, my friendships strengthened, the beauty of each season revealed itself to me in a slow but urgently lovely dance, and my girlfriend Leah and I did a lot of stuff that's none of your damn business. Elliott, the writer living on the beach, found a publisher for his gothic thriller novel. Shane from next door got sober and stayed that way. We even made some progress on fixing up the old community center, which no longer looked like a place you'd go to get stabbed, and had graduated to a place where you could go to peacefully inhale black mold.

Seven lovely months. More than I'd had in a row since I was a kid. Just long enough for me to convince myself that good months would follow good months forever. That's exactly what I was thinking when I boarded the bus that day.

This is the story of the deaths in Calico Desert. It's a story I imagine a lot of people will be interested in hearing, at least in our little corner of the world. It's a story where I once again lie through my teeth to the Ferngill Investigative Division. A story where I get a lot of things wrong, realize a lot of things too late, and nearly get myself killed more than once.

Like the last one, it started long before I got involved. Up to a thousand years before, if you believe some people. But for me, it started with another ride on that same damn trouble magnet of a bus.

Chapter Text

I hadn't ridden the Stardew Valley Line's sole operating bus -- at least under normal circumstances -- since my first trip to my new home in the spring. Since then, it had been sabotaged at least once, hurtled down the highway at lethal speeds with me aboard, and persisted in smelling like stale beer. After all that, with my attention firmly planted in the five acres of dirt around my new house, I hadn't had anywhere to go.

But then I'd done a favor for the junimos who congregated in the old community center. I couldn't prove the connection, but the next day, Caroline -- our new mayor -- told everyone she'd found some state funds to invest in the bus. Now the engine was purring, the sticky leather seats had been replaced with plush felt, the smell was gone, and the seat belts existed. It was practically luxurious. Of course, Pam was still the driver, but some things couldn't be helped.

To celebrate the overhaul, Caroline and Pam added a new destination to the Stardew Valley Line: Calico Desert, in the rain shadow of the mountains that surrounded the valley. Apparently, there was a casino there that people in the know called one of the best in Ferngill. I wasn't one of those people -- I've always been too scared of poverty to gamble -- but half of Pelican Town seemed to be planning a visit, and I couldn't turn down a daytrip with friends.

"Now, remember," Leah said, fixing the last hair tie onto her long orange braid as we headed toward the bus stop. "I've got a hundred gold to spend, and that's it. Don't let me go over."

I finished shrugging off the coat I'd left hanging by one sleeve. "Want me to use my Joja training to game the system and win us enough for a real vacation?"

Leah cocked an eyebrow at me. "What Joja training?"

"Y'know. Spreadsheets. Pie charts." I waved my hand. "Analysis."

"Nope. I am losing a hundred gold and that's final. But you know I love it when you talk dirty."

I leered lustfully at her. "The ten-thousand-foot view. Synergy. Agile."

"Rhys!" Leah clutched a string of imaginary pearls. "People might hear!"

"Let them." I took her hands. "Forget the casino. Let's touch base and circle back until the break of dawn."

How Leah would have responded to this irresistible poetry is lost to history, because at that moment, someone smacked me in the head from behind. "Nope," said Abigail, falling into step on my other side. "I'm not spending ninety minutes on a bus listening to you two flirt. Keep it in your overalls."

Abigail had dressed for the occasion with her usual fashion sense, and resembled what might have happened if a time traveler from the last century had warped onto the dealer floor at Zuzu City Comic-Con. Her purple hair was tied up in a sweatband soaked in cold water. I'd learned during the summer that she didn't do well with heat. "Sebastian couldn't make it?" I asked.

"Yeah, he said something about how every single activity in a casino is a tax on people who can't do math," Abby said. "I tried to explain that you can have fun while losing, but Seb was never gonna get that."

That tracked. Abigail's boyfriend Sebastian had, I was pretty sure, once poisoned his best friend Sam to win a game of Colonists of Liora. Mildly poisoned, but still.

Speaking of Sam, I saw him as soon as we reached the bus stop, standing with his family: Jodi, Vincent, and Kent, all of them shaggy-haired and a little unsure about how to move through space. I was still getting used to there being four of them. By the start of autumn, I was on friendly terms with everyone in the valley. Now, with Kent's unexpected return, there was once more someone everybody knew except me -- once more someone calling me "the new farmer."

I hung back a bit and watched Kent put an arm around Jodi's shoulders, saying something that made Vincent tentatively giggle. I had no reason to doubt he was a fine person. It was unfair of me to be suspicious of someone who had served his country honorably, and who, by all reports, had gone through things I couldn't imagine as a prisoner of war. All I really knew about Kent, though, was that in the days after he returned, Sam, Vincent, and Jodi -- three people I'd come to consider friends -- had lost their accustomed mirth, until the boys looked as careworn as their mother. I didn't think I'd be doing much more than saying hello to Kent for some time.

Pam had yet to arrive, so we all hung around in the grassy lot, breathing in the crisp and petrichor-tinged autumn air. Leah, supernaturally attuned to foraging opportunities, had already found her third mushroom by the time more villagers appeared: Emily, the waitress from the Stardrop Saloon, trailed by her friend Clint.

Emily came straight over to me. She was holding a bundle of blue jazz flowers, a burst of cold color against the valley's prevailing orange-red. "Hey, Rhys. I hope you don't mind, I swung by early to grab some of these. They're Sandy's favorite."

"No worries at all. You've got a key for a reason."

"Oh, good! I didn't want to presume."

Emily had long since run out of space for potted plants in the house she shared with her sister Haley. As it happened, I'd just fixed up my grandfather's old greenhouse -- another junimo favor -- so I offered her some space in exchange for doing the watering. It was a good arrangement, only slightly soured by the way Clint shrank like a slapped puppy whenever we discussed it in earshot of him.

"I'm excited to meet the famous Sandy," said Leah as she joined us. "Will this be your first time hanging out in a while?"

"I get there whenever I can," Emily said. "Sometimes I tag along with my sister when she goes shopping, and catch the train from Grampleton. It's a long day, but worth it." She swallowed. "Sandy's been having a tough time lately. Letters and calls aren't always enough."

"You're a good friend," I told her, shooting a look at Abigail, who closed her mouth in disappointment. I liked to know everyone's drama as much as she did, but now was not the right time to ask.

"Yeah," said Clint. "Whatever we can do to support you both, just let me know."

Emily looked down. "Thanks, boys. But she's a tough girl. It'll be all right."

A few more villagers joined us. Willy the fisherman strolled up with Emily's avuncular boss Gus, reminiscing about how they'd cleaned out another casino as boys with an epic series of dice rolls. Next came Demetrius, our local one-man university, and his daughter Maru, both of whom I'd heard discussing a card-counting formula the night before. Finally, Pam showed up with the keys, striding past all of us like a conquering hero to claim the driver's seat.

The engine roared to life, cutting the autumn air with diesel fumes. Pam leaned out the driver's window. "All aboard!" she yelled. "Next stop, Calico Desert."

Chapter Text

A blast of hot air hit me in the face as I stepped off the bus. It always amazed me how many different microclimates could form in a topographically scrunched-up area like this one, especially near the sea. Up in the mountains above town, it was practically ready to snow.

Emily beelined for a large roadside store with brick walls painted a gaudy pink. It looked like one of those gas stations you're sometimes lucky enough to find on a long road trip -- the ones that just keep going endlessly, revealing new shelves laden with candied nuts and unspeakable merchandise. A neon sign above the door read Oasis. I guessed that was where her friend Sandy worked, and decided to give them some space.

The rest of us ambled around the desert, enjoying ourselves. Leah found coconuts, and then, on a ridge, some preserved dragon bones I was only mostly sure were fake. Abigail ducked into a cave in a rocky cliff and came out an hour later, grumbling and chugging a life elixir. Gus dickered at a trading stall over a bag of spices the color of angry hornets. I borrowed an extra pole from Willy and joined Sam and Kent at a small fishing hole.

"We used to come out here together all the time when I was a kid," Sam mentioned.

"Mm," Kent agreed. Something in both their voices told me the magic of those days was proving hard to recapture.

Kent removed his jacket as the afternoon sun began to beat down. When he did, I noticed an odd shape hanging at his belt. I could hardly believe my eyes: he was wearing a gun. I'd never seen one before. Most people around here just carried swords. Even the police in Zuzu City mostly used clubs and stun wands. Only soldiers had the right to carry pistols.

Perhaps it made Kent feel safer. It sure didn't do the same favor for me. We exchanged no more words, although I did catch a flounderish-looking fish I'd never seen in the valley.

When the sun began to dip toward the rocks, Emily and Sandy came out to let us know the casino was open. Sandy proved to be an elegant woman with long mahogany-colored curls, swathed in a dark blue dress that hung off her with no visible means of support. When Emily introduced me, Sandy said, "Ah, yes, farmer Rhys of the magnificent greenhouse! It's lovely to meet you."

"You too."

Sandy extended her hand. The way she did it made me wonder if I was supposed to kiss it, but she didn't seem surprised when I shook instead. Smooth hands, I noticed. That must take a lot of lotion out here.

"I'm ever so grateful for you helping Em grow the blue jazz, honey. We get so tired of yellow and pink out here." Sandy winked. "Feel free to bring 'em yourself next time."

I glanced toward Leah, who was watching with concern. I got how she felt. Lately, with my muscles and tan developed from hours of labor in the dirt, I wasn't unused to being flirted with. Normally, Leah only got a little grumpy, and I was mature enough to only take a little pleasure in it. But Sandy was so obviously putting on an act that it had us both worried about what was going on underneath.

The whole Pelican Town group had gathered by this time. Sandy led us into her store, where potted palm trees and shelves of goods lined rustic wood-paneled walls. A blast of air conditioning immediately cooled the sweat from my brow. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kent donning his jacket again.

The interior wasn't nearly as deep as the whole building, but I still liked the look of it. Racks of seeds I'd never seen at Pierre's grocery store caught my eye, but Abigail nudged me before I could get too deep into the farmer zone. "Check the corner," she whispered in my ear. "Side-eye only."

I side-eyed as requested. In a back corner of the shop, invisible from the entrance, stood a reinforced door that would have looked more at home in a bank vault than a roadside fruit stand. I could almost hear the sound of it clashing with the surrounding decor. A large, expensive-looking security camera twitched back and forth on the wall above.

"What does a place like this need that kind of security for?" Abby asked me, while pretending to be fascinated by a jar of honey. "They must get shoplifters even less often than my dad does."

"I hope it's not taking pictures of me picking up seeds without buying them," I said. Abby snickered, but the mood did not lighten.

Then the door opened with a heavy kachunk. All eyes turned to the back corner as a tall man stepped through the doorway, wearing a finely tailored suit and a wide-brimmed hat. On anyone else, the getup would have looked like a Spirit's Eve gangster costume, but I had to admit this guy was pulling it off. Perhaps being six-foot-five was the secret sauce.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the man, whose name I assumed was Vinnie, or perhaps Paulie. "Mr. Qi bids you welcome to his casino. If you'll please proceed up the steps behind me, the games can begin."

That answered the question of what was taking up the rest of the space in this building. As everyone began filing toward the back door, I murmured to Leah that she should go ahead. "I just want to grab some seeds," I said.

"Don't take too long, farmer boy. Remember you're keeping me honest tonight." She pecked me on the cheek and ran to catch up with Abigail and Sam.

Vinnie/Paulie the bouncer nodded at everyone who passed. As Kent shepherded his family up the stairs, I noticed he had draped his jacket to hide the gun, preferring discretion to a license-flashing contest of wills with the bouncer. Small mercies. Emily hung back for a moment, but Clint eventually managed to coax her upstairs too.

Finally, it was just Sandy, Paulie/Vinnie, and me, still hanging about inconspicuously at the seed shelf.

I barely noticed Sandy glide past me, but when she began whispering, my ears perked up. "Hey, Michael. What kind of mood is he in tonight?"

Michael. That would have been my third guess.

I heard Michael shrug (people that size don't do many things quietly). "Afraid I'm not sure. This is the first night he's come down in some time."

"I know." Sandy sighed. All the confidence from earlier had drained from her voice. "I started to hope he'd pulled up stakes and moved to Gotoro."

"I won't let anything happen to you," Michael said. I glanced at them from the corner of my eye. There was no hint of romance in the way they stood -- Sandy with her shoulders hunched and arms folded tightly; Michael with his hands clasped before him, solid, almost convincing. "If you're unsure," he added, "you might bring him a drink. That always improves things."

"Good idea. I may just." Sandy touched Michael's arm.

Then both of them seemed to notice me at the same time. "Oh, Rhys, you're still here!" Sandy said, plastering on a customer-service smile. "Sorry, we're closing up, but you can still come through here as long as the casino's open."

"If you'd care to head upstairs, sir," said Michael, not phrasing it as a question. What could I do? I headed up the staircase until colorful disco lights pulsed across my body and I emerged into Mr. Qi's casino.

Chapter Text

The casino consisted of one large room in various shades of purple, some glowing faintly in the half-light, some sparkling like a night sky. It reminded me of a bowling alley in Zuzu where I'd had birthday parties as a child. The only areas with steady lights were the slot machines and the card tables, the latter presided over by dealers in gaudy costumes and blue or green pancake makeup. Potted ferns and cacti of dubious verisimilitude filled every available crevice. To my right, an alcove bent away out of sight, into a pool of shadows I wasn't brave enough to explore.

My friends had scattered themselves around the place. Maru was trying each slot machine in turn -- on the bus, she had explained to me her theory that each was rigged to pay out in the first few pulls to keep the player hooked. She had to work around Pam, who was already planted at one machine, pulling the lever as mechanically as she drank beer at the Stardrop. Abby had drifted away to join a blackjack game with the younger generation, while Willy, Gus, and Demetrius had formed a poker table. Everywhere I looked, I saw people I knew and loved smiling a bit too widely, trying a little too hard to have a good time.

I couldn't have named precisely why the vibe felt so off. If pressed, though, I might have said it was the lack of music. Pulsing disco lights should have gone with pulsing disco music, right? But all I could hear was a vague ambient track of chimes and echoes, like lo-fi that had strayed from Yoba's light.

I sidled up behind Leah at the blackjack table, where a pit boss in green pancake makeup was snap-dealing to her, Abby, and Sam. "What are we at?" I asked, rubbing her shoulders.

"Five up, if you can believe it." She looked around at me and grinned. "Might be a long night."

Right then, the music stopped. I hadn't liked it much, but the casino felt even eerier without it. Even the bips and whistles of the slot machines fell silent.

A spotlight turned on, filling the dark alcove with light. Someone was standing there -- someone who may have been standing there for some time. A figure in a dark suit and cowboy hat, with dark sunglasses and his own layer of makeup. Blue, this time.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Stardew Valley," he said. "I am Mr. Qi. Be welcome to my casino."

Some of us applauded tentatively. Mr. Qi held up a hand for silence.

"Here you will find the means to realize your wildest dreams," said Qi, advancing toward the middle of the floor. "All the gold of the hills. All the jewels of the ocean. You need only seduce that most fickle of deities...Fortuna."

He raised his arms. Just as I was dreading how much more of this there might be, Qi abruptly stopped talking. His forehead creased. I got the sense he had seen something that disagreed with him, but with his dark glasses, I couldn't tell where he was looking.

"Sandy!" he snapped. "Drink!"

Sandy had come upstairs, but lingered near the entrance. Emily sat next to her on a stool, holding one of Sandy's hands, both of them looking like they wanted to disappear into the fake plant next to them. Sandy's other hand held a tray with a glass of something fizzy and red.

The casino had gotten so quiet that I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Michael appeared, took the drink from Sandy, and said something that made her relax a little, though she didn't let go of Emily's hand. While we all watched, our cards and slots abandoned, Michael brought Qi his drink. Qi reached for it.

Then something weird happened. Something else weird, I should say. Right before Qi took the drink, Michael pulled it back, like a schoolkid playing keep-away. As I watched, agog that he'd mock a man in a clearly volatile mood, Michael took a sip of the drink himself.

He set the glass back on the tray. For a moment, I didn't breathe. Then Michael nodded and handed the drink to Qi again.

Mr. Qi took it, and broke into a wide smile. I couldn't be sure, but it didn't look the slightest bit sincere to me. "Enjoy yourselves!" he shouted. "Have a magnificent time! Carry your memories of Qi's wonderland back with you to Stardew Valley."

He took a long drink as the ambient music and slot noises switched on again. As I, retreating into my corner behind the blackjack table, wondered exactly whose idea of a good time this was.

Chapter Text

I should have left right then, but like any casino, this one ran on the sunk cost fallacy. Mr. Qi had gotten his little show, I thought, and now he'd leave us alone to enjoy ourselves. I plunked myself down next to Leah at the blackjack table (current status: 24 gold down) and bought into the game.

But the thing about enjoying yourself is that the harder you try to do it, the harder it gets. I tried to focus on the game, but busted most of the hands because I couldn't stop looking around. Kent, Jodi, and Sam were taking turns on an arcade game in the corner, while Vincent shouted advice. Pam cursed at her slot machine. Sandy made the rounds with drinks, trading off shifts with Emily, who had shifted hard into waitress mode. Maru and Demetrius had taken up an entire poker table, much to the dealer's annoyance, and appeared to be sketching a rough schematic of the interior of a slot machine. Clint, still at the table with Willy, had been staring at the same hand of cards for ten minutes while shooting glances at Emily. Gus seemed to have gone off somewhere, maybe to look for more radioactive spices.

My heart went out to him. I wanted to help, too, but how could I when I hardly understood what was going on? Just who was Qi, anyway? Why would anyone run an establishment like this in the back of a roadside convenience store? And why had he stopped his speech halfway through?

I cashed out, stood up, and went to the bathroom, which was only slightly less purple than the rest of the casino. On my way out, Abigail corralled me by the arm. "Is it just me," she asked, "or is the vibe super off in here?"

I exhaled. "It's not just you."

"Thank Yoba. I thought I was going crazy. Maybe it's this fifties-alien movie music playing under everything, but ever since Qi made that speech..."

"Not that it's a contest," I said, "but I've been feeling weird even longer." I told her about the conversation I'd overheard between Sandy and Michael.

Abigail's eyes flitted to where Michael stood in a corner, unobtrusively waiting on Mr. Qi. Qi himself sat alone at a table, silently scanning the room, gulping glass after glass of his fizzy red drink. "OK, the bouncer seems cool," she said, "but that story has me legit worried. Is this place safe? I mean, we brought Vincent here."

Vincent and his mother looked safe enough as they co-opped a Prairie King cabinet, but I still shivered. "His dad's packing a gun. You tell them to clear out."

"That's not fair, Rhys," said Abby. "Kent's a good guy. I knew him growing up."

"All the more reason for you to talk to him, then."

Abby hmphed, conceding the point. "OK. I'll just check in. Make sure everything's all right."

Something flitted between us then, right before we broke eye contact. Abigail had been my friend for half a year, someone I'd come to think of as a little sister -- but before that, for two insane days, she'd been my investigative partner. Both of us, I think, felt that shift back into our old roles. Neither of us knew how to feel about it.

We separated. Abigail went for the arcade, while I headed back to the blackjack table. I bent down to Leah and whispered in her ear. "Want to go for a walk in the desert?" I asked. "It'll be nice while there's still heat in the rocks."

"You must've seen that I'm almost out of chips," she said. "Sure, a walk sounds great. It's starting to feel stuffy in here anyway."

Then the lights went out.

Gasps, and a few screams, rippled through the casino. Leah stood and pushed me behind her. A simple gesture, but it reminded me that one of us had killed to protect what they loved, and it wasn't me.

My instinct was different. I started counting seconds. One. Two.

At five, people started to murmur. "Stay still," I heard Kent say. "Jodi, Vincent, give me your hands."

At ten, I heard footsteps shuffling across the casino floor. Another pair joined them at twelve. Then more -- so many people moving I couldn't distinguish them.

Fifteen. A kachunk sound, like something heavy clicking into place. I jumped. Leah's hand siezed mine and tightened.

At eighteen, Qi's voice rang out. "Don't be alarmed. Power can be unreliable so far from a town. The backup generators should soon come online."

Twenty-three. Someone tripped over something and swore as they hit the floor.

Twenty-five. "Everyone stop moving! Tripping could be dangerous," shouted Demetrius. "Maru's got a light. Wait for her."

Thirty. Maru, stammering. "I'm sorry -- I, I think I left it on the bus."

Thirty-three. An odd clattering noise, like a bunch of small objects sliding around.

Thirty-four. Willy struck a match at the poker table, throwing light on his face and not much else.

Thirty-six. A gunshot rang out.

Light flashed, burning afterimages into my eyes. Everyone screamed. And I mean everyone. I kept from soiling myself through sheer force of will.

At thirty-seven, a second gunshot. Thirty-nine, a cough and splutter, like someone breathing underwater. It sent a hard edge through my soul, like I was the one trying and failing to swallow.

A human body hit the ground at forty-two. That's a sound you can't misidentify. It's also one you don't forget. Once I knew what I'd heard, I hardly heard anything else -- and you'd better believe that caused problems for me later.

In total, fifty-three seconds elapsed between the moment the power went out and the moment the backup generators kicked in, raising steady, fluorescent, decidedly non-disco lights. Lights that revealed the body of Michael the bouncer, sprawled on the floor behind the slot machines, leaking blood from two gunshot wounds.

Chapter Text

The first thing I became aware of, as my eyes adjusted to the light and the ringing in my ears subsided, was Maru straining to push past Demetrius. Her father had planted his feet and bearhugged her as she tried to move toward the body. She jerked against his grasp as he murmured in her ear. "Honey, you can't. Leave it for the police."

"But I'm the only trained medic here -- someone needs to confirm -- what if he's still alive?"

"He's not," said another voice, stony and final. Kent stepped forward until he, Maru, and the huddled form of Mr. Qi were all the same distance from the body. "I've seen dead men. You can tell."

Qi slowly unfolded himself and rose, clutching his wide-brimmed hat. Clumps of whispy hair on his uncovered head wafted in the casino's frigid air conditioning. Suddenly sensing that this was about to get very bad, I leaned close to Leah and whispered, "We need to get out now."

She shook her head. "We move with the crowd. It'll be safer." And less suspicious, was the part she left unsaid. Now that we're all suspects.

Qi snapped his fingers. More than a few people jumped. "Everybody out," he said. "The casino is closed. Staff, please ensure they leave the premises entirely. I don't want anyone loitering in the shop."

"Wait a minute."

All eyes turned to the arcade. Jodi and Sam had linked arms and formed a wall around a corner where Vincent crouched with his arms over his head. But the one who'd spoken was Abigail. "We can't just leave," she said. "You're calling the police, right? They'll want to take statements."

"This is a private matter," Qi said. Abby stood firm as the dark glasses turned slowly to face her. "My employee's blood has been spilled on the grounds of my business. I will not permit investigators to interfere unless they liaise with me first. Which means...you all may go."

"And if we don't?" Abby asked.

Mr. Qi lowered his glasses. Milky blue eyes gazed at Abigail with an almost sardonic look.

At that precise instant, every employee in the room rose from their chairs or set down their trays. Each moved a hand to their belt. Not one of them bared an inch of steel, but the implication was more than clear.

Luckily for Abby, the first of the staff to reach her was Sandy, who had left Emily rooted to her chair by the door. "Don't, babe," she said soothingly, in tones that suggested she and Abigail now shared a rare kind of pain. "It's not worth it."

Something about it broke through. Abigail set her mouth and looked away.

For all I remember after that, we might as well have been warped out of there by a spell. I know that we all filed out under the watchful eyes of Qi's legion of dealers and hosts, bade farewell to Sandy, and tramped back to the bus in a loose line, strung out across the desert sand. I vaguely remember Pam skipping a little, having finally won her jackpot at the slots, not really understanding why everyone was so quiet.

But all I really recall is the wind that swept across the night, gusts colder by far than the Stardew Valley autumn. It sent Gus sprinting after his hat, and me and Leah sprinting to the bus where we'd left our warm flannels. Strange, the things that stick with you.

We took the same seats as before -- me next to Leah, Abby across from us. Emily boarded last, wrapped in Clint's coat. She dropped into the bench seat at the back of the bus and slumped over to sprawl out in relative privacy.

The ride began in silence, but it didn't take long before people started to mutter. Once we'd left the desert behind, Abigail leaned across the aisle and said to me and Leah: "So that Qi guy did it, right?"

"Keep it down," I told her.

"Come off it, Rhys, everyone else is talking about the same thing. It has to have been him. Look at how he treated his employees."

Abby had a way of drawing me into these conversations in spite of myself. "I saw a lot of very nice suits and watches on those employees," I said. "If that's how he was treating them, sign me up."

"Money isn't everything," said Leah. "There's any number of ways he could have set one of them off."

Leah still looked as shaken as I felt, but talking seemed to help the color back into her cheeks, so I kept it up. "I admit he's incredibly shady. But shadiness isn't a motive."

"You have a point," said Abby. "Otherwise they'd have arrested that wizard years ago."

The shady wizard in question was, of course, Abby's biological father, which explained her bilious reaction to everything he did. I decided to change the subject. "I guess it'll be the Fidos again?"

"Unless that desert stop had a sheriff hiding in the dumpster."

"Agent Thorsley, do you think?" asked Leah.

"I hope. She knows the area." Thorsley and her partner, Marquez, had restored my faith in the Ferngill Investigative Division after her colleague Dobson had nearly ruined our inquiry into the death of Mayor Lewis. I knew plenty of people who believed the Fidos were to detective work what a cactus was to an asshole, but those two might be able to do the job.

"She probably won't get the wrong guy," Leah said, "but what are the chances she gets the right one?"

That silenced us. The more I pondered the case, the more I didn't envy whoever had to solve it. A darkened room. Two dozen suspects with no alibi. I guessed the most important evidence would be the position of Michael's wound, maybe the blood spatter (though I hadn't seen any), matching the bullet to Kent's gun...

I came to with a start to see Abigail smirking at me. "What?" I asked.

"I can read you like a book. You're thinking about sleuthing it, aren't you?"

"In a totally hypothetical sense," I said. "I'm not going back to that casino with a magnifying glass. Honestly, I wouldn't mind never setting foot in there again."

Abby's smirk widened. "But."

"But I'll be interested to read about the investigation once a real detective resolves it. Now quit smirking at me. You look like a Spirit's Eve gourd."

"A real detective," someone said behind us. All three of us twisted in our seats as the grin fell away from Abigail's face. At some point, Kent had moved into the empty row behind me and Leah, and now sat across two seats, staring out at the hills rolling by.

Leah swallowed. "Are you all right, Kent?"

"Let me tell you about real detectives," said Kent. "They don't work for you, or me, or any kind of ideal of justice, however much they talk about it. They work for people like Mr. Qi."

I exchanged a glance with Leah. Neither of us could disagree, but I think it surprised us both how personal Kent's bitterness seemed. "Do you know Qi from somewhere, Kent?" I asked.

"I've met his kind before. They're all over the army. Some of 'em are in charge. Some of 'em sell the guns. But one thing's true of all of them. They never roll the dice if they don't already know what'll come up."

Kent looked two rows back to where Vincent lay snoring with his head on Jodi's lap. For the first time, I saw his military hardness break, but it didn't last long enough for me to see anything underneath.

"It doesn't matter which Fido comes this time," he said, turning back to the window. "Mark my words. They'll collar whoever Qi tells them to collar. Then give themselves medals for it."

Chapter Text

We filed off the bus in much the same silence as we'd filed aboard. Everyone shuffled off toward home in a pack that shed people as we moved through the town. Eventually nobody was left but me, Leah, and Gus, who clapped me on the shoulder before heading back to the Stardrop. "I'll talk with Caroline about a town meeting," he said. "Thank Yoba, it wasn't one of us this time, but what just happened...no-one should carry that alone."

"Thanks, Gus," I said. "I'm sorry about how the evening turned out."

"No need to be sorry for me. It's Em I'm most worried about. You sure she'll be OK getting home?"

"Clint would die before he let anything happen to her," said Leah. "We're all right, Gus. Go get some rest."

Gus nodded, but didn't look wholly satisfied as he sauntered back to the Stardrop.

Leah and I didn't need to talk to know that neither of us wanted to be alone. I lit a torch, and we headed back to the farm -- as we usually did, since I had the bigger bed. Though I'd squared the fields away early that morning, we checked over the crop again by firelight, just to make sure the sprinklers were sprinkling. Beets and broccoli, pumpkins and yams. It made a soothing rhythm.

Then we shut the chicken coop and the barn, making sure the animals were all right. They were, of course. Nobody was shooting guns around them.

Later, after an hour or so that continues to not be your business, we both sat bolt upright in bed as someone pounded on the door. "Who--" Leah whispered, but I held a finger to my lips. "You protected me back at the casino," I said. "My turn."

The look on her face then was enough to distract me even from the mysterious knocking, but I had to focus. By the flickering light from the fireplace, I reached into my bedside chest and pulled out the longsword I used when exploring the mines. Leah hastily buttoned her shirt, then rolled behind the bed in case I needed backup.

More pounding at the door. "Farmer Woodlawn," someone said. "You in there?"

My blood chilled. I recognized that voice. But what could possibly have brought Kent to the farm after midnight?

I opened the door with my sword arm slack, but made sure the weapon was visible. Kent nodded in approval when he laid eyes on it. "Looks like a good balance. One of Clint's?"

"Found it in the mines," I said. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Kent studied the floorboards. "Well, I actually think so. Mind if we step out on the porch?"

I nodded quickly to Leah. As soon as I shut the door, I heard her footsteps pacing toward the window, where she'd probably crouch in wait. I was grateful, and doubly grateful that Kent didn't raise a fuss about me bringing the sword. There were just enough question marks surrounding him that I wanted to be sure.

"The old place looks good," Kent said, once I'd shut the door. "Was just stumps and weeds when I left."

The autumn night was crisp and quiet, with a bite to the air as I came to stand beside him. We looked out over the farm. I let myself feel some pride, but not so much I let my guard down.

Kent cleared his throat. "You can probably guess I didn't come here to talk about vegetables."

"I gathered."

"I, uh...heard about you taking on the case when Mayor Lewis died. Jodi wrote me one heck of a letter."

Huh. I wondered how we'd all come off in that account. "Then she probably told you we didn't solve the case."

"Maybe you didn't find the killer. But you did keep an innocent man from taking the fall."

My scattered thoughts realigned. In a flash, I understood what this was about.

"Qi's going to want someone to bleed for this," Kent said, echoing my thoughts. "Might be...I'm the best scapegoat right now."

I had to admit the same thought had occurred to me. I'd suppressed it, though. Assumed it was just a product of my bias against Kent. I hadn't considered that the police, or Mr. Qi, might think the same way. "You've got no motive," I pointed out.

Kent opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and thought a moment. Then he said: "Won't matter to the cops. It was my gun that did it. And I'm...if they look into me, read my service record, they'll see an open-and-shut case."

"It'll have holes," I said. "If the killer stole your gun, they probably wiped the prints. Yours too."

"Huh," said Kent. "See, this is why I want you on the case. I didn't even think of that."

I took a deep breath. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Find out who really did this. Or find some evidence it wasn't me, and show it to the Fidos. Do for me what you did for Linus in the spring. I..." He'd begun to ramble, and sounded like he knew it. "I've seen you avoiding me around town. I don't blame you for it. I don't feel crazy, but I don't trust myself. Hell, I've been wondering if I did kill that bouncer, and maybe forgot about it somehow."

In silhouette, I saw Kent's shoulders sag. "Jodi won't let me help around the house. She says I need to rest and recover, but I think she's afraid I'll break a dish if some noise outside sets me off. Sammy turned into a man while I was gone. Doesn't want anything to do with me. And Vince looks at me like a stranger. I..."

He sniffed, hard, fighting to rein something in.

"I just got them back, Rhys," he said, turning to face me through the darkness. "Please. I just got them back."

I could think of nothing to say except: "It's late, Kent. Let me sleep on it. I'll come to you first thing in the morning."

"All right." He nodded. "That's all I ask." Then he slipped off the porch without another word.

Inside, I let out the breath I'd been holding for the whole conversation. Leah popped up from behind the bed. "You hear everything?" I asked her.

"Yeah." She came around the bed and put her arms around me. I squeezed her back, and we stood for a long moment, while the fire flickered over us.

Then we both spoke at the same time. "I want to take the case," I said, as Leah said, "You should do it."

I pushed back and held her at arm's length. "You agree?"

"What, you thought this would be like last time?" She brushed hair out of her eyes. "I don't have anyone to cover for now. Kent needs to be with his family. You can keep them together. You can't sit this one out."

"Just what I was thinking," I said, and pulled her in again, planting a long kiss on her forehead. "It's good to have you on my side this time."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be in as deep as you. But I can take care of the farm while you're running around." The firelight flashed across Leah's eyes. "Bring all the help you can get."

Chapter Text

As the next day dawned, it was my turn to bang on Kent's door. Abigail stood behind me, carrying a tray of takeout coffee cups from her dad's shop, and looking like she was going to need all of them.

I had hoped Kent would answer, but when the door opened, it was Vincent staring out at us. His bright eyes hardened into a glare. Before I could say anything, he slammed the door.

I blew out my cheeks. "Maybe if we offered him some coffee?"

"Kids aren't your thing, are they?" Abigail asked.

"Not really. I prefer parsnips. They don't have emotions."

"Let me try." Abigail shouldered past me and knocked again. The door opened, this time to reveal Sam, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Abby?" he yawned. "It's like none-thirty AM."

"No, none-thirty AM is when you're still practicing drums." Abigail discreetly inserted her foot into the door. "Rhys and I have to talk to your dad."

That woke Sam up. I had to remind myself he could pay attention when it mattered. "Yeah, sure. Come in."

We entered the familiar living room, where Vincent huddled in a ball in a corner of the couch, still withering me with his glare. "Sorry about Vince," Sam said, "he's just--"

Vincent cut across him. "My dad didn't kill anyone."

"I know," I said. "He talked to me last night. I'm just here for a little more information."

"I don't believe you. That's what the cops always say when they're about to arrest somebody."

"Vincent, I think your dad is innocent."

He folded his arms. "You don't sound like you think that."

I couldn't really argue. Truth was, I still didn't know Kent well enough to say one way or the other. Last time, Elliott had taught me to question everyone, even friends and allies. And as the only one with a gun, Kent was the logical suspect, even without a motive. He had sounded remorseful last night, but what did he regret: taking his family to the casino at all, or pulling the trigger?

Abigail nudged me. "This is where you say something encouraging."

Kent saved me by walking into the room at that moment. His eyes widened when he saw me, but before I could speak, Vincent leapt up from the couch. "Dad, make him leave," he said. "He's gonna try to make you look like the killer."

"Vince, Rhys is here to help, OK?" Kent handed Sam a few coins. "Sammy, could you take your little brother to Pierre's and grab something for breakfast? I need a few minutes with the farmer."

Sam obliged, though Vincent backpedaled all the way out the door so as not to break glare contact. It worked. Even after he was gone, I felt the weight of a child's soul on my shoulders. It made me long for another mystery where only one person's life hung in the balance.

"It's all right if Abigail stays?" I asked.

"Sure," said Kent. "I know she helped you last time. Plus she's always here anyway. Playing...what is it? Stolteron Chronicles?"

"Solarion," Abby and I said together, then both turned red. We sat down, she and I taking the couch, Kent in a black armchair.

"Jodi's sleeping in," he told us. "I'm praying you're here about the case."

I nodded. "I want to help, Kent."

"But?"

"But there's something you aren't telling us."

Kent's face turned to stone. "What makes you think that?"

"Your service record," I said. "You hinted that if the Fidos learned why you left the army, it would make you look suspicious. I need to know why."

"Not because we think you did it," Abigail added. "But because we need total information. You never know which detail is gonna turn out to be important."

"All right. I get it," said Kent. "I didn't mean to keep anything from you, Rhys. Just didn't want to go too deep before you'd committed."

He gripped the arms of the chair as if for balance. "You probably know I was in a POW camp behind Gotoro lines. I'm not telling that part, because it's not important, and if we start on it now I'll be useless the rest of the day. What matters is how I wound up there."

I sat forward, ready to mentally note everything, but with no real idea what I was about to hear.

"I was quartermaster for my section," Kent said. "In charge of keeping our supplies stocked. We were posted to a forward base, and it could take a while to get ahold of things we needed. Not just guns and ammo and armor, but food, gas, tires, cigarettes -- all the stuff an army runs on. The brass knew that. So they gave us the green light to work with third parties when we had to. Contractors who had other ways of getting the goods."

"Smugglers," I said.

Kent nodded. "More or less. Most of 'em were as above-board as you can be in a job like that. They gave us good prices, 'cause once they've humped all the way out there, who else are they gonna sell to? But there was one I kept my eye on."

"Let me guess," said Abby. "Mr. Qi?"

"He didn't go by that name, then. Didn't have all that blue crap on his face, either. I didn't even recognize him in the casino until right before everything went down. But it was the same guy."

"What made him different from the others?" I asked.

"Nothing, except he was the best. People always said, if nobody else has it, go to him. But every time he visited base, something seemed to go missing. He was smart -- never took so much it would show up against our usual attrition. It took me months to catch onto his game." Kent squeezed dents into the arms of the chair. "He was buying our trust with legit goods, then pilfering arms. Soon as he left, he'd slip over to the Gotoro lines and sell them our guns and armor. Then he'd grab shit they only have over there -- booze, mostly -- and sell it at a premium to us."

I had heard the Ferngill military had an advantage over the Gotorians, who were mostly fighting with outdated weapons. It was the main reason we were still gaining ground. With every business trip, Qi -- or the man who would be Qi -- sharply increased the chances that one of his customers would take a bullet. "I've never heard of anything so despicable," I said.

Kent laughed hollowly. "You must never have served."

"Or, like, read a newspaper ever," said Abby. "Did you try to call him out?"

"I went to my lieutenant about it, and he told me to stop digging. Qi was too valuable. Even if he was playing both sides. So I tried going over his head. Went straight to the colonel. That was my big mistake. Turns out, Qi took special orders for the officers. Got them things the enlisted men never saw. Things that would get 'em in real trouble back home." Kent looked at the wall now, meeting no-one's eye. "They liked their little kingdom just the way it was. So they sent my squad into an ambush. The Goats took us alive. Most of us."

I turned to Abigail, who was staring at me open-mouthed. Neither of us had imagined such a thing was possible. You know, academically, that war is war and rules go out the window, but you never really believe it of your own side until you hear a story like this.

"I can't prove it was connected," Kent said. "Might be they had bad intel. Might be we were a diversion for the real operation somewhere else. What I do know is, the very same day, Qi got a tip and buggered off. Nobody saw him again."

"Thank you, Kent," I said. "There's only one thing I don't get."

"That puts you ahead of me." He smiled tightly.

"Why open his casino so close to Stardew Valley?"

"You mean, why would he set up shop so close to someone he knew could unmask him?" Kent shook his head. "I've asked myself the same question. Most likely he had no idea I lived here. But maybe...he was hoping I'd find him. Maybe he wanted me to know he could come for my family. I wouldn't put anything past that crawler."

"Was Michael with him when he was an arms dealer?" Abigail asked.

"Nope. One or two of the people at that Casino were folks on his staff back then, but I've never seen that bouncer before in my life. No clue where Qi hired him."

That seemed to be the end of it. Abigail and I rose. I held out my hand, and Kent shook it firmly. "I can't promise anything," I said. "But we'll do everything we can."

"Thank you," Kent replied. "If someone had said that to me back then, and meant it, none of us would be in this fix now."

Chapter Text

Leaving Kent's, we beelined for the cemetery, which Abby had taught me years ago was the best place in town to not be overheard. I wished Elliot were here -- his analytical mind would have been a great help in starting to arrange the shattered pieces of this case. But he was still out on his book tour.

In the graveyard, Abigail sat on the tombstone of her ancestor Theodoric Rasmodeus. "Well. That sucked."

"Yup." I paced among the graves. "I don't know what I was expecting him to tell us, but it wasn't that."

"Let me sum up." Abby rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Kent owns the murder weapon. He's trained to use it. And he's got motive for days. Is there anything that doesn't make him look guilty?"

"Two things, as I see it." I ticked them off on my fingers. "One, there's the opportunity angle. Kent brought his whole family to the casino, then hung out there for an hour without shooting. And he clearly recognized Qi. If I were planning to murder someone, that's not how I'd do it."

"Unless he was waiting for the power to go out," Abby pointed out.

Damn. I had no retort, so I forged ahead instead. "Fine. Two. The victim wasn't Mr. Qi."

"Oh, right," said Abby. "I keep forgetting. I guess that helps -- if he set this all up ahead of time, there's no way he'd kill the bouncer instead of Qi."

"Unless there's something we don't know about Michael. And we don't know anything about Michael."

"We need to get back out there," said Abigail. "Take names from the staff. Examine the scene."

"Agreed," I said, though I'd be bringing all the swords I owned. "I'll talk to Pam--"

"Yo," said a third voice. I recalled that, while the cemetery was the best place in town to not be overheard, it still wasn't great.

I tensed, but the person emerging around the hedges was just Abigail's boyfriend, Sebastian. Abby hopped off the tombstone and crossed the distance in three strides. Sebastian hugged her so tightly his jet-black hairs got tangled in her purple ones. "I've been looking for you all morning," he said. "Heard about what happened. Are you two OK?"

"I'm fine," said Abby. "Thanks for checking, though."

"Conditionally fine," I amended. "We, uh, may have gotten mixed up in another murder mystery."

I forgave the split second of outrage on Sebastian's face -- the last murder hadn't been a great time for him. But he smoothed over his features quickly. "Long as you're safe," he said as he and Abigail parted. "Are you coming to the meeting first?"

"What meeting?" Abby asked.

"The one your mom called. She wants to talk to everyone about the desert incident."

It always took me a moment to remember that whenever someone referred to Abigail's mom, they were also talking about Mayor Caroline of Pelican Town. Weird, since she'd been mayor for most of the time I'd known her, but minds are terrible at shifting gears. It's what makes mysteries so hard to solve.

"I guess we'd better," said Abby. "But right after that, Rhys and I are skipping town to look into the casino again. You're invited."

"I'll do what I can," said Seb.

By the time we got to the meeting room behind the general store, most of the village had already gathered, seating themselves on a few rows of folding chairs. The attendees who'd been at the casino -- which looked like everyone except Kent and his family, plus Leah, who'd texted to say she was busy weeding -- were getting bombarded with questions by some of those who hadn't, and defended from those questions by the rest. George, Haley, and Jas, each an inveterate gossip in their own way, were kept at bay from Maru and Demetrius by Robin's ironwood stare. They had to make do with Clint, who seemed to relish the chance to draw them all away from Emily.

Caroline and Gus were standing at the head of the room, talking quietly. A moment after we arrived, Caroline cleared her throat for silence. "Thank you all for being here," she said. "You've probably already heard, but there has been another tragedy in our midst."

A few whispers rumbled, but the room fell mostly quiet.

"I want you to know I'm here if anyone has anything they want to talk about," said Caroline, catching her daughter's eye. "Gus has said the same. Dr. Harvey," she nodded to a bespectacled and be-sweatered man in the front row of seats, "has asked me to remind everybody to be on the lookout for physical symptoms of psychological trauma, which can take a day or two to emerge."

She waited a beat, then continued. "Also, effective immediately, I'm suspending bus service to Calico Desert until further notice."

"What?" said several people at once, including Abigail and me. That was going to make things very tricky indeed. I wondered if all three of us could squeeze onto Sebastian's motorcycle.

Caroline raised her voice over the general hubbub. "Pam will still drive the Grampleton route, but not the desert line. I can't forbid anyone from going there another way, but let me strongly urge you not to. Someone died last night, and I've spent the whole morning thanking Yoba that it wasn't my daughter, nor any one of you."

"But--" Abigail started, then thought better of it. Even she wasn't brazen enough to blurt out to her mayoral mother that we were willingly putting ourselves back into harm's way.

"I'm acting to protect this town. It's my most important responsibility as mayor," said Caroline, fixing her daughter with a stern gaze. "That's all. Thanks for coming. I'll be here for the rest of today if anyone wants to talk."

General Hubbub and his chattering army conquered the room again.

When I turned to ask Abby what she thought we should do, I found her looking back with a carbon copy of her mother's glare. "Oh, I want to talk," she murmured to me, "but not to Mayor Mom."

"What do you mean?" I whispered back.

"Almost everyone who went last night is here in the room now," she said. "I think it's time to start crossing off some suspects."

Chapter Text

I didn't want to think that the killer might have come from Pelican Town. All Qi's henchmen were leagues more suspicious than anybody I knew here, even guys like Marlon and Gunther who never talked about themselves. But my (admittedly brief) sleuthing career had taught me never to assume anything about anyone.

We were straightforward with everyone. I said I was investigating the shooting, and didn't suspect anyone in the room, but wanted to rule them out. Abigail made it sound like one of her true crime larks, while I hinted that I was really eager to solve a case for once. It helped that almost nobody in town actually knew I'd solved the murder of Mayor Lewis. Most were sympathetic. Despite knowing me well by now, a lot of the townsfolk still thought farming sucked a lot more than it did.

So, in the interest of completeness, here's how everyone in the room answered three questions: What were you doing when the lights went out? Did you know Michael before visiting the casino last night? Did you know Kent had a gun?

Clint: When the lights went out, went to look for Emily, but tripped over a stool and skinned his knee. Showed me the band-aid. Did not know Michael. Did know Kent had a gun, and had a lot of opinions about their inferiority to swords. Told me the war would be over tomorrow if we fought the Gotorians with swords. Asked me not to repeat that to Kent.

Willy: Stayed put. He's not an idiot (his words), plus he didn't want anyone stealing his poker chips. Did not know Michael. Was aware of Kent's gun, but didn't know he'd brought it until he saw it at the fishing hole. Would have advised Kent not to bring it.

Demetrius: As soon as the lights went out, heard Maru say she had a penlight, and decided they could use it to get safely to the exit. Wanted to shield Maru from the danger, but without knowing what direction the danger would come from, settled for trying to keep her still until she found the light. "Whenever anything bad happens, she always wants to help." Didn't know Michael, or that Kent carried a gun.

Maru: Believed the power outage was a clue that someone in the room wanted to hurt someone else. Realized that the penlight would have made her the only visible target, and pretended not to be able to find it, though it was in her pocket the whole time. Asked me not to tell her dad. Didn't know Michael. Didn't know about Kent's gun. Went on an eloquent rant about guns as the ultimate perversion of science, being the only tools in the world with no purpose except violence -- even a sword can cut food, or reach something across the room.

Emily: Stayed hidden in the corner with Sandy. Wasn't entirely sure which of them was protecting the other, but they survived by not being noticed. Had heard Sandy talk about Michael before, at first derisively, but more positively the more they worked together. He seemed to be the only member of Qi's staff who cared about her well-being, or could hold a pleasant conversation. Almost seemed to have a crush, but Emily never pushed. Didn't know about the gun; worries for Vincent's safety in that house.

Gus: Was returning from the bathroom when the lights cut out. Told me it's hidden in the wall protrusion that blocks off the chip-cashing alcove, which would have been bloody useful to know last night, as I spent the whole evening running to the port-o-potty outside Sandy's store. Stayed concealed behind the door, having no idea what was out there. Maybe heard someone mutter something about "those bastards." It wasn't a voice he recognized. Didn't know if it was Michael. Didn't know Michael. Knew about Kent's gun; said "whatever he needs to do to feel safe."

Leah: Still not there. The angle of the most recent photo she texted me suggested she was fighting a squirrel. This was a real act of love, since she's never agreed with the amount of animal nemeses I've accumulated.

Pam: Doesn't know anything about guns or some dead guy, and is pretty upset that nobody has congratulated her on her big jackpot yet.

"Wait," I said. All this fruitless interrogating had built a pounding ache behind my eyes, but I still tripped over Pam's words. "You actually did win the slot machine?"

"Of course!" Pam glowered. "You'd better not be calling me a--"

"When?"

"What do you mean, when? Last night."

"He means when last night," Abigail said. The three of us were sitting in a triangle of folding chairs at the back of the meeting room, pointed inward. "As in what time."

"It's a casino. They don't have clocks."

"I'm only asking," I said, "because if most people hit it big at the slots, they'd say something right away. Not hide it until they were back on the bus."

"There were some nasty characters in there," said Pam. "I didn't want them roughing me up to keep the money."

"But they'd find out when you cashed in the chips," Abby pointed out.

"I'd have taken them back in a few smaller loads. I'd have plenty of chances. I drive the bus route every damn day." Pam crossed her arms. "I don't like the two of you going all good-cop-bad-cop. You want to accuse me, show me a badge."

"We're not -- nobody's a cop," I said. "And if we were, we'd be more like...confused-cop-curious-cop. I don't think you shot the bouncer. But I need to know what did happen. Tell me how you managed to win a jackpot without anybody else noticing."

"Easy," Pam said. "It was while the lights were off."

I dropped my head into my hands. "While the lights were off."

"Yeah."

"The lights that ran on the building power."

"Sure."

"The power that also supplied the slot machines."

Pam growled, "A slot machine doesn't need power."

"Maybe like fifty years ago!" Abby burst out. "Those were video slot machines. They only looked mechanical."

"How do you know? Take one apart, did you?"

Abby twisted in her folding chair. "Hey, Maru!" she yelled over her shoulder.

"Yeah?" said Maru, who was just about to leave with Demetrius.

"You were sketching one of the slot machines. Do they need power to work?"

"Absolutely. The motherboard alone--"

"Thanks!" Abby interrupted, and turned back to Pam. She looked, in that moment, very much like she wouldn't have minded if Pam was indeed the killer. For Pam's part, she still had the usual glower plastered on her face, but her body disagreed. She'd hunched into her chair, looking defensive, even ashamed.

"Well?" I asked.

"Fine." Pam resembled nothing so much as a scolded child. "I lost, all right? I lost a lot. More than I thought I'd lose. I've gotten a bit of cash put away since Caroline found that state fund and gave me a raise. I was gonna take Penny to Grampleton for the day, maybe go to that bookstore she likes. But I dumped most of that into the slots last night. Started to panic a little."

"And when the lights went out?"

"I'd already seen the lock on that coin dispenser was flimsy. Thought about going straight to the source. When the lights went out...guess I took it as a sign from Yoba." She sighed and unfolded a little. "I jimmied the lock with a file from my purse. Scooped out a bunch of the coins and got back to my stool before the lights came on. Then everyone was distracted by the dead body. Worked out better for me than it did for him."

Neither Abigail nor I managed a word. I remembered the strange rattling sounds I'd heard in the first few moments after the lights went out. It didn't exactly solve the murder, but I'd take any answers I could get at this point.

"What?" Pam prickled again. "I can read you two. You think I shouldn't have done it. Well, I think that Qi guy seems like a crook, and he won't miss a few bucks. I just didn't want to make my daughter cry. Not again."

I might have said that seeing her mom hauled off in cuffs was a lot more likely to hurt Penny than missing out on a new book, but I wasn't here to judge anybody. At least not out loud.

"Will there be anything else?" said Pam with a forced politeness. "Want me to say my name is Pam and I'm an alcoholic? That didn't work the last three times."

"Excuse me," said a new voice from behind us. "I wouldn't mind a word with my daughter."

Since being elected mayor, Caroline's bearing had changed -- or rather, something that had always been there had come into the light. She stood taller, spoke with more authority, offered respect freely and demanded it in return. By all accounts, it had made her marriage with Pierre stronger than ever, but at the cost of making her a harder wall for Abigail to surmount.

Pam took the opportunity to flee. Caroline struck before Abby could speak. "Honey, don't forget you told your father you'd mind the store today," she said. "He needs to go meet with the wholesalers, remember?"

"But--"

"Mm-mm. You made a promise."

Abby shot me a desparate look, but I raised my hands in surrender. Inside, I started to despair. Caroline meant well, but between this and the bus, she couldn't have sabotaged our investigation better if she'd been the killer herself.

Heading out through the general store, I snatched one more moment to talk with Abby. "Get Seb to take you on his bike," she whispered to me over the counter. "We have to see the crime scene again before Qi has a chance to scrub all the clues way."

"You think he'll let us in?"

"Play the innocent country hick. Say you forgot something. Worst comes to worst, take pictures and run."

"Excuse me."

Abby's face brightened at the sound of a familiar voice. I couldn't help smiling myself. The man striding through the door looked like he was constantly posing for an about-the-author photo, but beneath those overly combed locks was one of my closest friends in the valley.

"I couldn't help overhearing your highly indiscrete stage whisper," said Elliott, joining us by the register. "And since I know Sebastian still has not invested in a second helmet of Rhys's size, his preference of late running toward a daintier passenger--"

"Call me dainty again and I'll behead you," said Abigail, still grinning.

"--I thought I might offer a safer alternative," Elliott finished. "The publisher's agent will not be picking up the loaner car until tomorrow. Though you remain chained here, a princess in a tower of local commerce, Rhys and I can be in Calico Desert by lunchtime."

Chapter Text

In the car, Elliott filled me on his book tour. The publisher had loved The Blue Tower, his fictional reimagining of the founding of Pelican Town, but made him change the title to Curse My Bones, which Elliott still felt stupid saying out loud.

"But the rest has been wonderful," he said. "I must thank you again for the inspiration. The most common question I receive is whether the mysterious hermit in the woodland ruin is actually a wizard, but close on its heels, readers beg to know whether the honest Farmer Robert survives the barn fire."

"Does he?" I'd had the same question when I read the manuscript.

"Come now, Rhys. I didn't tell you that before, and I don't intend to now. You'll have to wait for the sequel. Which I refuse to title, as they'll probably change it to something even more asinine."

"I can't wait to read it."

"You flatter me. If you ever want to discuss the crime, you should shut me up posthaste," he said. "Talking about myself to excess was a bad habit before I went on tour, and I'm afraid it's even more engrained now. Tell me everything you know so far."

"Fair enough." I stretched out, reclining the seat of the luxurious loaner car a little farther back than necessary, and related the details of the crime and its aftermath. Elliott remained silent throughout, cataloguing everything, only occasionally interrupting to ask for more details.

When I'd finished, he sat back in the driver's seat, taking one hand off the wheel to run it distractedly through his hair. "What makes you so certain," he asked, "that Michael was the intended target, and not Mr. Qi?"

"Qi certainly seems to have had a lot more enemies," I said. "But there's no way the shooter missed. It was pitch dark, but they hit the same target twice. This is someone who knew how to use a gun, and knew who they wanted to kill."

"A skill almost exclusively trained in the military," said Elliott grimly. "I can understand why Kent is worried about facing charges."

I gulped. "Let's leave that aside for now. What do you think of Michael?"

"I'm sorry I never had the chance to meet him. From what I've heard, he seems to have a been a kind soul, thoughtful and slow to violence. Although it makes one wonder how he came to work for an amoral smuggler operating an unlicensed casino."

"Unlicensed? Are you sure?"

Elliott gave me as much side-eye as he could without taking his eyes off the road. "According to Kent's story, Qi disappeared from the front lines no more than a year ago. I've never known any gambling commission to act that quickly."

"Unless they've been bribed," I said.

"Which likewise doesn't speak well of Qi as an employer."

I sank down in the passenger seat. "The one thing I can't get out of my head is the conversation I overheard between Michael and Sandy. I can't help thinking I missed something obvious, not having the full context."

"Well, then," said Elliott, "we shall have to see if Miss Sandy will supply it for us."

I'd never expected to come back to Calico Desert so quickly. I may be projecting here, but the desert seemed surprised too. The traders were still setting up their tents amid their half-awake camels, under palm trees that drooped like unattended houseplants. Even the sparkle of sun on the fishing pond looked forlorn. The magic of the place had bled out just like Michael the bouncer had.

Elliott pulled into a small parking lot by the Oasis. Stepping out, I noted the total lack of police, and caught Elliott's eye. "If Qi hasn't called the cops, do you think we should?"

"I doubt Kent would appreciate that," Elliott said, coming around the car.

"Yeah, but..." I waved my hand. "Civic duty."

"If it helps, I imagine the call will be routed to Qi's handpicked agents either way."

"It doesn't."

Nobody was in the store except Sandy. She leaned one elbow on the counter and flipped through a book with the other, occasionally glancing toward the closed casino door. She brightened when she saw us. "Farmer Rhys! And you've brought a friend."

"Hi again, Sandy. This is Elliott."

Elliott took Sandy's hand and brushed his lips across it. "Delighted."

Sandy giggled. "What can I do for you boys? Come to pick up some of those seeds you were eyeing yesterday?"

"No," I said. "Well, yes. But I'm afraid it's mainly about what happened last night."

"Yoba, I'm so sorry about that," said Sandy, her face falling. "I never would have invited you all if I'd known. I don't suppose you'll believe me when I say that's never happened before."

"We will," said Elliott, "if you'll do us a favor in return, and believe that nothing we ask you is meant to be hostile or accusatory. Rhys and I are here in pursuit of the truth."

"Oh." Sandy straightened up and took a step back. "Am I being interrogated?"

I chose my words carefully. "We're doing a favor. For someone who doesn't trust the police to serve justice."

"Anyone who does hasn't been paying attention," Sandy said darkly. "Fine, I'll help you out. Least I can do for old Michael."

"What is it like working here, Sandy?" Elliott asked.

"It wasn't so bad for a while." Sandy rested her chin on her hand and gazed past us, looking over her domain. "I was hired by some old folks who owned the place but never came by, so it was basically my store. I decorated, picked inventory, hand-drew some ads and put them all up and down the freeway. Felt like I was building something. It was a lovely two years."

"But then?" I prompted.

She sighed. "Then the old couple sold out to Mr. Qi. I can't blame them. Supposedly, he put up cash on the barrel, and times are hard. He closed down the store for a month, and when he reopened, he'd turned the whole back room into his casino. Keeping it hidden in the back and having a bouncer was supposed to make it feel mysterious and dangerous, even though word spread all the way to Zuzu within a few months. Mike used to joke he was in advertising, not security."

"Mike?" asked Elliott.

Sandy colored a little. "I know, I know. He really wasn't a Mike. But we spent so much time together every day that it got weird to still act formal. I told him I had to call him something. He said he didn't mind." She swallowed, and blinked hard a few times. "I still can't believe he's gone."

"Can you tell us how it happened, Sandy?" I asked. "In your own words?"

"I won't be able to tell you much you didn't see yourself," she told me. "Em and I hunkered down when the lights went out, and then we heard the shots. I don't know most of what goes on back there, and I don't care to, but I don't know why anyone would want to kill Mike. He got along with everybody."

"One last question," said Elliott, "and then we will leave you to your business. What's it like working under the mysterious Mr. Qi?"

Sandy checked the casino door again, then beckoned us in and lowered her voice. "It's been all right the last month or so," she said. "He hasn't been showing his face around here much. Got something else going on, I guess, so he's letting the casino run itself. But before that..." She shivered. "It was bad. I was the lowest on the totem pole. He'd order me around just like he did last night, make me waitress even though that's not my job. Look the other way while his boys said whatever they wanted and tried to cop feels. I'd have quit months ago if he didn't pay so well."

I nodded in sympathy. There was no prison like a halfway-decent job.

"If you two want to look around in there, I can let you in," Sandy said. "The cops came by to take the body away, but they haven't touched anything else."

"I would love that." I tried not to dance with inappropriate glee. I hadn't counted on a crime scene anywhere near that pristine. "But aren't you putting yourself in danger?"

"Qi thinks he's got me wrapped around his finger," said Sandy, retrieving a ring of keys from behind the register. "Because he kinda does. But if I make an excuse, he'll believe it."

I exchanged another look with Elliott on the way up, sensing he was having the same thought as me: Sandy had sounded half mournful, half infatuated. If she had killed Michael on purpose, it could only have been for an extraordinary reason.

The casino, like the desert, changed under the harsh eye of morning. The gloomy ambient music was silent, and instead of the disco lights, long morgue-white fluorescents illuminated the room. The police had made a chalk outline where Michael fell and set yellow tape around the area, but otherwise, it looked much like it had when Qi kicked us all out last night.

Sandy moved back into the stairwell, promising to watch the door. I combed the walls for blood to see if we could pinpoint where the shooter had stood, but after two circuits each, neither Elliott nor I turned up anything. As I prepared myself for a third try, a vague notion of confirming Pam's story drew me over to the coin dispenser on the back wall.

Elliott followed. "An excellent job," he said upon seeing the sprung padlock. "I would never have imagined Pam to be--"

He broke off. "What?" I asked.

Elliott pointed mutely through the clear plastic surface of the coin dispenser. I followed his finger, and likewise felt the words knocked out of me. Poking up through the pile of coins, barely uncovered, was the grip of a pistol.

Chapter Text

"Fifty-three seconds."

"Excuse me?" asked Elliott.

"That's how long the lights were out. I counted." I spun away from the Qi-coin dispenser to face the wider room. "Kent was standing over there." I pointed to the arcade. Then I turned on my heel, arm still outstretched, pointing at the chalk outline. "Michael was there when he was shot."

"Rhys, I'm confident this is leading somewhere, but we should decide what to do about the gun."

"In a minute." I strode to the farthest point anyone had mentioned in their statements this morning: the bathroom, where Gus said he'd been hiding. "Count seconds for me."

Sounding a tad like he was indulging a madman, Elliott began to count. "One-in the Gem Sea. Two-in the Gem Sea. Three..."

As he counted, I shut my eyes and ran across the room by memory. I banged my shin on every slot machine and stuck my hand in at least one cactus, but still made it to the arcade in eighteen seconds. Then I turned again, mimed firing two shots, and ran to the coin machine, where Elliott was still counting. "Time," I said.

"Twenty-five seconds."

"Damn." I picked the cactus spines out of my hand, hissing through my teeth between every few words. "I was really hoping that would rule someone out. But anybody in the room could have gotten to Kent, stolen the gun, shot Michael, and dropped it in the dispenser with time to spare."

"You're forgetting a few limiting factors," said Elliott. "First, when did Pam break the lock on the dispenser?"

"About fifteen seconds in," I said, remembering the heavy clunking sound.

"And when were the shots?"

"At thirty-six seconds."

"Then, assuming that Pam herself isn't our killer, the guilty party did not have the full fifty-three seconds available. They more properly had twenty-one."

"I don't follow."

Elliott raised an eyebrow at me. "My theory is this. The murderer correctly identified the sound of Pam picking the lock. They realized they could use the dispenser as a hiding place, ensuring the murder weapon would not be discovered until they were safely clear. This gave them the confidence they needed to perpetrate the crime. In effect, the picking of the lock is what sealed poor Michael's doom."

"It's...not impossible," I said. "But I think you're skipping over some more logical explanations."

"Such as?"

"Well, first, what if Pam is our killer?"

"Nonsense," said Elliott. "Why would she break the lock, rush to burgle Kent, then return here after doing the deed? Why not break it after shooting and save herself a trip?"

"Fair point, but if she knew when the lights were going to cut out..."

"That implies premeditation. As does Pam serving as another murderer's accomplice. If there's one thing we can say for certain about this crime, it's that it was manifestly not premeditated."

I began to ask why, then realized I knew already. "The stolen gun," I said. "If they came here to kill Michael, they'd have brought their own weapon."

"Surely one that more people might know how to use," Elliott agreed.

The more I thought about the murder, the less sense it made. Even if I could find a reason why someone held a grudge against Michael, why kill him in such a slipshod way -- in public, during a power outage they might not have known about in advance, with a gun they just happened to find? What could this seemingly gentle man have been doing to make the need for his death so urgent that the killer couldn't wait for a better chance?

Under that was another thought that I couldn't keep from nagging. The kind of person who'd willingly work at an unlicensed casino was also the kind of person who'd presumably be decent at planning a murder. They'd know Michael's movements, his habits.

Who wouldn't know that? Someone from Pelican Town. Someone I called a friend.

Two pairs of footsteps on the staircase interrupted my thoughts. Sandy burst through the door on the heels of a stranger. He was wearing a red tracksuit and athleisure pants, and his eyes went wide when he saw us. The next instant, as Sandy said "I'm sorry, I tried," the newcomer smiled broadly.

"Well, hello!" he said. "Now, technically we're not open yet, but a good businessman never turns away a customer." He crossed the casino floor and held out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Felix."

"Rhys," I said. "Please to meet you."

When he moved onto Elliott, his face registered shock again. "Excuse me, I know how strange this sounds, but are you the author of Curse My Bones?"

Elliott winced, but recovered. "The very same."

"Let me shake your hand!" Felix exclaimed, and did just that, pumping the hand of an increasingly panicked Elliott several times. "I've read it twice cover to cover. You've got to tell me if Farmer Robert survives the barn fire."

Elliott shot me a look that eloquently said told you. "If he lives in your heart," he said, "then that is the truth."

"A capital answer!" said Felix.

I caught Sandy's eye, hoping for some kind of explanation. "Felix works here," she said.

"Quite correct, Miss Sandy. At both my vocations."

"You're on Mr. Qi's staff?" I asked.

Felix waved his hand. "Oh, that's just a job," he said. "My true passion--"

"Sorry, but I don't recognize you from last night."

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" Felix betrayed a flicker of annoyance. "Under all that damn colored makeup the boss makes us wear. He calls it a brand differentiator. I say our brand was perfectly differentiated for the nine months we were in business without dressing like clowns."

That caught my attention. "So you weren't always in the makeup?"

"No, he only got the bug up his bottom about it a few weeks ago. Long enough for my acne to break out, though."

"Hm," was all I could say.

"Anyway," said Felix, swinging the word like a club, "two discerning fellows like you would surely have an eye for my real business." He reached into his tracksuit and pulled out something small and glittering.

I leaned closer. It was a statue of a cat, or maybe a bear, holding a gold coin. Actually, the entire thing was gold-plated. Or so I thought, but when Felix dropped it into my palm, the weight told me the whole thing must have been solid gold.

I looked up. "What is this?"

"That, my friend, is a Statue of Endless Fortune," said Felix. "The man who owns it will find that he always has what he needs. Whatever he happens to need it for." He gave me a look that was probably supposed to be lewd but mainly looked constipated.

As a man with positive visual proof of the reality of magic seared into the back of his eyelids, you'd think I would be more susceptible to sales pitches, but seeing true magic only makes the fake magic more galling. I handed the statue back to Felix, wondering how I was going to extricate myself from this situation.

"Dare I ask how much these miraculous things cost?" Elliott asked.

"For friends?" Felix pretended to think. "I'd knock the cost all the way down to a wildly affordable one million gold."

I choked. The farm was doing well, but I hadn't made anywhere near that much in seven months.

"And how much of that would a signed first edition cover?" Elliott said.

"You drive a hard bargain. Throw that in and I'd be prepared to drop down to...let's say nine hundred thousand."

At this point it is important for me to remind the reader that Elliott, despite being a successful author, still lived in a one-room shack on a beach. "I will think about it," he said. "Come, Rhys, we should be getting home."

Felix moved -- almost imperceptibly, but enough to block our path to the door. "How about this?" he said, his smile never wavering. "You buy one on installments. Split the cost. And I won't tell Mr. Qi you were snooping around here before opening."

I blanched, but Elliott didn't waver. "If you do, I'll be sure to tell him one of his employees is using his property to run -- what do they call it? A side hustle."

Felix said nothing. "I wonder what cut he'll want of one million gold per sale?" Elliott mused.

"Out," said Felix. "Sandy, if you let any more randos in here, there'll be hell to pay. Don't let me see either of them around here again."

"You're not my damn boss, Felix," said Sandy, instantly winning more points with me. "But, boys, you probably should clear out."

She didn't have to ask me twice. Elliott and I rushed down the stairs, bade Sandy goodbye, and headed out into the desert heat without looking back.

Chapter Text

"One day," I said to Elliott as we headed through the tunnel that marked the border of Stardew Valley, "I'd love to see how easy it is to solve a mystery when you can actually examine the crime scene whenever you want. I bet I could knock the next one out in an evening."

"The wages of amateur sleuthing," he replied. "On the one hand, you can seek justice without being a member of a fascist enforcement regime. On the other, you've no more resources than the average civilian."

He cut the wheel right and turned into the gravel parking lot beside the bus stop. I noticed another car sitting there -- an unfamiliar navy-blue sedan with tinted windows. The right side of the exempt license plate read FID.

"Speaking of fascist enforcement regimes," I said. Yoba must have had it out for us: only a Fido could possibly make this job harder. We both shuddered as traumatic memories of Agent Dobson welled up unbidden.

"We must find Abigail." Elliott killed the engine. "She'll know who the agent is, and where we can expect to find them."

"Split up," I suggested. "I'll check the store and Sam's house. You look in at Robin's place. If we can't find her, rendezvous at the farm in an hour."

Elliott nodded, said "Best of luck," and raced off.

I had barely made it to the door of Pierre's when someone called my name. My last name. "Mr. Woodlawn?"

It took me a moment to realize the call was for me. Nobody in Stardew Valley calls me that. Or uses anyone's surnames, for that matter. I had some close friends whose full names I still didn't know. When I wised up and looked around, I saw someone watching me from the bench in front of the saloon -- a tall woman in a slim-lined suit, with prematurely gray hair pulled back into a ponytail.

I could have cheered. This was the first really good news since the shooting: the Fidos had sent Vivian Thorsley.

It felt weird to be pleased to see an FID agent, but Thorsley had proven herself honest and upright in the spring by arresting her corrupt colleague Dobson. She had given our testimonies about Dobson's brutality a fair shake, instead of dismissing us as bumpkins. They'd probably sent her because she was familiar with the area, but if any Fido could be trusted to not be on Mr. Qi's payroll, it was her.

Thorsley beckoned me over. I sat down beside her on the bench, which overlooked the river, the beach, and the rolling Gem Sea.

"I trust you've been keeping well," she said.

"Well enough. I followed Dobson's trial online. Excellent work."

She acknowledged the compliment with a nod. "Your depositions were invaluable. The whole republic owes Stardew Valley a debt." After a pause: "Which is why I wish I were here with better news."

The happiness I'd felt upon seeing her scattered to the winds.

"I'll give it to you straight," Thorsley said. "Mr. Qi is a man my superiors listen to. As much as it disgusts me, I can't go against direct orders."

"What do you mean?"

"Qi believes Kent is guilty. He's been making calls to ask why we haven't arrested him yet. I fear the ZC bureau chief won't be able to delay much longer."

It sounded like Qi really had recognized Kent as his wartime nemesis, at least as early as last night. A hard pit formed in my stomach. How many times would Qi condemn the same man, along with that man's family, for the crime of standing up to him?

"I'll stall them as long as I can," said Thorsley. "And while I'm here, I'll give you any assistance I can provide. It will need to be deniable, but most things are, with a little effort."

"Of course," I said. "Hang on. What do you mean, me? I'm just a farmer."

"A farmer who knew quite a bit about the murder of Mayor Lewis. Who just happened to be present at the scenes of all Dobson's misdeeds." Thorsley gave me a funny look. "I did notice, you know. An amateur sleuth is well and good, but there's still something to be said for training."

I couldn't disagree. I counted myself lucky she wasn't arresting me for meddling.

"Which brings us back to my offer," she said. "What can I do to help?"

Thorsley was acting very casual for a participant in a conversation that could get her fired, if not indicted. I sat dumbly for a few seconds until something occurred to me.

"Background checks," I said. "Full files on Mr. Qi and all his employees at the casino. Especially Michael, and another guy named Felix."

"That can be done," said Thorsley. "I'm sure you'll understand that I can't give you any hard copies or digital files. Too much risk for both of us. But if we happen to bump into each other again -- say, at the Stardrop Saloon this time tomorrow -- I can share what I know."

"Thank you," I said.

She rose. "Needless to say, we never had this conversation. And it's safer if you don't try to contact me before then."

She was gone before I could agree. No sooner had she swept out of sight than Elliott came running from the other direction with Abigail in tow. "Was that Thorsley?" Abigail asked.

"Yup. She's going to look into Qi's associates for us. But it's not all good news." I explained how the walls were closing in around Kent.

Abby cursed. "Elliott told me on the way over how we're barred from the crime scene. Again. Do we just have to sit around while we wait to hear from Thorsley? I'll go nuts."

"Indeed, your already fragile sanity can take little more strain," said Elliott. Abigail punched him in the arm. "But we need not despair. There must be gold still to strike here in the valley."

"That's it!" I jumped up from the bench. I had no clue how this would pan out, but an idea was an idea. "Elliott, you researched the history of the area for your book, right?"

"Extensively."

"Other than the Stardew Lode, is there any source of gold in the entire state?"

"There isn't. Nor for the three states that border ours. Our mine is deeply anomalous." Elliott cracked a smile. "Not to mention deeply deep."

"I'll forgive you that because it sounds like you're saving our asses," said Abigail. "Though I'm still not sure how."

I put a hand on each of their shoulders and brought them into a huddle. "Elliott, you keep poking around town and see if you can turn anything else up, especially potential motives. Abby, grab your sword and meet me at the community center in ten minutes."

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To the mountains. We're calling in a favor."

Chapter Text

"I'm sure that statue was solid gold," I told Abigail as we hurried up the path to the mountains, our swords buckled onto our backs -- hers gleaming steel, mine glittering obsidian. "Felix needs a source of gold ore. And since I'm also sure he's selling his statues under the table, he'd want to avoid crossing state lines, or drawing attention to his business at all."

"I saw some gold in that cave in the desert," Abigail said, "but it was way too gnarly in there to make it a good source. Plus the whole upper level was covered in those security cameras Mr. Qi uses."

"He must be getting his gold from the Stardew vein. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"How can you be sure?"

"It's where I get all of mine."

"Hang on." Abigail turned, hair swishing, as we passed Robin's house. "You're mining gold?"

"'Course I am. It's in lots of the equipment I use."

"You have ready access to solid gold and you still live in a two-room farmhouse?"

"Running a farm is expensive. If you want me to upgrade, tell your dad to pay more for my mayonnaise. Here we are."

Here was the slope below a flattened outcrop, where a canary-yellow tent stood out piercingly against the red-gold curtain of a mountain autumn. A coal fire glowed faintly, giving off a cozy wisp of smoke. "Hang back," I said, putting out an arm to stop Abigail. "He's skittish."

She waited while I unbuckled my sword and climbed halfway up the slope. "Linus?" I called out. "You in there? It's Rhys."

The tent rustled, and a figure emerged: white-haired, wild-bearded, wearing a set of clothes as yellow as his tent. "Hey there," said Linus, shading his eyes. "And little Abby, too, I see. Enjoying autumn in the mountains?"

"Whenever I can," I said. "I brought you some pickles."

"Thanks." Linus studied the ground. "If you don't mind, just leave those there, and I'll pick 'em up when you go. It's...it's a bad day today."

"I understand," I said. "Are you up for answering a question, or should I come back later?"

"I should be able to do that for friends," Linus said. "Kent's where I was in the spring, or near enough to it. We ought to stand up for him, like everyone did for me."

"So you know what's going on?"

"I hear things."

"All we need to know," I said, "is whether you've seen anybody unusual in the area lately. At least one person, headed for the mine, maybe carrying his own equipment."

Linus gained a sort of otherworldly stillness when he thought, as though he'd learned it from the trees he spent all his time in conversation with. I tried to wait patiently. Contrary to what a lot of folks think in the city, there's nobody more antsy than a farmer -- we know better than anyone that there's always something else we could be doing. But I couldn't rush this.

"Not a one," Linus said at last.

"You're sure? They couldn't have come through while you were asleep, or foraging?"

"Nope. It's so quiet up here, I hear anything unusual. And it sounds like this fellow would've made more than one trip."

"Thank you, Linus," I said. I left the pickles on the ground as promised, and stepped back.

"Did I help?" Linus asked.

"Definitely." I smiled as he crept forward to take the pickles. "Keep the jar when you're done. I have too many. Pierre gives me all his empties."

I collected Abigail and trekked back around the mountain ledge. The lake sparkled ahead of us, its placid surface brushed with scales by the autumn breeze.

"So..." Abigail began. "What does that mean? You were wrong about Felix after all?"

"It's still possible," I admitted. "But that's why we're going to check."

"But how could he have gotten to the mine without anyone seeing him? Up here or in town? This isn't exactly Zuzu Circle. People notice strangers."

"I had the same thought. But what if there was another way in? One that would keep him out of sight the whole time?"

We hit the plank bridge before Abby caught on. "You mean some kind of secret passage in the mine itself?"

"We haven't mapped half of all the side shafts down there, or reached the bottom yet," I said. "Isn't it at least plausible that one of them leads outside the valley? Maybe even as far as Calico Desert?"

"Maybe. I guess I don't see what this has to do with the murder."

We stopped outside the wood-framed entrance to the abandoned shaft. "Here's my theory," I said. "People who live in Stardew Valley have salvage rights in the mine. But nobody who lives outside is allowed to take anything out without permission. Anything in there is the property of Pelican Town under an old treaty."

"An old treaty with who?" Abigail asked.

"No idea. Gunther has an incomplete transcript, but the original is lost. The point, though, is that if Felix wanted to dig without paying Caroline for the privilege -- or any state taxes -- a secret passage would be just the thing."

A grin spread across Abby's face. "And if anyone caught on, Felix would be in real trouble. He might even be scared enough to remove the problem."

"Bingo." I unsheathed my sword. "So we're looking for the tunnel itself, plus any evidence of extraction. By anyone other than me. Or Clint, I guess."

"I've never seen Clint below the fiftieth floor."

Leading the way into the mine, I tapped the ring on my right hand, filling the space with dim light. Abigail and I stepped into the rickety elevator. "Come to think of it," she confessed, "I've never been below fifty either. I'm scared to ask where the gold is."

"Starts at eighty-one," I said.

The light from the ring was just strong enough for me to see Abby's face turn white. As the doors clunked shut, she gritted her teeth hard enough to crack. "You don't have to--" I began gently.

"No way," she said. "I'm coming. How much worse can it get?"

"Not much worse at all," I told her. "It's been quiet lately."

That was a lie. But there was no point in piling on the fear. We'd have to be vigilant, that was all -- no worse than walking at night in South Zuzu. I did my best to look reassuring, even as Abby shook hard enough to rattle the elevator cage.

"This is the worst part," I said. "All we've really got to worry about is this ancient cable snapping."

Abby shot me a murderous look. "Not helping."

"I only mean--"

"I will behead you and say a monster did it. They'll believe me."

I shut up. Two dead bodies in one year was enough.

The elevator doors opened onto a cave hot enough that I could see little ripples of air rising off the rock. I shed my flannel and stuffed it in my back, leaving only a t-shirt that immediately stuck to my skin. Abigail doffed her overcoat and crept forth in her belted undertunic thingy. It was autumn in the land above, but down here, in the orange glow of the lava flows, summer never ended.

I felt bad for Abby, but it was nice having backup down here for once. I forged ahead while she watched my back. The eighty-first floor was empty. On the eighty-second, we flushed out a slime and a couple of bats, but nothing big. Though there'd been no sign of gold mining or secret tunnels yet, I began to hope we'd rouse nothing worse than a skeleton or two.

The eighty-third floor was one of the big ones.

Some of them were like that. The inscrutable plans drawn up by the madmen who dug this place must have had some scrawled note reading "Every five floors, there should be one the size of a Yoba-damned shopping mall." In his novel, Elliott had made a lot of hay out of the old miners being batshit insane, which I had found cathartic.

No lava flowed here. Outside the sphere of light emanating from my ring, everything was shadow and silence. At the first junction, three shafts split off in three directions. I lit a candle from my bag and left it there. Leah had taught me that old forager's trick after the time I'd gotten lost, passed out from exhaustion, and woken up in the clinic.

The right-hand shaft twisted around and then hit a dead end. I let out a whoop of triumph. "What is it?" Abby exclaimed, leaping and whirling around with her sword.

"Careful!" I dodged out of the way. "Look there."

She crept past me and peered at the rock face. I held out the ring to shed light on the jagged edge of a gold vein, surrounded by chipped gravel. "That edge isn't natural," I said. "And look at all the rubble. This has been worked."

"So the passage is near here?"

"Could be on this floor. If it exists. Let's be thorough."

When we got back to the crossroads, the candle was gone.

I brought my sword up instantly. Abigail did too, registering my distress. "Could have been a crossbreeze?" she ventured.

"It's never a crossbreeze," I said. "I'll go first."

I placed another candle, my eyes flicking back and forth between the two passages. Once the wick was lit, I tiptoed forward, inching toward the shaft we hadn't yet explored.

The first one came from behind us. I didn't hear a thing until Abigail screamed. I spun, sword in hand, and lashed out blindly. A writhing black shape skittered off her and scampered, keening, back into the dark.

Shadow brutes. Not my least favorite thing that lived down here, but easily in the bottom five.

"I didn't hit it," Abigail said. "I just froze up. Yoba damn it all. Marlon was right."

"It's a living thing." I put a hand on her arm. "It's natural that you feel weird about hurting it. But right now we've gotta go. When they scream, they attract more."

"But what about--"

"Not worth it," I said firmly. "Head for the ladder."

We did. And there, in the area where we'd first descended to this floor, we saw the rest of the shadow brutes. At least a dozen, maybe two, and they'd just finished sawing through the ladder.

Chapter Text

The shadow brutes turned. As one, their empty eyes pierced the darkness, focused on us.

Not all creatures in the mine attack on sight, and those who do are angry for different reasons. Some, like the slimes and grubs, are just hungry animals. Rasmodeus once told me that the reanimated skeletons are stuck reliving their last moments over and over, which leaves them understandably pissed off. But the shadow brutes always struck me as intelligent. They wake up every day and choose violence from among all the other options available.

I'll say one thing for them, though -- they can game out a situation quickly. When they saw Abigail and I with our swords at the ready, they hesitated. None of them wanted to be the first to step into the narrow passage, where we could cut them down like wheat.

"Is it clear behind us?" I asked from the corner of my mouth.

Without moving her sword, Abigail looked gingerly around. Then she let out a sound halfway between a squeak and indigestion. "What?" I hissed, panic squeezing my stomach.

"More," she said.

"Ok," I said, then repeated it, a fantastically useless calming mantra. "OK. OK. Cover my back. They won't charge if they can't get around us."

"We can't hold swords on them forever."

"I have a plan."

Abigail inched around and pressed her back against mine. "Cool. Let's do it. Let's do your plan. Like now. Now now. Right now."

I reached into my bag with my free hand and pulled out a black sphere with a fuse poking out. It's bizarre that making bombs this way leaves them looking like they come from cartoons, but that really seems to be the most efficient method of packing gunpowder. The shadow brutes pulled back a bit when they saw it.

"How many behind us?" I asked Abby.

"Um. Ten? Fifteen?"

"OK. Here's what we'll do," I whispered. "On three, I'm gonna light this, turn around, and throw it. That'll scatter the ones on your end of the tunnel. Then you run, swinging your sword, and don't stop until you get to the next ladder."

"What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you. Ready?"

"What do you mean, behind me?"

"I mean what I said. One."

"Rhys, if this plan involves any hint of a heroic sacrifice--"

"Two."

"Yoba damn it--"

A bomb exploded. Which was weird, because I was still holding the one in my hand. And I hadn't lit it yet.

The shadow brutes didn't care whose bomb it was, though. The ones in the inward tunnel scattered just like I'd hoped. As they vanished one by one into the dark, I heard a litany of thumps, grunts, and keening screams.

Couldn't waste this chance. I lit my own bomb with a firestarter and hurled it at the brutes by the ruined ladder, then took off down the mine shaft, war-crying Abby hot on my heels. If we were lucky, they'd mill in confusion until they lost us. If we weren't...I decided we'd be lucky.

One last torrent of thuds and screeches sounded ahead of us, then silence. I slowed down as soon as it became clear we weren't being followed. "Careful," I said. "We don't know if whoever beat them is a friend."

"After what they just did? They're my best friend already," Abby replied. "I sure don't wanna be their enemy."

As we advanced, the light from my ring fell on a curiously squat figure, covered from head to toe in gleaming armor. A heavy mace, dripping with black bile, hung from one of their hands. They tensed when they saw us, their eyes -- the only visible part of their face -- falling on my bomb. I blinked, and they had another one of their own bombs in their other hand.

This Gotorian standoff only lasted long enough for us each to verify that the other one was not a shadow brute (I was too pale, they were too short). Without breaking eye contact, each of us stowed our explosives. The strange creature turned away.

"Wait!" called Abby, coming up beside me. "You saved us. Thank you."

The creature only stared.

"Do you speak our language?" I asked.

More silent staring. Damn. We could have really used a friendly face down here -- well, "face" in a manner of speaking. Since verbal communication had failed, I sketched a clumsy bow, hoping that would convey our gratitude.

The figure responded with a set of complex gestures, accompanied by some words that must have been their own language. I didn't understand the words at all, but the motions of their hands and arms captivated me. It resembled no sign language I knew of, but still seemed naggingly familiar somehow.

I hoped this meant we'd managed to express our thanks, because I wasn't sure where to go from here. Then Abby nudged me. "Check out their bag."

I glanced down at the roughspun satchel from which our savior had pulled their bombs. The top flap hung open. Inside, I saw the unmistakable gleam of solid gold.

"Excuse me," I said, pointing at the bag, "but are you the one who mined that?" I mimed swinging a pickaxe.

The creature cocked their head, then reached down and pulled the lump of gold from the bag. It wasn't raw ore after all, but a half-finished carving, a face emerging from the gold like a bird from its egg. It was the second familiar thing in the scene, and this time, I knew where I'd seen it before.

"It's a statue of endless fortune," I told Abby. "Unfinished." To the stranger, I asked, "Do you know a man named Felix?"

"Felix?" Their accent was thick, but lovely, all lilting curves leaping off hard stops. Natural for their own language, deeply strange for ours. "Ead-luss foar-toon?"

"Yes. A man from the surface." I pointed at the roof.

The creature shook their head so hard their bronze helmet swayed around their ears. They burst into another rant, accompanied by more eloquent gestures. I listened for repeated words, phrases I'd look up later if I could identify this language. But I only made out one, spoken with the angry punch of a curse word: "Krobus!"

The creature gathered up their bag, still krobusing under their breath, and turned to go. I watched them recede into the darkness, regretful that I'd offended them somehow. But then Abby asked, "Can we get the hell out, please?" and set me back to rights. If the worst thing that happened today was that I upset a mysterious dwarf, I'd count it as a win.

Chapter Text

You might find it strange that the first thing I did after nearly getting savaged by monsters was clean up and go to a family dinner, but Sunday nights at Marnie's were not the kind of tradition one could half-ass. I wasn't half as afraid of any shadow brute as I was of what Jas would do if I missed a week. (Cry, probably. But anyone who thinks a crying child isn't scary has never been the reason the child is crying.)

I walked Abigail back to the general store, asked if she was all right so many times that she snapped at me -- always the sign that she's all right -- then headed home to the farm. I found things humming along in the fields, and Leah on the porch, painting an impression of the pumpkin patch. She seemed pleased, but confused, at how hard I embraced her by way of hello.

"You're all bruised," she said as I stepped back. Her face fell. "Were you down in the mines?"

"Yeah, with Abby. But I'm fine. Just glad to see you."

"Me too." Leah smiled and began washing the paints off her brushes. "Another hour and you'd have been late for dinner."

I washed up in the farmhouse's little bathroom cubicle. While layers of coal dust sloughed off me, I told Leah about the few clues we'd gathered during the day. She agreed that Felix was, as the youths are fond of saying, mad sus. "It'll be hard to prove anything, though," she warned. "Guys like that cover their tracks."

"True. But they also get cocky," I said, reaching around the curtain and grabbing a towel. "If he's guilty, he slipped up somewhere. We just have to find it."

"But first: dinner."

I grabbed a fresh pumpkin pie from the fridge, then Leah and I trekked south across the farm. We knocked on Marnie's door at seven on the dot. She welcomed us in, enthusing over the pie, while Jas needed very little prompting to tell us about her Spirit's Eve costume (a steampunk goat).

As we set the table, I felt the stress of the day recede to a manageable distance. I had been uncertain about intruding on Marnie's family dinners at first, but I'd quickly come to look forward to it every week. I could even hope that I might relax enough to reach some breakthrough on the case -- which I sorely needed. I still didn't like the Felix theory, and still couldn't say why.

The only problem was Marnie's nephew, Shane. Not that he himself was a problem. Quite the opposite; he had attacked sobriety with determination, and was now less of a human disaster than he'd been at any time since I met him. The local economy had even picked up enough that Marnie could employ him on the ranch full-time, enabling him to quit his soul-steamrolling job at the local Joja Mart.

No, the problem was that Shane had murdered Lewis, the previous mayor of Pelican Town, and nobody at the table knew that except me and Leah. It's a weirdness I hope you never have to experience -- just trust me that calling it "awkward" is like calling the Gem Sea a lake.

Shane had cooked tonight: margharita pizza with goat cheese and kale, plus fresh cream to go with the pie. We were halfway through dessert when Jas, who had been silent for a little while, spoke up. "Aunt Marnie, weren't you going to ask Farmer Rhys about the cows?"

Marnie clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh, right! With everything going on, it flew clean out of my head."

"What about -- hang on --" I gulped down a mouthful of pie. "What about the cows? Yours or mine?"

"Maybe both. I've noticed mine being rather spooked. They're normally lining up for morning milking, but lately they're skittish whenever I open the door."

"Hmm." I might have had to reconsider my belief that our animals lived much more peaceful lives than we did. They might have been constantly stressed over inscrutable animal drama. "Not that I can think of...except..." Something came back to me that I had entirely forgotten. "I was going to ask you about something too, but it slipped my mind after the casino incident. I lost a chicken the other week."

"You what?" Shane sat bolt upright. The chickens were his special interest.

"I got it back," I said hastily, though he continued folding his arms at me. "But it was halfway to the forest, wandering around confused. I know I closed the coop and the gate the night before, too. So I have no clue how it got there."

"That's concerning," Marnie agreed. "And confusing. A coyote wouldn't have left the poor dear unharmed after dragging it all that distance. We're dealing with a rather strange sort of thief."

"You think it could all be the same problem?" asked Shane.

"It's possible." Marnie leaned her chin on her laced fingers. "Rhys, I hate to ask for a favor after you already brought us that lovely pie, but I wonder if you wouldn't mind sitting up to watch for it tonight?"

"Sure," I said. "I feel like that's an old farming tradition I haven't taken part in yet." Plus, the quiet might help me find the revelation that still eluded me.

"Thank you so much!" Marnie said. "Shane, would you help him out? You can keep enough other awake."

"Um," I said, at the same time Shane said, "Me?"

"Don't worry, you'll be fine!" Marnie went on brightly. "You're quite the experienced ranch hand at this point. I wouldn't bet on any chicken-snatcher against you."

That was how I wound up sitting on Marnie's split-rail fence, with Shane leaning on a post nearby: arms crossed, tapping a flashlight against his side, and ignoring me so loudly even the stars looked uncomfortable. He flicked the light on any time something rustled in the bushes, but so far hadn't flushed out anything larger than a squirrel.

"So..." I said after about ten minutes.

"If you say this is awkward, I'm gonna hit you with the flashlight."

"I wasn't going to," I lied. "I just wanted to ask how things are going."

"Fine."

I waited a minute, but it was clear he didn't plan to elaborate. "Just fine?" I asked.

"That's about everything that's your business, yup."

I sighed. "Right. Stony silence it is."

The silence filled with stones.

"It wasn't Kent," Shane said suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Who shot that guy in the casino. He wouldn't."

"I don't think so either."

"I don't think," Shane pressed. "I know."

I looked sidelong at him. With Marnie's porch lights off, the night had grown so dark I could only make out his profile. "How do you know?" I asked.

"He's got too much to lose," Shane said. "Like I did. I..." He looked back toward the house. "If it happened again, with Lewis, I don't think I'd do it this time."

"Oh."

I waited for him to say more, but just then, one of the shrubs at the edge of the forest rustled with far more noise than a squirrel could make. Shane flicked on the flashlight in time to catch a shadow flitting away into the trees. "Yoba," he swore.

I hopped down from the fence. "Is that our chicken thief?"

"It sure as fuck wasn't a coyote."

I found myself once again grateful for Leah, who had insisted on rushing home to grab my sword before turning in for the night. Its weight steadied my breath as I tiptoed toward the forest edge. Upon reaching the bush, I twisted my ring, shedding light on the muddy ground. "Footprints," I said, pointing. "It left a trail into the forest."

Shane came up behind me. "Something wrong with a flashlight?"

"This leaves my hands free," I protested. Shane rolled his eyes and pressed ahead of me into the leafy shadows of Cindersap Forest.

Chapter Text

The trail of footprints wound through woods alive with the sounds of night. Owls hooted, crickets chorused, and Shane grumbled. We followed the marks, pausing every time they vanished into a bush or a clump of reeds, until they reached a steep cliff that rose above the river.

I didn't come down here often, though the forage was good. The bottom of the river was strewn with years of garbage, and no matter how hard I searched, I couldn't find a path down the cliff to pick it up. It was a bit depressing. I've never liked staring at problems I can't solve, and becoming a farmer only ground that habit in harder.

The prints led down a set of steps to a large outflow grate, then stopped. Shane leaned over the cliff and grimaced. "I don't suppose there's any chance it jumped down to the river?" I asked.

"Don't know anything that could survive that fall without wings," he said. "Like it or not, it went into the sewer."

"Excellent."

"Don't worry. The waste is filtered by the time it gets here. Mostly."

He stepped up to the grate and pulled. "That's locked," I objected. "I've tried."

"You didn't try hard enough," said Shane. With one more mighty wrench, the grate swung open, a decade of rust screeching in protest. "It's not locked. Just stuck."

"How did you figure that out?"

"This is my private hangout spot." Shane shot me a twisted grin. "Who do you think threw all those beer cans in the river?"

At first, we had to stoop to keep from hitting our heads on the top of the sewer pipe, but we soon emerged into a spacious underground chamber. A metal catwalk spanned a river of greenish sludge I tried not to think too hard about. Our footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Like the mine, the sewer awed me with its size, seeming far too large for the little town of Pelican. Perhaps it had been built during the optimistic boom days chronicled in Elliott's novel, before the miners abandoned the Stardew Lode.

We crossed the green river and paused on the opposite platform to look around. Nothing moved. "What kind of animal would put a nest in here?" I wondered aloud.

"An animal? Oh dear," said a voice from the shadows to my right.

Shane yelped. I grabbed my sword hilt. The light from my ring, and the beam from Shane's flashlight, fell upon a shape creeping around a retaining wall. "Have you two been tracking something nearby? I'd hate to think of some predator lurking about my home."

I gawked. Three bizarre facts resolved themselves in my mind. One: this was a shadow brute.

Two: this was definitely the chicken thief. Its feet matched the prints exactly.

Three: it was talking.

It -- I guess I should say he -- didn't have pupils, but its glowing eyes moved about the surface of its face in a way that achieved the same effect as a human glancing around. They fell on the sword hilt still in my hand, and narrowed a little. "That won't be necessary," the shadow brute said. "I have no intention of harming ypu. Please show me the same courtesy as my guests."

I let go of the sword and held out my empty hands. Could always grab it later if the need arose. "You live here?" I asked.

"I know, I can't believe it either! Sometimes I feel greedy with so much luxury to myself." The shadow brute bowed, a comical site since its body was mostly head. "My name is Krobus."

That strange dwarf's swear word? I thought. But no -- it must have been a name all along. Perhaps this lone shadow brute had pilfered farm animals from the dwarf too. Maybe some sort of Deep Chickens.

"Rhys," said Shane, "what the hell is that thing?"

"Please excuse my friend," I said. If politeness could keep this nonviolent, I'd be as lovable as I had to be. "He's not great with people."

"We're not friends," said Shane.

"I understand," said Krobus. "I too am not practiced at human niceties." Then his glowing line of a mouth seemed to purse in consternation. "Not Rhys Woodlawn from Tea House Farm?"

"Uh, yes. You know me?"

Krobus bowed again, even more deeply. "I'm so sorry about the chicken. I never intended to steal it. I simply wanted to investigate the purpose of the small outbuilding on your property. I startled a chicken when I entered, so I took it along to try and calm it down. I fear I only ended up traumatizing the poor thing further."

"That's...that's all right. Have you been wandering around the ranch, though?"

"The ranch is the large field with the fence around it? Yes, I've been exploring there."

"Well, stop," Shane said. "You're freaking out my aunt's cows."

"Those are cows! I see. I had them quite mixed up with halibut. I'm not so good with the human language in writing." Krobus tilted his head-body. "Then there is no animal in the river from which one can reliably obtain milk?"

"Not reliably, no." I tried not to laugh. This was the last outcome I'd expected, capping off a mostly unexpected day, but I found myself liking this sewer-dwelling oddball. I wondered if speaking human languages made him an outcast among his people. Perhaps that was why he lived away from the mines.

"Then I apologize to you, too, for any consternation I've caused." Krobus bowed to Shane. "I will keep my distance from your family's servants in the future."

Shane just nodded. Between the grime, the faint odor, and the oddness of this conversation, he looked more than ready to leave. But I had other business. "Maybe I can come back and help you with your...investigations," I told Krobus. "So you don't risk traumatizing any more farm animals."

"That would be most welcome!" Krobus exclaimed. "From the way your farm flourishes, I knew you would be a kindly man."

I hoped he would still think that after I'd dredged up whatever beef he had with the dwarves. "Actually, there's also something you could help me with right now."

"What is it?"

"Do you know a person who lives in the mines? About," I held my hand flat, "so tall, wears armor, speaks in a language with gestures?"

"You speak of the Dwarf." He said it with a capital D.

"Dwarves are real?" Shane asked. I picked up on a hint of childlike wonder in his tone.

"Indeed. Though they're as secretive as my kind, and rarer." Krobus frowned. "Sadly, we aren't friends. This one in particular has set themselves against me."

"That's what I meant to ask about," I said. "We ran into them earlier today. They were carving some statues out of gold. When we asked about them, they mentioned your name."

"Drat. Then they're still on that warpath." Krobus checked around, as though the Dwarf might have been hiding under the river of green sludge. "Those statues are an important totem for dwarfkind. No two individuals carve them the same way. This one has become convinced that I am stealing their carvings."

"I assume you aren't?"

"Of course not!" Krobus spread his spindly arms wide. "I already live so well. What do I need with more gold? I am sorry the Dwarf's work is being pilfered, but I know nothing about the matter."

Felix had to be the real thief. Most likely through the secret tunnel we hadn't yet found, or -- strictly speaking -- proven to exist. I needed more information. "Why does the Dwarf think you're the one taking the statues?"

"Ah. That is a story that must be told in a certain place. But if you're investigating the underworld, it may come in useful." Krobus looked toward a catwalk we hadn't yet taken. "Would you gentlemen care to accompany me?"

"Of course," I said, despite the late hour. Shane hemmed and hawed, but he couldn't hide it any longer: a part of his soul had been starved of magic for so long it couldn't remember it was hungry. In the end, he brought up the rear, following Krobus and me deeper into the sewer.

Chapter Text

I seemed to have won Krobus over instantly with my proposal to share knowledge about the human world. As he led us down the sewer tunnel, he kept up a continual stream of chatter, volunteering information and pelting me with questions.

"I suppose I understand why the Dwarf suspects me," he said. "My people and theirs have been at war for generations. If you believe version C of the Shadow Chronicle, the original slight was committed over a thousand years ago. And most of my brethren are more than happy to carry on the brawl."

We turned left at a junction of two tunnels. The walls glistened differently here, more like the living rock of the mines. "I imagine such pointless wars are no longer fought in the enlightened human world?" Krobus asked.

I thought of our war with Gotoro. It had started, as far as I could tell, because each side thought the other was going to move troops into an uninhabited borderland that neither side wanted. Unwilling to break Krobus's heart, I changed the subject instead. "Most of us up there didn't know the dwarves were still around."

"Ah, well, they were the original inhabitants of this land," Krobus said. "As a farmer, you must know that deep roots are hard to remove."

"This is fascinating," interrupted Shane from behind us, "but where are you taking us? It feels like we've been walking for hours."

"Hour, singular," Krobus replied. "Slightly less, in fact. And worry not, Shane-rancher. We are almost there."

A few minutes later, Krobus drew up short at a junction, where our tunnel dead-ended in a long, straight passage. I ventured into the crossroads, replaying unpleasant memories of another junction filled with less-friendly shadow brutes. The crosswise tunnel looked a bit straighter and smoother than the others we had passed so far. "This," said Krobus, "is where the Dwarf attacked me."

I consulted my mental compass. One end of the tunnel ran east-northeast. In that direction...

"Does this connect to the mines?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

Krobus nodded his head-body. "It was dug quickly, and quite recently. Sometime in the past year. I believe it is what aroused the Dwarf's suspicions."

"Why's that?"

"I am the only one of my race who lives in this part of the underground, seeing as the others have no taste or refinement. Due to the long war, the Dwarf already suspected a shadow brute was their pilferer. This tunnel isn't on their ancestral maps; they never ventured down it until the golden statues began to go missing. They followed it, and found the perfect culprit."

He spoke lightly, but I could tell that being accused had wounded him. I thought of Kent, of how he'd acted the night he'd come to ask for my help. He'd almost sounded apologetic for being such a perfect suspect. How many times do you have to call someone a criminal before it starts to take root?

I looked back at Shane. Remembered what he'd done the night we'd unmasked him. I completely understood why he didn't like hanging out with me. I was a living reminder of that exact shame.

"What were you doing here?" Shane asked suddenly. "Weren't you weirded out about this new tunnel too?"

"Oh, absolutely." Krobus turned to the other end of the tunnel, west-southwest. "Which is why I've been mapping it. That's what I was doing when the dwarf found me."

"And...when did that happen?" I asked.

"Last night. About twenty-six hours ago, by my reckoning."

"How did you get away?"

Krobus drew himself up to his full height. "Do not mistake my refinement for weakness, Rhys-farmer. I am a shadow brute. Certain things are in my blood."

I was teetering on the verge of something, readying for the plunge into realization. I had explored every blind corridor in the valley today, literally and otherwise, on the faith that some of it would lead back to the case. Now Yoba was delivering. "Krobus," I asked, "can you take us to the exact spot?"

Shane didn't complain about being led deeper in. He was as grouchy as ever, but after our conversation at the ranch, I knew he wanted to do right by Kent. "Welcome to the sleuthing team," I murmured.

"What?" he asked, blinding me with the flashlight.

I blinked. "Nothing."

Krobus stopped again a moment later. "This is where it happened."

We emerged into a chamber about as big around as one room of the farmhouse. The walls had changed fully to rock, and not a Stardew kind of rock -- more like the sandstone that framed the settled basin of Calico Desert. I reached back for my mental map and realized that if we kept walking, and the tunnel did not bend, we'd wind up under the desert in less than a day.

"This is the farthest I have gone down the tunnel," said Krobus, guessing at my thoughts, "but I have seen no reason to believe it ends. The technology to excavate in such a straight line does not exist among the peoples of the mine. It must have been dug from the other direction."

"Hey, look at this," said Shane from across the room. Krobus and I joined him. The light from his flashlight and my ring shone on a decidedly unnatural formation: a transformer box, clearly broken, smoking and giving off sparks. Cables ran from it up to the ceiling, and more traced the tunnel floor in both directions.

"Ah, yes, I remember now," said Krobus. "As I fought the Dwarf here, I heard a loud bang, and then many sparks. Like a bolt of lightning. It frightened us both so much that it broke up the battle." His glowing mouth stretched into a grin. "I plan to take credit for it. I'll certainly be safe from the Dwarves if they come to believe I can summon the thunder."

I examined the box from a safe distance. I knew nothing about electrical systems, but something told me this one being here was more than a coincidence.

"I've seen this kind of setup before," said Shane.

"You have?"

"The Joja Mart has one. It's a quick-and-dirty way to hook something up to an electrical grid it wasn't built to connect to. You need a lot of them, though, and this one looks shoddy as hell."

"Shoddy how?"

"There's no redundancy. One blowing out could cut off the whole flow. But if nothing went wrong, and you had 'em strung out from here to the desert, you could probably run..." He trailed off as comprehension dawned.

"...a whole casino," I finished. "And if you buried the whole system underground, you could steal from the state power grid without anyone noticing. Expensive upfront, but then you'd have free electricity forever."

"You seem to be coming to an understanding," said Krobus. "Could you share it?"

I began to pace the chamber. "I think Mr. Qi had this tunnel dug so he could steal power for his casino. Then once he had all he needed, Felix decided to keep going just a little farther, and open up a passage he could use for his side hustle. He mined gold, and sometimes he got his hands on the finished product."

"This Felix is the Dwarf's thief?"

"Yup. Maybe a killer, too. But there's something even more important." I turned back to Krobus. "Are you absolutely certain about when you fought the Dwarf here?"

"I would not forget."

"That mean something?" Shane asked.

I shut my eyes instead of answering. A headache was building, and even being down here in the cool dark didn't help. The power outage at the casino had been as close to an act of Yoba as anything observable by human eyes -- a random chance nobody in the room could have predicted. Just like Kent showing up with a gun. Just like Pam breaking open the coin machine.

I felt like I was farther from the truth than I had been when the shots first rang out. I needed time, I needed sleep, and I needed a damn good idea.

Chapter Text

Leah was already asleep when I got home, but I showered again anyway, lest the clinging scent of the sewer give her nightmares. I crawled in beside her, blinked, and it was morning, sun streaming in the windows and the animals lowing and squawking.

"Sorry I haven't gotten to them yet," said Leah, who was in the kitchen vigorously cranking my hand-powered coffee grinder. "I heard you muttering in your sleep and decided coffee was more important."

I yawned and pushed myself to sit on the edge of the bed. "Have I mentioned I'm madly in love with you?"

She blushed so hard it matched her hair. "Only about once a day."

"Gotta get those numbers up." I crept up, hugged Leah from behind, and breathed in the scent of the coffee as it mingled with the cedar smell of her hair. Magical. The exact opposite of a sewer. "Don't worry. I'll get the animals."

She broke away. "Let me. You need to get back on the case. How's it going, by the way?"

"Not amazing," I confessed. "We have one lead, but it's shaky. In the sewers last night, I found out the power outage was a total accident, which makes everything more complicated."

"So it couldn't have been pre-meditated." Leah poured the grounds and hot water into my coffee press.

"Yup. The killer decided fuck it, murder time no more than fifteen seconds after they saw the lights go out. What kind of person does that?"

Leah gave that a moment's thought. "Well, they'd have to really need Michael dead, but to not think they'd ever get the chance to try."

I remembered Pam's words about the power outage: a sign from Yoba. "I'm hanging a lot on what Agent Thorsley comes back with today. If those background checks don't reveal why someone would want to kill Michael..."

"Then you'll figure something else out," said Leah, setting two mugs of coffee on the table with the firmness of some ancient shieldmaiden loading a trebuchet.

In the end, she prevailed, and saw to the animals and crops. I gulped coffee until I felt awake, then headed for town, chewing on a field snack while I walked.

I arrived at the library just as Professor Gunther was unlocking the door. Gunther was a cheerful and well-kept man who had taken this post after an early retirement from teaching archaeology at Grampleton Community College. Thanks to his taste in clothes and facial hair, he looked more apt to be running a Wild West Show than a library, but by all accounts he was a fine curator of both books and artifacts.

"Farmer Rhys, earlier than usual," he said. "I hope this means you've got something for me."

"I'm afraid not, professor. This time I need a favor."

"A well-earned one, after all you've done for the collection. Come in and give me the details."

Inside, we sat down at one of the low reading tables. "I've been looking into the incident at the casino in Calico Desert," I said.

Gunther removed his hat. "A bad business. Dr. Harvey was in here yesterday for a book on psychiatric counseling. I gather he's already used it. Are you here for the same reason?"

"Not exactly." I gave him a concise summary of what I'd learned so far. Gunther listened soberly, his eyes flitting about behind his spectacles.

"A bad business," he repeated when I'd finished. "If I can shed any light on the matter, I'm glad to do it."

"I wasn't expecting the..." I chose my words carefully. "...ancestral inhabitants of the area to have anything to do with the case. I don't know if the dwarves and shadow brutes are involved by anything more than coincidence. To say for sure, I need to know more about them."

Gunther kept glancing around the library, giving me the sense that he was downloading information straight from the books he laid eyes on.

"Mr. Krobus is right that the history of both groups in Stardew Valley goes back at least a thousand years," he said. "In fact, scholars now agree that the dwarves originally dug the local mine shaft, and the first human settlers merely expanded on what they found. It was probably during this first excavation that the dwarves first encountered shadow brutes."

"What exactly is a shadow brute?" I asked.

"A creature optimized by nature to live its whole life in darkness," Gunther pronounced. "To whom gloom is an ally and light an enemy. They are believed to inhabit cavities so deep in the crust that they have no communication with the surface. Without advanced technology, it is impossible to observe one in its natural habitat."

A realization dawned on me. "That must be why all the ones I've ever met seem so ornery."

Gunther nodded. "Any connection to the outside world, no matter how distant, bothers at a shadow brute like a skin rash."

That explained why nobody wanted to join Krobus in his luxurious sewer digs. It was funny that Krobus himself could stand it. I guess nature's laws aren't always as immutable as they seem.

"And the dwarves dug through the crust and connected the whole mine to the surface," Gunther finished. "Is it any wonder they went to war?"

"Yes, but for a thousand years?" I asked. "Couldn't they have, I don't know, talked it out?"

"Mayhap they tried, but the dwarven language is notoriously difficult to learn. Some say you must be blessed by their gods to have any chance of it, no matter how much you study. That leads me to believe it is only pronouncable with a dwarf's anatomy."

I recalled my brief discussion with the dwarf yesterday. "Oh, yeah. Also, it made some hand gestures along with the words."

"Aye, that changes the meaning significantly," said Gunther. "In fact, the dwarven sign language is said to be so eloquent it can speak without words. Rather like the ones we've developed up here for the hard of hearing."

"Wait." Something was coming to me, turning facts and slotting them together, dredging up memories to fill the gaps. I could almost hear dramatic music playing. "Since dwarves live underground, would it be possible to interpret that sign language in darkness?"

"In theory," said Gunther. "But I'm only guessing."

"Do you know the language?"

"I've a rudimentary dictionary." Gunther got up and returned a moment later with an old scroll that looked like it had been buried and dug up at least once.

"Hold out your hand."

Gunther looked confused, but did as requested. I racked my brains, placed my hand on Gunther's palm, and did my best reproduction of the gesture that had passed between Michael and Qi when Michael had brought the drink.

Gunther consulted the scroll. "Let me see...ah! That means there is danger ahead, with a coda suggesting that the person with lower social rank should go meet it first."

I nodded slowly as the pieces finished sliding into place. Mr. Qi could easily have encountered the dwarves while digging his power-stealing tunnel. He might have been taken with their silent language, and realized he could use it himself to pass orders to his subordinates when there were strangers in the room. I had no trouble imagining him ordering his personal bouncer and bodyguard to learn the language as well. Using it to secretly request that Michael taste a drink prepared by a woman Qi knew despised him.

"Did that help your investigation?" asked Gunther.

"More than you know." I shook his outstretched hand and left the library. I had to find Abigail and Elliott and tell them everything I'd learned. For if a silent signal could order a man to take poison meant for another, it could do the same for a bullet -- even in pitch darkness.

Chapter Text

I fired off texts to Elliott and Abigail as I half-ran back across the village. As I hit the town square, I saw Abby coming out of the general store, bleary-eyed. She brandished her phone. "Elliott just replied. Meet at his place?"

We fell into step walking south. "You look like shit," I said in a brotherly sort of way.

"This from the man who hasn't shaved since the Moon Jellies."

I touched my stubble self-consciously. "Leah likes my beard."

"Is that what that is?" She only managed a weak smile. "Didn't sleep too well. I was either thinking about shadow brutes or going over the case. I hope you meant what you texted, 'cause we really need a break."

"I always mean what I text," I said seriously. "It's the Farmer's Code."

"That's not real."

"You'll never prove it. But yes. I think I'm onto something."

Elliott already had the green tea steaming in cups when we entered his beachside cabin. The old familiar corkboard was set up, too, with cards representing everyone who had been at the casino. "Good morning," he said, while I shut the door to keep the sand out. "What is this revelation of yours, Rhys?"

We sat down, and I filled them both in on everything that I'd learned yesterday: the secret tunnel, Felix's side hustle, and the real reason for the power outage. Elliott frowned when he heard the last part. "A weapon of opportunity, and...for lack of a better term, an opportunity of opportunity. The murderer found excellent cover for their crime without planning it. It's enough to make one think Yoba personally wanted Michael dead."

"One thing's for sure," Abigail said. "Whoever shot him planned out even less than Shane did in the spring. They didn't go to the casino wanting to murder him."

"Ah, you're forgetting one thing. According to his own confession, Shane did not intend to kill Lewis at any point -- our mayor emeritus merely fell at an unfortunate angle. Meanwhile, our culprit in the desert used a gun. They fully intended their victim to die."

"Right, but it was a gun they just happened to find. That doesn't tell us anything about what they were thinking when they walked in."

"I'm not finished," I interrupted. "Abby, remember when that dwarf tried to speak with us?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"You remember how they were gesturing while they talked? That's part of their language. And humans can learn those signs." I paused to make sure I had their attention. "I saw Qi and Michael talking that way on the night of the murder."

"That...would make sense," said Elliott. "One doesn't survive long in Qi's lines of work without being paranoid. I'd expect him to devise a secure way to communicate with his subordinates in a room that might contain enemies."

"A room he knew contained enemies," I reminded him. "He'd already seen Kent. He didn't see the gun, and Kent was there with his family, so he might have thought it was safe to stay and observe. But then the lights went out."

Catching on, Abigail said, "And Qi thought it was Kent's plot to get back at him."

"Exactly. So he caught Michael's hand and gave him another order."

"Which was?"

"To switch places with him."

Abby and Elliott both stared at me.

"Don't you get it?" I knew I was gesticulating, and didn't care. "It explains why we've found a hundred and one reasons to kill Qi and zero reasons anyone wanted Michael dead. Qi was the target. He only saved himself at the last second."

I finished, breathing hard, to see my two friends still staring. "What?" I asked.

Abigail spoke first. "You do understand that makes Kent look even more suspicious?"

It knocked the wind out of me. I'd been so excited by the new clue that I'd forgotten why I was doing this. Of all the people with reasons to shoot Mr. Qi, Kent had the best one I've heard. The man had languished for months in a Gotorian prison camp because of Qi's greed. Honestly, I wouldn't have minded if Kent really had shot him. But the law would've.

I rallied. "Kent wouldn't have brought his wife and kids to watch him kill a man. There's a better suspect. It has to have been Felix. Qi must have found out about his business selling the golden statues, and demanded a cut."

My friends sat in silence for a moment longer.

"Rhys," Elliott said, "I believe we've been friends long enough that we can speak honestly, dare I even say unguardedly, about such matters as --"

"That theory sucks," Abigail said flatly. "Why would Felix try to kill Qi in a roomful of witnesses? Especially when he knew Qi's bouncer-slash-bodyguard might be there to take the bullet, and hit back if he didn't die? They worked together, for Yoba's sake -- could he really not have found a better chance than a random power outage nobody expected?"

I gulped my lukewarm tea, trying to tamp down my frustration. "Fine, it's not a perfect explanation, but do you want it to have been Kent?"

"Of course not!" Abby snapped. "But you know as well as I do that we're not gonna save him with anything less than the truth. We can't just find a good story. We have to find the right story."

"If I may," said Elliott. He looked a little queasy, which did nothing to settle my own stomach. "There is one other suspect who might better fit the bill."

"Who?" I asked.

"Miss Sandy."

The sound of wind-whipped ocean waves filled the ensuing silence. "No way," Abigail said. "Sandy's cool."

"A gun cares nothing for the coolness of its wielder," Elliott replied. "Sandy told us that Qi had mistreated her for months. She was aware of the weapon -- as Rhys tells it, Kent only concealed it with his jacket after he'd already entered the Oasis. And as she represented the legitimate front for the casino, she may not have had privy knowledge of its inner workings, nor direct access to Mr. Qi."

"Except in one instance," I said, hating myself for pointing this out. "The drinks."

"That must be our question," said Elliott. "Did Mr. Qi have Michael taste Sandy's drinks for poison out of general paranoia? Or did he have reason to mistrust her in particular?"

"Forget it." I shook my head. "I'm not going to accuse Sandy just to clear Kent."

"Unless she really did it," said Abby. "But she didn't. She depended on Michael."

"That means nothing if the intended victim was Mr. Qi," Elliott reminded her.

"Dammit. My head hurts." Abby gulped some tea.

I checked my watch, then slapped the table and stood up. "We've got more to do today. It's almost time to meet with Agent Thorsley."

The others rose too. I could practically feel them hoping Thorsley would give us the last missing piece. At this point, I wanted that more than I wanted my crops to grow or the rain to fall. One innocent man had already died to let the mysterious Mr. Qi wriggle out of yet another jam. If he was ever going to face any semblance of justice, it was up to me and my friends.

Chapter Text

Gus had opened the saloon early, probably reasoning that he'd rather have people in the way of his sweeping than disobey a sleep-deprived FID agent. Thorsley sat at a corner table with a mug of untouched coffee close at hand. As we entered, I was taken aback to see someone else at the table with her. The other woman turned, and I saw Jodi's stricken face beneath a head of barely-kempt red hair.

She got up quickly. Thorsley didn't react. Jodi crossed the room quickly, intercepted the three of us, and spoke with forced casualness. "Oh, hey, everybody. How's it going?"

"Fine," said Abigail. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good."

"Good."

"So, how goes the detecting?"

I was about to form an answer when Abby stepped forward and hugged Jodi, resting her chin on the other woman's shoulder. "I know this blows," she said. "We're doing everything we can. I promise."

"It's just..." Jodi struggled for words. "Kent thinks Sam hates him. That Vincent doesn't know him and I'm afraid of him. None of that's true. He's just a different person now, like all of us. That family he had before the war is gone." She sniffed as Abby let her go. "We can have something else. But we need time."

"You'll have it," I said. "We'll get this resolved." Though I couldn't promise anything of the sort, I wasn't strong enough to break Jodi's heart.

"Thanks. I know you guys have got this. I'll...I'll head home."

"Good idea," Abby said. "They all need your support right now. Sam's stronger when you're there."

"I had no idea Jodi was so eloquent," said Elliott as the door swung shut.

"She talks a lot," Abby said admiringly. "People don't listen enough."

We moved as a team to Thorsley's table and filled the open seats. "Mr. Woodlawn," Thorsley greeted me. "Can these two be trusted?"

"You know Abigail and Elliott from their testimonies in the Dobson case," I said. "They're solid. Tell me I didn't just lie to Kent's wife."

"Whether or not you lie is out of my control." Thorsley adjusted a pair of spectacles over a worry-lined face. "I avoided telling Jodi anything I couldn't verify. That's probably why she was so distressed."

My stomach vaulted. That couldn't mean she was here with good news.

"I'll be frank with you." Thorsley pulled a small notebook from her pocket. "If you cannot provide me a new lead from the information I've brought you, I will have to arrest Kent. I can't stall any longer."

Could I get her to chase after Felix instead? Maybe, but she'd probably just raise the same objections as Abby and Elliott.

Though I hated to admit it, Sandy was our most plausible suspect. And -- here my thoughts took a turn I'm not proud of, even today -- she had no family. Did Kent need his freedom more than Sandy needed hers? Could I throw Sandy under the axe for the sake of Sam, Vincent, and Jodi? Would that be right?

"What can you tell us?" asked Elliott.

"We'll start with Mr. Qi," said Thorsley. "As expected, his file is unnaturally clean. School, fifteen years as a military contractor, then he leaves to start a casino with all licenses in order. And yes, I agree the certification was unnaturally quick, but that in itself isn't evidence of wrongdoing."

I tried to think of a reason Qi's manipulating a gambling commission might have driven someone to shoot at him. A disgruntled business rival, maybe? But how could they have joined his staff without Qi knowing?

"The only other strange thing on his record," Thorsley continued, "is the vanishing of two of his staff in the last ten months. No bodies were found, and neither of them are officially reported missing. Qi testified that they had left the country. They had no families to corroborate or deny that."

I felt myself going pale. Surely Qi could not have disappeared two of his own employees without Sandy knowing about it. Michael had promised to keep her safe -- was this what he was protecting her from? And had she believed him? Or had she taken steps to ensure her own safety?

Thorsley flipped her notebook to a new page. "Next: Michael. His record is equally clean, but without the lacunae we see in Qi's. Ex-ZCPD, injured in the line of duty, seems to have taken the job with Qi to supplement his worker's compensation. No criminal history."

I stayed silent. If we mentioned that he was targeted by accident, we'd only draw more attention to Kent. I exchanged looks with Elliott and Abby, both of whom likewise seemed to be swallowing a great many words.

"Finally: Felix. High school diploma, in and out of prison for various nonviolent crimes, mostly operating unlicensed businesses. It appears he eventually learned something, though."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He's opened a sideline while working on Qi's staff. Apparently..." She squinted at her notes. "...selling artifacts salvaged from dwarven archeological sites. This time, he filed all the necessary paperwork."

I felt the sensation of falling from a great height. "Selling dwarven artifacts is legal?"

"The Ferngill Republic does not recognize the dwarves as citizens. It's a long history lesson, but technically, they're still at war with us. To sell their artwork, all Felix needs to do is claim salvage rights, which he has done."

"If Mr. Qi was known to disappear his employees," Elliott said, "could Felix have feared he might be next? Perhaps Qi demanded too large a cut of revenue from selling the statues."

"I considered that as well," Thorsley replied. "But it's a dead end. Qi's tax return declares a revenue equal to 10 percent of Felix's sales. They had a continuing arrangement."

Falling, gathering speed, awaiting the embrace of the ground. Felix had no motive. Neither Michael nor Qi had anything on him. Which left us with one of two killers: Kent or Sandy.

Thorsley shut the notebook and laced her fingers over the table. "I must ask once more. Is there anyone other than Kent who could have committed the crime?"

I opened my mouth.

And thought of the fear lying under Sandy's every word. Her soft hands. Her determination to stand up straight and smile. Her clinging to Emily like a buoy in a stormy sea.

I shut my mouth again.

Thorsley sighed and stood up. "Very well," she said. "I'm sorry, but I must now place Kent under arrest. Agent Marquez is standing by, so your assistance will not be required."

She looked back once more before leaving us, and her face softened. "I wish this had gone differently, Mr. Woodlawn," she said. "But I usually do."

Chapter Text

As I had learned months before, Gus baked a four-cheese pizza so delicious that only a rapidly tailspinning murder mystery could suck its flavor out. Emily served it to us, as pale and silent as Abby, Elliott, and me. We had tried our best to ensure that she didn't hear our speculation about Sandy, but I was feeling paranoid right then, and wondered if she could somehow tell.

"What I keep coming back to," said Abigail, "is who could have hit their target in the dark. I mean, how many people have even seen a gun before?"

"Even in the city, I only saw them on cop shows," I said. "ZCPD has a few, but only special teams ever use them."

"Well, unless Sandy was once a member of such a team, Abigail's reasoning would also rule her out," Elliott said.

"You know, that's another good point. Why would Sandy go to all the trouble of poisoning Qi, only to turn around and shoot him?"

"Maybe the poison didn't work?" Abby asked.

"But why the urgency?" Elliott pressed. "Sandy had reason to fear Mr. Qi, but without a more specific threat, why did she have to act with such haste?"

"And I don't think there was any such threat," I said. "When I overheard Sandy talking to Michael, she said she hadn't seen Qi in more than a week."

"Could he have, I don't know, texted her something sinister?" Abigail bit into a pizza crust to vent her frustrations.

"It's possible," I said. "But to find anything like that, we'd have to go through her phone."

"If only someone knew her well enough to ask for that favor," said Elliott. As I pondered this, I felt his dress-shod toe kick me under the table. I looked up, smarting, to see him jerk his head meaningfully toward the kitchen -- where Emily was emerging at that moment with a stack of clean dishes.

I shook my head. Accusing Sandy would be hard enough without tricking her best friend into helping me. I wasn't yet that desperate.

If you're not desperate, Farmer Rhys, I thought, contemplating the cooling slice of pizza before me, it's because you're not paying attention.

A sudden noise from outside turned all our heads. It sounded like a screech of tires across the cobblestones of the town square. But it couldn't be. Since Lewis's death, nobody in town had a car anymore. Had Thorsley and Marquez not managed to arrest Kent yet? Was he resisting, requiring some kind of armored car?

Abigail ran to the window and gasped aloud. "What's going on?" I asked, rising and kicking back my chair. Elliott followed suit.

"Have you got your sword?" Abigail drew her own from a pocket sewn into her coat.

"In my bag. Abby, what's happening?"

"Weird car with tinted windows heading toward Jodi and Kent's house. And it's not the Fidos."

I grabbed my sword, left everything else on the chair, and sprinted after Abby. Elliott threw some gold on the table for the pizza and followed.

We saw the black car as soon as we burst out into the sunshine. It careened right onto Willow Lane, then stopped hard with a squeal of brakes. I threw myself into running, lurching fast enough that I had no time to worry about what I was heading toward. Abigail ran right beside me. Elliott had no weapon, but he kept pace, and I lacked the presence of mind to tell him to get clear. Besides, when racing into danger, you're lucky if you have friends willing to join you.

The unmarked car kept its engine running. All the doors opened except the driver's, and three men stepped out. Their suits were finely cut, their faces covered by cloth masks and sunglasses. They rushed the door of Jodi's house. While Abby and I were still turning onto Willow Lane, their leader kicked the doorknob, splintering the door open in one blow. Each of them withdrew a sleek black club from under their suit jacket.

Before the men could get inside, we were on them. I bowled into one with my shoulder, taking a blow on my arm for my trouble. The swift club stung like a whip, but I drove the man back, raising my sword. The second one got his baton up fast enough to block Abigail's attack, and went on the offensive, driving Abby back into the street.

We'd lost the third one, but I couldn't turn away -- my own goon was back up and at me, slicing and thrusting his club like a rapier. I'd never learned to fight like this; I was used to monsters who couldn't block me. I regretted not asking Marlon to actually teach me how to use a sword.

He'd been teaching Abby, though, and it was paying off. She dodged back, let her enemy commit to an attack, then ducked around it to slap him in the face with the flat of her sword. He stumbled back, bleeding from a cut across his check, a tattered gash torn through his mask.

I watched her a second too long. The man in front of me hit me on the sword arm again, then on the side of my neck. Both wounds stung like hornet attacks. I barely managed to cling to my sword, but my right arm felt like a sack of sand. I backed up and switched it to my left hand.

The thing is: I am not left-handed. And my enemy was pushing me uncomfortably close to the river.

"Miscreants!" Elliott shouted. "Cease this tomfoolery!"

You wouldn't think that would work, but it distracted the goons long enough for Abigail and I to press attacks. She sliced another wound across her foe's flank. I swung wildly at mine, keeping him back.

That's when the third man appeared at the door, dragging a kicking and struggling Jodi. He had one hand pressed over her mouth, with two fingers bleeding where she must have bitten him.

Way to go, Jodi -- but it wouldn't be enough. These guys were professionals. Two of them had distracted us while the third had gone for the job. He already had Jodi halfway to the car.

A red-and-yellow streak hurtled out of the door. "Keep your hands off my mom!" Vincent shouted as he barrelled into the captor's knees.

No matter how professional, nobody is ever prepared for the child-to-the-knees attack. The man kicked, trying to shake Vincent off, but he'd clamped himself firmly to the kidnapper's leg. I nearly took another hit as I stood gawking, but Elliott gridball-tackled my opponent.

"Don't just stand there!" he cried, as the goon grappled with him, rolling across the grassy embankment. "Get Jodi!"

I raced forward, brandishing my sword, just as the third guy gave a mighty kick and sent Vincent flying. He flew across the yard and hit the house wall with a terrifying crack, then slid down and didn't move.

"No!" I screamed and rushed forward, but the goon had already muscled Jodi toward the car. The driver stepped out and helped his friend force her into the back seat.

The kidnapper thrust Jodi away and had his club up before I could bring my sword down. Another fight, then, with my nearly useless arms. I heard Abby yelp behind me, but couldn't turn to look, nor could I check whether that loud splash meant Elliott or his opponent had fallen into the river, nor to see whether Vincent's eyes were opening...

A heavy stone whistled through the air and slammed into the lead kidnapper's face. He went white and gripped his nose. Blood trickled from between the fingers. I thought I saw a broken tooth, but that may have been wishful thinking.

Another stone flew. Abby's opponent shouted and swung wildly, but failed to slap it out of the air. It took him squarely in the throat, leaving him winded as he staggered away.

Emily's sister Haley stood in the open door of her house -- blonde hair streaming, with fire in her eyes and a slingshot in her hands. She loosed another rock that barely missed cracking the nearest goon's skull.

"We've got what we came for!" the driver yelled. "Get out of here before that crazy bitch throws any more rocks!"

The goons, variously stunned and bleeding, piled back into the car, trapping a struggling Jodi in the middle of the back seat. The doors slammed shut. The car accelerated in reverse.

Haley let out a barbarian roar and loosed another stone that cracked the tinted window, but even a pissed-off twenty-something couldn't outrun a car. Her next shot fell short. The men -- and Jodi -- rounded the corner, gunned the engine, and hurtled out of sight.

Chapter Text

I had some mean welts, but the feeling was coming back to my arms. I hoisted Vincent up and raced for the clinic with Abby and Elliott on my heels. Haley brought up the rear. "Hey, those assholes just kidnapped Jodi!" she shouted. "Aren't we gonna call someone?"

"I took down their license number," Elliott panted, brandishing his story ideas notebook. "As soon as Vincent is safe at the clinic, I'll contact the Grampleton constables."

Vincent was already squirming in my arms by the time we reached the clinic. "Keep your eyes shut," I told him, relief flooding through me. "You might have a concussion. How do you feel?"

"Mom," he murmured. "How's my mom?"

A fist clenched over my heart. All this pain, and we'd failed to protect Jodi. "She's all right," I said -- an absolute lie, but now was not the time to agitate Vincent further.

Elliott got the clinic door, while Abby raced ahead and came back dragging Maru. "Oh, Yoba," she mouthed when she saw Vincent, then shook her head. "I'm sorry. That's terrible bedside manner. What happened?"

The others briefly explained as I carried Vincent to a soft table in the exam room. Maru blanched when we told her four armed thugs had run roughshod over the town and driven off with Jodi in the car. "Dear Yoba," she said again. "I wonder if it has anything to do with Harvey."

"Huh?" Abigail asked. "Why would it?"

"I haven't seen him for half an hour," said Maru. "He never leaves without telling me, not while the clinic's open. I was getting worried. Clearly not worried enough."

She ran around the exam table and help me lay Vincent down. "Hey, buddy," she said gently, as his eyes fluttered open. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," Vincent moaned. "Bleh."

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Vincent."

"Who's the mayor of Pelican Town?"

"Lewis. No, dang it. Caroline."

Maru shooed us all into the lobby while she went through the rest of the protocol. We milled awkwardly, Abby and I still cleaning blood off our swords, Elliott glaring at his phone while the Grampleton PD hold music played, and Haley hopping from foot to foot. "I couldn't find my slingshot fast enough," she kept saying. "I should've been quicker. I should have saved her."

"You did more than any of us." Abigail looked up, eyes filled with admiration. It gave me some warmth, even in the midst of all this chaos, to think about how they used to hate each other. "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

"Our parents used to take us to the range when we were kids," Haley said. "I always had a better time than Emily did. She cried whenever she hit the target."

"Hah. I can imagine."

Maru came out from behind the curtain. "He's all right," she told us. "He just got his bell rung, as Robin would say. But he should stay here for the day to be sure. And I'd really like Harvey to take a look at him for a second opinion."

"Fine. I'll go get him." Abigail pushed through the curtain before Maru could stop her. I heard some thumping sounds and a muted exchange -- then Abby burst back into the lobby dragging Harvey by the wrist.

"Heard him upstairs when we got in," she said in response to my quizzical look. "This nerd was playing with his radio while he had a patient waiting."

Harvey wiped fog off his spectacles. "Enough, Abigail," he said, with such fear in his voice that it raised my own hackles. Nothing's more disconcerting than seeing a doctor scared. "I'll look Vincent over, but then we all need to talk."

While he formed his second opinion in the exam room, a flustered Sam stumbled into the lobby, stammering an apology for missing Abigail's calls and texts. So that was the strange group that assembled to hear Harvey's news, after he'd pronounced that Vincent would be fine: a twitchy farmer, an exasperated novelist, a worried nurse, two warrior princesses with nobody to fight, and a guy who could almost do a kickflip.

"Mr. Qi contacted me over my radio," said Harvey. "He read out this message, then said it would repeat every fifteen minutes for the rest of the day. I was holed up in my apartment trying to trace the signal. As far as I can tell, he's still at the casino, right in the center of his web."

"What did it say?" I asked.

"And where the hell are my parents?" Sam added, like he was begging one of us to know the answer.

Harvey pulled a sheet of paper from his sweater pocket, cleared his throat, wiped his forehead, and read out the message.

Dear citizens of Pelican Town, he read. Two nights ago, somebody took away something dear to me. At first, I believed the culprit to be the soldier Kent, due to our unfortunate history together. I no longer think so.

However, beyond my belief in Kent's innocence, I know nothing further. This irks me. I am not in the habit of being without information, nor of being wronged without taking revenge.

Fortunately, I have devised a solution I believe we will all find agreeable. I have heard there is a gentleman among you by the name of Rhys -- a farmer by profession, but an investigator by vocation. My sources tell me this Rhys knows the true murderer of your town's late, lamented Mayor Lewis, a case considered by all outsiders to be one of the great unsolved mysteries.

Haley, Maru, and Sam turned to stare at me. I hunched down in the waiting-room seat while Harvey kept reading.

My proposal is simple. Everybody who was present at my casino on the fateful night will reassemble. There, this Rhys will tell me which of them murdered my most valuable subordinate. The crime scene and all the clues will be at his disposal. I have touched nothing.

In order to make the people of Stardew Valley more amenable, I have taken the liberty of escorting Jodi here as my guest. But do not fear she will be lonely. The FID has kindly acceeded to my request that her husband be brought to my abode to join her. Sadly, the good agents Thorsley and Marquez were not amenable, and so have been removed from the equation. They will live, but it will be some time before they awaken at Grampleton Regional Hospital.

Do gather everybody soon, friends. And I mean everybody. If even one person is missing, Jodi and Kent may meet with an unfortunate fate. The same will occur if I see so much as a single police vehicle. I do so hope we can get through this without any more accidents.

Yours sincerely,
Mr. Qi.

"Why is everyone so quiet?" said Vincent from the exam room. "Can I have some juice?"

Chapter Text

Obviously, there was no talk of bringing Vincent. Harvey was firm that he needed rest, and Sam would have bum-rushed anyone who tried to remove him, even with three of us armed. We left him in the clinic's one bed, sipping his juice in happy obliviousness. We'd just have to hope Qi wouldn't notice him missing.

We fanned out to alert the others. Haley and Elliott, both exempt from the summons, tried to talk us out of going. "He'll kill you, or tie you up, or something," Haley kept saying.

"He has Jodi and Kent," said Abigail, marching ahead.

"And that sucks, but does it mean I have to hand him my sister?"

"Haley has a point," Elliott called from the rear, bringing us all up short in the town square. "We have underestimated Qi's control over law enforcement. If his mere word is enough to redirect a federal vehicle, if an agent of Thorsley's integrity and skill cannot go against him--"

"Unless he's bluffing," I said. "And even then, what can we do? Wait for him to get bored and give Jodi back? You don't send four men to kidnap someone and then just let them go."

"Intentionally springing Qi's trap is not the way to help her."

I spun on my heel, stopping the group behind me. "But it is the way to get back into the crime scene. With Qi not just letting us investigate, but ordering us to. This is his first real mistake. He's given us an early Winter Star gift. For that, and for Jodi's sake, we have to go."

I led the charge into the Stardrop, where Gus and Emily accosted us with questions. I felt guilty that we'd run out to face an unknown danger and left them stuck here with no information, but not too guilty, since Elliott had wildly overpaid for the pizza. Their faces fell when I asked them to come with us.

"Of course we will," said Gus, "but this doesn't sound safe. Did he really jump two FID agents?"

"We'll go armed," said Abigail. "Gus, I know you have a sword under the counter."

"Bet you don't know I know how to use it." Gus's eyes glinted. "Willy and I used to get into some scrapes when we were kids. If this is the best way to help friends, we're all yours."

For her part, Emily looked like she'd rather have run home to hide, but she swallowed the fear and nodded. "For Jodi and Kent," she said. "And for Sandy. If Qi's in a mood, she's got to be terrified."

Haley walked around the bar and folded her sister in a tight hug. "Love you, Em," she said. "I don't say that enough."

As they separated, she slipped the slingshot and ammo into Emily's hand. Em smiled weakly. "I love you too, Haley. I maybe say it too much. But it's still true."

"Come back safe," Haley ordered. "Don't make me tell Mom and Dad you got murdered in a sketchy casino."

We returned to find that Maru had retrieved Demetrius, who was running down his own litany of reasons this was a terrible idea. "You can't just give a terrorist their first demand," he said as he reached us. "We need to send back a counter-offer."

"What if it was Mom?" Maru asked hotly. "Would you be so keen to negotiate then?"

Demetrius faltered at the thought of Robin in danger. "Well...no. But--"

"I'll protect you."

I was a one-woman man, but I had to admit the way Maru said that gave me a warm shiver.

Speaking of my woman: Leah appeared as we converged on the bus stop. She'd armed herself with my wood axe, which Clint had recently upgraded with better balance and a keener edge. It would do as well as any sword. I went over to meet her, asking, "Are you gonna try to talk me out of going?"

"Do you want me to?" she said. "I only plan to raise a stink if you try to leave me behind."

I pulled her in for a quick kiss. "We're going into trouble."

"We've been in trouble before. I know you've got a plan."

"Show up in force. Cause trouble. Convince Qi this isn't worth it."

I averted my eyes. I couldn't tell her that my real plan, the one I was ever more afraid I'd have to fall back on, was to offer up Sandy as a sacrifice. I began to understand how Leah must have felt in the spring when she'd been prepared to let Linus take the fall for Lewis's murder instead of Shane. I wondered if she could have made that choice with Linus there in front of her.

Clint appeared then, brandishing his biggest hammer, accompanied by Willy with an iridium-tipped fishing spear. They were followed by Abigail and Sebastian. For what I assumed was at least the tenth time, Seb said, "Are you sure you don't want me to come?"

"Of course I want you to come," said Abigail. "But we don't know what Qi will do if someone he didn't invite shows up. We can't put that risk on Kent and Jodi."

"So, what? I'm just supposed to sit at home waiting to hear whether an insane crime boss cut your head off?"

"No-one said that." Abigail pulled Sebastian over to me and Leah. "In fact...Rhys, hear me out on something."

While we heard her out, Pam showed to complete our group, tugging hard against her daughter's grip. "Mom, please," Penny said. "If you don't come back..."

"I'll come back, kiddo," said Pam. "We'll take that trip to the bookstore. I promise."

"I don't care about the bookstore!" Tears welled in Penny's eyes. "I can't lose you like I lost Dad."

Pam reached out and cupped Penny's cheeks in both hands. "Listen to me, Pen. I know I've been a burden. You've been my mother more'n I've been yours. But right now, these people need me to drive the bus. I want you to have a mom who stood up for something once in her life."

"You're really going." Penny put her hands over Pam's. "All right. I can't stop you. Just come back."

"We're all coming back," said Sam. Ever since he'd prevailed on us to leave Vincent behind, he had stood up a little straighter. "Will you do me a favor, Penny? Go to the clinic and keep an eye on Vince for me?"

Penny wiped her eyes and nodded, throwing back her shoulders to match Sam's confidence. "The library just got the new Sword of the Mermaid book," she said. "If you're not back by the time I'm done reading it to him..."

"I gotcha." Sam smiled for the first time since we'd heard Qi's message. "Let's get this show on the road."

Sebastian hugged Sam for a long time, kissed Abby once more, then walked away with steel in his stride. The rest of us boarded the bus for what I was sure, one way or another, would be everyone's last trip to Mr. Qi's Casino.

Chapter Text

The bus ride was as grim an hour and a half as I've ever spent in the company of my Pelican Town friends. Each of us sat with our makeshift weapons close at hand, hardening our own private fortresses against the danger to come. I held Leah's hand to stay in the real world, away from my universe of fears. Abigail leaned her head on Sam's shoulder, presumably for the same reason. Pam turned on the radio at one point, but Willy told her to shut it off.

Being surrounded by the people I loved gave me just enough courage to ride into battle. I wondered how Kent had found the wherewithal to set off on that last fateful patrol where he'd been captured, to ride to war on behalf of a country that had already betrayed him. Probably he'd done the same as me -- drawn strength from his squadmates. Who hadn't all come back from the borders of Gotoro. I wondered where the living ones were now. What the dead ones had been like.

When Pam pulled into the Calico Desert bus stop, Felix and Sandy were already waiting. Sandy looked as tightly wound as the bands keeping her hair in check. Felix had slathered on a layer of green makeup; I only recognized him from the tracksuit. As the bus doors opened with a pneumatic hiss, I heard him say, "Tell them."

Sandy folded her arms. "Say it yourself."

"You're the one they'll listen to."

"What, you can't threaten them without my help? Not as tough as you talk, are you?"

Blue hair flew in my face. Emily shoved past me and was the first on the asphalt. "Sandy, are you all right?"

Sandy's glare crumpled into fear. "Em, get back on the bus. Drive away and forget about me."

"That's close enough," said Felix. As Emily tried to reach for Sandy, Felix whipped a sword from a hidden sheath and held it against Sandy's neck. Racing up the aisle, I saw why: Abigail had planted herself on the bus steps and drawn her own blade, hovering over Emily like one of Yoba's guardian angels.

"Please put that away," Felix continued. "Mr. Qi is already in a bad mood, and the rest of us aren't much happier. You make any stupid moves and we might do something even stupider."

"You won't kill me," Sandy growled. "I doubt you want to run the cash register at the Oasis yourself every day."

A fine quip, but it sounded much braver than her eyes looked. Abigail began to lower her sword, but to my surprise, Leah called out to her. "Don't, Abby. This isn't a movie. As long as the standoff holds, never give up your advantage."

"R-right." Abby stepped down to the road with her sword still leveled. Felix shook a little, torn between keeping Sandy subdued and answering this new threat. Breathing hard, Abby took a step forward, then another, until the point of her sword hovered near Felix's green-caked nose.

"We'll keep our weapons," she said. "You keep Sandy. That way, no-one does anything dumb."

"No!" Emily began, but Sandy silenced her with a look. "It's all right, Em," she said. "It has to be."

"Fine," Felix snapped, blanching a little as the rest of our armed crew filed out of the bus. "Just come along. The longer Qi waits for answers, the higher the chance we'll all regret it."

That's how we filed into the Oasis: Sandy in the lead, Felix prodding her along with the flat of his sword, and the rest of us traipsing behind.

Through the store, through the door Michael had once guarded, and up the stairs. The casino was lit for the evening, dim and discoed with the wailing-damned-souls soundtrack once again playing on loop.

Mr. Qi waited in the center of the room beside the chalk outline, flanked by two of his pit bosses -- a man masked in yellow and a woman in purple. Qi's own blue makeup looked cracked and sickly by comparison. His forehead was beading with ghastly cerulean sweat.

"Here we are again," he said as we filed in. "I had hoped you would all return under better circumstances, but Fortuna has not smiled on any of us."

"We're not here to listen to your damn speeches," Abigail replied with barely controlled fury.

"Yeah!" shouted Sam, who wasn't controlling his at all. "Where are my parents, you asshole?"

"I would have brought you to them in time," said Qi, "but since you all seem determined to flout my desires..."

He made a brisk gesture to the henchfolk -- maybe a dwarven hand signal. The yellow one pushed through our group to reach the stairway door, then shut it and locked it. The purple one strode to the dividing wall and flipped a small switch.

Light burst out from behind the arcade machines, blindingly bright until my eyes adjusted. What I had taken to be an innocuous section of wall was suddenly revealed to be a window, looking onto a chamber about the size of a half-bathroom. Four people were packed inside: two more of Qi's staff, standing with blades drawn, and two kneeling with their hands on their heads.

"Mom!" Sam shouted. "Dad!"

"They can't hear you," said Qi. "Or see you. To them, the wall is only a mirror." He held up a small two-way speaker. "Only I can speak to them. If I give my staff the order to use those blades, they will obey. So I suggest you control yourselves."

"I'm gonna kill you," Sam said. He had come without a weapon, but the way he said it, I believed he'd use his bare hands. However long it took.

Leah advanced, brandishing my wood-chopping axe. "If you hurt either of them, you'll answer to all of us. Let them go and we'll talk."

"Very intelligent," said Qi. "When all things are equal, never give away an advantage. However, all things are not equal. My employees are prepared to die in my service, whereas you lot strike me as the type who would be...sentimental...about losing anyone."

He raised the two-way radio and spoke into it. "Kill one of them."

"No!" Sam rushed at Qi. His fists nearly connected, but the yellow goon moved faster. He swung his baton into Sam's stomach. Sam dropped to the ground, clutching his ribs, still wriggling across the floor toward Qi.

"Which one?" asked the goon holding Jodi.

"We're in a casino." Qi walked toward the coin dispenser. "Let's leave it up to chance."

During this whole exchange, I had stood frozen, unable to decide on the right move. Everyone else looked as unbalanced as me. As Qi plucked a coin from the dispenser, some distracted corner of my mind noted that Kent's gun wasn't in there.

Qi held the coin between his thumb and forefinger. "Heads, the soldier. Tails, the dutiful wife."

Enough. Qi was right: he'd had us outplayed before we stepped into the room, simply because we valued life and he didn't. I could long to live in a world where sociopathy didn't grant power, but I lived in this world.

"Stop!" I shouted.

Qi turned toward me. A smile spread over his face. "Rhys Woodlawn," he said. "Just the man I hoped would speak up."

"What do you want, Qi?" I asked. "Revenge for Michael? It won't satisfy you."

"My dear Rhys, the purpose of the law is not to satisfy us. It is to bind us all by the same rules." He began to pace, obnoxiously confident that none of us would take a swing at him. "Did you know the FID's rate of resolved cases is abysmal? You won't see it on television, but most criminals escape justice. I ask you, is that a true system of laws?"

"What is it that makes this guy so special? Why go to all this trouble for him?"

"If someone slew your friend Abigail, would you not do the same?"

I glanced at Abby. Heartbreaking, I know, but the man had a point. I probably wouldn't do exactly this -- I'm a bit too hinged for such a reaction -- but I'd move Yoba's heavens and earth to get justice.

I looked back to Qi. "Tell me what you want. You brought us here for a reason."

"First, an answer." Qi stopped close enough that I saw myself reflected in his dark glasses. "Is it true that you know the identity of Mayor Lewis's killer?"

I kept silent, but I wasn't able to resist glancing over at Leah. She returned a look pleading with me not to say the name aloud. "How do you know anything about that?" I asked, stalling for time.

"I've had a spy in Pelican Town for some time," Qi said. Behind me, the others began to shuffle and murmur. "Oh, don't worry. It's no-one you know. In fact, none of you ever scrupled to ask her name."

The pink henchwoman inclined her head. As she did so, I recognized something in her build that triggered an old memory from those first days: a woman who clerked at the Joja Mart but lived outside the valley, who had since left the job.

"You don't need to name the killer," said Qi, "but I want an answer. Do you know, or not?"

I looked from Leah to the cell behind the mirror. In shadow, Kent tried to reach out for Jodi, but one of the goons knocked his hand away.

"Yes," I said, to a fresh round of murmuring.

"There you have it!" Qi spread his arms. "You have already solved one murder that baffled the professionals. I have brought you here to solve another. All the suspects, from my side and yours, are here in this room. The crime scene has been preserved to the best of my ability. A sleuth of your skill should not need long to put the remaining pieces together."

This was madness. In two days, I had barely been able to eliminate a single suspect. Now Qi expected me to tie up every loose end in...

"How long?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"One hour should be sufficient," said Qi. "On that stroke of the clock, and each hour after, I will kill one of you. If you find the guilty party, you and all your friends will be free to leave. Unless, of course, the killer is among your group." He smiled to himself, like a man remembering a private joke. "Then all but one of you may leave."

Chapter Text

OK. Fine. One hour. I'd bragged to Elliott yesterday that I could solve a mystery lickety-split with full access to the crime scene. Time to put my gold where my mouth was.

It wasn't exactly a prime environment for focusing, though, with my friends in the background being forced by Qi's goons to hand over their weapons and phones. Felix stood before a growing pile of swords, farm implements, and cooking utensils, like a conquering general in a war fought behind someone's kitchen. After surrendering, they took seats at the card tables, talking in low voices. Whenever one of them tried to speak to me, Qi would bark out, "Don't distract Rhys!"

Even Leah. She gave me all the support she could with her expression alone, but I wanted to hear her voice like a miner wants light. I should have been thinking about the case and the clues, but I wasted a lot of time imagining kicking Qi's face in.

"At least let me have Abigail," I told him a few minutes in. "She did half the work last time."

"Fine." Qi waved his hand. "But stay focused. The clock is ticking."

Abby squeezed Sam's hand and went to join me by the chalk outline. "This is the first time I've been back in here," she whispered to me. "Is there anything new?"

"Nothing I haven't told you about," I replied. "Please tell me you have an idea. I can't think with that blue asshole staring at me."

"About the murder? Sorry, I'm as lost as you. But I did manage to get off a text before they took my phone. It might buy you some time."

"Praise Yoba." I didn't dare ask more lest Qi overhear. "Right. Let's do this."

We then proceeded to accomplish nothing.

That was easily the worst fifty minutes of my life. And I've been to a Joja Corp Quarterly All-Hands, so that's saying something. Abigail and I circled the casino, peering at every detail like we were trapped in the world's crappiest escape room. Everywhere I looked, I saw someone with everything riding on me. Kent and Jodi kneeling in silent terror. Sam with his eyes glued to his parents across the one-way mirror. Emily saying something that made Sandy crack up hysterically, both women laughing in a way that sounded a lot like crying. Demetrius quietly encouraging Maru in the hopes she'd have a brainwave and save us all.

I talked over every possible angle with Abby. We considered whether Qi might have been blackmailing someone from Pelican, or whether any of his employees could have had a side hustle less on-paper legit than Felix's. We enlisted Maru to examine the slot machines for hidden mechanisms (she came up empty). We searched high and low for a second gun in case Kent's hadn't been the one that went off. We convinced each of Qi's staff to say "those bastards," until Gus confirmed the speaker had been Felix, and Felix said he'd thought the dwarves were after him.

Could Michael's death have been a threat by some rival of Qi's? Or someone else he screwed over during his smuggling days? Could someone have been co-opted by a powerful general uncomfortable with how much Qi knew about his habits?

All seemed equally plausible. None fit with the facts. And every time I looked at my watch, twice as much time had slipped away as I'd thought. All of a sudden, Kent and Jodi had less than ten minutes left in their hourglass, and I hardly felt I'd begun.

I rounded on Qi. "We need more time. This isn't fair."

"Pressure makes diamonds, Rhys." Qi smiled in a thoroughly murderable fashion. "Think it over once more."

Once more. Start from the beginning. Burn away all pre-conceptions, and what remained...?

"Oh," I said out loud. Then again. "Oh."

"What is it?" Qi demanded. "What have you remembered?"

I didn't get the chance to say. At that very moment, a heavy thump and crash sounded from behind the one-way mirror. We all turned toward it. The lights in the cell had shut off, leaving only the sounds of a vicious struggle in the pitch darkness.

At this point I need to flash back a little. I know you miss a lot by getting these accounts through my perspective, but I can only write what I saw. This time, though, I had a very good writer on hand to cover the part I missed.

#

Yes, it is I, Elliott -- a very unhumble scribe taking over from the humble Rhys to describe the events of that fateful hour.

Some of us not bound on the bus voyage to hell had gathered in the Stardrop Saloon to await news. Lorn of the animating spirits of Emily and Gus, it was a dreary place, its faint echoes of a lost western frontier intruding on the senses like a chorus of ghosts. Despite his perennial recommendations against alcohol, Harvey pulled ales for all of us (save the recovering Shane). No-one did more than nurse theirs. Perhaps the good doctor could prescribe severe anxiety in the future as a method of hangover prevention.

I found myself at a loss, until Sebastian received a text message that lit his accustomed pallor with uncharacteristic fire. He had brought a laptop computer along, and began to click and type with vigor. We gathered around the screen.

"From Abby," Sebastian said, nodding at his cell phone. "They're in trouble. But we can help."

"What can we do?" I asked.

"Just watch for now." Sebastian tapped a phrase on the keyboard, cursed, then tried two more. On the third, he pumped his fist in celebration. "Knew it. That idiot's password is fortuna. Not even a capital letter."

"Which idiot?" asked Shane, who'd joined me in watching incomprehensible windows flash across the laptop screen. "There's a few to choose from."

"Man, too real," said Sebastian. "Why don't we hang out more?"

"Because I don't like you," said Shane.

"Never stops my stepdad from trying." Sebastian tapped a few more keys, and a new application opened: what appeared to be a video feed. I recognized the footage -- it was the charming, and currently empty, front room of the Oasis country store.

"You've hacked into Mr. Qi's security," I said, impressed.

"Abby said he's holding Jodi and Kent in a secret room." Sebastian flipped through several cameras, each showing empty doors or hallways. "If we're lucky -- really lucky -- there'll be a way into that room that doesn't go through the main casino. Come on...yes!"

I peered closer. The camera feed was labeled Skull Cavern. Through a cracked door on the left-hand side, I made out the unmistakeable forms of the two prisoners.

"I saw the entrance to the Skull Cave," I informed them all. "This passage can't be far from the surface. I volunteer to go."

"Me too," said Shane. All eyes swiveled toward him. "What?" he asked. "I can fight. Certainly better than stickboy or captain fancy-pants here."

I feel the need to clarify here that not only were my trousers no fancier than business casual, but that I attended practices of the Quarterstaff Club for all four of my years at Barone College. As I am secure in my manhood, I did not say this aloud.

"Elliott, you still got that car from your publisher?" Sebastian asked.

"Sadly, no," I said. "Their agent came to repossess it yesterday."

"Long shot anyway." Sebastian brushed back his overlong locks. "Guess you two are borrowing my bike."

"Even if we run roughshod over the speed limit, can we make it in time?"

"Wait," said Shane. "There might be a shortcut. Rhys and I found it last night." He turned to Sebastian. "You know that sewer grate in the woods? Think your bike could fit through?"

#

Elliott told me later about their breakneck ride through the dark, hurtling through the sewers and into the new tunnel on paths barely wide enough for the motorcycle. Elliott drove, and Shane held on. They stopped only twice: once to pick up Krobus, who again eagerly volunteered his help, and once to drop him off at the circuit box. This time, he would cut the power on purpose. Shane told him to wait for twenty minutes and then flip whatever switch looked most important.

They parked the motorcycle at the bottom of a set of rickety metal stairs, and dashed up them, with no way to be certain they were in the right place. While I spun my mental wheels in the casino, Elliott and Shane had been racing upward through the Skull Cavern, dodging monsters of the sort that even frightened Abigail. "I was terrified," Elliott admitted to me later. "It makes you run quite fast."

Meanwhile, Krobus must have figured out how to turn off only one set of lights. That's how he shut off power to the cell behind the mirror. The two goons never expected it. When the lights came back on a minute later, Shane had gridball-tackled one of them into a heap, Elliott had knocked the other one unconscious with a heavy stick, and Kent and Jodi were sobbing into each other's shoulders, raw with relief.

Qi's staff stared slack-jawed for long enough that they lost the moment. The Stardew Valley crowd, by constrast, revived like a jolt of lightning had shot through them. Gus and Willy rushed Felix and knocked him off his feet, then descended on the weapons.

Qi's people went for their clubs and swords, but we had the momentum now. I saw Clint swinging his hammer and roaring like a barbarian, Maru and Demetrius fighting back-to-back with their wrenches, Pam jamming her lockpicking file into a pit boss's hand and making him howl in pain. Willy kept three at bay by himself, twirling his spear. Gus laid about with the flat end of his sword.

Leah raised the axe and charged the one-way mirror. With three swings, she'd smashed it into glittering shards, and was helping Elliott and Shane through the join the fight. Sam raced after and clambered up, past the broken glass, to fall into his parents' arms.

Abigail and I went for our swords, but Emily and Sandy had gotten to them first. "We've got this!" Sandy shouted. "Do your bit, Rhys. Figure out who killed Mike. End this."

"A highly sensible suggestion," snarled Mr. Qi.

"Yoba's balls," I swore. I had forgotten him for a blessed moment. He watched the melee, unconcerned behind his sunglasses, with one hand nonchalantly outstretched. In that hand he held Kent's service revolver pointed straight at me.

Chapter Text

"Time's up, Rhys," said Qi, as casually as if the hourglass had run out on a game of charades. "I want my answer."

My friends had wrapped up their own battles, disarming Qi's staff and forcing them to sit. Now they turned to me, a frozen storm of chaos surrounding the heart of the room: me, Mr. Qi, and the chalk ghost of Michael.

It looked like I was finally going to get my "one of us is a murderer" speech. Would have preferred not to do it at gunpoint, but beggars can't be choosers.

"You'll have it," I told Qi. I wasn't lying, either. Though I wouldn't know until I said it out loud, I thought I'd finally cracked the secret of what had happened here two nights ago -- the only solution that accounted for all the contradictions, all the bizarre decisions and disparate clues. And if I was right, it offered a glimmer of hope that we'd get out of this alive.

Most of us.

"The first thing to know is that Michael himself was never the killer's target," I said. "We searched high and low for some secret that would give somebody a motive against him, and never found a thing. Instead, we kept finding reasons for people to kill Mr. Qi."

I had seen this buried part of my soul arise before, in the spring, when I leapt from a moving motorcycle onto an equally moving bus. As it turned out, this aspect of me also enjoyed taunting armed crime bosses. Perhaps if I took up BASE jumping or something to keep Dark Rhys occupied, I'd stop winding up in situations like this.

Qi kept smiling. "I am aware I have enemies, Rhys. It's the reason for all this security. Pray continue."

"When the lights went out, you correctly guessed someone was plotting against your life. You ordered Michael to change places with you as a precaution, using a silent system of hand signals you'd worked out. Based on dwarven sign language, but that's a conversation for another time."

"Impressive," said Qi. "I knew I did the right thing in enlisting your help."

"Believe it." I caught Leah's eye. Her face was mostly frozen in terror, but I fancied my audacity in the maw of death had her just the slightest bit turned on. I'd apologize for most of this later.

I turned back to Qi. "But there's one thing you got wrong. The power outage wasn't part of the plot against you. It was a total coincidence."

Qi's smile faded, perhaps at the notion that the universe contained events which didn't revolve around him somehow.

"Moreover," I said, "it was the second coincidence of the night. The crime was committed using a weapon that only happened to be in the room by accident. Means and opportunity dropped into the killer's lap. How's that for Fortuna?"

"Rhys, in the name of Yoba's saggy tits, quit flirting!" Abigail shouted. "You maybe forgot, but we actually don't wanna watch you bleed out."

"Um. Right." I felt the color in my cheeks. "So someone in the room needed Qi dead, but didn't have a plan for how -- until one presented itself. There's only one explanation. Until that night, they didn't know he needed to die."

That was the revelation I'd had as time ticked down. Now I needed to follow it to the end.

"Isn't it true," I asked Mr. Qi, "that until two nights ago, you hadn't shown up here in a few weeks?"

I may have imagined it, but I thought his hand was shaking a little as he gripped the gun. Sweat had broken out on his forehead. "Yes. I was recovering from an illness. I didn't leave my sickroom for a month."

"Then one of two things has to be true. Either you had to die because of something you revealed in your speech -- not likely, since it didn't say much at all -- or you had to die because of something anyone could see if they looked at you."

"Rhys." I recognized the croak as Jodi's voice. "If this is leading up to accusing my husband after all..."

"Kent is innocent," I said. "He had more reason to murder Qi than anybody, but he didn't do anything worse than bring a loaded gun into public." I looked at Kent, who steadfastly met my eyes. "You knew that killing Qi wouldn't erase what you suffered in the war. Revenge wasn't more important to you than your family."

Kent bowed his head. "I damn well hope that's true."

"No, the killer wasn't out for vengeance." I played to the room again. "They had to kill Qi because, somehow, he was a clear and present danger. If he didn't die that night, someone else would be in deep trouble."

Mr. Qi coughed. I'd never heard a more glorious sound.

I surveyed the room, passing over each suspect in turn. "Anyone on Qi's staff would have known about his protocol for swapping places with a double. They'd have found their target. I hate to say it, but the culprit is one of us."

"Then who?" Elliott blurted out. Yoba bless him, he'd caught on to what I was doing, and nobody was better at ratcheting up the drama. "Who among us could possibly find so much hate in their heart as to--"

"Not hate," I interrupted. "Love."

I finally came to rest on one person, who shrank when I looked at her. "Emily," I asked, "is there any plant whose poison makes the victim's skin turn blue?"

Emily went pale.

Chapter Text

"Hey, babe," Emily called to the musical accompaniment of the bell on the Oasis's front door. "Sick of me yet?"

The sight of Sandy knocked all the laughter out of her. Ever since they'd been roommates, Sandy had rejoiced in being able to look good no matter what she was going through. The day Sandy learned her father had died, she had finished doing her makeup and hair before bursting into tears. Controlling that made her feel like she could handle anything else.

Today's Sandy looked like she'd been wearing her hair in the same locks for a week. Her eyes, sunken in a pallid face, didn't crinkle when she smiled. Her forehead had broken out in pimples. Small mistakes on anyone else, but on Sandy, they would be the last things to go when everything else had fallen apart.

Emily rushed to the counter and set down the fresh pot of blue jazz beside the flowers she'd brought last week -- crinkle-brown and dying now. She cupped Sandy's face between her hands. "Hey. I'm here. What's wrong?"

Sandy's face hardly moved. She struggled to form words, but none came. She hardly seemed to notice when she started weeping. Only when Emily came around the counter and hugged her tightly, cradling Sandy's head against her chest, did Sandy regain enough of the power of speech to let out great hiccuping sobs. Emily stroked her hair, humming a fragment of an old lullaby she'd once sung to Haley when her baby sister had lain awake all night with the croup.

"You need to get out of here," she murmured. "Let me close the place up, and--"

"No!"

Sandy jerked out of Emily's arms with such ferocity that Emily stumbled back, as though burned by this sudden, animal panic. "Don't touch anything," Sandy said. "If he comes back and sees, I'm done for."

"If who sees? That new guy who bought the place?"

"Mr. Qi." Sandy slowed down a little, but her fear remained, as did the tracks of tears on her face. "He has a man watching me all the time. Nobody comes in here anymore, but he doesn't care. I'm just a front for his gambling den now."

"Screw him," Emily said with vigor. "He can't keep you locked up here. Let me take you somewhere we can talk."

"You don't understand!" And, yes, Sandy was angry now, well and truly angry with her oldest friend. "There are two people who used to work for him. They pissed him off somehow, and I've never seen them again. If I close up without his permission, I could wind up in a body bag in the basement."

"Sandy. You're not thinking straight." Emily reached out again, but Sandy swatted her hand away.

"You should leave, Em," she said. "It's not safe here."

"It's a store," Emily replied, feeling her soul harden. "I'm a customer. And I'm not gonna leave you."

"Please. I don't want to drag you into this."

"If you're involved in something, so am I. That's always how it's worked. Ever since your prank war with Louise sophomore year."

Sandy worked her mouth for a moment, then dissolved into helpless laughter. "I still can't believe you kidnapped her parakeet."

"She never let the poor thing out of its cage! I did it a favor."

Sandy's laughing sounded very much like her crying. Emily always remembered that about the day. When she finally caught her breath, she said, "I could use someone to talk to. But you have to promise that if any of Qi's people show up, especially that bouncer guy, you've gotta be gone. I couldn't stand it if he decided to...I dunno, use you against me somehow."

Emily squared up her shoulders and brushed her hair back. She would stay by Sandy's side until someone dragged her out to the desert, and after that, she'd crawl back in through the window. What else were friends for?

"No-one uses me," she said.

#

"It wasn't her!" cried a voice from the blackjack table.

Two dozen heads snapped around to see Clint standing up, mounted chair spinning behind him. "It was me," he said. "I tried to kill you to save Sandy. For Emily's sake."

Qi rolled his eyes. He stepped toward Clint, flipped Kent's gun around so he was holding it by the barrel, and pressed the grip into the blacksmith's fingers. Taking three steps back, he said, "Shoot me."

"I..." Clint's hand shook on the grip.

"Come on!" Qi opened his arms. "You already tried it once. Here's your chance at redemption. Take the shot."

Maybe I should have charged him during the brief window he was unarmed. Abby, Leah, and most all of us obviously had the same thought. But none of us wanted to take the chance that Clint might accidentally get it right at the worst time.

Clint squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Qi reached out and snatched the gun away. "The safety was on." He flipped it off and pointed the barrel at Emily. "And you expect me to believe you did that in the dark. Kindly stop wasting my time."

Clint turned to Emily, shoulders hunched. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought..."

Thank you, Clint, I thought. I'd tell him that out loud when I could. If I was right, wasting Qi's time was the best thing any of us could do. I'd tell him the story he'd demanded, keep him rapt, and draw it out as long as I could.

My biggest fear was for Emily. She sat shaking on a stool by one of the slot machines, hardly noticing Clint's outburst, Sandy's arm around her shoulders, or anything else around her. I hoped, one day, she'd forgive me for this.

"Answer Rhys's question," Qi ordered her.

"She doesn't have to," I said, drawing the gun back to point at me. "I can tell you everything. The answer was right at my doorstep the whole time. You see, Emily's been growing some out-of-season flowers in my greenhouse for a few months now. Mostly blue jazz, because it's Sandy's favorite. Except that's not true, is it?"

"No, it's crocus," Sandy said, turning to Emily. "But that doesn't grow in greenhouses...did you tell him it was my favorite? Why?"

"So I wouldn't ask questions," I said, willing my voice not to crack. "There's something not a lot of people know about blue jazz. If you dry the sphere, grind it up, and steep it in the right ingredients, you get a powerful poison -- odorless, colorless, and with symptoms that look like a severe flu. Except for one. A blue tint to the face."

"How?" was all Mr. Qi asked.

"Emily's been visiting Sandy as often as possible over the last few months. She brought Sandy the flowers every time she came, so nobody questioned them. She was probably beneath your notice after a while. Michael certainly didn't clock her as a threat. But I'm willing to bet that every single time you ordered Sandy to bring you a drink, she was there."

Sandy processed this in silence for an instant, while Emily drew frightened, ragged breaths. Finally Sandy looked her friend in the face. "You didn't," she said.

"You wouldn't," Emily replied.

"The idea was to poison you slowly over a matter of months," I went on. "But Emily isn't a doctor. She messed up the dosage."

"Hang on," Abigail cut in. "Michael tasted the drinks too, and his skin was normal."

"Michael must have weighed, what, two-hundred forty?" I gestured to the rail-thin Qi. "More than twice this guy, I'd guess. And he only took one sip of each drink before giving it to you. His body absorbed any poison he took. It didn't kill you, either, but it made you sick. And I'm willing to bet a man like you can't stand being sick. Strength is your life. If you stop projecting it, the sharks smell blood."

Some of Qi's people certainly seemed to be listening with rapt attention. Felix, in particular, hung on my every word.

"First, you decided they'd all wear makeup, so nobody would notice that your face was turning blue on its own." I recalled Felix's complaint about the sudden imposition of a bizarre new policy. "Then, when that didn't stop the muttering, you quit showing up to work. Put out that you were indisposed. You had an inkling someone was after you -- that's why you made Michael your taster -- but you only felt like you had a chest cold."

Qi didn't look much better than that now. Not only was he bluer than ever, but he shivered from his gun to his shoes, as though chills were wracking his body.

Movement in the corner of my eye made me jump, but it was only Abigail. She came up beside me, standing in the path of the gun same as me. It's one of the bravest things I've ever seen anyone do. I've never been prouder to call her my fake little sister.

"I think I get it," she said. "While Qi was laid up, Emily couldn't make him drink any more poison. He started to rally. Two nights ago, he felt good enough to welcome us to his murder-ass casino."

I nodded. "And that's why Michael died."

"I don't get it," Qi snapped. "Explain."

I opened my mouth, but Elliott beat me to it, coming to stand on my other side. "Emily had taken it upon herself to aid Sandy, but she failed to account for one thing: if at any point you discovered the plot, Sandy would be blamed. All she had done to protect her friend would be rendered moot. When she saw you come out to meet us, all her fears were realized. Having set out to save Sandy, Emily had instead delivered her into the jaws of hell."

"That's right," I said. "If you hadn't connected Sandy to the poison yet, it was only a matter of time. She couldn't wait any longer for the blue jazz to kill you. You had to die that night."

Qi moved the gun slightly, pointing it between me and Elliott to aim straight at Emily. "Very good, Rhys," he said, applause in his voice. "Very fine indeed. I now see who I have to thank for taking away my most loyal man."

"She couldn't shoot you either!" Clint yelled. "She doesn't know how to use a gun!"

"Stop, Clint."

I hardly dared to look around, but I knew who'd spoken: Emily herself. "You know the last part, Rhys," she said softly. "Tell us how this ends."

"Your sister helped us fight off Qi's goons today," I said. "She told us how your parents taught you to shoot. Said you cried when you hit the target. But you did hit the target."

"I knew Kent had a gun," said Emily. "But I didn't know how I could get my hands on it, until the lights went off. And I didn't know how I'd lose it after, until I heard Pam break the lock on the coin machine. It was destiny."

"Yes, yes, very pretty," Qi croaked. "Except for the part where I did not, in fact, die. Thank you for your honesty, Emily. Now it's time to pay for your mistake."

"Wait!" Leah shoved herself in beside me, between Emily and Qi, and twined her arm around mine. "There's one more thing you need to know."

So she'd figured it out, too. Very likely everyone had, except Qi, too blinded by his lust for what he thought was justice. "What?" he demanded. "The story is over. What could I possibly have missed?"

I took a step closer, blocking off Emily and Sandy. My friends moved with me. More joined us on either side -- Maru, Clint, Gus, Shane. "Blue jazz poisoning doesn't go away," I said. "You can feel better, but it's still inside you. Still killing you."

Qi coughed. Then coughed again, and again, until he couldn't stop. He rested his gun hand on his knee, trying to control the fit.

"You're dying," I said.

The gun whipped up so quickly I hardly noticed. Qi howled: "Then you're all coming with me!"

The world exploded an inch from my ears. I shut my eyes, all the terror I'd held back rushing in at once, and hoped only that I might get to meet Yoba with my pants unsoiled.

The ringing subsided. I opened my eyes. I wasn't dead, or even wounded, and all my friends were still standing by my side.

Only Qi had fallen. He lay prone, pinned under a big shadow in an army jacket. Kent had struck him just in time to fling his shot wide, sending it harmlessly into the ceiling. He reached out before Qi could react and snatched the smoking gun away. "That's mine," he growled.

Qi laughed.

I wonder, in those last moments, whether he understood he would go out beneath the knee of the man whose life he'd destroyed. Perhaps he laughed because the moment appealed to his twisted sense of poetry. Perhaps, fancying himself a man with an idea of justice, it was even how he would have wanted to go.

I don't know any of that for sure. I only know that Qi laughed, and laughed, and that while he was still laughing he died.

Chapter Text

After all that, you can probably guess nobody was much in the mood for more gambling, and Felix was only too happy to have us gone. He looked positively gleeful, in fact.

None of the casino staff made any sudden moves toward us as we filed out. I had feared someone else on staff would finish Qi's mission and avenge themselves on Emily, but if they were sad about Michael, it didn't damp their happiness at finally being able to scrub off the colored makeup. And provided Felix didn't run the place into the ground, there would be more cash to go around.

Plus, we had all their weapons.

I didn't know exactly what they were feeling, and didn't care. I was gone from that place for good. I guessed the same was true of Sandy. She and Emily leaned on each other as we stepped out into the rapidly cooling desert night. Jodi leaned on Sam, I leaned on Leah, and Abigail brandished her sword at every shadow.

We reached the bus, and Pam looked at me with a question in her eyes. I shook my head. We continued, moving as a unit, until we reached the fishing pond, whose placid waters were lit with a sliver of moon.

"I'm going to have to tell the FID something," I said when everyone had gathered on the shore.

Several people spoke up at once. Shane's voice cut across them. "Can't they just...let it go? Like last time?"

"Last time we had Dobson to feed them. This time all we have is two dead bodies. Thorsley won't let it drop."

"I...I understand," Emily said. "Just let me tell my parents, and...make sure Haley has everything she needs. Sandy can take over my job at the--"

"Wait, wait, wait," Abigail interrupted. "Fuck that. That's not what Rhys means." She turned to me, sword still in hand. "That's not what you mean, right?"

"Of course not," I said. "Emily, you screwed up. Michael shouldn't have died. But if the police or the military had done their job and taken Qi down years ago, none of this would have happened. I'm not interested in making you pay for their mistakes."

Emily sniffed in the darkness. A cold wind picked up, autumn sweeping across the sands.

"All I mean is that we need to get our story straight, right now. No discrepancies, no matter who Thorsley asks." I blew out my cheeks. "So what's our story?"

"I recuse myself," Elliott said. "For this moment, creativity is a liabilty."

It was Leah who spoke up, which made sense. Though she couldn't say it, she knew how Emily was feeling right now. "He's right. Simple is better. We have two bodies, one shot, one poisoned. They killed each other."

"How?" Abby asked.

"Michael also handled all of Qi's drinks. Who better to put the poison in than the taster?"

I nodded. "Michael wanted control of Qi's crime ring. There was a power struggle. Thorsley's probably seen the same story a hundred times."

"But what if the cops get in bed with Felix or whoever takes over for Qi?" Abigail asked.

"Then there's all the more reason for them not to push. They'll probably thank us for saving them the work."

"Even Thorsley?"

"Maybe I don't know her that well," I said. "But I have a hunch she wouldn't be any happier with Emily in jail than we would."

For a while, there was no sound but the wind, which never comes off quite as well without trees to rustle. You can't rustle a cactus. An owl did hoot, so that helped.

"I don't like this," said Demetrius at last.

"I know, Dad," said Maru. "We're scientists. We believe in the truth. But you're the one who taught me that science can't make value judgments. That we need to be open to the existence of a different kind of truth." She looked at me. "I'm with you, Rhys."

"Aye, me too," Willy said, turning to Emily. "I don't fancy sending one of our own up the river. We'll protect you, lass."

One by one, everyone murmured their assent, even Demetrius. Emily thanked everyone over and over again and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress until Clint handed her a handkerchief. Leah clicked her tongue beside me. "So he's only ninety-nine percent hopeless," she whispered in my ear.

When it came time for Gus to agree, he spoke to both Em and Sandy. "I guess what happened in there counts as your notice," he told Sandy. "I could use more help at the Stardrop, actually. Funny thing, but with Lewis off our backs and the farm producing again, I get a lot more customers each evening. Some of 'em aren't even locals."

"I...I think I'd like that," said Sandy. The moonlight had brightened just enough for me to see her eyes flitting back and forth between Gus and Emily. I even fancied I caught a slight redness in her cheeks.

"I dunno," I murmured back to Leah. "If Sandy's moving in, I think poor Clint's more doomed than ever."

She grinned, and pecked me on the cheek. "May the best win."

Emily asked us to wait a little longer before heading back to Stardew. Although it was getting pretty late, nobody complained. "I want to do something for Michael," she said. "Sandy, are there any candles in the Oasis?"

Maru volunteered to help her grab one. They went off, clinking with improvised weapons, for what was sure to be history's most awkward purchase of a single candle. While the rest of us waited, Kent sidled up to me. "There's one thing we forgot in the story," he said. "The gun."

"Ah, right. We could just toss it in the pond here."

"Too risky. Someone might fish it up." Jodi and Sam came up as he spoke; Kent said the next words to me, but I had no doubt they were meant for his family. "I did a damn stupid thing bringing it loaded to the casino, even with the safety on. I never want to carry again. These two, and Vince, they'll be what makes me feel safe now."

"Qi would have shot me if you hadn't intervened," I told him. "You're a good man, Kent. I admit I didn't see it right away. But I do now."

He bowed his head. "About the gun, though."

"Don't worry. I have an idea."

We set off into the skull cavern together, me with my light ring, Kent with a flashlight. I quickly found the shaft with Sebastian's motorcycle parked halfway down. We walked until I heard footsteps coming the other direction, and held up my light ring to illuminate the odd, eager face of Krobus.

"I shut off the power at precisely twenty minutes," he said. "Did I do well?"

"You did beautifully," I said, and Krobus beamed with pride. "Krobus, this is my friend Kent. Would you be willing to do us one more favor?"

"Of course. I mean, it depends. But very likely yes."

I turned to Kent. He reached into his holster, produced the gun, and turned the chamber until all the bullets fell into his hand. Then he proferred the lot to Krobus. "This is a human weapon," he said. "One of the deadliest we've got. It's done some terrible things. Rhys tells me you're a trustworthy fellow, and peacable. I figured you might know what to do with it."

Krobus took the gun reverently and turned it over in his claws, inspecting it and the bullets from every angle. "I will study it," he promised, "and respect its power enough to never use it."

"That's all we ask," I said. "Thank you, Krobus. I'll come visit you as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Rhys and Kent." Krobus bowed. "I never believed I would have friends again after I left the mines. I am so happy to be wrong."

When Kent and I got back above ground, a candle was burning on the fishing pond, its flickering flame casting a splintered reflection across the water. Emily gently pushed it across the surface and stood up. "You knew him best, Sandy. Do you want to say a few words?"

Sandy stepped forward uncertainly, but her voice rang out clear. "Michael...when I first met him, I thought he was my jailer. I never thought we'd be friends. But he was easy to talk to. And the more we talked, the more I thought of him as...as someone trapped, like me. He never told me what was in his past that pushed him to work for a guy like Qi. I never pressed. All I know is that without him and Em, I'd have been alone through the worst time in my life. And now, because of you two...and Rhys and everyone else, now...I'm going to be all right."

I thought she might cry, then, but I was wrong. There's a place beyond tears, a place I hope you never have to go -- but for all that a surprisingly peaceful place to be.

"I'm sorry, Mike," Sandy said. "Sorry you never got to settle accounts with whatever you were running from. Sorry I'll never find out what you thought of Zuzu City Express. And I'm definitely never getting that DVD back." She managed a laugh. "All I can do now is promise to live for us both. So I will. And when Yoba collects me, I'll tell you the whole story."

We set off for the bus, then -- except for Shane, who headed down into the tunnels to begin the long work of getting Sebastian his bike back. I sat on the bus and sagged onto Leah's shoulder, bone-weary. Abby and Elliott talked quietly in the opposite seat. As Pam started the engine, I saw the candle floating in the distance, still burning as the bus pulled away.

Chapter Text

The autumn harvest festival was the biggest day of the year in Pelican Town, however much George might whine that the Dance of the Moon Jellies was the superior event. Trucks and trailers arrived at the town square at first light loaded with stalls and games, from a test-your-strength tower to an immense above-ground fishing pond. By the time the party officially started, cars had already packed the bus-stop parking lot and spilled out onto the highway for miles in both directions. Visitors from as far away as Grampleton and Zuzu City led their families in perilous walks down the road shoulder, a parade of peacoats and colorful scarves, the faintest hints of their breaths misting the air before them.

I'd visited every year with my grandfather until he'd gotten too ill to keep it up. It didn't feel right without him. But now, I hoped, I'd never attend as a tourist again.

A few days ago, Caroline had gotten a call from the FID, informing her that they would no longer need her cooperation in arresting Kent -- no charges would be brought after all. Apparently, all the evidence against him was too circumstantial to ever hold up in court. In a drawer at the farmhouse, I saved a newspaper with the headline Casino Crime Ring Strife Claims Two Lives. The ZC bureau chief repeats, almost verbatim, the story that I told Thorsley, adding that the Oasis facility would remain under police control until further notice. So no gambling for a while. At least not of that kind.

It hadn't seemed right to whoop it up in celebration. Leah, Abby, Elliott, Sebastian, Sam, and I instead took some beers out to the beach and sat on the dock, toasting the lost and those left behind.

With the mystery resolved, I could focus on what really mattered: kicking Pierre's ass in the grange contest. For weeks, I'd been selecting and preserving the finest products of my farm. As the festival opened, I stood before a mountain of apples, pomegranates, squash, melons, eggplants, corn, and cheese. Let's see him undercharge for my mayonnaise now, I thought.

"Hey, Rhys!" Leah called, snapping me out of my fantasies of victory. "Can I get some help with Post-Dimensional Nullspace?"

She was standing on the back of a pickup truck whose bed was full of her works of art. I was about to quip that she was asking for more help than I could provide, but then she added, "And don't make the joke. You've already done it twice."

"It's still funny!" I protested.

"I guess I just don't get farm humor."

We took up positions on either side of a twisting sculpture of purple tubes and wires and hauled it over to Leah's stall on the south end of the square. By the time we'd gotten the rest of her works in place and properly displayed, the place was already packed with tourists. I noted with satisfaction that a lot more people were surrounding my grange display than Pierre's.

"Hey." Leah touched my arm. "You OK?"

I hugged her around the waist and pulled her in. "I'm OK," I said. "You OK?"

"I'm fine." She rested her head on my shoulder. "You're just still rolling around a lot at night."

I didn't answer right away. The truth was, I expected it would be a while before I stopped dreaming about being surrounded by guns and vaporized in a blast of white light. Once my courage was no longer needed, it tended to leave a lot of debris in its wake. "Thanks for asking," I said, "but I'm really all right."

"If you say so." She turned my head and pulled me closer. We kissed for long enough that I forgot we were in public until I heard Vincent pretending to gag from right behind me, and let Leah go.

"Go enjoy yourself," she said. "If you keep hanging around here, people are going to think your ass is for sale."

"What?"

"Because. You know. It's a work of art. Get it?"

I kissed her one more time, then pulled away. "Sorry. I only get farm humor."

I had no plans until the grange judging (which would be handled by Gus, Caroline having recused herself), so I wandered around, enjoying myself. Elliott had set up a small table and was signing copies of Curse My Bones. He also had a stack of maps to locations in the area that had inspired scenes in the novel. "If you plan to hike to the wizard's tower, I cannot be responsible for the consequences," he told a young couple solemnly.

"Wow," said the appreciative woman in the couple. "I just got chills."

"That is not hyperbole." Elliott slid a sheet of paper across the table. "Please sign this liability waiver."

A little further on, I reached a pop-up food stall run by the newly expanded Stardrop Saloon team. Sandy was holding it down right now as Emily popped over to the target shooting range with Haley. She and Abigail were leaning on the wooden counter, chatting over steaming cups of cider. "Hey-o," Abby said when I joined them. "Sandy was just telling me how she's settling in."

"I can't believe how welcoming everyone's been," Sandy gushed. "I mean, Em always told me you all were good people, but she says that about everyone. This time she was right."

"I've noticed that when you see the best in people, they tend to deliver," I said sagely.

Abigail rolled her eyes. "This from the man who called my father, and I quote, a mayonnaise-grubbing kingpin of a grocery cartel less than 24 hours ago."

"Only Yoba follows his own advice," I said, even sagelier, as Sandy guffawed.

"I do hope I can find a place soon, though," Sandy said, once she'd recovered and sold me a cup of spiced wine. "Em and Haley have been amazing, but I can't sleep on their couch forever."

"You may not have to wait long," said Abigail. "Rumor has it there's about to be an empty cottage up for rent by the forest."

"Really? That sounds lovely!"

"Yep. Apparently the current tenant is moving out to shack up with some farmer, even though she's way out of his league. Her loss is your gain, I guess."

I had no retort. Every word of that sentence was true. Technically, Leah was only sleeping over, but I couldn't actually remember the last night she'd gone home to the woods.

I turned away as the ladies kept gossiping, and watched the traffic in the festival square flow by. Though Spirit's Eve wasn't for two weeks yet, some people had shown up in costume; pirates and princesses dotted the crowd. My eyes were drawn to a pair of attendees who'd clearly put a lot of work into their looks -- one was dressed as a dwarf, the other as a shadow brute. They walked slowly past the grange displays, talking quietly.

Hang on. I squinted and peered closer. Were those costumes, or...

I would've laughed aloud if it wouldn't have risked blowing their cover. The dwarf and Krobus couldn't have picked a better time or place to meet on neutral ground. People expect to see strange things abroad in the fall. And like I'd said to Sandy, we tend to get what we expect.

Living in Stardew Valley for the better part of a year had taught me to expect joy, and so I saw it everywhere I looked -- not the kind of flashy happiness that gets packaged up for Joja ads, but the kind of true joy that comes in the presence of every other feeling. Leah talked over her works of art to a growing crowd of admirers. Marnie gushed over every fresh egg she sold from her grange stand. Sam and Sebastian provided the music from a small stage, striking the perfect tone from their guitar and keyboard. Jodi and Kent walked together, swinging a giddy Vincent, who'd bounced back from his head wound more indestructible than ever.

Behind the shooting tent, near the backyard fences on Willow Lane, something else caught my eye: Shane, his hands behind his back, talking with Emily. I couldn't know what they were talking about, but I had an inkling. Many people in town now knew Emily had taken two lives. Far fewer people knew that Shane had taken one. But now, they each had someone they could share their darkest secret with. I hoped I was right. I looked again at Leah, remembering what she had once done to save herself, and prayed that they'd all only ever become more all right.

This is not a story I wanted to tell. I wish it hadn't happened at all. It only has a happy ending if you ignore that Michael's own tale will never be finished, that the damage Mr. Qi wrought will never be undone all the way.

But it's a story I had to tell. A story about how kindness is never wasted. How no vendetta is endless. How love can always overcome shame.

I did say can. Not will. But I'll make that wager every time.