City of IF

[D-Lotus]

Dedications: To the Spain team, to Racing Santander, to SuperLopez, to William Trevor, to Valencia, to Shakespeare, to every source of Inspiration. And thanks Fenris for the movies.

Storygame process: Read the story, and then based on the character's personality, suggest what he/she should do. When all suggestions have been given, the author (me) will post a poll. You must vote for your favorite option on the poll, and based on that decision, the author will write the next chapter as it affects the story.

Chapter 8

Part A

Father Devine returned to the church slowly, with his head bent forward in thought. He held his hands behind him, loosely gripping them together. As he walked, he kicked a grey pebble in front of him. It skipped through the dust, and then rolled to a stop until Devine pushed it with his foot again. The pebble seemed to protest, but dutifully followed Devine's indicated pathway. Devine sighed as he considered himself as the small stone; he couldn't help feel empathy. As the church rose to view, jutting up in front of the fading sun, Devine stepped over the pebble and left it to its own destiny.

He waved towards Jim and Frank as they departed for their homes, or to the Golden Duck. The construction was to reach its end in a few week's time. The thought of the murder would not leave his mind, he realized as he hung his coat carelessly. He began walking towards the kitchen. It felt as if he were struggling to bend a massive iron bar with his two feeble hands, he could not understand who the murderer could be.

Father Turner was at the kitchen table, carefully composing a letter. He glanced at Devine when he came in, and the glance stuck. Devine noticed the stare as he searched for a glass of water.

"Is there anything the matter, Father?" asked Devine, with his back turned.

"I should think so." came back Turner's dry-toned voice. Devine shifted his posture so as to stand facing him while he drank. "You see, Father Devine, Dole has told me everything about your 'mission' to clear Mick Rennold of the murder. I am afraid this is completely unacceptable."

Devine lay down his glass. He was unsure about Turner's claim that Dole had revealed anything. There didn't seem to be any reason for Dole to do so, and it was against his nature. "Unacceptable, why?"

"Because it is not your responsibility to do so, Father. There exist policemen for that purpose." Turner mockingly replied. "Everyone, Father, has their purpose, and murderers have the purpose of being executed. You have no place or involvement inside of this."

"Is there a quota on acting human, Turner? Has each man his own specialized module from which he cannot stir, from which he cannot reach out to understand others?" Devine stated, incredulous of the other man's behavior. "Think, Turner; you have no objective but to revel in all life and creation. Do not to lock yourself up in man-made notion's that can be easily be un-made by the same men."

"I was afraid you wouldn't see it my way." Turner said smugly. With a gesture of superiority, of having outmatched an opponent in a game of chess, he raised a leaf of paper and envelope in front of his face. "This envelope, Father, proudly bears the bishop's address. Shortly, it will bear a letter informing him of your ill-behavior."

"Is this a threat, Turner?" Devine asked gravely.

Turner's manner exuded satisfaction. "I don't know. Was that an accusation, Father?" As he put down the leaf of paper, Father Devine suddenly noticed its soft sand color. It had a texture, a quality of shade, that strongly reminded him of something. In the silence, the clock ticked once. Devine felt a click at the same time, the noise of a block falling into place.

"Father Turner, where did you purchase that paper?" asked Devine, still keeping his eyes on it to ascertain his opinion.

Turner suddenly betrayed some surprise. "You should concern yourself more about its contents." he muttered.

"I see." said Devine. He began walking away, then he added, "What I shall be concerned about is perhaps something you will never become able of understanding." The door closed, and Devine headed towards his living quarters. Turner gritted his teeth, hating Devine's absolute nonchalance and true faith.

**

"There's going to be a dance over in Countrywood." Father Dole mentioned the next day.

"A dance?" asked Devine, as they both walked by the river. He'd been avoiding Turner as much as he could.

"Yes, McGillan opened up a new dance-hall. It used to be an old building, but he's put some money into it. Gave the walls some fresh paint and set up a small platform for the musicians."

"The musicians? Who are they?" wondered Devine. One of Devine's best kept secrets was the posession of an old fiddle, which he played during his spare time. Over the years, excepting a few, nobody had discovered his secret passion, or that he'd developed into quite a musician. Naturally, then, he would be interested in knowing who the musicians would be.

"Oh, Ernie Bretford, John Sullivan, and Fry Bellum. I also hear Edward Conolly and his bride are returning for the occasion."

Devine smiled. "Edward and Anne? Bless them, they were so close to unhappiness. I'm glad things are turning out right. The baby must be close to birth."

Dole nodded, then grinningly said, "You might expect some visit this afternoon."

Devine suspiciously observed Dole's grin.
**

Sure enough, Devine found himself shaking hands with an engaging McGillan. He was a lean, well-groomed man with crooked teeth, who nonetheless smiled attractively. His manner was always charming, always pleasing. He wore corduroy pants and a thin shirt, over which he sometimes wrapped an excessively pocketed jacket, where he kept all sorts of things. Now he pulled out a piece of paper, a dance ticket, it read. He flipped it over and over in his fingers playfully. He was already relishing his new project, he was the kind of man to attempt something like it.

"Father Devine, I have heard from an undisclosed source that you are an excellent musician." He smiled roguishly as they sat around the kitchen.

"It's true." asserted Dole in earnest, as if there were any doubts as to who the source of information was.

"I would be delighted to hear you play, Father."

And he did. He played Cherish the Ladies, The Wild Irishman, and Toss the Feathers. When he was done, Father Dole and McGillan clapped enthusiastically.

"How would you like to play at my dance-hall, Father?" McGillan asked directly. He was standing, his fetching smile returning easily.
**



Part B

The new dance-hall was miles from anywhere. Anyone who was attending would do so by means of bicycles or old motorcars. Devine had already spoken to the other musicians, who had offered to drive him and the instruments in their small rusty car.

Ernie was a jovial, middle-aged man, and he played the accordion. All of them were of accomplished age, in fact, except Fry Bellum who was in her late twenties. She had frizzy blonde hair and wore glasses; she played the flute. John Sullivan was a more serious type, a frustrated musician who's talent had been unappreciated. The four of them formed a motley crew, but they'd practiced together and to Devine they'd sounded acceptable.

The dance hall seemed a product of one of William Trevor's melancholy stories. There was something dismal and depressing about the rose-painted building, almost as it were ashamedly blushing under the gaze of the surrounding fields, or putting on a false show of glitziness. Equally ostentatious was the large sign that colorfully read The Countrywood Ballroom. There was a small, winding road leading up to it and a clearance of packed dirt surrounding it, a parking of sorts. The night was cold, and the musicians quickly entered the building, painted in sepia on the inside. As they entered, McGillan shook hands with each of them while he stood like a vigilant at the doorway. His brother was working inside, unpacking lemonade and scones from boxes and placing them on the tables. There was also another sign hanging from the ceiling that welcomed all to the inauguration.

As the musicians began playing on their platform, the first few dancers arrived. Mostly young people, but some older couples as well, either making sure everything would run smoothly on inauguration day, or just out to enjoy themselves. Small groups of people began forming, then the Conollys and the Clarkes arrived. Devine came down from the platform to offer his salutation and impart his best of wishes. Anne smiled as her husband placed his hand over her protruding womb, and for a moment, everything in the world seemed in its place. Then Phineus, Andy and his family arrived.

Devine went back up to the platform and resumed with his instrument. They began to play Wind That Shakes the Barley, while Phineus and Andy shared a joke about him. The music soon turned into a waltz and couples started taking to the floor.

For a while, everything seemed to be going smoothly. There was some surprise at Devine's musical talent, but only at first. There was a break, and everyone drank lemonade and ate scones, while the sweaty musicians recovered. Some alcohol, smuggled inside, also made its way round. The music recommenced.

Jeannie was there too, despondent. Somewhat against her wishes, she had come with Andy, who had said it would do her good. At the moment, it wasn't doing her much good. Instead, a perspiring, smelly man was pressing his body against hers a little too closely. He was slightly drunk, she could tell by his breath.

The song ended and a hand placed itself on the man's shoulder. He turned around to face Frank, an assistant of the constructor, Jim's. Before, she had thought of him only as a dejected, unassuming youth with a tinge of melancholic behavior. But now, his elegiac mood seemed to fit her own.

"May I have the next dance?" he asked both the man and her. They danced, and the proximity of his body didn't bother her. Staring into his dark eyes, she even forgot about her mother's death for a while. It wasn't that he enthralled her, but that he seemed to posses a new-found sense of tranquility that effused onto her.

Watching carefully, not without jealousy, Andy became once again the helpless victim of his own uncontrolled emotions. He danced with Alice, but he simply looked through her, and he even held her slightly separated from himself, like a disease he half-heartedly came in contact with. His eyes burned as he watched, because the bodies of the two young people seemed so natural and unscathed of guilt as they danced. The sight of them gave him the sinking sensation of being defeated, as if life were mocking his poor efforts to overcome his own inevitability. The righteousness of the young dancers mocked him, their effortless, inherent communication tormented him. The faulty world was striking back at his attempts of disruption; but what right had such a guilty world to be so pure? Images of Turner surfaced to his mind as the heads of the dancers in the ballroom wheeled and weaved in an uncontrolled pattern.

He released his wife apologetically and began making his way through the crowd, as she turned her head away, resented. She knew he did not wish to dance with her. When had his frustration begun? When did he begin to wish to manipulate the unadulterated? Andy edged his way among swaying dancers as they stepped to the music's rhythm until he was only a few feet away from Jeannie and Frank. The air was hot and filled with energy, and the constant movement formed its own intricate design of excitement. At large, was it his fault when he placed a cold hand on Frank and pulled him away violently? Was it truthfully bred inside him, the fear, the resentment?

"Get away from her, ass." Andy snarled into Frank's startled face. He smirked in grim satisfaction at the disconcerted youth. No one seemed to take notice- the music continued and the whirling couples continued their elaborate spin around them, under the all-encompassing sign of welcome.

"What?" Frank said, instinctively cowering inside. The music was loud in the physically acoustic building, but Andy was certain he had been heard.

"You're bothering the girl, you buffoon. Now go away." Andy said, pressing his advantage. Jeannie stood there passively, without understanding. Frank stepped backwards fearfully. Then the music slowly and confusedly dribbled to a stop, and the crowd turned curiously towards the stage.

Father Devine was staring directly into Andy's eyes, leaning over his fiddle without moving. For a few moments, everybody waited expectantly for an explanation, but as none except Devine's questioning pose seemed to be coming, Phineus spoke from somewhere in the room.

"Is there anything wrong, Father?" He asked with some malice.

"I'm not sure." came the response, "Why don't you ask your friend Andy?"

McGillan surfaced onto the platform, obviously worried. He tried smiling complacently. "Now, what is this all about?" he questioned Devine politely. Meanwhile, Phineus had already formulated his question in Andy's direction.

"This boy was discomforting Jeannie." barked Andy, while holding Frank by the arm.

"Well, there you have it." McGillan concluded uneasily. "We'll take care of him, Father. Now may we continue?"

"Is this true, Jeannie?" asked Devine, ignoring him.

"I...I wasn't discomforted. It was only a dance." Jeannie said hesitantly.

"The girl says the dance was purely consensual." Devine reiterated calmly.

"Her guardian has the right to decide. She is not of age, and therefore her guardian, Andy, has the authority to make these types of decisions for her." Said Phineus.

"Her guardian?" Devine exclaimed.

"Who else? We all know of the tragedy, and she has no relatives. I think Andy McDonough is the best man to take on this responsibility, having been the girl's benefactor for many years, and this is his first unalterable decision for her future." Phineus smiled wickedly. The crowd murmured in agreement, and Andy released Frank's arm triumphantly. Legally, Andy had no power over Jeannie, but as he had always taken care of her when she needed help, it was thought appropriate. Besides, there was no profit in extended legal procedures, when the girl was only weeks away from coming of age.

"Yes, but if it's all resolved-" McGillan begun before he was cut off by Devine.

"And he plans to begin his to be short-timed guardianship through refusing her a dance with another youth? Then why bring her to the dance and let her stray, as if guiding a horse to the fields only to turn it back to its stall as it reaches for grass?"

"Perhaps to show her which grass is healthier to digest." retorted Phineus.

"Now, really." protested McGillan, as he watched the argument escalate. But the orators had only seemed to get started.

"Love is blind. It need not differentiate, because the first taste is always sweet, whichever the plant. And a stomach-ache is an inevitable result until the right flower is found." said Devine.

"Spoken by a man who's never had the taste of such flower."

The crowd had been very attentive throughout the exchange, and now Phineus had emerged from among the listeners into the open space before the platform. Not a word was spoken, but minds were whirring as madly as the feet had danced, already developing a favorite in the debate. Devine was also reasoning quickly. Can I acquire any information from this argument about the murder? he thought. The two words he remembered from the torn paper flashed in his mind- a lover-.

"God's fragrant petal encompasses all flowers." stated Devine.

"So I hear. It is for such a love that you have died, priest." Phineus said disgustedly.

"Better to die for love than to kill for it." shot Devine. There it was, his allusion to the murder. Nobody except Devine and the killer, and perhaps the victim, knew that the murder was a love-fueled murder. If Phineus understood his meaning, then Devine would know that Phineus was implicated.

But Phineus did not understand. He stood there, confused for a few moments, attempting to retaliate against the allusion he had not understood. It unsettled him that he hadn't grasped Devine's words, and it had immersed him in a feeling of being outsmarted. He knows nothing.

"All of this makes no conceivable difference. Andy McDonough is Jeannie's new guardian until her coming of age, and she has agreed to it. Therefore, I see no cause for further argument." Phineus said, flustered. Devine remained quiet. There was no point in continuing the argument, as Phineus could always return to his unreasonable but undeniable defense. McGillan saw his chance and interfered.

"Well, let the dance resume." he said, smiling enormously. The music started up once again, and slowly the mood returned to thoughts of festivity and merriment.
**


Part C

Father Devine,

I have received reports of your illicit involvement in a murder investigation. I am afraid that your self-respectability will suffer if you continue on this pathway. Our source on this matter has even voiced concerns of un-consenting interrogation and even extortion. Should these claims prove to be true, I advise you to cease your activities immediately. You may respond to this letter protesting the false claim, in which case an official inquiry will be commenced, or you may promise to terminate your investigation. I have no doubt you mean well, Father, but this is strictly a case for the police.

My highest regards,

Bishop O' Leary, Religious Supervisor of Brenthaven.

Devine folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope. The letter was very direct. He sighed, as he walked slowly down the aisle with the rest of the mail clumped together unhealthily in his hand. Whatever happened to abandoning the flock to go in search of the lost sheep? he grumbled. Was this what people encountered when they attempted to do something innovative? The system always inhibits people from breaking loose from the system. He had a sudden bother in his foot, and he sat down in one of the church benches to examine it more closely.

As he wriggled his ankle about, searching for the pain, a young woman hurriedly entered the church. It was mid-morning, and the cool breeze and sunlight streamed in through the open door. It was Jeannie, dressed in her best church-going clothes. She searched quickly for Devine, and soon found him sitting down, putting his shoe back on. He turned as she came upon him.

"Hello, Jeannie. What brings you here today?" Devine asked placidly.

"I need to confess something, Father." she said, flustered. He nodded, and led her to the confession box, as she fidgeted nervously with her handbag. She waited for him to enter on his side, and then she did the same.

"Tell me then, what is it that urges you so?" asked Devine, once she had sat, and he was looking at her through the patterned covered screen.

"When I came yesterday from the dance, Father, I had a strange dream." she said, biting her lip before continuing, "It was a dream about my mother."

"I see." said Devine, waiting for the story.

"When she appeared to me, I could have sworn I was awake. It was a warm night, you'll remember, and I had left the window open, so that the fresh air would enter. In my dream, I awoke and felt the same cool air around me. When I looked towards the window, I saw my mother standing by, watching me." Jeannie's voice cracked, and she reached into her handbag for a handkerchief.

"Don't rush, I'm here to listen." said Devine consolingly.

"She...she walked over to me, and I stood still. She seemed so real, so alive, that I believed I was awake during the dream." Jeannie sniffed and dabbed her eyes with the kerchief.

"Did she say anything, Jeannie?" asked Devine.

"Yes." said Jeannie, gaining clarity, "She took my hand in hers, and then she told me that I was doing the wrong thing."

"The wrong thing, child? What wrong thing?"

"She...she told me that I must stop seeing Andy. She said it was an unhealthy love." choked out Jeannie, amid tears.

"What??" burst Devine, then immediately stopped himself, but Jeannie had already begun crying. "I'm sorry, Father, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry if I betrayed surprise, child. It was simply unexpected...I didn't mean to make you feel ashamed."

"My mother," sniffled Jeannie "She told me that I needed to tell someone. She said I had to tell the truth about my love affair with Andy. Then she left, Father, she disappeared right before my eyes..."

"Like Hamlet." mused Devine.

"What, Father?" she blew her nose.

"Nothing. Only...it seems so strange that you should tell me now of all times."

"W-why, Father? Should I not have said anything? It was a dream, after all...I feel so stupid now, I-" Jeannie began biting her lip again.

"No, no. Not at all, Jeannie. You have done well to listen to your mother. Often dreams are the workings of the subconscious, and other times, God places them in your head. In either case, you did the right thing." Devine smiled through the screen.

"Thank you, Father, thank you so much. I- I feel much lighter now, like I'd dropped a weight off my shoulder." She smiled back as the tears dried on her face.

You may feel light, but now I feel heavy with your weight, thought Devine. He had a new clue to the murder. Perhaps it wasn't connected, but Devine had a feeling that it was all interrelated. Yet, he had received a letter from the bishop this morning that prohibited him from continuing. What would he do, would he exploit this new clue, or stop altogether? Further, if he decided to keep going, how could he exploit the clue? And finally, how could he help Jeannie?

[Chinaren]

Quote: It was one of his best-kept secrets that he himself played an instrument on his spare time. He'd developed into quite a musician over the years, but nobody except a few had ever known of his fiddle. So it was natural he'd be interested in knowing who the musicians would be

I've not enough time to finish reading this one yet D, but so far it is good. However, I do think the above paragraph seems a little 'untidy'.

I will read it through later...

[Mother Goose]

The bishop doesn't seem to take everything in Turner's letter as true (as of course he shouldn't). He does invite Devine to answer the accusation. Devine should write a letter of his own, denying the charges of "un-consenting interrogation and....extortion". He really has not done that. If an investigation follows, so much the better - maybe they'll find out who's really practicing extortion, Turner.

He can also say that he is not neglecting his parish duties, but in his spare time trying to help a parishioner he believes wrongly accused. Talking to people is certainly part of his job, and that's really all he's done (except keeping the scrap of paper from the victim's hand - that might be argued with, but by the police, not the bishop).

[D-Lotus]

chinaren wrote: Quote: It was one of his best-kept secrets that he himself played an instrument on his spare time. He'd developed into quite a musician over the years, but nobody except a few had ever known of his fiddle. So it was natural he'd be interested in knowing who the musicians would be

I've not enough time to finish reading this one yet D, but so far it is good. However, I do think the above paragraph seems a little 'untidy'.

I will read it through later...

How does this sound:

One of Devine's best kept secrets was the posession of an old fiddle, which he played during his spare time. Over the years, excepting a few, nobody had discovered his secret passion, or that he'd developed into quite a musician. Naturally, then, he would be interested in knowing who the musicians would be.

Also, I forgot to add this to the questions at the end- What does Devine do to exploit the clue (if he decides to keep going), and how does he help Jeannie (even though she didn't ask for any)?

[Geek_girl72]

The thing about looking for the lost sheep was true, and going against the system.. As a priest, it is his responibility to do exactly what he believes is right, even at the displeasure of his superiors. Writing a letter would be a good idea, but an investigation might hinder his own. He should comfort and advise jeanie, then confide in her that he's trying to get her father out of jail. Once he does this, he should explain that some misconception as to his motives has been cast, and aske to write a letter of her own to the bishop explaining that he's helping her.

In short, I think he should make Jeanie his ally, proximity to him might help her break free of her affair, he could use the help, and he knows he can trust her discretion.

[Kalanna Rai]

He should continue with the investigation, albit discreetly, and pray to god for aid and for the strength to continue in the face of opposition.

[D-Lotus]

Thanks guys, keep 'em coming. Btw, any comments about style, plot..anything?

[Chinaren]

Sounds better D.

I f5 Rai on this one. Continue with your investigations, but discretely.

[Geek_girl72]

I really like the plot, it's grabbing and hold attention. The characterization is interesting too, I can think of people I know in real life that are like the characters in this story.

[Lebrenth]

Your best chapter, D. I thought it was very lively and entertaining. I like the twistes and the "Ah ha!" was perfect. Well done! The type of paper, the confession, the battle of wits, the song selections. The only nit I could pick was the suddenness of the information that Devine is a violinist. It's easy to tell that it's a 'writer's convenience'. But I think it's a good element. Makes me curious what those songs sound like (do they really exist or did you just pick good names?).

Additionally, I think the surprised reaction played well in the confessional. In spite of himself, he let down his formality. ... And good genuine tension in the dance hall, very skillfully done. I even liked the dream which managed a good balance between realistic and supernatural (since such a dream could well have happened whether or not the mother's spirit really did visit Jeannie).


DP: Devine now has a good idea that Turner has more to do with the plot than he knew. His open attack on Devine and the strangely similar paper stock to the scrap of the letter he found should warrant more investigation. What Devine should be thinking now is "How are these things connected?" How is Turner involved with Andy? Which we know is blackmail, but Devine will have to find that out. How is Andy involved with the murder? Which probably has to do with the love affair he's had with the daughter. Perhaps he was discovered and he snapped (and why not?).

Otherwise, I'm with Mother Goose. Send a reply in defense, and invite them to do their own investigation. But also, we need to find some dirt on Turner.

OR, perhaps Devine should tell Andy that he knows. Might be dangerous though, since there's a chance Andy is a murderer. Nevermind... it's too early or late for that.

[D-Lotus]

Quote: Your best chapter, D

I am extremely pleased to be able to improve with every word, and I thank you for your compliment.

Quote: It's easy to tell that it's a 'writer's convenience'.

Well, you're right. But it was either the dance, a mass service, or a cathecism class, but for the last two Phineus would have to be too provocative.

Quote: those songs sound like (do they really exist or did you just pick good names?).

I asked my dad, who listens to Irish music once in a while. He recommended me some famous songs he has in cd's. I even made sure that the first song in the dance was fast paced, so as to be accurate.

Quote: OR, perhaps Devine should tell Andy that he knows. Might be dangerous though, since there's a chance Andy is a murderer. Nevermind... it's too early or late for that.

Actually, this follows my own line of thinking. It would be perfect for the plot- it would fit in very well with what I want. So its not too late or too early, its definitely a viable option.

Quote: The characterization is interesting too, I can think of people I know in real life that are like the characters in this story.

Maybe you'll find this interesting: Father Turner is actually an exaggeration (although I could see the real person doing some of Turner's dastardly deeds) of someone I know in real life. :shock: He was actually the inspiration for this story, along with an irish writer who wrote about priests as well (don't worry though, the plotline is entirely original).

Anyway, I think this story has about two chapters left before completion, so make these polls count! ;)

[Mother Goose]

I don't think Devine can tell Andy he knows about the love affair, since he learned about that under the seal of Confession (though Andy's violent and jealous reaction at the dance was a strong hint.)

Thinking about that reaction, too, Jeanie should be very careful when she breaks up with him. She should make sure they are not off in some lonely place, and maybe she should try not to be alone for at least a few days after.

About the bishop's investigation - it would not be an investigation of the murder, but of the behavior of his priests, and should not interfere with Devine's work of comforting and supporting both Jeanie and her father. Assuming the bishop is fair, Devine has nothing to fear from him.

[D-Lotus]

Well, I don't think that its true that Devine has nothing to fear. He has his reputation to fear. That's why he used a disguise in the Golden Duck. In any case, if the bishop simply doesn't like Devine's investigation, he can prohibit it.

[Crunchyfrog]

Since Devine did not see the contents of the letter that went to the Bishop, he does not know the exact details of what he has been accused of, since the Bishop has generalised a lot in his letter to Devine.

As he has only been given the options of

a) responding to deny the allegations, or
b) promise to terminate his investigations, thereby accepting that the accusations are true.

How can he choose option b) when he truely has not seen the details of the allegations? When looked at this way, the only option open to him really, I think, is to respond to the letter.

How he responds might be pivotal, though. Having the bishops investigation going on will surely hamper his own investigations, although he could cleverly use the presence of the bishops investigators to his advantage, I guess that really depends on who he gets.

And, the investigation could turn up some dirt on Turner.

At the end of the day, he has to go with what he believes in, and his reputation will depend on whether he does prove the innocence of one of his parishioners.

So I would say respond to the Bishop - (although exactly what he says in his response, or even whether he responds in writing or not, I am not sure) but at the same time, change the way he conducts his investigation, making it more covert...

[Geek_girl72]

That's why I think he should make jeanie his ally, he needs help at this point.

[D-Lotus]

Whoops, looks like I let this one go a little too long. I apologize.

Well, at least this POLL IS POSTED, finally, and it looks like a pretty good one. You guys always come up with some great ideas.

Happy voting.

[D-Lotus]

Find some dirt on Turner?

Really, now, you people are dirty. Don't tell me you think Devine would possibly do anything like that? ;)

[D-Lotus]

Anymore votes? C'mon, fight the dirt-loving tide, people.

Gawd, why doesn't anybody even pick the option I need?

[Geek_girl72]

Finding dirt is leading, but I really don't think that Devine would do that...come on guys, think of the narrational integrity!

[Crunchyfrog]

Whoever said that the finding of dirt might be intentional?

Whoever said that it might be Devine that ummm... finds it?

Just a few loopholes...

;)

[D-Lotus]

Well, only a couple of days left. I'll have to think my brains out to get Devine to find dirt...'by accident'.

[Lilith]

What an intricate and multidimensional story you have set up, D-Lotus. I respect people who can write like this and keep the main plot from being lost. Now, I happen to think that Devine should definitely get "dirt" on Turner and a letter to the Bishop professing his sincerity to not to poke around in the investigation any longer. It may get the eyes of the Church off of him for a little while, at least long enough for Turner to slip up and leave an opening for Devine to discredit Turner.

[D-Lotus]

Well, the poll is closed. Now, I just have to haul my lazy ass in front of a wordpad and get writing.

All posts in the announcements until I write the next chappy.