Play@YSDC

Several people look around curiously, but the car is already pulling away. Like last night, there appears to be no registration plate attached.

The police have managed to spirit the funeral director and his colleagues away from the scene. The crowd is now beginning to break up in confusion, although there is still a group clustered around the body of Fayette and his wife.

“What’s the story Doctor?” asks one of the band members to Balzac. The investigators recognize him as the bandleader, who helped them the night before.

Alice looks around in vain, but the car is already gone.

Balzac addresses both the (re)deceased's wife and the bandleader, shaking his head sadly. "Madame, Monsieur, I regret to tell you that M. Fayette is most definitely deceased. What we just witnessed is the medical mystery. I can only guess he had one last burst of life still in him but it is now gone, alas."

"May I suggest we move him back to the coffin for propriety? I suspect the authorities may wish to conduct the further examinations though, before he can finally be laid to rest."

OOC,Can [b]Balzac[/b] make a Medicine or any other roll to note anything unusual about Fayette?

OOC,Fayette is not only dead – he’s embalmed! What happened is medically impossible. There’s nothing natural here.

The event is too much for Fayette’s wife. With a gasp, she collapses and is immediately tended to by family.

The bandleader takes charge. “Okay guys, you heard the Doc. Let’s get him back.”

Willing hands lift Fayette back to the coffin, which is again borne upon the shoulders of his friends. This time, they head in the opposite direction, back to where they came from. The remaining people are obviously distressed and shocked, and many are openly weeping. Many others are seen to cross themselves. There's no doubt that this event will be talked about for years to come.

"But...how could this happen?" Alice asks.

"When I was in the war we had one lad come in with shrapnel in his forehead," says Ron. "He was unconscious for over a week with barely a sign of life. He expired eventually, but before he did so he opened his eyes and talked. I wouldn't be surprised if this is the same thing, the doctor who declared Fayette dead was probably not paying his fullest attention and missed subtle signs of life."

Balzac’s and Ron’s explanations seem satisfy the surrounding funeral-goers, who nod in understanding. Whether they can satisfy our heroes is another matter.

“Thanks for your help gentlemen” says the bandleader. “We appreciate it. My name’s Wester. Mitch Wester”.

He stops a moment. “Now I remember you! You folks were at the Blue Heaven last night!”

"Yes, that's right," says Alice. "I'm Alice Stanton. It's good to see you again. Thank you for helping us get out of there."

“You’re welcome” replies Wester. “What brings you here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His tone is friendly, but he is genuinely curious.

"Well, I knew you'd be here," says Alice. "I never did get to properly thank you last night, and another opportunity to hear your music wouldn't go amiss. And I would like to talk about what happened, if you don't mind."

Wester’s brow furrows.

“You mean what happened last night? We couldn’t really see anything from the stage. I saw people begin to run out, and heard the screaming. I got a glimpse of some guy covered in blood. Hey, he wasn’t a friend of yours, was he?”

"No," says Alice, "we just happened to be seated at the same table. He was a very unpleasant man, but he still didn't deserve what happened to him. My friends and I got a front row seat. After he was shot, he...got back up. Just like what happened here."

Wester gives a start. “Well sure, he was shot but still alive. Please don’t kid around Miss.” He indicates the coffin with his hand. “Freddy was my brother-in-law.”

"I'm sorry for your loss," says Alice. "I didn't know."

Wester

“That’s okay Miss. But I’m sure there must be a logical reason for what just happened, like the Doc and your other friend said”.

Balzac hesitates. "Monsieur, may I ask, who is your trumpet man? The lead trumpet player."

“That’d be Leroy Turner. Hell of a player, ain’t he?” Wester turns his head. “Hey Leroy, where you at?”

The other band members look around too, but it seems that the trumpet man is gone.

“Hell, he must have sloped off” says the clarinet player.

“He always doing that” says another member. “Probably headed off to the speak.”

Balzac looks interested. "Is he playing somewhere tonight? I am a good trumpet fan."

Wester shakes his head. “Don’t think so. He was supposed to play with us, but the Blue Heaven gig is done for now. Leroy ain’t got too many friends in this town to be honest. We tolerate him because he’s like, an extra feature, you know? And a damn good one. But we already got all the parts covered. So if he don’t show, it don’t matter so much. But for bands who’re relying on him…” Wester shakes his head.

“Cat’s too damn irresponsible” says the clarinet player. “Either don’t show up, or shows up drunk. Folks ‘bout had their limit. Whenever he gets a gig, ‘bout a week later he goes on a bender and loses it.”

“Ain’t really his fault though” says Wester. “Lost his girl after he come up from New Orleans couple of years ago. Hit an’ run. Ain’t been right since.”

The band members fall silent. The group, who are accompanying the coffin, start to instinctively draw around it.

"The Blue Heaven was shut down after last night," says Alice. "If he didn't go there, to which speakeasy would he have gone?"