Chapter 4: Of Songs and Townsfolk Part 2

Mi Fan and I settled into the farthest table, and as we did, I smiled at the other diners, trying to maintain a relaxed appearance. A gray wolf was focused on a crossword puzzle, but he was doing it upside down. Was it a personal challenge, or just a new way of seeing the world?

At another table, a pair of young red foxes were turning napkins into little paper dolls, while their parents debated the weather with an intensity that seemed far too deep for the topic.

But the star of the place was a possum, sitting upright with a cup of cream between its small hands. It was sipping the cream with an almost comical solemnity, as if it were in the middle of a royal banquet.

—"Well, Mi Fan, I’m going to teach you how to be a good detective, like the great Columbo" —I said, adopting my best wise tone—. "The most important thing is to gather information."

—"Everybody knows that," —the girl huffed, cutting me off. I wasn’t expecting such a quick response.

—"R-right, right..." —I coughed to recover—. "But for that, you have to keep your eyes wide open." —I made a theatrical gesture, scanning the diner—. "What do you see around here?"

Mi Fan quickly scanned the room. Shepierced through everyone in the room with a single sweeping glance.

—"A bunch of weirdos, Mr. Ma... Mimic."

I didn’t know whether to congratulate her or give up. She was pretty accurate.

—"Yes, well... everyone’s got their quirks, but what we’re looking for are people who are easier to talk to." —I continued, without losing my stride—. "Then, we ask them questions to get information. If this were a noir movie from..." —I paused for a moment, thinking of a clever title—, "something like The Falcon of Mauria... at this exact moment, a femme fatale would walk in."

—"Femme what?"

—"Ah, don’t worry about that now," —I quickly corrected myself—. "You’re too young for those kinds of words. Just a pretty girl who has valuable information." —I made a gesture in the air as if it were obvious.

Just as I finished speaking, the kitchen door swung open, and a raccoon stumbled out toward us. She wasslightly off balance with a tray loaded with hot chocolate and apple fritters. She wore a melon-colored uniform, with a small hat that seemed ready to fall off at any moment. Her steps were frantic and a bit clumsy, as if she didn’t have complete control over the situation. Her tail swayed with a life of its own, trying Desperately to hold her upright despite her maddeningly quick strides. Ever step made her seem perpetually on the verge of an accident.

As she approached, I saw how the meerkat slightly shrank behind the counter, as if trying to make himself invisible.

As she neared our table, her eyes darted around, trying to keep the tray balanced, but just before she reached us, her tail slightly bumped the corner of a chair. The tray tilted dangerously, and for a second, everything on it prepared to crash to the floor.

We saw it coming. The hot chocolate wobbled, the fritters rumbled on the tray. But, at the last second, the waitress managed to save the situation, adjusting the tray with a quick, clumsy motion, though not without a small drop of chocolate splashing onto the table.

—"Almost!" —she said, laughing nervously as she placed the cups in front of us. The fritters hit the table with a slightly heavier thud than expected—. "Here you go, hot chocolates and the best apple fritters in the world," —she added with a rushed smile, clearly trying to downplay her near mishap.

As she spoke, the little hat she wore slid to the side, nearly falling off, and she quickly adjusted it. Then she leaned toward us with an anxious look, as if eager to finish and move on before another incident occurred.

—"Anything else?" —she asked, already with one foot pointed toward the kitchen, clearly ready to move before anything else went wrong.

I looked at her for a second. There was something about her that reminded me too much of the dancer from last night. I didn’t want to sound racist and say all raccoons look alike, but...

—"You were dancing last night," —I said, clapping my hands softly, as if I had just solved a mystery. Our observational skills have always been one of our strengths.

—"Last night...? Dancing? Sir, I don’t dance, I’ve got two left feet," —she looked at me, clearly confused, as if she had no idea what I was talking about.

—"Well, let’s say we believe you; but… maybe you have a twin..." —I suggested, crossing my arms, confident in my theory.

—"I’m an only child, sir." —she responded, with a tired expression.

—"Double life?" —I proposed, raising an eyebrow, enjoying the game.

—"I’m just a hardworking waitress who dreams of going off to study modern languages at the Model University in Ajna," —she replied seriously, but her eyes sparkled with hope, as if that was the most important truth of all.

—"Zara Mina Shanti," —I said, smiling—. "It’s a Maurian mantra, for luck," —I added, giving her a light tap on the shoulder as if I were wishing her well—. "If this were a movie, this would be your..." —I paused for a moment, searching for the words— "your death omen."

Mi Fan rolled her eyes, clearly already used to my outbursts.

—"Omen?" —she said, helping me out.

—"That’s right. Death omen," —I laughed, as if I had just remembered the right term.

—"That’s morbid, Mr. Ma... Mimic," —Mi Fan scolded me, frowning.

—"It’s because you haven’t seen enough movies, Mi Fan. It’s always the same: the person who wants to get ahead... boom! They die," —I said, making an exaggerated gesture with my hand as I pointed at the raccoon.

She stood there, looking at us, first with an expression of surprise, then intrigue. Finally, she let out a completely natural laugh, a light sound, nothing like the coldness I had seen in the dancer last night. Maybe... maybe we had been wrong.

—"You’re so strange, you don’t seem like murderers... People in this town can be so prejudiced, wrapped up in their superstitions between subtleties and oddities," —she said, laughing, as if the very idea of us being guilty was absurd.

—"Obviously we’re not murderers," —I responded with a broad smile—. "Just like you’re not an exotic dancer with a love for Mauria," —I added, clapping softly, keeping the playful tone.

The raccoon wagged her tail, clearly more relaxed, and moved a little closer to our table. We had piqued her interest, which meant we at least had someone willing to listen. Maybe we could get more information out of her, both about the murder and what was really going on in this town, that mysterious call that had brought me here.

—"We’re trying to solve the murder and clear our name," —I said, sipping my milk. By this point, the raccoon had already sat down in a chair across from us, completely forgetting about her job.

—"I’m taking my 20-minute break," —she said casually, leaning back.

From the counter, the meerkat let out a sound of annoyance and rushed back to the kitchen. It seemed to be a daily routine between the two of them. She didn’t seem to want to be a waitress, nor did she have the motor skills for it, if we’re being honest.

—"I’m Mimic, and this is my young protégé, Mi Fan. We’re... uh..." —I paused, thinking.

—"Door-to-door salespeople?" —Mi Fan said, more as a question than a statement, but it worked for me.

Ah, my dear little tigress, she was starting to understand how our world worked: a few lies here, gathering a bit of information there. A smile formed on my face. We knew how to handle these situations.

—And you are? —I asked, leaning forward slightly, as if we were about to discover a key clue.

The raccoon smiled, and I must say she had an enviable smile. Her fangs were perfect, her dark mask covered her face impeccably, and her long hair, tied with a cute red ribbon, cascaded down. The small hat she wore always seemed on the verge of falling off, but it never did.

—My name is Farhana.