I tilted my head slightly away and said in a soothing voice, “I’m sure you're just acting this way because you're scared, Mr Ensor, but I assure you, I mean no harm.”

In a frantic voice, the paranoid man yelled, “No! I don't believe you. You're lying! You come here, and almost immediately after my friend dies. There's no way that's a coincidence. Tell me what you're here for! I can tell if someone's lying, so don't you dare lie to me here!”

I carefully explained why I was here. Of course he'd already heard most of it at the tea party, but he seemed to calm down nevertheless. I did my best to calm him down, until he finally led me to a table we could sit down at, though he still held onto his gun carefully.

What, you think that switch was sudden? Well I don't know what I can do about that.

I asked, “Do you know how this could've happened? Who would've had reason to kill Demara Walker?”

Jim shivered nervously as he muttered, “I'm not sure. He was a womanizer, but not to the extent that I'd expect someone to kill him over it. He never really let it get serious. He only fought with his grandmother regularly to my knowledge, and even then he said that he'd come to an agreement with her.”

That was interesting. Perhaps whatever arrangement they came through fell through.

I had my suspicions, but just to confirm I asked, “Do you know what exactly they were fighting about?”

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Jim nodded and said, “About the inheritance, I believe. She didn't approve of his behavior and threatened to cut him out. In general she's pushed him to do more with his talents. She sent him off to a college of her choice, but he dropped out. She's tried to push him into arranged marriages, but it fell through. Demara, he is… he wasn't a bad person, he's just someone who wishes to enjoy life as much as he can . You see, much like myself, he is sensitive to the fog. That was what brought us together early on. Unlike me however, he had a different reaction to the looming specter of death reflected in the fog. It's not an easy thing, having to live with that. As for his grandmother…”

He looked around nervously, took a deep breath, and continued in a low voice, “She is my patron, and I do respect her in some ways. Her powers of perception are excellent, she's knowledgeable in various fields and is inquisitive. But the truth is, she also terrifies me. She is controlling, and at least within time confines of this town, she is inevitable, much like the god of death I fear so much. The only one who dared to defy her is Demara. Well the Fogwalker too, I suppose. And Demara could never truly escape her, as much as he pretended otherwise. He never admitted as much, but I do think he truly wanted her to accept him.”

I considered the information. Mrs Walker truly was looking more and more suspicious. But that then brought up a different question. It seemed likely that if she was responsible, she'd used someone else to carry out the deed. Who would that be?

I talked with Mr Ensor for a bit longer, but I didn't have much else to ask, so I left, leaving him to his thoughts in his colorful yet depressing home.

As I left, I noticed the carriage I'd arrived here in, your carriage, standing outside. You stood besides it with a grim look on your face.

As I walked over, I asked, “What's this, Mr Fogwalker. I saw you leave. Did you come back to pick me up? Because that's not really necessary.”

You shook your head and with a sigh said, “Mr Dent has been reported missing. I'm afraid he's likely dead.”