I have to admit, everything from that point on caught me off guard. After giving the Fogwalker my report, I asked, “So, why don't you give your side of things?”

The gruff older man chuckled and said, “Very well. I'll begin. First the basic facts you don't know. I've received the autopsy report on Mr Demara Walker's body, and have discovered where Mr Dent's body was hidden. Firstly, we found that Demara was struck on the back of his head, and that's how he died. He was then dumped into the icy river to obfuscate the time and manner of his death, I assume. There were signs of a struggle when his body was found.”

I interrupted him here as I took it all in and asked, “Wait, hold on. Mr Dent is confirmed dead? And you found his body hidden somewhere?”

He nodded and answered, “Indeed. You see, I took note of what you said about the watchtower seeming strange to you in a way you couldn't figure out. It seemed curious to me, and so I investigated the matter. I must say, you are a perceptive man. You see, what struck you as being off was the fact that the two entrances were on opposite sides from the bottom, but were out of sync at the top, and when you view it from above you see that the slope of the exit and entrance at the bottom is misaligned. Somewhere along the way, there is a part with a steeper slope. And as a result, a hidden space is created within. And that was where his body was found. And interestingly enough, Mr Bennet’s body was also found there, also killed. Unfortunately it's decayed far too much to get much out of it.”

I nodded and asked, “Alright, but what does that mean? Who killed whom, and why?”

The Fogwalker tapped his glowing cane against the ground and said in a soft voice, “Indeed. That's the question isn't it? But not one you should be concerned with. After all, there's one death you know the answer to all too well, isn't that right?”

I stammered as I processed his words, and then I stood up and yelled, “What in the world are you saying? Are you trying to say I'm responsible for all these deaths? I'm just a writer, and I've been helping you all this while, haven't I?”

The Fogwalker stayed calm amidst my outburst and replied, “Oh no, you're not responsible for all of them. Just the one, the death of Mr Bailey.”

No, he has no evidence for his claims, there was nothing here. Or so I thought. And so I scoffed and responded, “ And why would I do that? I have nothing against Mr Bailey, he was the owner of the inn I stayed at. Don't tell me you're claiming I killed him for poor service. This is laughable.”

The man simply sighed and said, “You did it to avenge Amy Farrow, Mr Werner. Or should I say, Mr Farrow? She was your sister. Did you think I simply eliminated you as a suspect completely and let you do what you want? Of course not. While having you do your investigations ‘freely’, I looked into you. It took some time, but eventually I managed to track down your true identity. I also had someone else follow you discreetly during the day. And guess what? You omitted a visit to Ms Walker. I assume she was the one who told you, or maybe she simply confirmed a suspicion of yours.”

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I smirked and said, “That's no evidence. She could've called me over for any number of things. And yes, I hid my identity when coming here, and I am indeed here to investigate my sister's death, but there's no direct link proving what you're claiming here.”

The Fogwalker smiled and said, “Except for the gun you used of course. I told you didn't I? I'm aware that you had a gun in your bag, and given that you only killed Mr Bailey early in the morning, I doubt you had much time to hide it anywhere. I suppose the existence of the gun was why you were so willing to investigate, and I imagine you thought I believed you'd used Jim Ensor's gun. But I'm afraid a red herring like that won't work on me. It's over.”

I tried to think of more excuses, but ultimately it didn't matter, I'd achieved what I wanted, and my ending would be the same regardless, it would only be a difference in reputation and location.

I sat down and laughed bitterly as I said, “You're absolutely right. I must admit you're a much better investigator than I thought. And it's impressive that you're able to go out into the fog at night every single day. I only went out in it for a while as I waited for the best moment to kill that wretched man, and I felt drained the next day. That's some formidable mental strength you have there. Yes, I shot him, while reciting the same words in his vision, which he told me himself. Hah! Isn't that ironic? But there is one thing you haven't talked about, which is his motivation for what he did. Do you know the answer?”

The clever old man simply sighed and said, “I can guess, but I suppose it's fine for you to explain it yourself.”

I nodded and said, “He tried to blackmail her with her relationship with Julie Maupin, to force her to have sex with him. And when she resisted, he killed her. He claimed it was ‘an accident’. How pathetic. You know, when I came to this town, I was expecting the truth behind my sister's death to be a part of some conspiracy, to be some deep mystery. But ultimately it was a mere footnote in the larger story here, caused merely by a horny middle-aged man who saw nothing wrong with his actions or beliefs. So, what now?”

The Fogwalker looked me dead in the eyes and answered, “That's up to you.”

But I could tell he more or less knew what my choice would be.

I got up and said, “I'll be going out then. Goodbye, Sheriff.”

I hadn't quite decided on a location, but on instinct I found myself near an empty and isolated location near Julie Maupin’s house. I suppose it was the best location I could get. I took a deep breath and brought out the knife I had with me. It wasn't particularly large or dangerous, but it was enough. I lifted up my shirt. I'd always been morbidly fascinated with the idea of seppuku. It was a fitting punishment for myself, since much like the samurai, I’d failed. I'd failed to protect my dear sister and her honor. Before I could begin however, a voice from behind called out, “So this is what you've decided?”

I turned to see Julie Maupin standing there. Perhaps she'd seen me when I was walking here. I put the knife away and said, “Hello Ms Maupin. Can I help you?”

She sighed and said, “No need for chatter, Mr Farrow. I know the look of a person who's given up on life.”

I threw away the persona I'd been using and asked, “Are you here to stop me?”

She shook her head and said, “No. I think it's best to have someone with you in your last moments though. I don't know if you're religious, but you might as well allow me to send you off, in my own way.”

I simply nodded, and turned back around as I picked up the knife. As I placed it against my belly, she launched into an aria. I'm not too familiar with opera, but I recognized it vaguely as ‘Dido’s Lament’. How fitting, I thought, as I cut my stomach open.

As the blood pooled around my stomach as though forming a beautiful red flower, the fog seemed to be clearing away entirely. I could see the stars, despite it not being nighttime, with my sister's face, which I'd tried to bury away under alcohol, reflected in them, as beautiful as ever. As I reached out, my life gradually faded away.