“ThePlaza” is a social media platform where people can create a digital profile to use as a sort of diary to share the mundanity of their lives, their opinions on the world, and even their hobbies with acquaintances or strangers.

Cynthia Remaut didn't leave many written posts about what she did, preferring to talk about her days with photos rather than words, in which she always appeared struggling with her job, with people, or simply with her husband, each captioned with a caption of quotes of famous books and films. Her contacts were few, mainly those who knew her personally and had genuinely loved her.

“Redlips”, instead; is a well-known porn site where men and women can satisfy their sexual cravings through videos, live chat, and other spicy content. It is not among the most famous, but it is certainly among the most popular and appreciated. The peculiarity of this web page is that it mainly collects contents of people who explicitly "showed off" with the strangest fetishes, in addition to the simplest kink; including curvy women eating huge quantities of sweets, private encounters with octopuses, and so on.

Océane was something of a star on the site thanks to her kinky (and arousing) sexy siren content. Her persuasive voice, her graceful appearance, and her elegant movements with her fish tail had made her gather as many as 5,000 subscribers who left enthusiastic comments and compliments with each new content released, mainly videos. She was very active on that platform and from her content you could see her commitment to satisfying the strange desires and fantasies of her admirers, trying to take care of her physical appearance in every detail.

Amazing how a kindergarten teacher could drastically change her appearance.

<< A teacher who likes to look after “big” children. >>

<< Officer Polo, have some tact. >>

<< Excuse me, commissioner... >>

<< So, Mr. Lemmens. Can you explain your wife's second job better? >>

Jannes remained silent in front of the Commissioner, giving him a sullen expression. His pursed lips refused to open to talk about that secret side of his partner that he had failed to mention... but even if he affected a forced silence, her look expressed all the shame felt by what should have remained a secret.

One thing was certain for the commissioner: Jannes could not come out and say that he knew nothing about it.

He was also there in most of those videos, playing the role of a human prince madly in love with the sea maiden, as they showed and told in their erotic dramas.

<< Look Jannes, I'm not incriminating you, okay? But I want you to talk. Even if in your case it is not a crime to produce pornographic material, you still must explain to me why you didn't tell me about it. Did you happen to want to stage one of your stories and you got carried away? Is this what happened? >>

<< I didn't kill my wife! >> Jannes suddenly exclaimed.

He slammed his fist hard on the interrogation room table, the rumble produced by the blow made the furniture jump a couple of centimeters off the floor. Commissioner Leoni didn't bat an eyelid, he had seen more exaggerated reactions than the one inside that room over the years.

<< It's true! We made porn videos! And I don't care what you think! This was work that helped us financially! >>

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<< We went through a rough patch a few years ago, due to a scam that took a lot of money away from us. We didn't know what to do so we dared to take this path. It was both of our ideas, not just mine or just my wife's. Very embarrassing at the beginning... but then people started to appreciate it and they paid us. >>

<>

<< Yes. And I don't deny that our sexual life has improved too. >>

Jannes smiled as the memories of that absurd path he took with his dear Cynthia resurfaced. The shame of doing something considered disgusting by society had slowly become a sort of game for the two of them, fueled by the compliments and positive criticism of their viewers who also paid large sums to promote their content... the same ones who were now leaving condolence comments.

<< The night Cynthia died, were you preparing one of your shows? >>

<< No. Ours was a holiday for a new beginning. >>

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<< We had decided to stop. >>

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<< By now we were good with the money and our real jobs were becoming more and more demanding. And we also decided to get married… this trip was to celebrate a new happy beginning… >>

The man looked at the Commissioner, hoping that he now finally understood his situation.

But he realized from his cold, fixed gaze that, despite having told him the truth, he still didn't believe him, and this made him angry.

<< I told the truth! What more do you want to hear?! >> he asked screaming.

<< Did you know that she had brought one of her stage costumes? >> asked the Commissioner without being upset.

<< I told you! No! >>

<< It's a flashy costume, how did you not notice it? >>

<< I just didn't see it! >>

<< Don't talk nonsense, a dress like this is impossible to ignore.

Do you know what I think?

In my opinion, it was your wife who wanted to stop making porn videos, while you wanted to continue producing them because it is much more profitable. >>

<< No! No! It is not true! This is a lie! >>

Jannes screamed his innocence over and over, his swollen eyes now almost dry with tears. Finally, he announced that he would no longer speak to them without the presence of a lawyer and that until they had concrete evidence to accuse him of murder since they were so sure of it, they no longer had the right to address him with contempt.

Alfio Leoni sighed exhaustedly.

He had taken a great risk by accusing murder of that man, so without proof. But he had to try, also to test his reaction.

In the end, Ottavia had put the flea in his ear: was he innocent?

He hoped he would get a good lawyer. If he hadn't been able to prove otherwise, he would have had to officially announce the accusation and with what they had now, they would have crushed him in court by declaring his guilt.

<< Commissioner. In your opinion, did the suspect really kill his wife? >>

<< I can't confirm that, officer. But it's also too early to ignore it. >>

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<< So, the husband entered the register of suspects. >>

<< Exactly. >>

<< But you are still convinced that he is innocent. >>

<< Exactly. >>

<< …And you hope to find proof of his innocence by watching their videos? >>

<< I'm reading the comments section. You're the one watching them. >>

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<< Yeah, you're a pervert. >>

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

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Octavia had photos of Cynthia in her ordinary and performance guise taped to both sides of the screen as she investigated on her own. She couldn't deny that her discovery intrigued her, but it was certainly embarrassing to rummage through the porn profile of a dead person, especially when she had both her husband and her children at her side (whom she forcibly sent away).

He had briefly “spied” on one of the many videos to get an idea of his work.

From time to time pop-ups appeared suggesting other content of a similar nature, presented with charming men posed.

None of those handsome figures gave her any kind of desire. They were charming, sure... but she much preferred her husband with his paunch, his broad forehead, and his serious gaze.

She soon shifted her attention to the comments of users, who left the most disparate messages and appropriate monetary donations. The mood of the comments changed completely on the main profile wall, now full of notes of condolence and sad emojis: one of the users had published one of the articles regarding the death of their beloved Ocèane, praising her passing as if it were an ancient poem.

Who knows who among those 5,000 fans had anonymously sent the email to the commissioner?

Only someone who knew Cynthia's secret side, as well as had free access to the site, could do so.

She had tried searching for the girl via various search engines, but the results yielded only vague descriptions of the contents of “Redlips” and no specific names of its users, probably for privacy (and trouble) reasons.

<< Let's pretend your theory is correct, darling. That the husband had nothing to do with it. How did she die, then? >>

<< I don't know yet, but I'm almost sure it's not due to an accident. >>

<< The commissioner said that it was tap water that was inside the lungs. Did she drown in a swimming pool? >>

<< She was a good swimmer with and without a swimsuit, and she demonstrated it on both public and private profiles. >>

<< A bathtub, then. >>

<< Maybe. And if so, the hotel is certainly not the place of the crime. Witnesses confirmed having seen her walking along the seafront on the evening of her death. >>

<< And the husband? Do they see him too? >>

<< No, at least that's how it seems for now. This, however, is not enough to exonerate him. Leoni is having the room they were staying in turned upside down, he wants evidence at all costs, or at this rate, the case won't be solved. >>

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<< The walls, no... but the people, yes. No matter where you go, people can't help but gossip and here, in a town like Branchlion, the rule is no different. >>

<< What do you have in mind, darling? >>

<>

Summer, no matter how hot it might get, couldn't dampen holidaymakers' appetites.

Those who were able to resist the heat and couldn't be satisfied with a simple ice cream or a healthy light meal, indulged in delicious meals that satisfied their hunger: pasta, meat, fish... anything was fine.

After dinner, many seafront residents used to meet up with relatives or friends to chat. If there had been no desire to walk or find oneself on the crowded beaches, it would have been enough to sit with deckchairs and chairs on the pavements or in the gardens, sharing the weak fresh evening breeze and a drop of liqueur until sleep had knocked on the door. For strangers it was bizarre to see so many people at ease in the middle of the street having a lounge, some even considered it intrusive; but for those who had lived there for years, it was the most normal thing in the world, as well as a pleasant pastime to use for the entire duration of the summer.

With the comfort of the garden, Ottavia and Felix welcomed the neighbors they had made friends with, enjoying a space of their own despite the annoying presence of invasive mosquitoes. They all came from different parts of the country, some for holidays and some to enjoy their retirement at the seaside, some in the company of their children or alone, for a change. A couple of them were old friends of Felix, while others were people who had been regularly coming on holiday in the area for a few years, and all of them were enraptured by Ottavia's beautiful presence, especially the women who wanted at all costs to try to learn to be refined like her.

They talked about everything that evening, ranging from gossip to politics to the latest curiosities regarding the country. They deliberately tried to avoid topics related to crime news - which wasn't easy - but luckily there was no shortage of subjects to talk about that helped distance us from anything related to death.

<<... and despite all the promises made, those disgusting houses are still there, ruining the landscape. >> concluded Mrs. Imelda indignantly, a blonde woman in her sixties originally from the area but who lived in the capital.

At first glance, she gave the impression of a housewife, but to her surprise, Ottavia had discovered a past as a lawyer and activist, which explained her determined character.

<< It's a shame that people's money is spent on this bullshit - Sorry for the language - and then the municipal council has the nerve to say that it couldn't have been avoided when they could very well have done it. >>

<< Am I wrong or did they say that the mafia was behind the building project? >>

<< Nothing is true. It's an excuse they made up so they wouldn't have to admit they screwed up. >>

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<< Yes... let's say that we too are dealing with a fairly incompetent mayor. But in the next elections, the problem should be resolved. Some more Alchermes? >>

<< Very willingly. >>

The guests felt spoiled by Ottavia's care, the homemade desserts and liqueur were a joy for their palates not accustomed to such special flavors, which occasionally brought back memories of the genuine tastes of their childhood. Thanks to those flavors, the bitterness of a bad day became more bearable and the good mood helped one forget the bad news. In the end, it was what everyone wanted: to live peacefully. Ottavia was satisfied to see her guests at ease, in reality, she too was aiming to obtain involuntary information on the case from them.

Some of the women there, particularly the older ones, were so-called town gossip, intense in a good way.

More than the mayor or the police, they knew everything that was happening among its 4,000 inhabitants, and they exchanged that information with astonishing speed. To give an example, almost everyone knew from the second day she arrived in Branchlion who she was and what she did for a living.

For the moment, she had not yet heard anything useful for her.

She had tried to introduce the topic of the mermaid woman case into conversations, but apart from a couple of opinions and displeasures towards the victim, the subject had soon been replaced by other more interesting news. From experience she knew not to insist on the subject when no one wanted to talk about it or there were no reasons to do so, it would have given a strange impression to people and even risked seeming "obsessed" about it, furthermore, she ran the risk of alarming those who was hiding something about the case. She had to be patient and hope that in the end, her evening lounge would give her results.

<< Ottavia! Ottavia! >> called a voice several times.

A rounded, limping figure entered through the gate, energetically waving a hand in greeting, stumbling for a moment on the stone steps that divided the house garden in half.

<< Mrs. Carmela, good evening. Come in. How are you? >>

<< Eh, I'm still standing, albeit badly. I'm a useless old woman now. >>

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Mrs. Carmela was a plump, elderly woman who lived two blocks from her home and owned some of the waterfront homes she rented at the time. She was short and round, with gray hair forming a soft bush on her head and small eyes that the drooping eyelids of her old age partially hid. She always wore simple floral-patterned dresses and all her sandals had hard soles that, when she walked, you could hear a long way off before she arrived. She always saw her walking, moving slowly with the crutch that helped her bear the weight of her years and support her weak legs, the few times she sat down it was to chat with the neighbors or the relatives she went to visit.

Ottavia felt like describing her as a "concentrate of kindness".

She returned everyone's greetings, if he learned that someone was ill she always asked for news, and if her residents needed something she tried to intervene to solve the problem, even if in reality her children took care of it. She liked that woman who in some ways reminded her of her maternal grandmother.

<< How are you finding yourself here? Do you like the country? >> she asked her, without using any kind of formal title.

She was the only person who bothered to do so, not having been influenced by her heritage as a lady from the metropolis.

<< I love it. I, who have always been in the mountains or the city, didn't think I could love the sea so much. You are lucky to be able to have such a view. >>

<< Good, good! I'm pleased! I was afraid that you would want to leave immediately because of the heat. >>

<< Oh no, don't worry. I plan to stay here until the end of the two-month rent. >>

<< Thank goodness... today I heard that some tourists are leaving. You know… because of the murder. This ugly story has created so much discomfort. They canceled the rent in my house too. >>

<< Oh, I'm sorry. It must be a big deal, economically speaking. >>

<< Oh yes... but that's not what makes me saddest. That's what I heard. >>

<< That is? >>

The lady signaled Ottavia to come closer, discreetly looking around so that others would not hear her words.

Ms. Carmela had received rumors of malice towards the victim and her partner, mostly motivated by racist nonsense, as they were foreigners, and others born from slander by evildoers. Most of these people pointed the finger at the deceased's partner, fueling her rumor that he might have somehow caused her death. Many of the lady's peers were giving too much credence to this chatter, she on the contrary, even though she was a gossip on her admission; she didn't believe a single word. Ottavia was not surprised by this; in similar cases, many people immediately accuse the spouse.

<< I have seen that boy many times and I can assure you that he is not a bad man. If only my husband had been so gallant to me when we were young. >>

<< I agree with you, I also think he is innocent. >>

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<< Really? >>

<< How stupid, right? They invented that the girl did dirty things on the computer... what's her name? That… >>

<< Internet? >>

<< Yes, that. “Someone,” says they saw her doing “something”… but no one confirms. All malice I tell you, just like the soul of the people who say them.>>

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<< I don't remember, maybe videos with the phone, like kids do today... I don't understand these things. But I don't believe it, because I saw the girl and, in my opinion, she wasn't a bad woman. >>

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<< Not this. We always know how much gossip is spread, but never where it started from. >>

Wise words, Octavia thought in her mind.

She put down the drink and with an excuse went back into the house, promising with a smile to return soon.

She returned to the site and did another quick check of the usernames on Ocèane/Cynthia's profile, focusing on those who had the most frequent activity in the comments section. None of these gave her a sign, but she was now certain of one thing: one of them not only knew the victim and her double life, but it was also from Branchlion.