It was later in the day.

Colm Davies still didn't know what he was doing here.

He was tired, stitched together only by coffee and heartbreak, one more ingredient than usual. He wondered if Davenport had a really good hotel, four-star or so. Or better yet, Chicago. He had plenty of back pay, he was still getting paid throughout his suspension. Might as well blow it all, get a day or two of luxury treatment. Get some deep-dish, swim in a pool, find a casino and play some slots. But first he'd have to reach the damn place first.

Sitting in the basement of a Presbyterian church in Iowa wasn't helping.

444 Locust Street had been surprisingly difficult to find, despite the tall steeple and the town's seemingly straightforward grid. Maybe it was fatigue, but it seemed as though the church had abruptly appeared out of nowhere, showing up only when he had turned around from looking off in one direction. That's what happens when you walk around an unfamiliar town, Colm. Not to mention he had been distracted a little bit. It was there, in windows and alleyways, peering at him. Hell, it was probably somewhere in this church, lurking in a dark corner, watching. As per usual. Did it ever take vacations or anything?

Colm found the meeting room inside the old, dusty, clapboard building, getting a smile from the waiting Deacon Blue, his messy hair still uncombed, still wearing the heavy sweater. "Hey there, Malcolm."

"Uh, hi, Deacon."

"Looks like you're the first to arrive. Help yourself to a snack, I insist," Blue said with a wave to a table covered in plates of various goods. Colm went over to pour himself a cup of coffee- might as well extend his wakefulness. He glanced at the snacks laid out. Crullers. Beignets- odd, he had never seen those outside of his sole trip to New Orleans. A bowl of sunflower seeds. Some dried fruits. A bag of organic mouse food. A plate of cuts of what looked to be raw, uncooked steaks. A small cage containing live mice.

Brow creased in confusion, he looked over at Deacon Blue, busy arranging chairs in a circle. The man caught his look, gave a smile and a shrug. "I wasn't really sure what everyone would like, let alone their friends. I had to look up what mice, panthers, and owls eat, but I'm still uncertain about some of the others, you know?"

Colm had to hide his expression behind a raised mug of coffee. Maybe this was a very bad idea.

Ben was a bit unnerved by this all. He had never had any trouble getting around, his sense of direction was, until this day, unmatched. But when he departed to find the goddamned church, he must've gotten lost a thousand times. Then there was the Deacon, an encounter he still didnt fully understand. Not to mention the speaking of 'his friend'. He was fairly sure he heard the Deacon mention other people's 'friends' as well, and wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

Yet there he stood, at the front door of the church. Why, exactly? He had told himself that it was for answers, but he wasn't able to quite convince himself of that. Some other premonition had forced him to come, almost as of Flush had been pushing him to it. Speaking of, he hadn't been spotted since the hotel diner, rather uncharacteristic. Though at first the visits were few, Ben felt that they had grown quite a bit of a bond, and eventually popped up far more frequently.

Ben let out a heavy sigh, walking through the door, entering the rather quaint church. He only noticed two people in the church, The Deacon. Something Blue, wasn't it? As well as the man from beforehand in the hotel diner, one of the men who Blue had mentioned having a 'friend', if he remembered correctly.

"Hey there, Bundie. Come here often?" He asked, approaching the darker skinned man. "I caught you back at the Hawkeye Inn diner this morning, didn't I? Ah, even if I did, you probably didn't notice me." He said, trailing off a bit. He took a quick look at the table of food. 'Are those mice?' he thought to himself, before looking away, a bit disgusted. He stole a quick glance over at the Deacon, as he straightened his Navy blue tie, tucking it neatly under his checkered suit.

Tallah spent the rest of her morning back in her hotel room flipping through the channels. Her mind kept wandering back to that Deacon from earlier and what he’d said about her stalker. Was it really possible that he knew about Waldo? If so, how? She had always been curious about where the shadow went when he wasn’t busy tailing her, but she never thought he would two-time her for someone else. She looked over at the winged silhouette. He had taken up a pose like “The Thinker” this time, mirroring Tallah’s internal battle.

“Don’t get smart with me,” Tallah said, her voice laden with heavy sarcasm. “This would be so much easier if you just told me where you went. So, how about it?”

No reply.

She thought as much.

Tallah sighed and rolled over in the hotel bed, running her fingers over the soft comforter. She stared up at the ceiling and contemplated visiting that weird religious guy. She personally had nothing against what he might believe, as she was an agnostic, but the fact that he seemed to single her out like that was just bizarre. Perhaps God had sent him some sign to him that told him to help her, after all her half-hearted prayers. Or maybe he was just loony and she was overthinking the whole thing. Nevertheless, she decided to pay him a visit.

Tallah glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand. It read 12:24PM. She figured she had enough time to freshen up before she left. Sloppy sweatpants might be okay for a hotel dining room, but she wasn’t about to show up at a church dressed like a hobo.

She showered quickly, straightened her hair, and applied some mascara to her eyelashes. Examining herself in the bathroom mirror, she gave a small nod. Good enough. She dressed in a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and slipped on a loose-fitted purple tank top that came down to the middle of her thighs. After some thought, she added a small cross necklace. It was fitting for the occasion.

As she exited the hotel room, Tallah grabbed her purse and peeked at the wall where Waldo had been positioned before. He was gone now, leaving only a bloodstained “Thinker” impression behind. She rolled her eyes, glad that no one else could see his little parting gifts. She would hate to have to clean that mess up.

---

Tallah found the church without too much trouble, finding the address online and plugging it into her GPS before she left. She parked her car and walked up to the front entrance. It was a pretty normal looking building. Square with a steeple on top and painted entirely white. It was a cute little place, she thought passively. But what was waiting for her inside?

That question was answered when she opened the door and stepped inside. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who decided to pay Billy a visit. Colm and another man from the hotel were already inside, standing next to a table covered with various assorted foods and… other things. She moved closer to examine the odd arrangement. There were a few pasties – okay, so that was normal – but moving down the table, she saw mice and raw meat and other strange things. She looked up from the table to meet Colm’s eye.

“So, we meet again,” Tallah said with a smirk. “You just can’t seem to stay away from me, can you?” She looked at the other man. “Who’s your friend?” She offered him a hand. “Tallah Walker; eighteen; single. I’m sure Colm has told you all about me. We’re good friends from long ago this morning.”

Despite careful scrutiny of the map he'd gotten from the counter, Sebastian hadn't been able to find any church along Locust Street. In the end he'd ended up wandering the surrounding area hoping to catch a glimpse of a clock tower or steeple. Antigonish seemed to have decided to follow along for whatever reason, keeping pace with him as a shadow or skulking around behind him.

After several minutes of this Sebastian had almost given up on finding the church, only to look to his left and see it, clear as day. He didn't know how he'd missed it before. Probably all the winding roads.

He shrugged and went in.

There was a decent spread of food on the table, though he had to wonder at some of the options. Why would a church group provide raw meat and mice as refreshments?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Antigonish standing near the mice, head tilted almost quizzically. He grinned to himself. He had to admit, he'd never wondered what the shadow ate. It followed him nearly all hours of the day and night so he'd assumed it didn't need to. But he didn't know where it went when he wasn't looking; it could've been hunting for a meal for all he knew.

It's nice if you want to meet new people, he thought at it. But make sure they can see you too or you'll never get anywhere.

There was no response, of course.

A lot of the people from breakfast were here too, the messy girl (who'd changed her clothes and was no longer as messy) introducing herself as Tallah. Well, there was his conversation starter right there. His interaction with Parker had gone okay. This should be easy enough.

He walked towards the group.

"Hey!" He smiled at Tallah. "The deacon talked to you at breakfast too, right? Did you bring a friend?"

Colm, still unsure about the whole thing, was more than a little startled when he was confronted by what appeared to be the last standing member of the Rat Pack. "Uh, hi," he said, his tentatively outstretched hand enthusiastically pumped by the newcomer. "Colm Davies. Here from Seattle. Yeah, I think I saw you." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "I'm not much of a morning person, to be honest. Hope I didn't seem rude or anything."

He gave a polite grin as Tallah showed up as well. Reinforcements- at least he knew this one's name. "Hey, Tallah, good to see you again. Guess this town is small enough that we keep, uh, running into people," he said. Colm groaned inwardly, tried not to make it too obvious that he was staring off into a corner. Of course. He wasn't in the habit of going to churches, but nothing had led Colm to think the Great Mouse Detective was one for staying off holy ground. There it was, just chilling, casually leaned up in a corner. If it had eyes (well, to be technical, it had hundreds), they'd be innocently studying the ceiling.

Another young man joined the group, but he seemed to be exclusively speaking to Tallah. This limited Colm's options- talk to Dean Martin here, or possibly edge slowly out of the small group and make his way back to the table for some more coffee, carefully positioning himself so as not to see his ever-present stalker. Colm chose to do the second one. A little more caffeine- he didn't want to doze off.

A couple more people came in. Colm recognized one- the desk clerk from the inn, the tall girl with the dark hair. Siobhan, he was pretty sure. How about that. The other man cut a more imposing figure, though. A big, broad, black man in a beautifully tailored, absolutely spotless white suit (did anyone in this town wear a normal suit?). The suit wasn't what caught Colm's eyes, though, it was the tall, almost luminous white top hat he wore. Colm watched as the man shook hands with Deacon Blue, and the two seemed to have a quiet but warm exchange. Colm thought nothing of it. At least, not until Blue pointed directly at Colm. The man in the top hat shot a sly smile at Colm, and then started to quietly pad over.

Colm was a little taken aback as the man came over, placed a big, heavy hand on his shoulder. Slowly, deliberately, the man winked at Colm. "Welcome to the invisible world, Colm," he said. Unlike the man at the hotel, this one did have an accent. Colm had once spoken to a CI back in Seattle on a marijuana racket. The guy had been Haitian, and had sounded similar to this fella with the top hat. Sure, that worked.

Colm wasn't sure what to say, or what was expected as the Haitian gave his shoulder a squeeze, then reached into the cage of mice, gently picked one up. He stroked it with a finger, cooed softly at the terrified animal, and then bit off its head. Colm stepped back involuntarily, at the spurt of blood staining the white lapels of the man's suit. "That's fucked up, dude," Colm found himself saying, because really, nothing else seemed to fit. The man grinned at him through reddened teeth, then stepped over to the other little knot of people to wordlessly take another bite.

Colm, transfixed, looked around the room. Deacon Blue grinned inanely over by the door, flanked by what seemed to be an orangeish light wearing a coat and a winged shadow. Over by Frank Sinatra there was someone that hurt to look at.

What in the world was going on here?

"Pleased to make your..." Ben began, trailing off as Colm backed away. Though a bit put off by the gesture, Ben quickly shook it off. He had seen people react weirder to him before, probably because of his out-of-place 50's routine. Naturally, that wasn't actually him, but the false face was a part of his companies gig, and any chance to draw in new customers was welcome.

He turned to speak with the girl, Tallah, but decided differently when he saw her talking to a younger man who appeared to know her better. Backing up as he turned in a slow circle, Ben drank in his surroundings, taking note of all of the new patrons.

Still keeping close to the other two in his trance like gaze around the room, Ben was snapped back to reality by the man clad in a white suit. As the man approached, Ben took a moment to appreciate the mans clearly impeccable sense of fashion. His reaction was a bit different when he saw the red that stained his suit. Though the man moved to first speak with Tallah and her friend, Ben intercepted him, flashing a wide smile of pure white teeth.

"Hey there, Big Daddy. Might I say, that suit of yours is platinum." Benny said, trying to ignore what was clearly blood. "Say, I haven't been here long enough to know exactly what's going on, would ya mind giving me the run-down, pal?" He said, his eyes slowly drifting to look at the mouse in the mans hand, still spurting a bit of blood from the first bite. Though for a moment Ben lost his smile, as well as any appetite he may have had, he quickly regained his composure, with a winning smile. "I'm sorry, Daddy-O. Forgot my manners. Not a very good start to my time in Fat Town, is it? The name's Benjamin. Feel free to call me Benny." He said, tentatively reaching out a hand.

The man was silent for a moment, taking another slow bite from his mouse, staining his teeth further. Without answering, he returned the handshake, before he left to move onto the others, jaw pumping up and down as he chewed down the raw flesh. It was just about all he could do to not vomit all over his suit.

Benny walked over to the food table, where he leaned, trying to figure out what the hell he had still been doing there. He began fidgeting around with his suit, fixing things that needed not be fixed, straightening already unwrinkled fabric. Reaching into an inner pocket, he took a deep swig of his flask, to calm his nerves. When he looked up from the flask, he was rather stunned to see Flush standing before him, leaning against an invisible wall, hand raised as it flicked the ashes of a shadowy cigarette. Ben was awestruck- Flush wasn't too shy, but this was more people that he had been in front of by any memory of Ben.

Though he didn't mean to say it out loud, it ended up escaping out in the room. "What in the goddamn hell..."