Mafia Round 1 Voting: Due at Midnight est

Carol turned on a delicate sandaled heel and looked at Lionel Elliot. She had heard thru the murmured conversations in the coffee shop that he was a doctor. She didnt see any obvious tell tale signs that he was violently killed. No blood. 'I'd smell it,' she snorted to herself, 'No shit.'

She put her hands on her little hips and said, 'Who else would have access to medicine and/OR,' she said a little loudly, 'poisons?' She shrugged and pointed at

Lionel Elliot

Prudence sat in the loveseat with her arms crossed. No one had brought her any coffee and she was getting antsy. This whole business was very distressing. She had things to do and places to go. There was no way she would be to the Senior Center in time to call the bingo numbers at this rate.

Now that business fellow was dead. What a mess. She looked around and spied some fellow standing around spritzing down the counter. Now that boy had access to bad things like bleach and amonia. She noded her chin in his direction.

"Maybe that boy Willie had something to do with this" she said.


((Sorry, I forgot to bold!))

Shocked and hurt by the accusation against him, Lionel nods, agreeing with Prudence's thought, not only could he have poisoned Lou, but look at the bump on the back of his head, Willie could easily have greased up the floor with some soap to make Lou fall.

Trying to hide the fact that her pristine white schoolgirls' blouse had been doused by a hose, Yumei glanced over at that strange man, the quiet one, who kept whistling while he played with chemicals and read about reactions. Lionel was frightening to her. Then again, the skinny white boy with the hose would be one to watch out for, too.

Blushing, Yumei tried very hard to hide behind her bright purple hair and stay in the corner.

Where was her agent??

Wielding a handy bottle of non-toxic cleaning supplies purchased from an ecologically-responsible co-op near the shop, Willie blurts, "Just like school. Gang up on the "Freak". Well, these supplies are all non-toxic, and it doesn't look like he hit his head that bad, anyway. Any one of you SLOPPY coffee-spillers could have made the floor slick yourselves, too."

Thinking over the discussion at hand, Willie also recalls Lionel's history. A look of shocked horror on his face, he says, "Yeah! You ARE that guy who folks say had to have the Haz-mat team clean his cellar those times. You (Lionel) probably were experimenting on the coffee pots since you're stuck here and shared your secret brew! I bet you didn't even wash the pot! What're you doing with that 198-proof Ethyl Alcohol in your bag, anyway?"

Shooting a confused glare at Prudence, "And I don't think we should give free refills to seniors anymore, either! I bet this is because of the time I washed your cup five times while you were in here because you were the only customer, isn't it?"

"Whoa you have a basement? The closest I've gotten to one of those was a muddy ditch last spring." Shaking and mumbling about "silver spoons" the name

Lionel Elliot

can already be heard coming from Raul's mouth.

When the verbal assault started, Kelly looked around the room once, then slowly back. Any one in the room was probably just as likely as the next to have smacked that motor mouth in the back of the head. He did seem to be on a pretty high soap box for a while there. Of course, thinking about actually killing someone and going thru with the deed were two totally different things. With a finger still furiously curling around and around in her hair, Kelly's gaze settled on Lionel Elliot.

As she sits quietly thinking to herself how an affair just isn't worth all this drama, she began to think about who would do this and why. The only person that stood out in her mind was Lionel, just an uneasy feeling she got from him, well and the fact that he does seem just a little crazy.

Going to go with everyone else Lionel Elliot

I'm voting for that dirty slut Carol Hedley because she is a liar, betrayer, and sucker of souls.

Reclining in a chair, his cigarette smoldering between his stained fingers, Tom smiled sardonically, a gruff laugh sending smoke rolling out of his mouth like some dragon. These kids were young, stupid, and had way too much time on their hands. But at least they had some brass ones swingin' down low.
Watching the drama unfold, he did what any good singer/songwriter would do...he cracked his satchel open, hummed a few bars, sucked down the rest of his cigarette, and went to work. Drama always makes for great songs...
As the blaming started, Tom's eyes drank in the scene...and not really caring who was really to blame, he could see who was more than likely going to take the fall.
In scratchy letters, he scribbled: Lionel Eliott
His eyes rolling from bystander to accuser to coffee house terrorist, his mind sought words to rhyme with Eliott...

*coughing* and *waving her hand in front of her nose*
"Eww!" Phoebe said with a scrunched up look on her face as she was sitting next to Tom. But Phoebe could not help but love this song Tom was singing... and she wanted to sing along.
"You are right Tom... I can't think of anything that rhymes with Lionel Elliot"
*shrugs*

Bringing the cup of coffee to his mouth, his hands still shaking, while the commotion ensued,

" Typical, typical woman, that Tiffany Armstrong, a man lays dead, DEAD, and she could care less, seems like she cares more about her cell phone than this man, typical, just typical, it's woman like her... TIFFANY ARMSTRONG, you are the reason that nut is dead."

Voting closed