"Let's go back a bit," Stolas starts, his powerful voice bouncing off the walls of the courtroom. "Some time in the middle of the night, a few people heard an odd noise- a crash, I believe, is what Caim said this morning when we were trying to make sense of the situation."

Caim nods. "It was a crash.  Not the loudest from where my cottage is, but loud enough to wake someone who sleeps as lightly as I do."

"That makes sense, 'cause I sleep like a rock and am in the row closest to the pool," Will agrees. "I'm sure it was startling as hell for anyone close to it, though."

"So to Furfur and Marzy, whose cottages were in the row nearest the tree, would have heard it the loudest out of anyone," Stolas confirms, his arms crossed as his gaze moves from person to person.

"Yeah, I'm in the second-closest row to the tree.  I'm a pretty heavy sleeper and still heard it," I chime in. "There's no way the two of them wouldn't have woken up."

"And because they're both scientists and curiosity is kind of their thing, they both separately decided to check it out," Dana comments. "But they probably would've gone to investigate just seconds after each other, if not at the same time, right?"

"That's correct," Stolas says. "Our killer, who used the hatchet from the barn to cut the branch, was expecting someone to come check out the noise.  However, both Furfur and Marzy came to see, meaning the culprit had very little time to incapacitate both of them.  The likely event is that they took out one, likely Furfur, and then Marzy came and was knocked out as well."

"Do we know for a fact that Furfur was first?" Evangeline asks, bringing a finger to her lips in consideration.

A realization dawns on me. "She and Marzy were knocked out in different ways.  Furfur was strangled while Marzy was hit in the head.  In a way, it kind of feels like Furfur's method was a little more thought-out? So logically, she would've been first?"

Stolas considers this for a moment. "That seems very plausible to me.  On the topic of strangling, the markings on Furfur's neck indicated that the weapon used to choke her out was either a thick rope or a strap.  The light rope burn is also an indicator of this, for those who don't fully believe me.  Something smoother in texture, like a cable or cord, would not cause rope burn anywhere close to as easily."

"What could've knocked out Marzy, then?" Evangeline presses. "It was too small of a bump for him to have hit a wall, and something sharp surely would've bled a bit from the force."

"Maybe the tree branch itself?" I suggest.

"Perhaps it was," Stolas agrees. "Now, once Marzy and Furfur were knocked out, our culprit had to face the challenging task of bringing the bodies all the way to the music venue on the third island."

"Why not just kill them and then bring them to the island?" Will points out.

"Because the body discovery announcement would have played if anyone happened to discover the bodies," I reply instantly, before Stolas can say anything. "And it really could've happened if Furfur had been dead when Marzy came out of his cottage to investigate."

I look over towards Stolas, who almost looks impressed. 

"It seems that the killer, however, was unable to make it all the way to their destination before Furfur awoke," he continues, but I still feel the pride swell up in my chest. "So they killed her and then had to drag her bloody body the rest of the way there, hence the smear tracks on the floor of the music venue."

"What was the murder weapon, though?" Azrael interjects.

"A kitchen knife," I say. "It was hidden in the storage room."

Everyone immediately looks towards Dana.

She shakes her head. "Nope.  All the knives were there last night before I left.  It must've been taken by someone after nighttime officially started."

"Marzy was killed about five minutes after Furfur," Evangeline states. "Judging by the smears on the ground, as Stolas mentioned, the killer stabbed Furfur, then dragged them both into the room, and Marzy was killed right after.  His eyes were open, so he must've woken up as well."

"That is true.  In most cases, someone knocked out wakes up after just a few minutes, and our killer was now far enough that the chances of someone discovering the bodies were quite low," Stolas says.

"Okay, so we have all the background info.  The killer went to the barn, grabbed the hatchet, and came back to cut the tree. Marzy and Furfur heard the noise when the branch fell and went to investigate, and both were knocked out. The killer dragged them to the music venue and stabbed Furfur on the way, and then got them inside.  Marzy woke up at that point, so the killer slit his throat. They then hid the knife and left," Zeben summarizes.

"Not before breaking the door handle to the storage room," Stolas murmurs. "And why just leave the murder weapon? Those parts still confuse me."

"You know what else confuses me?" Will comments. "Everything about this.  Like, what part of this makes sense?  None of it!  None of it makes sense!  Who comes up with this sh*t? Who wakes up and decides, hey, I'm gonna lure people out of their rooms, knock them out, and bring them to the music venue to kill them? You're right, Stolas, the broken door handle doesn't make sense. Leaving the murder weapon doesn't make sense. Dragging the bodies all the way across three islands doesn't make sense. Killing two people doesn't make sense. And because none of it makes sense, we don't have any way to determine who could've done it! At least the last case was basically spelled out for us!"

"...Spelled out for us?" Stolas repeats, his expression revealing that he's deep in thought.

Will gives him a confused look. "Uh, yeah, that's what I said."

The combat specialist doesn't say anything for a long moment as we all stare at him, waiting for him to say something as he taps his gloved fingers against his podium.  I can practically see the calculations and sh*t flying around in front of him like that one meme. Finally, I see a flicker of realization appear in his eyes.

"I see," he says.

...That's it? That's all you have to say?

"See what?" literally half the room exclaims.

Stolas takes a deep breath. "This case may not be easily solved right now... yes, that's right..." He pauses for another moment, as if double-checking his facts before saying, "...but perhaps something else can."

"I'm not following," Zeben confesses.  Although the look on his face makes it pretty obvious already that he's very lost. In fact, every god damn person here looks like they were just asked to find the value of x in the world's biggest algebra equation.

I'm trying to rack my brain as well.  What on earth are we missing in this case?  Besides the culprit, of course. Still, though, Stolas has made it ridiculously clear that he's talking about something else. We've got the murder weapon, the scene of the crime, the victims, the causes of death, the time of death, the...

Oh.

Oh.

"The chess board," I realize.

Stolas nods. "Our culprit, now that I think about it, has quite literally been spelling it all out for us."

"...with the chess boards?" Dana tries weakly.

Were there letters spelled out on the chess boards?  ...No, I think I would've remembered that. Although maybe that one setup looked like an 'H'? But nobody here has an 'H' in their name, anyways. So that theory's a bust. What on earth could Stolas have pieced together from those chess boards, then? What else is there to decode??

As if reading my thoughts but probably more that he just doesn't want me to embarrass myself by thinking too hard, Stolas leans over to me and says quietly into my ear, "The Inverted Hungarian Opening.  The Réti Opening.  The King's Indian Defense, or less formally known as the Indian Defense.  And the Scotch Game.  Tell me, Sophie, what do those all have in common? You can solve it, I know you can. It's not too hard of a puzzle, I promise you."

I have no idea what he's playing at.  I play his words back in my mind, in hopes that in doing so I can find something I've missed. I really hope he's right and it's actually easy, not Stolas-level "easy".

Inverted Hungarian Opening.  Réti Opening.  Indian Defense.  Scotch Game.  Inverted Hungarian Opening.  Réti Opening.  Indian Defense.  Scotch Game.

It clicks.  Once I see it, I can't unsee it. Everything falls perfectly into place. It fits. And I hate that it does, because I don't get it.  It all makes sense, but it doesn't make sense. Still, I know that it's true, and the truth has to come out. No matter how much I don't believe it. Or maybe I just can't believe it.

I take a deep breath, and then make myself speak. There's no hesitating now.

"The chess board culprit specifically chose setups that could not only more easily be recognized, but also reveal their identity," I explain. "If you take the first letter of each setup, it spells out a name that we all know.  I for Inverted Hungarian Opening.  R for Réti Opening.  I for Indian Defense.  And S for Scotch Game.  Meaning the culprit behind the chess boards... is the Ultimate Flautist, Iris Pineborough!"

Iris looks appalled as soon as I say his name, and he quickly starts scrambling for words. "Gh-!"

Immediately, Azrael leans forward against his podium and raises his voice. Which is scary, because before now, I've never heard him speak above the normal talking level. He is yelling now.

"What kind of sh*t accusation is that??" he demands. I see Caim recoil out of the corner of my eye. "Don't you realize the culprit could be framing him??  He's got an easy name to spell out!  There's no way he would do such a crazy f*cking thing!  Stolas, it could've been you, because you're absolutely smart enough to do something like that!  Don't go accusing people unless there's concrete evidence! Yeah, where's the real evidence, huh?"

Stolas patiently waits for him to stop shouting, which thankfully doesn't last long, and seems to have tired out Azrael. "Why don't we just let Iris respond to the accusation first?"

Azrael's icy eyes still blaze with fury, but he backs down and looks towards his friend next to him as his expression becomes worried.  All eyes are on Iris as he swallows nervously, his grip on his podium shaking.

"W-why?" he stammers, his lavender gaze moving wildly from one person to another. "Why... why did you..."

All of a sudden, and much to my horror, it's like a switch flips in the flautist.  His posture suddenly straightens from his panicked, slumped stature, and he looks eerily calm as he smiles, a stark contrast to his panicked expression from just seconds ago. I feel like I'm looking at a completely different person right now.

"...take so long to figure it out?"

***

(1908 words)

Slightly shorter but there's no way this trial could fit comfortably into one chapter. It has to be a two-part one ;0;

Anyways yes, surprise! Musicians are liars.

- a musician