Disaster of the Gods
A month later.
Irish Sea, Isle of Man.
In a small coastal village, David Watson, Morris Kent, and Elena Joyce, dressed in black suits, showed their identification to the Godfather before them. "CBI, Special Investigation Bureau. We received a report that someone in the village has gone missing?"
"Ah, yes. Benson and Darcy. They were missing for several days, but they've returned now," the Godfather said.
"They returned?" David eyed him suspiciously.
"Yes, yes. They merely swam a little too far out and were washed by the waves onto a beach to the south. It took them two days to get back. They weren't truly missing."
"But the report we received mentioned that a human foot wearing a shoe was found on the beach. They suspected murder."
"Elma made that report. She's a madwoman who always imagines some evil force or another. We all know that's pure fantasy. In a land ruled by God, evil forces have no place to hide."
"Where are Benson and Darcy now?" David asked. "We'd like to ask them about what happened."
"I'm sorry, but they were frightened earlier and may not be willing to see anyone."
"Oh. All right, Godfather." David shrugged. "In that case, we'll be leaving. It doesn't seem like anything remarkable happened here."
"Is that so? Very well, then. Take care."
David took two steps, then seemed to recall something and pulled out an object resembling a Polaroid camera. "Almost forgot. We need to leave some evidence that we came here—you know, official procedure. You don't mind if we take a picture of you, do you, Godfather?"
"Ah? Oh, certainly."
David aimed the camera at the Godfather and pressed the shutter. Before long, a Polaroid photo printed from the camera. David pulled it out, glanced at it,