We waited until the early morning to make our visit to the Maison des Lunes. We knew we had to get to D'Arque before he went out to his hat-shop. There was no way we could get him to join us if he became influenced by the rest of the town. Living so far off from the city limits, D'Arque was the one person who we figured had not been affected by the town's malaise regarding Gaston.
On the way, we attempted to draw other townspeople into our plan, but they acted as if Gaston had never existed, or if he at least had never died.
"Gaston?" the baker replied, "What's there to say?"
"Gaston can take care of himself," the bookseller informed us. Frustrated that he apparently hadn't heard the news, Chanal opened her mouth to explain, but Dominique put a hand on her shoulder.
"Gaston needs us," Dominique said quietly.
"I don't believe Gaston needs anyone," the bookseller said flippantly.
Anne shook her head and motioned for us to move out of the bookshop. As we walked out, she mumbled, "He's one of Belle's, anyway."
Other people just refused to talk to us when they saw us.
"So I guess it'll just be us," said Chanal, "I guess Gaston isn't everyone's favorite guy anymore."
"Well," I said angrily, "He's still ours!"
"Let's go see D'Arque," said Dominique resolutely. We took the long walk up to D'Arque's house. For about half of the march, we were silent.
Then, suddenly, Dominique leaned back her head and sang, "Who plays darts like Gaston?"
"Who breaks hearts like Gaston?" chimed in Anne.
"Who's much more than the sum of his parts…" I sang.
"Why, Gaston!" we all exclaimed, laughing.
"Oh, he was amazing," said Chanal, "If only he were still here!"
Sighing, we continued to walk in silence until we got to D'Arque's. I reluctantly pounded my fist on his door. There did not seem to be any maniacal laughter coming from there at this time, a fact for which I was incredibly grateful. The door opened, and the eye-patch wearing man did not look very pleased to see me at all.
"What do you want?" he snapped. I made a sound that resemble a cross between a squeak and a yowl and jumped out of his way. "Well, come on, get on with it."
"We want you… you to… help us…av-av…"
"Avenge," supplied Dominique.
"Avenge Gaston's murder," I said. D'Arque reached out with his hand and grabbed my collar. He picked me up and held me at his eye-level.
"The next time you come to my asylum, you will not leave." He dropped me and I landed with a SMACK on the ground.
"Monsieur D'Arque," said Dominique, "Have a heart." He rolled his eyes… or his eye, rather. "After all, Belle is still in that castle. As much as I can't stand the girl, what if she's been kidnapped? Wouldn't Gaston want us to save the woman he…" she trailed off before added bitterly, "Loved." When D'Arque's expression remained unchanged, she switched tactics. "Where did you come from, anyway? How did you get here?" I guess Dominique meant this to be gentle coaxing, but D'Arque looked infuriated.
"I don't see where you get the nerve, you imbeciles! The last time I followed you on one of your little adventures, I nearly lost my remaining eye! And you have the gall to stand here and go, 'Monsieur, where did you come from?' Do you even know what you're saying? You're tromping on ground you shouldn't even have the nerve to sight!" Anne burst into tears.
"Tromping? I don't even know what that word means!" she exclaimed. I was about to shrug my shoulders in agreement, but then I thought back. I felt like I was in a trance.
I slowly, flatly recited, "Then goes tromping around wearing boots like Gaston."
The girls exchanged looks and promptly burst into hysterical sobbing. D'Arque looked overwhelmed.
"Okay, okay," he said angrily, "If you're going to sob all day long on my doorstep, I might as well do this thing for you. Now, if we're going to do it, we need to do it right. Whatever happened to that mirror that Gaston had?"
My eyes went wide. Had we buried it with him?
"We can't dig Gaston up," I blubbered, "That would be horrible."
"Uh, LeFou," Dominique said, "I got it when I first found him." She reached into the top section of her dress as D'Arque's and my eyes went wide. She pulled out the mirror and snapped, "What? I like to keep something that belonged to Gaston close to me."
"Apparently," mumbled D'Arque.
"What should we ask it?" asked Chanal as we all gathered around the mirror. My first instinct was to exclaim, "Show me Gaston!", but I was terrified I would be greeted by a picture of worms eating him or him burning in hellfire or something like that. Instead, I cleared my throat.
"Show me Belle!" I commanded. The mirror swirled, and we saw Belle indeed. She was dressed in an extravagant dress…
"A wedding dress!" Anne exclaimed accusingly, "That slut!"
"You girls should look who is talking," D'Arque said.
"Hey!" snapped Chanal, "We're not sluts. We're all devoted to one man. And that's Gaston. Watch your mouth."
"I can't believe this," I sputtered, "How is Belle standing there, getting married the day after Gaston was murdered?"
"There's only one answer to that," said Chanal. "Belle is a murderer."