Chapter 97 Belia's Attack
Chapter 97 Belia's Attack
261
A cheap coffee shop in the East District.
Klein successfully sold his bicycle shares for 500 pounds. When he arrived at the agreed meeting point with Old Kohler, Old Kohler was already waiting there.
The middle-aged man had a pair of gloves made of scraps of cloth on his hands. The stitching was fine and they looked like a set with the scarf. You could tell at a glance who made them.
He couldn't help but smile, took off his scarf and hat, sat down opposite him, took out a stack of 1-sol notes and handed them to him: "Next week's activity funds plus the reward for this piece of information, a total of 1 pound."
Old Kohler's face was obviously much rosier than before. He took the cash a little embarrassedly and said, "The information I gave you last time didn't seem to be very important..."
"No, the difference between important and unimportant is in the eyes of different people. Many things that you think are insignificant may be the source of money for others." Klein explained with a smile, "What happened this week?"
Old Kohler took the stack of bills and stuffed them into his pocket while thinking, "Just like before, many people are still looking for followers of The Fool. Haha, how can anyone believe in The Fool? This is not a good name."
…Klein’s mouth twitched slightly and asked, “Have they made any progress?”
The Aurora Society is truly persistent... Klein thought helplessly.
"No, there is no such person." Old Kohler shook his head and said, "Someone has been organizing a strike recently. They have contacted me several times, saying that they want to fight for more reasonable working hours and wages."
"Although Miss Maria successfully expanded the factory and hired at least a hundred more people, the number of protesters and unemployed people is still increasing. Oh, I really don't know what to do."
This is a very normal thing in this era, but it could lead to serious consequences... Klein said thoughtfully, "Pay attention to who is organizing this, but don't be too hasty. Safety comes first."
"Okay." Old Kohler cleared his throat.
After Old Kohler finished telling his other stories, Klein followed the Nighthawk's tutorial and briefly taught him some tricks for making conversation, as well as emergency response plans for certain scenarios.
"I have to go to the dock. Thank you, Detective Moriarty, for giving me a wonderful life again!" Old Kohler picked up the worn-out bonnet on the table and thanked her sincerely. "Taylor finally made up her mind to buy discounted fabric to make herself a new dress. Haha, I haven't seen her so happy in a long time. Thank you, Mr. Detective, thank you so much!"
In his opinion, Mr. Detective not only provided him with a well-paid job, but also taught him many useful things. Even if the other party no longer needed informants in the future, these skills would be enough for him to survive in the East District, especially as he got older and could no longer do heavy work.
A good life? In my opinion, what you have now is the most basic life for a person... After watching Old Kohler walk out of the cheap cafe, Klein sat there in a daze.
Exhaling slowly, Klein picked up his scarf and hat and walked out of the cheap cafe.
262
Outside a somewhat old house in the Hillston area.
Klein got off the carriage, clicked his hat, and headed straight for the gate. This was the home of Isengard Stanton.
The great detective wrote to Crane a few days ago, inviting him to come over to discuss a murder case.
Klein was busy with the financing of the bicycle project, so he politely replied that he was busy recently, expressing his refusal. However, Eisinger Stanton did not care, saying that the case had reached a dead end and there would be no breakthrough in the short term. He was very happy to wait for the visit of Detective Sherlock Moriarty and was looking forward to an exchange that would spark sparks of wisdom.
Klein had no choice but to divine a suitable date to visit the other party. He chose the one closest to the negotiation, which was this afternoon, and wrote back to finalize the matter with the other party.
Jingle, jingle.
Klein rang the doorbell twice. After more than ten seconds, the door creaked open and Detective Isengard's assistant smiled and said, "Good afternoon, Detective Moriarty. Mr. Stanton is waiting for you in the living room. Would you like coffee or tea?"
Klein looked up at him and said, "Black tea, with a little lemon slice."
“No problem.” The assistant led Klein into the living room and pointed to the doorway. “Sorry, our servants are temporary. They happen to be on break today. I’ll have to trouble you to go there by yourself.”
Klein nodded slightly and walked outside the living room on the first floor.
As he raised his hand to knock on the door, he suddenly felt something was wrong: I had planned to visit Mr. Stanton a few days in advance, so how come all the temporary servants happened to be on break?
Klein narrowed his eyes and reached out to take out a copper penny.
At this moment, the door to the living room opened, leaving a small gap. In an instant, it seemed as if some seal was lifted, and a strong smell of blood came out and entered Klein's nose.
Within his sight, the armchair in the living room was overturned on the floor, stained with a lot of dark red blood, and a book fell beside it with the cover facing up.
With just a glance, Klein seemed to see the scene of a murder. The name of the book then appeared in his pupils: "Demon Legends in the Sivelas Region".
Demon... Klein was about to make a move when a strong wind suddenly blew in the living room, pulling the door back quickly.
Bang!
Klein saw the entire interior of the living room clearly: the charcoal in the fireplace had long been burned out, and there was no longer any red color; the coffee table, sofa, chairs, cabinets and other items were toppled over and broken into pieces, as if they had witnessed a fierce battle; there were a lot of bloodstains on the carpet and walls, along with a lot of scorch marks, but there was no body at the scene, not even any body parts.
Is something wrong with Detective Stanton? Klein took a step back, intending to get out of here first. But almost at the same time, he felt someone locking onto him.
There was a person hiding somewhere who was staring at him coldly and mercilessly!
If he makes a mistake in his response, he will immediately face a fatal attack!
What kind of visit is this to Isengard Stanton? Is there something wrong with my interpretation of the revelation? Crane did not dare to act rashly.
But he was not too nervous or panicked. Having experienced many battles and "performances", he knew that the most important thing at this time was to remain calm.
Ta-da-da! Isengard Stanton's assistant came over with a tray on which was a tin teapot and two white enamel cups.
The assistant was stunned when he saw the scene in the living room. He looked at Klein, his expression suddenly filled with fear, and he said word by word: "You, killed, Stanton, sir..."
Every time he uttered a word, a piece of flesh on his face fell off, and blood dripped. When he finished speaking, he was torn into pieces, as if he had always been like this, and had just been sewn together.
Dang! Crack! The tin pot and the white-glazed porcelain cup fell to the ground at the same time, rolling or splashing, and the black tea quickly soaked the surrounding area.
Klein didn't move. He just watched everything happen because he felt that he was still being watched.
The guy who created all this seemed to be waiting for him to make a move, then he would pounce on him from behind and bite his neck. After an unknown amount of time, in the silent and strange stalemate, Klein saw the door of Isengard Stanton's house opened, and a group of policemen in black and white checkered uniforms rushed in.
They found the disgusting and horrifying body parts on the ground and immediately pulled out their revolvers, pointing them at Klein who was standing at the door of the living room.
Facing the black muzzles of guns, Klein relaxed.
That wordless gaze, as if pointing a gun to the back of his head, disappeared in that instant!
Klein raised his hands and smiled helplessly, "I won't say anything until I see my lawyer."
263
Knock knock knock, lawyer Jurgen knocked on the door of a detached villa with a garden in Cherwood district.
He heard the sound of a bird's wings somewhere in the garden, but when he looked, he saw nothing. Lawyer Jurgen stepped back and stood on the next step, waiting for the door to open.
After five or six seconds, the old redwood door opened a crack, and a smiling, friendly-looking young man wearing a monocle poked his head out from behind the door. "Hello."
"I don't have any scheduled visitors today. What can I do for you?"
Jurgen guessed that the young man was an assistant or something like that, so he answered very seriously: "I am here to visit Mr. Edward Vaughan on behalf of Sherlock Moriarty. We have worked together before."
"I see. Please wait a moment." The young man was still smiling and very friendly, but Jurgen still had a stern face. The door closed halfway, and after half a minute, it opened again. Standing at the door was the owner of the house, Mr. Edward Vaughan, a middle-aged gentleman with black eyes and brown hair, whom he had met several times.
Jurgen glanced at his pocket watch. Time was urgent and Sherlock was still waiting for him at the police station. He skipped the greetings and the invitation to come in, and spoke directly to the other party's questioning eyes: "Long time no see, Mr. Vaughan. Please forgive my sudden visit. Detective Sherlock Moriarty asked me to come to you. He was accidentally involved in a murder case. I was about to bail him out, but he asked me to help bring you along. He needs your help."
"Sherlock... is involved in a... murder case?" The elderly and well-dressed gentleman frowned deeply, and seemed to have difficulty connecting the two words together. Jurgen was not surprised. Almost all private detectives were charged with crimes such as illegal possession of firearms and illegal breaking and entering. It was precisely because of the special nature of his work that Sherlock established a long-term cooperation with him.
"Was he murdered by someone?" the gentleman asked seriously.
"I'm not sure." Jurgen answered truthfully.
Although this time it is indeed a bit serious, Sherlock should be just an unlucky detective who happened to pass by.
"...Okay, I understand. I'll pack up and go with you. You know me. Sorry, I just remembered now that you seem to be a member of the law firm that cooperates with our editorial department. Forgive me for my old age and poor memory. I can't remember your name."
"Jurgen Cooper. Just call me Jurgen."
"Okay, Mr. Jurgen, please wait for me for a moment."
Edward turned back into the house, gave the young man a few instructions, then took off his light-colored cashmere scarf from the hanger near the door, put on his double-breasted thick tweed coat, picked up his cane, put on his top hat, and followed Jurgen to the cab on the street.
It just so happened that it was neither time to get off work nor time for dinner, and there were only two of them in the rental carriage.
Edward asked quietly, "Did Sherlock tell me to do anything?"
Jurgen frowned. "I'm sorry, he was taken away by the police. He is now the main suspect and cannot come to me directly. The police brought him a message. I thought you would know something."
"It seems that we are the people he thinks of in times of crisis." Mr. Edward couldn't help but smile. He slowly straightened his back, sat upright without leaning on the cushion behind the chair, and put his hands on the top of the cane, revealing a rather majestic and less nervous temperament. "I believe Sherlock just happened to be involved. He is not the kind of person who would do such evil things."
"Yes, I believe him, too," Jurgen answered seriously.
Half an hour later, they arrived at the Hisak Bureau of the Backlund Police Department where Klein was temporarily detained.
As the biggest suspect at the moment, Klein, who was handcuffed to a water pipe and watched by three or five police inspectors, saw Lawyer Jurgen and Edward coming together.
Jurgen was already familiar with the procedure and was not surprised by what happened to Sherlock.
Klein sighed and said, "This is such a tragedy. I should be thinking about what to eat at night instead of chatting with a stern-faced police officer."
The thing he was most thankful for today was that, due to the Aurora Society's pursuit, he did not carry any extraordinary items with him, and the only revolver he had was easily hidden from the body search with a "magic" performance.
"How about some cake? Let the sweet taste soothe your soul." Edward, who was standing nearby observing the internal structure of the police station, smiled when he heard this. The lawyer and the bondsman came, and the inspectors temporarily uncuffed Klein, but they still stared at him closely with concern.
Klein knew that he couldn't clear himself of suspicion and fully understood this kind of "close protection". He could only smile bitterly at Edward and said, "I'll consider it, if the cake shop is still open after this matter is resolved."
After Klein entered the interrogation room, Edward found an empty seat in the waiting area and sat down. During this free time, he wanted to think about why Klein was looking for him.
Accidentally involved in a murder case...murder case...In a big city like Backlund, there are countless criminal cases every day. It is normal for Klein to run into one of them if he is unlucky. It may not have anything to do with extraordinary abilities. Maria in the East District was still reporting to him the recent situation there the day before yesterday. It is still the best breeding ground for sin and pain. The Aurora Society? The Aurora Society has not taken any action against him recently. Mr. A is still working hard to cast a wide net to catch fools. After cooperating with the Pilgrimage Sect, the Aurora Society's missionary momentum has been steadily improving. Every day, many desperate people want to join, which has increased the burden on the Aurora Society invisibly.
Fortunately, they are still one of the most powerful organizations in the dark corners of the Extraordinary World. They are involved in both black and white, control multiple illegal industries, and can feed hundreds or thousands of additional mouths.
Therefore, they probably wouldn't spend too much energy on the task of "finding an evil god", and it would be impossible for them to find any clues about Klein.
Because he never told the real creator this information.
Klein was detained directly, and he was not the discoverer or the first witness, which means that there is no second suspect except him at present.
What does it have to do with me...
If I must find an extraordinary characteristic in myself, it is the devil. ... So, could it be Belia? The Belia family kid with the dog has finally revealed his true colors?
His pet did not advance in the Belia family's livestock farm, but came all the way to Backlund. He had big plans. It seemed that after being silent for nearly two months, he could not help but take action to fulfill his real purpose.
Could it be that Klein just happened to run into his murder scene? This is really... incredible luck.
TBC
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The Beria incident officially began.
The graduation trip is over: I had a lot of fun, ate delicious food, and walked very tired. Now I am sitting at the station typing, and I will update twice a day tomorrow.
(End of this chapter)