Tingen City, 2 Daffodil Street.
After leaving behind a note, Klein locked the door and walked quickly to Leonard Mitchell, who was waiting by the roadside.
Leonard's short black hair was a little longer than last month. Due to the lack of care, it looked very messy.
But even so, with his good looks, emerald-like eyes, and poet-like temperament, he still had a unique sense of beauty.
Indeed, any hairstyle depends on the face … Klein subconsciously lampooned and pointed in the direction of Iron Cross Street.
"Frye is waiting for us there?"
"Yes." Leonard adjusted his shirt that wasn't tucked in and asked casually, "Did you find any clues from the information?"
Klein held his cane in his left hand and walked along the edge of the street.
"No, I couldn't find any pattern in the manner of death or the time of death. As you know, rituals involving evil gods and devils have to be coordinated with a specific time or method."
Leonard touched the custom-made revolver hidden by his waist and under his shirt. He chuckled and said, "That's not absolute.
In my experience, some evil gods or devils are very easily satisfied as long as' They 'have a strong interest in what happens next. "
"And there must be a considerable number of ordinary deaths. We have to eliminate them to get the correct answer."
Klein glanced at him.
"That's why the Captain asked us to do a new investigation and eliminate the ordinary deaths."
"Leonard, your tone and description tells me that you have plenty of experience in such matters, but you've only been a Nighthawk for less than four years. On average, you don't encounter more than two Beyonder cases a month. Furthermore, most of them are simple and easy to resolve."
He always felt that his teammate, Leonard Mitchell, was odd and mysterious. Not only did he always suspect him and think that he was special, but he was also sometimes paranoid, sometimes arrogant, sometimes frivolous, and sometimes deep.
Did he have a fortuitous encounter as well? Did he also have a fortuitous encounter that made him feel like the protagonist of a drama? Klein combined his rich "knowledge" from movies, novels, and television dramas to make a rough guess.
Upon hearing his question, Leonard smiled.
"That's because you haven't officially entered the state of a Nighthawk. You're still in the training stage."
"Every half a year, the Holy Cathedral will compile the supernatural cases encountered by each parish and church into a book. Based on the different levels of confidentiality, the book will be edited in different versions and distributed to all members."
"Outside of the mysticism studies course, you can request permission from the captain to enter Chanis Gate and borrow the previous case books."
Klein nodded in enlightenment.
"Captain never reminded me about this."
He had yet to have a chance to enter Chanis Gate.
Leonard chuckled.
"I thought you were used to Captain's style. I didn't expect you to be so naive as to expect him to remind you."
At this point, he added meaningfully, "If one day, Captain remembers everything and forgets nothing, then we need to be more vigilant."
Does this mean I'm out of control? Klein nodded with a solemn expression and turned to ask,
"Is this Captain's unique style? I thought it was a problem that came with the Sleepless Sequence … "
Memory loss caused by staying up late …
"To be precise, it's the unique style of a Nightmare. Reality and dreams are intertwined, often making it difficult to distinguish what's real and what's fake. There's no need to keep it in your mind …" Leonard wanted to say something else, but the two of them had already stepped into Iron Cross Street and saw Corpse Collector Frye waiting at the tracked public carriage stop.
Frye was wearing a black round-brimmed felt hat and a thin trench coat of the same color. He held a leather suitcase in his hand, and his skin was so pale that it made one suspect that he would collapse from a sudden illness at any moment. His cold and gloomy aura made the people waiting around him stay away from him.
After nodding at each other, the three of them didn't say a word. They gathered in silence and walked past Slyn Bakery together, turning into Iron Cross Street's Lower Street.
The hustle and bustle immediately inundated them. The street vendors selling oyster soup, pan-fried fish, ginger beer, and fruits were shouting at the top of their lungs, causing the pedestrians to slow down involuntarily.
It was already past five o 'clock. Many people had returned to Iron Cross Street, and the two sides of the street began to congeal. A number of children were mixed in with the crowd, watching everything coldly as they stared at all the pockets.
Klein often came here to buy cheap cooked food. He had even lived in a nearby apartment in the past, so he knew the situation here rather well.
Hence, he warned, "Be careful of thieves."
Leonard smiled and said, "Don't mind them."
He pulled up his shirt and adjusted his gun holster, revealing the revolver at his waist.
Suddenly, the gazes that were focused on him shifted away. The surrounding pedestrians also subconsciously made way for him.
"…" Klein was taken aback as he quickly caught up to Leonard and Frye. He lowered his head to prevent anyone he knew from noticing him.
Baansen and Melissa still maintained contact with some of their former neighbors. After all, they hadn't moved far enough.
After passing through the area filled with street vendors, the three of them entered the true Lower Street of Iron Cross Street.
The passersby here were all wearing old and tattered clothes. They were vigilant and greedy for the appearance of unfamiliar yet glamorous people. They were like vultures eyeing carrion, ready to attack at any time. However, Leonard's revolver effectively prevented any accidents from happening.
"Let's start the investigation from last night's death, starting with Mrs. Lauvis who made the matchbox." Leonard flipped through the information and pointed to a place not far away. "Unit 134, first floor …"
As the three of them moved forward, children in tattered clothes who were playing quickly hid by the side of the road. They stared at them with blank, curious, and fearful gazes.
"Look at their arms and legs. They're just like matchsticks." Leonard sighed and took the lead to enter Unit 134, which had three floors.
A mixture of smells immediately entered Klein's nostrils. He could vaguely distinguish the stench of urine, the stench of sweat, the smell of dampness, and the smell of burning coal and wood.
He couldn't help but raise his hand to cover his nose. Klein saw Biggie Mountbatten waiting here.
The sheriff in charge of the surrounding streets had a brownish-yellow beard and was full of flattery towards Leonard, who had revealed his inspector's identity.
"Sir, I've already asked Lauvis to wait in the room." Biggie Mountbatten laughed in a slightly shrill and unique voice.
He obviously didn't recognize the much more spirited and dignified Klein. He only cared about pleasing the three officers and led them into Lauvis's house on the first floor.
It was a single-room house with a two-story bunk bed on the innermost side. On the right was a table with paste, cardboard, and other items on it. In the corner was a basket filled with matchboxes. On the left was a tattered cupboard that stored clothes and cutlery.
On both sides of the door were a stove, a toilet bowl, a small amount of coal, wood, and other items. In the middle were two dirty mats on the floor. A man was sleeping soundly wrapped in a quilt that had holes in it. It was almost impossible to set foot on it.
On the lower bunk bed, a woman lay there. Her skin was cold and gloomy. It was obvious that she had lost all life.
Next to the corpse sat a man in his thirties with greasy and messy hair. He looked dispirited and his eyes had lost all of their spirit.
"Lauvis, these three officers are here to examine the body and ask you some questions." Biggie Mountbatten shouted loudly, not caring that there was still someone sleeping on the floor.
The dispirited man lifted his head weakly and asked in surprise,
"Didn't we examine and question this morning?"
He wore a grayish-blue worker's uniform that had many traces of sewing.
"Just answer when I tell you to. Why do you have so many questions?" Biggie Mountbatten reprimanded him harshly. Then he smiled at Leonard, Klein, and Frye. "Sir, that's Lauvis. The one on the bed is his wife, the deceased. According to our preliminary examination, she died of a sudden illness."
Klein and the others tiptoed to the side of the bed through the gap between the mats.
Frye, who had a high nose, thin lips, and a cold temperament, did not say anything. He only patted Lauvis gently, indicating for him to move so that he could examine the body.
Klein glanced at the man sleeping on the floor and asked doubtfully,
"Who is this?"
"I-I'm a tenant." Lawrence scratched his head and said, "This room costs three soli and ten pence a week. I'm just a dock worker. My wife only earns two and a quarter pence for a stack of matchboxes. A stack of, a stack, more than 130 matchboxes. We, we have children, so I have no choice but to rent the spare space to others. A bed on the floor only costs one soli a week …"
"I have a tenant who helps with the set up in the theater. He doesn't rest before ten at night, so I sold the rights to use the floor bed during the day to this, this gentleman. He's the person who guards the theater's entrance at night. Yes, he only needs to pay six pence a week …"
Listening to the man's long-winded introduction, Klein could not help but glance at the basket at the corner of his eye.
One basket of more than 130 boxes only earns 2.25 pence. That's about the price of two pounds of rye bread … How many baskets can one make in a day? (Note 1)
Leonard looked around and asked, "What do you think?
"Were there any abnormalities in the period before your wife's death?"
Lauvis, who had already answered similar questions, pointed to his left chest and said, "Since last week, yes, maybe the week before last, she often said that it was stuffy here and that she couldn't breathe."
Signs of heart disease? A normal death? Klein interrupted and asked,
"Did you see the process of her death?"
Lauvis recalled and said, "After the Sun set, she stopped working.
"After the sun went down, she stopped working. Candles and kerosene were much more expensive than matchboxes … She said she was very tired and asked me to talk to the two children. She wanted to rest for a while. When I went to see her again, she had already … already stopped breathing."
At this point, Lauvis could no longer conceal his sorrow and pain.
Klein and Leonard asked a few more questions, but they were unable to discover any abnormalities.
After exchanging glances, Leonard said, "Mr. Lauvis, please wait outside for a few minutes.
"Mr. Laurence, please wait outside for a few minutes. We're going to do an in-depth examination of the body. I don't think you'd want to see what happens next."
"O-okay." Lauvis stood up hurriedly.
Biggie Mountbatten walked to the side and kicked the tenant who was sleeping on the floor awake. He chased him out roughly and tactfully closed the door and stood guard outside.
"How is it?" Leonard looked at Frye.
"She died of heart disease," Frye said with certainty as he retracted his hands.
Klein thought for a moment and took out a halfpenny coin, intending to make a quick judgment.
"'Mrs. Lauvis's heart disease was influenced by supernatural factors'? No, this is too narrow, the answer is misleading … Hmm, 'Mrs. Lauvis's death was influenced by supernatural factors' … That's it! "He muttered silently as if he was thinking, and quickly confirmed the divination statement.
While reciting, Klein came to the side of Mrs. Lauvis's body. His eyes darkened and he flicked the coin up.
The brass coin tumbled down and stopped steadily in his palm.
This time, the king's head was facing up.
This meant that Mrs. Lauvis's death was influenced by supernatural factors!
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