Selina looked over, but didn't see anyone.
Luke pointed. "Both of their cars are over there. What a coincidence."
That being said, they didn't think too much of it.
More than a hundred companies were stationed in this fifty-story building.
Some people might have worked in this building for years, but they might not even have met each other.
The two teams were working in the same building, and they might even be dozens of floors apart.
When the elevator reached the 32nd floor, the two of them found a hall with a sign at the door that read: Despair — Monroe Peterson Art Exhibition.
Luke nodded. "This should be the place."
The two of them walked into the exhibition hall and saw that there were only a few people in the audience. There was also a series of quarrels that were trying hard to be suppressed, but were raised again and again.
Bypassing the display wall at the entrance, they entered the hall and saw two couples arguing in a corner next to a floor-to-ceiling window.
Fine, that was a little ambiguous.
In fact, a young girl and a middle-aged couple were arguing. Behind the girl was a middle-aged man with long hair and untidy clothes. He simply raised his head and looked out the window without saying a word, as if he didn't care about the argument taking place next to him.
Luke and Selina looked at each other, then helplessly took out their badges and walked over.
Luke was the first to speak. "Excuse me, who called the police?"
The woman of the middle-aged couple immediately turned around. "What the hell are you doing at the police department? You only just sent someone over … "
At that moment, she finally saw Luke's face clearly, and her complaints that were about to pour out were suddenly cut short.
Luke had a faint smile on his face.
It was actually a typical expression when he was working.
His smile wasn't too friendly, but it wasn't distant either. It was polite and gentle, but not overly solicitous.
His smile was like warm water that wasn't scalding at all. It made the middle-aged woman's raging anger abruptly subside.
The middle-aged man next to her had better control over his emotions. He said, "My wife called the police."
Luke nodded and asked, "Was it Mrs. Aurora Soderberg?"
The middle-aged man was slightly surprised, but he still nodded. "Yes."
Luke confirmed the identity of the informant according to procedure, before he asked again, "May I ask who the swindler was when you reported the case?"
O'Laura, the middle-aged woman, finally woke up from her stupor. She raised her hand and pointed at the opposite side almost without any hesitation, "It's this man. Catch him."
What a rich man! Amused, Luke said, "Mrs. Soderberg, unless this gentleman is a wanted criminal, we have no right to arrest him before a judge issues an arrest warrant."
O'Laura choked again and immediately changed her words, "He hit me. Arrest him now and wait for the police station to interrogate him."
As soon as she said this, the girl opposite her immediately cried out, "Mom, what are you doing?"
The middle-aged man next to O 'Laura also smiled bitterly. He pulled his wife's arm and dragged her behind him. "I'm sorry. My wife is a bit agitated. Please don't mind her."
Luke was still smiling. "May I ask who you are?"
"Jeffrey Soderberg." As the middle-aged man spoke, he pointed at the girl in front of him. "This is my daughter, Lindsay Soderberg."
He turned his finger slightly and pointed at the middle-aged man behind the girl. "This is Monroe Peterson. He's' said 'to be an artist."
He emphasized the second half of his sentence, and there was obvious mockery in his expression.
Luke praised him inwardly. At least this man wasn't that stupid.
Rich people naturally had the upper hand when it came to the police.
But that was just a conclusion based on the overall probability.
In actual cases, it wasn't unusual for a rich second-generation heir who drove a sports car worth millions to be stopped and given a ticket by a minor police officer.
The proportion of the police who disliked arrogant rich people wasn't any lower than that of the general public.
There were even some police officers who would issue a maximum fine.
This was the simple mindset of "Aren't you rich? Then I'll just make more contributions to society. "This was the simple mindset of the people.
Now, Luke's behavior after entering the door had clearly "hinted" to Jeffrey that he wasn't here to be a rich man's thug — at least not on this occasion.
That was what Jeffrey was thinking.
In fact, even with Jeffrey's logic, he, who was poorer than Luke, wasn't qualified to be Luke's "thug."
Restraining his furious wife, Jeffrey said, "We suspect that Mr. Monroe Peterson used improper means to gain our daughter's trust and make her pay a huge sum for the venue rental. So, we want to go back to the police department with him to investigate."
He was very straightforward with his words.
He wasn't as straightforward and bossy as Aurora, but the so-called "go back to the police department together."
At the police department, they would be able to make use of the millions they donated every year, and wouldn't have to go through this tough little detective in front of him.
Rather than communicating with two low-level detectives here, Jeffrey wanted to make a tacit deal with the upper echelons of the police department.
Compared with his wife Aurora, Jeffrey was even more furious at the man who had deceived his daughter.
As long as he found evidence, he wouldn't hesitate to send him to prison.
What bullsh * t painter, what bullsh * t abstract expressionism? If he had the ability, he could just go plant sunflowers in prison.
Luke didn't stop him.
If the other party insisted, he would indeed have to do it.
If he didn't do it, another patrol officer would do it.
Rich people would always find police officers who were willing to be thugs.
He looked at the man behind the girl. "Mr. Monroe Peterson, what do you think of what Mr. Soderberg said?"
Monroe finally turned his head, looked at him, and suddenly laughed.
The smile seemed a little empty, as if he was laughing at the air. "No."
Luke shook his head inwardly.
Through Mental Communication, he had already discovered that the painter wasn't in a normal state of mind.
It was too much to call him a lunatic, but he was also different from a normal person who was awake.
It seemed that most of Monroe's thoughts were floating in an unknown world, and only a small part of them were still in reality.
Luke suspected that if he had asked "Did you take your medicine," Monroe would have said "No."
He could only nod. "Then please come back to the police department with us."
Lindsay, who was standing in front of Monroe, panicked. "Wait, he hasn't been in a good state of mind these days. How can he go to the police department? What he needs is rest or to go to the hospital. "
Aurora couldn't help but shout in a low voice, "I think he can go to a mental hospital. I can pay for all the medical expenses and let him be treated there until he recovers."
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