Aunt Mary's "salary" relied on the family's "performance". The remaining profit after deducting expenses would be given to the family members as an allowance.
Aunt Winnie was in charge of the accounting.
This was why no one in the family dared to speak ill of Grandpa. Even though he was very strict, he was not a stingy and greedy old man.
Karen went back to the second floor to help Mina wipe the furniture.
When they were almost finished, they heard Ron and Paul coming up from the basement. They had already cleaned up the body, and now Aunt Mary had to deal with it.
Since the family might come in the afternoon to arrange for the memorial service, it was necessary to make the old man look more decent beforehand.
However, it seemed that there was a visitor in the house, and Karen heard Aunt Mary calling him downstairs,
"Karen, come down and entertain Mr. Hoven."
Karen put down the rag and first researched "Mr. Hoven" in his mind.
He was an old man, a retired philosophy professor from a university, with a decent pension and a respectable life. He was one of the good friends of Grandpa. He often came to chat and drink tea with Grandpa.
Moreover, he was also very interested in divination and once gave Karen a set of exquisite playing cards, not tarot cards... the kind that could be used for playing poker.
Karen went to the kitchen on the second floor to make a cup of tea and then prepared some simple snacks. He carried the tray to the living room on the first floor.
Mr. Hoven was tall and very thin.
Thin people often have more prominent facial features, and their emotional expressions tend to be more intuitive.
When Karen saw him,
Mr. Hoven's gaze was locked directly onto him.
Even the big golden retriever lying beside Mr. Hoven seemed to sense his owner's mood fluctuations and slowly stood up. However, he seemed a little confused, not knowing where the problem was.
Not until it saw Poll crawling by the staircase did it instinctively find its focus and wanted to go over.
But just a glance from Poll was enough to make the big golden retriever wilt and lie back down.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hoven. My grandpa is out. I think he should be back soon. My uncle has already gone to find him."
Karen put down the tea and made some small talk.
Who would have known,
just at that moment,
Mr. Hoven suddenly reached out and grabbed Karen's wrist, his face instantly closing in, and his breathing becoming extremely rapid.
He asked with a suppressed yet uncontrollable excitement,
"You are not Karen... Who... are you?"
In an instant, a sense of crisis swept over Karen's mind as the other party tore apart his identity in a single glance. This left Karen, who had mentally prepared himself for half a month, somewhat at a loss.
Karen instinctively took two steps back, intending to put some distance between him and Mr. Hoven.
Unfortunately, Mr. Hoven, who was still holding onto Karen's wrist, lost his balance, causing him to stagger. In a vain attempt to steady himself on the table, he only managed to catch air, and his body fell forward, his forehead striking the edge of the table.
"Bang!"
A muffled sound echoed.
In rapid sequence,
Mr. Hoven fell backward, hitting the back of his head heavily and without resistance onto the ceramic tile floor.
"Snap!"
Karen stared incredulously at the scene before him.
This old man, who had just exposed his "identity problem", was now exhaling more than inhaling.
And,
a large pool of blood had begun to seep from the tile beneath his head.
At this point, Mina, who was still busy on the second floor, seemed to have heard the noise and shouted from the stairway,
"Karen, what happened downstairs?"
Karen licked his lips.
He slowly straightened up
and replied
"Mr. Hoven has had a stroke and fallen."