Security officer Hennessy Mareb may be the busiest person in Southshore. The military power available here is quite weak, the equipment is outdated, lacks professional maintenance, and even the hastily organized militia has to use fish spears as weapons when patrolling. How to use this mess to keep the whole town peaceful is Hennessy's job.
This morning, he stood in front of the largest building in town and suddenly felt dizzy, his heels leaning forward, as if he was about to fall over at any moment.
"Security Officer Hennessy, are you okay?" Jorgen said behind him.
"No, it's okay," Hennessy said, "I'll open the door right away."
He was sleep deprived. Recently, those wounded soldiers caused trouble everywhere, and he had to deal with it personally. After all, angering Stormwind's direct military forces was not a good idea.
"But I really don't think there's anything left to see," Hennessy turned the key into the huge golden door lock, "Since Henry was killed, this house has been thoroughly searched three times."
"Thoroughly? No, at most you just looked for the killer's footprints and ransacked money cabinets." "Isn't that enough? Our conclusion is that the killer left no trace and no motive can be seen."
"It's good to have such a conclusion. But I'm looking for something else, Hennessy. Let's go in now."
Although Hennessy did not feel that searching the victim's mansion would help solve the case, the intelligence officer from Military Intelligence Section 7 was not to be neglected.
Now that no one lived in the mansion, in order to avoid breaking into an empty house, all the windows were nailed with wooden bars, and all entrances except the front door were chained up. Due to a week of isolation from the outside air, Hennessy and Jorgen felt stifled as soon as they entered the house; coupled with the lack of sleep, Hennessy retched several times.
"It doesn't look like the interior furnishings of a tycoon in here." Jorgen looked around. Paintings, gold candlesticks, quality furniture, beautiful carpets were all absent - the house looked luxurious outside but empty inside like a warehouse.
"Mr. Henry had some peculiar habits." Hennessy said. "He would only spend money decorating his bedroom. Overall, he was a very frugal man. But he also paid out of his own pocket to repair the town's fishing boats for free once. I never thought he would be murdered. How depressing."
"It sounds like you were quite fond of the victim."
"In fact, it's not just my opinion. Many people in town have benefited from him, so..."
"So you have to arrest David immediately, even without any evidence."
"I know it may not be entirely reasonable to do so. But you see, this is a small town, almost everyone knows each other, and I can't not give these good neighbors an explanation. Maybe you Stormwinders will be more cautious in handling such cases, if possible, I would very much like to..."
Hennessy shut up himself because he found that Jorgen was not interested in his defense at all. He went straight upstairs to Henry's bedroom. Hennessy had to hurry to keep up.
What happened next dissatisfied Hennessy. Jorgen thoroughly searched the house, from the bedroom to the hall and kitchen, as if it were not the estate of a murdered merchant but the lair of a major criminal. Hennessy really couldn't see what value the mattresses, bookshelves and wardrobes had to search, and finally couldn't help but say:
"Did you get something wrong? Mr. Henry was the victim, not the suspect."
"Is there a basement in this house?" Jorgen completely ignored Hennessy's questioning.
"Mr. Henry left no will and no relatives. In theory, everything in this house will become the town's property, but you..."
"Answer my question," Jorgen threw down a chair pad he had lifted, "Is there a basement here?"
"There is..."
"Take me there."
"I can hardly believe..." Hennessy wiped his forehead and suppressed the anger in his heart as much as possible: Okay. He's an intelligence officer, an expert, he's doing all this to solve the case. I should cooperate with him. He swore privately that if this unreasonable move did not provide any useful clues, he would completely refuse to cooperate with Jorgen.
On the way to the basement, Hennessy said, "I know it's presumptuous to ask, but...why are you doing this?Perhaps you found some new clues about the killer?"
"No, I didn't. In fact, I didn't come to look for any clues about the crime. I'm looking for a motive, the reason why Henry was killed. Did you pay close attention to the relationship between David and Henry?"
"They were once as close as brothers, then Henry got rich and David didn't. Then there were conflicts between them... That's all I know. I believe that's what David told you too."
"That's right. But did you notice why Henry suddenly became rich?"
"Almost everyone in Southshore knew that he started a large fabric business..."
"Before coming to Southshore, I spoke with his first supplier. He said, 'It's rare to see a young man so generous.' In fact, that batch of goods was absolutely not something an itinerant merchant could afford. And a year before this deal, he and David were still poor menders patching pants. Do you understand what I mean? You Southshore people all thought he got rich by running a clean fabric business, but I don't think so."
Jorgen did not tell Hennessy all the key information, but judging from the other's expression, he understood that his explanation had worked. The tense and flushed look on Hennessy's face faded a lot, and he said, "I see," then turned to open the door leading to the basement.
It seems he is too easily persuaded, Jorgen thought. But this is good for my work.
The air in the basement was ten times worse. On the table beside the door was an old candlestick, which Jorgen had to light and hold in his hand, otherwise he could not see anything.
"It doesn't seem particularly special." Behind Jorgen, Hennessy said after wandering around for a while. "It's just an ordinary basement for storing tools and old things."
"That's right, nothing special at all. But as far as I know, the basement must have some use, after all, it's not a garbage dump. Look here - fishing nets? Test tubes? Half-carved wooden statues lined up? Tell me, what's the use of these things for a fabric merchant and tycoon? Look at this dust. If it wasn't for his strange hobby of collecting junk, it was to hide something."
"Maybe these were the goods left over from when he was an itinerant merchant..." Hennessy felt that Jorgen's view was too paranoid again, after being somewhat persuaded just now.
"Come help. Move this thing away." Jorgen placed his left hand on a large bookshelf nearly two meters high and three meters wide flush against the wall.
"It's just a bookshelf."
"To my left, you go to the right. Quickly."
Hennessy, who was very dissatisfied with Jorgen's sudden move, understood something the moment he placed his fingers on the side of the bookshelf. He withdrew his fingers to examine them carefully, then touched the bookshelf again and withdrew them to examine them carefully. He then looked up and met Jorgen's gaze. Jorgen nodded slightly, as if to say, "Have you finally caught on?"
Hennessy quickly grasped the bookshelf firmly with his right hand, then squatted down to grasp the bottom with his left hand, and lifted the bookshelf off the wall together with Jorgen.
His fingers did not touch a speck of dust. Except for this bookshelf, the entire basement was covered with thick dust as if no one had set foot in it for a long time. Only the bookshelf had moved recently.
The bookshelf was very heavy. When it was moved, it revealed an entire newly built wall behind it.
"Well," Jorgen clapped his hands, "now let's find something really useful."
Fortunately, there were several stone hammers in the basement (of course, they did not seem to be something a "fabric merchant" would use), so breaking a passable hole in this wall did not take them much time.
Jorgen threw down the hammer and crawled through the hole. Hennessy hurriedly followed with the candlestick. While secretly admiring Jorgen's judgment, he also imagined that he might see some terrible things in the secret room, such as neatly arranged dried corpses...and so on. But that was not the case.
Inside was a rather large room - empty. None of the terrible things he had imagined.
"What's going on?" Hennessy said. "There's nothing here."
"It doesn't matter that there's nothing here now. What matters is what used to be here. As the security officer who inspects thearmory twice a week in Southshore, don't you think there's a familiar smell here?"
The increasing trust in Jorgen made Hennessy close his eyes and take two slow, deep breaths. Then he said, "This... is hard to say. Maybe...metal? Iron?"
"That's right, the smell of iron." Jorgen took the candlestick from Hennessy's hand and began to examine the walls. "There are scratches from blades everywhere. And -" he squatted down in one corner, wiped his fingers on the floor, stained with some dark brown powder, smelled it under his nose, "Gunpowder. I think we're getting close to the answer."
"Private arms dealing?"
"You see, what else could it be? He used the so-called fabric business to cover up these dealings. Now let's go back and have your men turn this basement upside down again. Bring back all the metal fragments and gunpowder residue they can find. We have to figure out what kind of weapons he was selling, where they came from, and who he was selling them to."
As the two men crawled out of the secret room, Hennessy said, "Uh... Mr. Jorgen, it seems I misunderstood your way of doing things a bit before, and was even a little resistant. But I think now..."
Suddenly, a cautious footstep suddenly came from the edge of the basement stairs, interrupting Hennessy's words. He immediately shouted, "Who's there!"
A moment of silence.
"Come out. If you try to hide, it's your fault. If you intend to remain silent until I catch you..."
"I'm sorry," came a hoarse male voice in response, "it's me, Mr. Mareb, it's me. I mean no harm."
"Now walk to where I can see you. This is the last warning."
"Yes, Mr. Mareb..."
The man retreated into the darkness, appearing on the stairs leading down, the light shining down from above revealing his silhouette. It was a terribly scrawny middle-aged man, with cheeks so hollow they looked like spoonfuls had been gouged out of either side of his face.
"You couldn't have forgotten me, have you? I'm Mr. Henry's butler."
"Now I remember. What are you doing here? Do you still have keys? Didn't I say that no one can enter this house without my permission?"
"I just wanted to take a look. I really miss this house. I'll give you the keys right away and never come back..."
The butler took out a whole bunch of keys from his front pocket and threw them in front of Hennessy, then said, "Here are all the keys. Sorry to disturb you, gentlemen. I'll leave right away."
Hennessy picked up the keys and said to Jorgen, "He really was Henry's butler. We questioned him once and found nothing suspicious."
"I'll leave now, gentlemen." The butler turned to leave.
"Wait." Jorgen said. "Stand there, don't move."
"What's wrong...? I didn't do anything..." The butler's figure stiffened on the steps.
"I've been standing in the dark and not saying anything. You only heard Hennessy's voice. Yet you said 'gentlemen' several times. Stand still, don't move, if you don't want the dagger in my hand now to pierce your spine." He turned to Hennessy. "It seems you can no longer say he has nothing suspicious now."