"Boss, we found the bullet, do you want to take a look?"
A sturdy African American police officer walked out holding a transparent evidence bag. George took the bag from his hand and walked towards the room where the crime occurred.
As he crossed the police line, George gave the agent next to him a wink. The trainee cop was quick on the uptake, bringing along an extra pair of gloves and shoe covers. Consequently, Jameson followed George into the crime scene.
The primary crime scene was inside Huji's bedroom, where now only red threads remained, marking the course of the blood splatter. There were no bodies there, hence no shocking sights.
"The scene of the first crime has been confirmed. The victim was shot dead by a handgun. The bullet hit his temple, killing him instantly. Therefore, there are no signs of struggle," a female officer stepped forward and reported.
"Was the victim killed in his sleep?"
"No," The female officer shook her head. "He was sitting here, probably working late. The murderer appeared behind him. The moment he turned his head, a bullet precisely hit the side of his brain."
George looked down at the bullet in the transparent evidence bag. He frowned slightly. A flash of doubt crossed his eyes. Looking at the bullet, he whispered, "Magnum? Signs of wear... Did the murderer use a revolver?"
Jameson lowered his voice next to him and commented, "I've never seen Spider-Man use a gun. Is he a vintage firearms enthusiast, too?"
"I believe the likelihood of Spider-Man being involved has dropped to a minimum," George whispered back. "Unless he's been undertaking rigorous firearms training and has professional intrusion skills during whatever time he's not swinging around, there's no way to explain how he could suddenly appear behind Huji, aim his gun, fire, and blow his brains out all in one breath. There would be more signs of struggle if he hesitated."
George crossed back through the red threads in the middle of the room, stepped to where Huji fell, inspected the blood traces there, and then went to the window sill to check the dust. As expected, he found nothing.
"The culprit was an experienced murderer; cautious, composed, ruthless." George sized up the window, "Just like the ones I've seen before, maybe even more confident than they were since he used a revolver that only contained a few bullets."
"You guys go back to the station first." George waved at the other officers, telling them to leave. He took Jameson outside the room, and added, "Our first step is to determine whether Huji was killed because of his views expressed in his reports. The method of confirmation will be to investigate whether those who share his views have recently been threatened."
"If this is, as you claim, a retaliatory action by Spider-Man, then he wouldn't just target Huji. Everyone who played key roles in tarnishing his name can't escape, including you, Mr. Jameson."
Jameson immediately felt nervous. He tightened his lips and said, "I only report the truth. Had he not done those things, would I have had to make them up?"
"Indeed, but as you said, a revengeful person wouldn't consider that much. Even if you were indeed the sole truth in the smear reports, he would just think you were all in the same boat."
Jameson's face turned red with anger. He was no longer afraid and snapped, "I thought he would have some discernment! When the first-generation Spider-Man died, I wrote his obituary and genuinely felt sorry for him, and I felt disgusted with those who tarnished his name after his death!"
"At this point, we cannot confirm it was him." George comforted Jameson, leading him towards the police car outside the door, "But, indeed, we need to go back to your home to make sure nobody is causing you trouble."
Soon, the police car arrived at Jameson's house. As a somewhat successful newspaper boss in the news industry, Jameson's home was in a villa in the outskirts of New York City. Upon opening the gate, the yard was calm with no sign of intrusion.
They walked all the way into the living room without noticing anything unusual. However, Jameson soon found a note on the coffee table that did not belong to this house. It read, "Leave New York. Do not return within two months".
George took the note and carefully examined the handwriting on it. His eyebrows furrowed even tighter as he said, "It appears the person often uses a fountain pen. The curves and pauses in his handwriting line up with the use of a fountain pen nib."
"Could it be an editor from another newspaper?"
George shook his head indicating he couldn't confirm it. Stroking his chin, he mused, "The habit of using a revolver and a fountain pen could be connected somehow, but the clues are too scarce to draw a solid conclusion."
"So what should we do now?"
"You wait here, sit here until nightfall, I'll go inspect the yard."
Jameson sat on the sofa trembling a little, feeling uneasy but trying to calm himself down. This note indicates he has been pulled into this matter. Whether he would be the next Huji, he would just have to leave it to fate.
Night fell quickly. Even the familiar villa living room turned ghostly. Jameson could hear his heartbeat clearly, but soon, he heard a more prominent sound of something falling.
Like a deliberate signal, a figure slowly approached from the darkness. Jameson breathed faster, his voice trembling as he asked, "Who are you? What do you want to do?"
Instead of moving forward, the figure stood at the edge of the darkness, answering with a hoarse and deep voice, "I am Spider-Man. You saw the note I left you. Why aren't you leaving?"
"Spider-Man?!" Jameson screamed in a high pitch then he saw the revolver hanging from the figure's waist. Forgetting to consider the depth of this situation, Jameson asked, "Did you kill Huji?"
"He deserves to die."
"Don't move, stay where you are!" George rushed from the back door of the house, gun in hand, aiming at the figure in the darkness.
The figure opposite remained unresponsive, only turning around and walking into the darkness, leaving the last words, "Jameson, I warned you, leave New York."
With that, he charged towards the window and jumped out at a speed that neither of them could discern, disappearing into the night. George slowly lowered his gun, gazing at the spot where the figure had left and said, "Did you see the gun on his waist? He's the one who killed Hugie."
"Spider-Man... he's Spider-Man!" Jameson said, somewhat hysterically, "The Ghost of Spider-Man has come for revenge. He's the one who killed Hugie!"
George, turning his head towards Jameson, said, "This seasoned killer doesn't have a morsel of truth in his mouth, he can't possibly be..."
"It is Spider-Man!" Jameson raised his tone, "I can't be wrong. I've been following Spider-Man for a long time. I know every detail about him! It is definitely him!"
"It must be the vengeful spirit of the first generation Spider-Man!" Jameson took a deep breath and said, "Because his reputation was tarnished after his death, distressing his spirit, he climbed out from the grave to make those people pay."
"Then why didn't he kill you?"
"Because I never slandered him!" Jameson turned to look at George and said, "That's why I said it's the spirit of Spider-Man, he can discern who his enemies are! He has seen everything in Hell!"
"Your imagination is a bit too active, Mr. Jameson." George put away his gun, while Jameson had already jumped out of his seat, running upstairs while shouting, "I must take a few months of vacation again, until the vengeful spirit calms his fury."
George sighed reluctantly and left in a police car towards the police station. As soon as he returned, a subordinate came up to him with a grave expression and said, "Bad news, Boss. The editor-in-chief of the Global Times was just found dead in his Manhattan home, about half an hour ago. Do you want to go take a look?"
Without asking any further, George rushed to the scene of the crime. Just like the first case, the murder occurred in the victim's bedroom. The cause of death was a single gunshot wound, even the Magnum bullet and its wear marks were identical.
This time, George painstakingly checked all entrances and exits, but found no traces of any movement, a classic locked-room murder case. George and his subordinates spent the entire night without finding any useful leads.
As dawn broke, George drove back home. Just as he inserted the key into the lock, the door opened; Gwen stood inside, smiling at him, "dad, what took you so long? Did you forget that your birthday is tomorrow?"
George was taken aback, shaking his head reluctantly, "I've almost forgotten in the hustle and bustle. Let me guess, you've prepared some handmade gifts for me again? What is it this time? A scarf, a clay figure, or a photo frame?"
"I planned to make you a cake, I'm preparing the ingredients now." Gwen made room for George to enter and she herself walked ahead, continuing to sort the baking utensils on the kitchen counter.
"Also, Peter asked me to apologize to you. He was originally going to attend your birthday party, but his good friend Harry Osborn has run into some emotional issues. They're solving it in Hollywood, and it seems unlikely that they'll be able to come back."
"It's fine, I always told him he should travel more, instead of staying in the lab all day. Don't you two have any travel plans?"
Brushing her bangs aside Gwen said, "I was planning to go to Hollywood to see him, but I need to stay here to celebrate my dad's birthday."
"Even if you didn't, I wouldn't think you're the sort of girl who'd run off with her boyfriend and never come back." George chuckled, then began preparing breakfast.
During the meal, Gwen noticed George was constantly lost in thought, so she asked him out of curiosity. George mumbled a bit, then finally said, "It's about Spider-Man again."
He started recounting the day's events to Gwen in an complaining tone, as usual, then sighed and said:
"Isn't it strange? Jameson insists that that strange man is Spider-Man. Although I didn't say it at the time, looking at his stature, behaviour, it really did seem like Spider-Man."
"But he carried an aura of darkness and mystery, and he killed with a proficiency that pointed to a brutal killer, completely unlike Spider-Man."
Gwen paused, fork in hand, and asked, "So what is Spider-Man's aura like?"
George took a moment to summarise, "Sunny, optimistic, carefree, like a Caucasian boy who would shout at the sight of a plane taking off."
Gwen couldn't help but burst out laughing, then covered her mouth and coughed a couple of times lightly. George gave her a glance and sighed, saying:
"Although I often say Spider-Man is flippant, that's still within the acceptable range for a young man causing mischief but this is not."
"A killer Spider-Man? Is there anything worse in this world?"