"A banquet? What kind of banquet?"
Tim's mind flashed through a series of images: Gotham's rainy night, the reflection of leather shoes, a black umbrella, the red whirlpool splashing into the puddle...
Tim had never really seen Professor Shearer commit a murder; he had only learned about the stirring past era from Cobblepot and others. However, his imagination was vivid, and his intelligent mind allowed him to perfectly complete the details of some stories.
The only phrase that was going round and round in Tim's head was—no good banquets.
At that moment, he heard some noise coming from outside the room; it sounded like Peter had said something, but then the footsteps quickly moved away.
This meant that someone might have come, and yet Peter couldn't stand at the door waiting for him too long and had to leave.
That was just fine, Tim thought; it was quite troublesome having someone follow him. There were too many things he wouldn't be able to do.
Soon there was no more noise from the balcony, which meant Shearer must have finished his phone call. Tim didn't stay in place for long; he climbed back into the house over the windowsill, speculating about Shearer's possible whereabouts.
As he passed by a second-floor corridor window, he saw more and more people arriving as time passed; car after car stopped at the entrance to the farm, and guests poured in through the gate.
He couldn't drag this out any longer, Tim thought. The janitor identity was a good disguise, but it wouldn't last long. Once the banquet officially started, all irrelevant staff wouldn't be allowed to stay, they would be driven out.
Tim picked up the mop and hurried a few steps, but then he saw a glimpse of Harley's figure flash by in the crowd. He didn't have time to greet her; she quickly crossed the hall and disappeared.
Just as he was walking out of the main door, wanting to go around to the back of the house, he faintly heard the sound of a heavy object landing from above.
Tim looked up and saw a room on the second floor with the curtains half-drawn, a figure flashed by inside, but no other sound was made.
Even so, Tim sensed something was wrong. He was now very close to the back door, carrying the cleaning equipment; he quickly ran upstairs, still using the excuse that he needed to clean to fool the second-floor security guard, and then reached the door of that room as fast as possible.
The room door wasn't locked, and showed a small crack. Tim tilted his head to peek inside and saw a shadow leaning against the bed, one hand holding his belly.
Tim inhaled sharply, gathering all the items in one hand, and gently opened the door. After slipping inside, he tiptoed over to the man's side.
This was the important figure they had seen earlier in the room. After a careful look at his face, Tim confirmed it was the Congressman.
At that moment, he was unconscious, but it didn't seem to be due to excessive blood loss. It was more likely an anesthesia effect. Tim checked the wound on his abdomen; it appeared to be a stab wound that hadn't hit any vital organs. The injury wasn't severe, but it would be fatal if left untreated.
With his extensive experience in murder cases, Tim immediately realized the person who anesthetized the Congressman and the one who stabbed him might not be the same. If someone just wanted to stab him, there was no need for anesthesia, and if they could manage to anesthetize him, there was no need to stab him.
This was getting interesting, but Tim didn't have much time. He quickly removed the Congressman's coat, tied it around his abdomen for a makeshift bandage, and, grabbing the cleaning tools, burst out of the room shouting.
"Help! Someone! Somebody's been attacked!!!"
The security guards responded to his calls, rushing directly into the room Tim had come from. As expected, the Federal Bureau of Investigation agents followed right behind, and Tim spotted Steve and Jason.
The location was quite far from town, and people were trying to give first aid to the Congressman with an emergency kit while waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
Tim recalled the figure he had seen earlier in his mind; it didn't quite look like Shearer, should be a bit more robust. He searched his memory for all the people he had seen in the house so far and surprisingly realized the assailant might be someone he knew.
Thinking of this, he quickly stepped back, melding into the crowd since Matt and his students had arrived.
Tim kept his head down, but his eyes skimmed the trouser hems of the two men. Everyone here was dressed in suits; it was impossible to tell anything from their attire.
Tim paused slightly, then moved around from the back of the crowd, making his way to a restroom near the back door on the first floor.
In such a setting, nobody could wield an eight-foot spear to stab someone; the weapon must be small to be easily concealed. Tim also had examined the wound, which looked to be from a dagger.
A shorter weapon would certainly lead to one issue, blood would get on the hands. Even if the suit material was thick, and there was skill involved, it was impossible for the area near the abdomen to remain clean.
If there was blood, it would have to be washed off. Since the crowd came up through the main stairwell, it would be impossible to take that route without getting caught, leaving only two possible paths: jump directly from the balcony or take the back stairwell.
Regardless of which route taken, there was only one restroom available, the one near the back door.
Tim walked in, picked up the cleaning sign by the door, placed it at the entrance to prevent disturbances, then looked down at the floor, noting very distinct wet footprints.
This wasn't surprising; it had been raining a lot on the West Coast recently, and humidity was quite high. The marble floor of the modern stone-decorated cottage would condense into a layer of mist with the approaching evening and temperature drop.
It was very thin and light, hardly affecting one's walking, but it would leave footprints.
Tim found two footprints under the sink.
If nothing unusual had occurred, these were left by Matt's student Larry, with the same height and weight, walking posture, and the stance of bending over to wash his hands.
Larry had stabbed the congressman and then hurriedly ran away, descended the stairs on the other side of the corridor, entered the nearest restroom to wash off the blood on his hands, crossed back across the hallway to the main entrance, and went upstairs to the second floor with Matt, right through the main entrance. The trajectory and timeline of his movements were completely plausible.
The motive for the crime was temporarily unclear, but such a stab wound could not possibly kill the congressman. If Larry was the one who did it, he would have noticed that the congressman was drugged. If he intended to kill, a direct stab to the neck would have sufficed.
This suggested Larry did not intend to kill him—the stab was likely just an act of venting anger.
Yes, Tim thought, it was because Larry realized that the congressman was drugged and knew that no matter what he did, the congressman would not find out, hence the stab.
Did the two of them bear a grudge? Tim recalled Matt's assessment of Larry. Evidently, here was a person with narcissistic tendencies, self-centered, and somewhat hot-tempered.
If the two did not know each other before, then it is possible that the dispute arose only after coming here.
Combining this with what Tim had learned earlier, the congressman wanted to recruit the social media influencer lawyer to rally for them. The process of persuasion may not have been pleasant, maybe even tantamount to threats—outraged, Larry then stabbed the congressman.
But there was one thing that did not make sense: how did Larry know the congressman was drugged? How did it happen that just when he went there, the drug took effect, putting the congressman into a deep coma?
Timing this a bit earlier or later would have been risky—if he went too early and the congressman was not yet drugged, being seen would surely make him the primary suspect; going too late, with the congressman awake, he would not have been able to act.
And how could Larry be so confident in the effects of the anesthesia? What if the person who gave the drug used too little, and the pain from the stab woke the victim up?
Although he was a social media star, being a congressman wasn't easy either. If it was a crime of passion, there were too many variables, and for his professional future, he would not be so foolish.
So it must have been premeditated, meaning the person who drugged the congressman and the person who stabbed him were working together.
As to why it took two people: likely to dodge suspicion so they could each create an alibi. When the drug was administered, the stabber had an alibi, and when the stabbing took place, the person who drugged had an alibi.
Though such tricks wouldn't fool detectives like Batman, if done cleverly, fooling the Federal Bureau of Investigation might still be possible.
Who could have collaborated with Larry? Tim felt the answer was on the brink of emergence—who else but this webstar lawyer's mentor?
But Matt was supposed to be a superhero, and he would not commit murder unless he and Larry did this for a reason other than just injuring the congressman, perhaps it was beneficial for the congressman.
Considering the congressman's current situation, his life was in no danger; the wound would heal in a month or two, so did Matt and his disciple simply want the congressman not to appear recently?
No, no, if that was the case, there would be no need to act during a busy banquet. Finding a deserted place the next day would do and be safer, less likely to be discovered.
Then, they wanted the congressman to leave this place early.
But why?
Tim had no time to ponder too much, as he was called away for questioning by an FBI agent—he was, after all, the first to discover the scene of the crime.
Since he dared to shout out, Tim was naturally prepared. Without any panic, he calmly told the agent that he was just a janitor, came upstairs to clean, noticed a door was ajar, wanted to remind them, peeked in through the crack, saw someone collapsed by the bed, and then screamed.
The agent didn't object because, after all, the person wasn't dead, it was just a minor injury, and there was no situation where the first person to discover the crime scene was the perpetrator, because the sooner the scene was discovered, the higher the chance of survival for the victim—the perpetrator would obviously hope for as late a discovery as possible.
However, Tim still inquired diligently, answered smoothly, performed flawlessly, and certainly wasn't suspected.
It wasn't long before the ambulance arrived. Tim watched a crowd carry the congressman onto the ambulance, then glanced at Matt and his disciple, who were greeting people nearby, and squinted his eyes.
At that moment, he heard a thud behind the wall. He whipped his head around, looking out the window.
A scream shattered the farm's tranquility.
"Aaahhh! Aaahhh! Aaahhh! Aaahhh!!"
"Someone jumped from the building, someone jumped! Hurry, someone! Mr. Lante has fallen from the third floor!"