"Knock… knock… knock…"
"Come in."
Orpheus pushed open Dis's study door and walked in.
Dis closed the folder that had been spread out in front of him and watched Orpheus walk up and sit down.
"What's the matter?"
"I just provided psychological counseling for Mrs. Seymour."
"How did it go?"
"Pretty well. She was able to express her emotions. Now it's just a matter of time for her to gradually heal and adapt to her new life."
"Good."
"But I learned something interesting from Mrs. Seymour."
"Go on."
"Mrs. Seymour lives at 46 Rhine Street."
"A good neighborhood."
"The man I met at the Hughes Crematorium last time, Mr. Piaget, who paid me 20,000 loubi for my first counseling fee, is her neighbor. He lives at No. 45."
"Mm-hmm."
"Grandfather, this seems a bit too coincidental. Mr. Seymour died at the ballroom, and it's said that Mr. Seymour and Mr. Piaget were very close friends, often going fishing together.
And old Darcy, not long ago, personally cremated Piaget's wife Linda."
"Yes, it does seem a bit coincidental."
"What's more, I personally handed over Mrs. Linda Piaget's ashes to Mr. Piaget. But Mrs. Seymour said that this morning, Linda delivered her a very delicious apple pie."
His wife, who had already turned into ashes, had somehow "come back to life" and was making food.
"Are you saying that Mr. Piaget is the killer?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? I thought you and Sheriff Duke were getting along quite well."
"Grandfather, it's like some religious texts—we could sit face-to-face and discuss theories all day long, from the mysteries of the universe to the truths of the gods, to the workings of human society and the essence of human nature.
But after we're done talking, we can't even get a cab ride home."
Criminal psychology seems to be a very sophisticated field, but it's not a panacea. Sometimes, after a long discussion, you realize that it's all nonsense, and even if it's a good and accurate analysis, it can only provide a rough direction.
It's not like pushing up your glasses with your ring finger and saying, "There's only one truth, and that is…"
When it comes to solving cases, Orpheus believes Sheriff Duke is much more proficient than he is. After all, you should never compare your hobby with someone else's livelihood.
Perhaps Sheriff Duke can get a lot of inspiration from this, but what Orpheus can offer is limited to inspiration alone.
In his previous life, a friend once sent him a video of a case hoping he would analyze it—a husband who killed his wife and hid the body.
After watching, Orpheus said there was no need for analysis.
The old detective who went to question the husband probably already knew he was the murderer. The rest was just a tedious process of finding the body and confirming evidence.
And that seemingly "calm" and "composed" husband, who appeared so to the general public, was just putting up a facade that was of no value in front of the old detective.
"I understand what you mean now." Dis nodded.
Orpheus smiled.
"You're saying that what I've been doing all this time is mostly pointless."
"…"
Dis picked up his teacup,
Orpheus quickly moved forward, intending to lift the kettle,
Dis said:
"It's full."
Orpheus awkwardly put the kettle down.
"So, why did you come here?"
"Well, Grandfather, Mr. Piaget came to our home to visit me this afternoon after we left and left me an invitation, inviting me to his home."
"You want to go?"
"Yes."
"Then go."
"But I… I'm afraid to."
Orpheus sat there, speaking with such conviction.
"I'm going to be busy in the coming days with some matters to handle." Dis put down his teacup, "I won't have time to accompany you out as I did this afternoon."
"Then I… won't go."
"Mm-hmm." Dis nodded.
"Grandfather, rest early. I'm going to bed too."
"Alright."
Orpheus stood up and walked to the study door when Dis's voice came from behind again:
"If you really want to visit…"
Orpheus turned around, smiling, "Grandfather, would you be willing to find the time to accompany me?"
Dis shook his head and said, "You can take it with you."
"Who?"
"Meow…"
Puer jumped down from a corner of the bookshelf and walked over to Orpheus, its black face displaying clear reluctance.
Orpheus had long noticed that the black cat at home had a talent for expressing emotions. Most pets can only show a single emotion by baring their teeth, but Puer was very subtle—or rather, anthropomorphic—in its expressions.
"Grandfather, are you sure?"
Orpheus asked.
"Sure."
With the affirmation, Orpheus said seriously:
"I understand, Grandfather."
After speaking, Orpheus walked out of the study and helped his grandfather close the study door.
Standing at the door,
Orpheus blinked,
He believed Dis could provide him with enough security;
Even disregarding all the bizarre experiences,
Just remembering when Dis had asked him to peel the skin off his arm in the hearse without so much as a frown, coupled with the clear murderous intent he had displayed towards him at the door;
Even if you imagined Dis as some kind of gang member, he would still be a very strong bodyguard.
He's ruthless,
Willing to kill,
And even though he's older… well, age doesn't really matter. Orpheus believed that in terms of physical fitness, he was no match for Dis;
So his grandfather's presence was a much greater security guarantee than the thugs outside.
But,
That cat…
"Maybe, it's a cat with a story."
Orpheus looked down and saw that Puer hadn't followed him out;
"Let's take a shower and get some sleep first."
...
"You're crazy, crazy! How could you let a noble being like me accompany a child to play detective games, Dis, what were you thinking, what were you thinking!"
Pacing along the wall, Puer didn't appear on the desk this time but kept a considerable distance.
"I'm asking you to keep an eye on him, just as you said, he's a demon."
Upon hearing this,
Puer tilted its head,
and asked:
"Then why not just kill him?"
Dis's gaze fell on Puer in the corner.
"Hiss…"
Puer's tail immediately shot up, and its limbs tensed. It quickly said:
"I understand. I'll go with him. I'll keep a close watch on that demon."
...
The next morning,
Orpheus woke up at ten o'clock, probably because of yesterday's exhausting events.
Moreover, he hadn't slept well last night, having had several dreams;
In his dreams:
One moment he was dancing with a showgirl at the ballroom, the next he was shoveling ash by the cremation furnace;
One moment he was lying in a coffin in the first-floor mortuary listening to prayers,
The next he was lying in Mrs. Hughes's arms, almost suffocating.
After washing up,
Orpheus felt refreshed.
Coming to the second floor, Aunt Winnie smiled and said, "I've already prepared lunch."
"Thank you, Aunt."
Lunch was noodles;
Ever since she saw Orpheus making broth, Aunt Winnie and Aunt Mary had been hooked on it.
The broth was very nice, garnished with chopped scallions.
There was also a jar of chili oil Orpheus had made earlier, now placed on the table.
The only downside was that the noodles weren't quite chewy, but the taste was acceptable.
He really didn't want to see the breakfast combo of bread, eggs, and little sausages in the morning anymore—it brought no joy.
Aunt Mary was in the basement preparing the makeup for two "clients";
Uncle Mason had taken Paul and Ron to a nearby hospital where a patient had died;
Business was like that—either idle for days or suddenly overwhelmed.
Of course, most people, emotionally speaking, didn't want the Immerlyth family's business to be booming.
After lunch, Orpheus went to the first floor.
He sat on the sofa and picked up a newspaper.
The newspaper covered yesterday's accident at the Crown Ballroom, which resulted in two deaths and several injuries, but there was no mention of the murder, nor was there any news about old Darcy's death at the Hughes Crematorium.
The front page headline was the re-election campaign of the old mayor of Roja City, making it easy to guess that the serial murder case had been suppressed. After all, the mayoral election was in full swing.
If news of a vicious serial killer broke out, it would easily cause panic, and people would question the old mayor's competence. After all, he had been promoting "law and order" as his proudest achievement.
"Would you like some coffee?" Aunt Winnie walked down with a pot of coffee. This pot was meant for Aunt Mary, who was working in the basement, but Orpheus could have a cup too.
"No need, Aunt. I'm heading out soon to have coffee at someone's house. It's good to save where we can."
"Pfft…"
Aunt Winnie burst out laughing and said:
"You're sounding more and more like your Aunt Mary."
At this moment, the phone in the living room rang.
Orpheus stood up and took the coffee pot from Aunt Winnie's hand: "I'll take this down to Aunt Mary."
"Alright."
Aunt Winnie
went to answer the phone.
Entering the basement, Orpheus approached Aunt Mary's workshop door and knocked gently on the already open door.
Inside the workshop, "Roya Elf" was playing, its cheerful melody accompanied by Aunt Mary's humming. She was standing with her back to the door, her slightly plump figure made even more shapely by her long dress.
This reminded Orpheus of Mrs. Seymour stripping in front of him yesterday—she was too thin.
Although it's not polite to judge the figure of one's elders, it's something people can't help noticing, even among relatives. What matters is keeping a clear head.
Just look at it like you would admire a work of art.
Tsk… admire, art.
Orpheus suddenly realized that, thanks to that serial killer, these words had taken on a different flavor for him lately.
"Oh, my dear Orpheus, have you come to bring your beautiful aunt some coffee?"
"Yes, my beautiful and charming aunt."
It was clear Aunt Mary was in a great mood. Plan B seemed to rejuvenate her more than Uncle Mason.
Aside from the family's profit-sharing, Aunt Mary had the highest base salary and performance bonuses. The busier the business, the more she earned.
Being a mortician isn't just about putting on makeup;
Like when old Darcy is delivered once the police have dealt with the case and gathered evidence,
Aunt Mary will have to reassemble the dozens of pieces of old Darcy back into a whole.
It's a task that even the serial killer couldn't complete, but for Aunt Mary, it's no problem.
Orpheus poured a cup of coffee and handed it to his aunt, who sipped it while working;
During work, coffee was just for mood adjustment, no time to savor it.
Orpheus noticed Aunt Mary was spray-painting Mr. Seymour's body.
Yes, spray-painting, like maintaining a car.
And Mr. Seymour's abs… were really bronze.
"Nice, isn't it?"
Aunt Mary, holding her coffee cup in one hand, patted Mr. Seymour's abs with the other and said to Orpheus:
"You can touch it. Mr. Seymour wouldn't mind."
"No need, Aunt."
He still wasn't comfortable touching a man's abs, especially a dead man's.
"Mr. Seymour really kept in good shape. You can tell he loved to work out."
Upon hearing this, an idea suddenly formed in Orpheus's mind;
If he could take Mr. Seymour to visit Mr. Piaget, it would greatly increase his sense of security.
Even though Mr. Seymour had been spray-painted, it was clear he was in good shape. If he could stand up and walk with him, he would make an excellent bodyguard.
But then Orpheus laughed at himself.
What a silly thought.
Mr. Seymour's face was covered with many pins and threads holding it together;
"Mrs. Seymour said she fell in love with Mr. Seymour's tough guy image when she was young, so she wants him to be buried with the perfect image she has of him. I need to sculpt his face with more definition."
Orpheus nodded, no wonder Mr. Seymour's half-finished face looked a bit like Schwarzenegger.
"Aunt, I'm heading out. I'm going to visit Mr. Piaget."
"Go ahead."
Aunt Mary put down her coffee cup and continued her artistic creation.
…
Back in the living room, Orpheus tidied up his clothes and put 1,000 loubi in his pocket, planning to buy some pastries or fruits before visiting Mr. Piaget.
Puer was lying on the mortuary table, facing inward, its tail motionless, as if pretending to be dead would make Orpheus not see it.
But Orpheus still walked over and picked it up.
He trusted Dis's words because if Dis wanted to kill him, he wouldn't need to go to such lengths.
Holding the cat, he walked out of the living room and saw the golden retriever lying in the flowerbed.
He looked at the cat in his arms,
Then at the big golden retriever,
Feeling that the dog would give him more of a sense of security.
After hesitating for a moment,
Orpheus went over and took the golden retriever's leash.
So,
One person, one cat, and one dog,
Stood outside waiting for a taxi.
Soon, a taxi pulled up, and the driver poked his head out and said to Orpheus:
"Sir, there's an extra cleaning fee for pets."
"Then please go. I won't take your car."
The driver was stunned and said, "I'll waive it this time. I love pets too. Please get in."
"To 45 Rhine Street. How much?"
"45 loubi."
"Then please leave."
"Hahaha, how about 30 loubi? It's my birthday today."
"25 loubi."
"That's too low," the driver said with a troubled expression.
"Stop at the pastry shop on the way, and I'll buy you a 10-loubi cake to celebrate your birthday."
"Please get in."
...
At one o'clock in the afternoon;
Orpheus, holding a box of macarons, stood in front of No. 45 Rhine Street.
Beside him sat a cat and a dog.
Orpheus stepped forward and rang the doorbell.
Before long,
An inner door opened, and a woman in pink loungewear came out. She looked puzzled when she saw Orpheus, a stranger, at the front gate.
"Are you Mrs. Adams?"
Piaget's full name is Piaget Adams.
"Yes, you can call me Linda. And you are?"
"I'm a friend of your husband's, invited to visit."
Also,
The one who handed your ashes to your husband.