"You see, it's this watch."
Mrs. Seymour took out a black box, revealing a "Miffet" gold watch inside. Not long ago, Mrs. Hughes had given Orpheus a "Monroe" watch, valued at 2,000 lu coins. The market price of Mrs. Seymour's watch, however, was ten times that amount — a staggering 20,000 lu coins.
It seemed that everyone living on this street was exceedingly wealthy. Ordinary people work hard for an entire year and still don't net this much income, but for the truly wealthy, this is just a trivial expense.
"It's a very beautiful and exquisite watch," Orpheus said.
"I'm glad you like it," Mrs. Seymour replied with a smile.
"No, madam, this is too valuable. I can't accept it."
Orpheus wasn't being overly modest or pretending. He genuinely didn't intend to take it. In his past life, he had gradually achieved financial stability through his own efforts, and in the Immers family, he never had to worry about food or shelter. Thus, he had a steady attitude towards money.
Bargaining with the taxi driver wasn't about being unwilling to spend; he simply disliked the feeling of being ripped off. Of course, he liked money, but he didn't desperately crave it. If the Immers family were just a regular household, crammed into a rental apartment, he might have accepted the watch with a smile.
Simply put, he wasn't poor enough.
At first, Mrs. Seymour thought Orpheus was just being shy and made several attempts to persuade him. Later, she realized he truly didn't want it.
"How about this: I heard that psychologists can offer packaged services, is that true?"
"I only provide services for guests of the family. However, if you need it, I can offer you my services."
"Then consider this watch as an advance payment for a year's worth of consultations. How about that? You can visit me once a month, or I can come to your house for sessions when you're not busy."
"Even so, this is too much."
"I think it's worth it. Do you know how much I spent on my husband's funeral?"
Orpheus hesitated. He knew it was the type of package that would make Aunt Mary excited, but he couldn't directly state the cost. The prices on the family's menu were significantly marked up and adjusted according to the client's reaction.
Orpheus knew the cost price but didn't know the final price settled for Mrs. Seymour. If he guessed too low, wouldn't Mrs. Seymour realize she had been overcharged?
Business involves profit margins and mutual consent. Orpheus understood this and had no reason to undermine his own family.
"Two hundred thousand lu coins."
Mrs. Seymour raised two fingers.
Phew…
Orpheus sighed in relief. His uncle and aunt hadn't overcharged excessively; it was within a reasonable range. This amount would be enough to cremate Mr. Mozan and Lazarus another twenty times.
"So you see, if I can spend 200,000 lu coins on a funeral for that dead bastard, giving you a watch is nothing."
Although Mrs. Seymour's emotions had calmed down, her hatred for Mr. Seymour still lingered.
"It's embarrassing to admit, but I'm just afraid… afraid I'll feel very lonely in the future."
As she spoke, there was no trace of affection or desire in her eyes; it wasn't meant to imply anything.
She had gotten used to being a good wife, but before dying, her husband had dealt a heavy blow to her worldview.
"I understand, madam. I'm willing to provide psychological services. If you need help, you can call me anytime," Orpheus replied.
"That's wonderful. Let me help you put this watch on."
The watch was fastened on his wrist.
Mrs. Seymour stepped back a few steps, carefully observing him, and then said,
"You're such a handsome young man."
...
Leaving the Seymour house and waving goodbye to the enthusiastic Mrs. Seymour, Orpheus walked toward the end of the street where it would be easier to catch a taxi. Meanwhile, the golden retriever trotted along happily, as no one in the Immers family had been willing to take it out for a proper walk lately.
Puer, the cat, sat perched on Orpheus's shoulder. Since this cat wouldn't get excited and run off when seeing other stray cats, he didn't have to worry about it getting lost.
Standing by the road, Orpheus waved down a taxi.
"13 Chiswick Street."
"Sure, sir."
Sitting in the car, Orpheus kept his eyes closed. His mind drifted to the situation at Piaget's house.
Had Piaget started killing for fun after developing split personalities?
It didn't seem likely. While it was possible to change one's voice, such as from male to female or vice versa, without special equipment because phone calls inherently have a "metallic" quality, Piaget didn't fit his psychological profile of the killer. He might be socially awkward, but someone capable of consciously inducing split personality isn't related to "stupidity."
So, were the paintings he saw in his wife's studio just coincidences?
That didn't seem like pure coincidence either.
Orpheus felt a headache coming on and couldn't help but gently rub his forehead. The nausea and dizziness that had started after seeing the third painting of the Order Church hadn't fully dissipated.
"Are you feeling carsick?" The driver noticed Orpheus's condition in the rearview mirror. "I can slow down."
"No, I'm fine. Just drive faster, please."
"Okay."
The taxi stopped at the curb, and Orpheus paid the fare and got out.
He suddenly thought he should probably get a driver's license and buy a car. It wouldn't be difficult to get the license, and a second-hand car wouldn't be too expensive. Most importantly, taking taxis in Roja wasn't convenient, and the cost was high.
Entering the living room, he saw Aunt Mary sitting on the sofa with Mrs. Hughes, who had red eyes and was dabbing at them with a tissue. Aunt Mary was comforting her.
It was late last night, so Mrs. Hughes hadn't come in. She had come today seeking solace from her friend.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure Mr. Darcy looks his best and arrange a very decent funeral for him. The killer is truly evil, and poor Mr. Darcy."
Hearing Aunt Mary's words, Orpheus couldn't help but come over and remind her:
"Yes, although the killer cruelly dismembered Mr. Darcy into dozens of pieces, Aunt Mary's skill will ensure he looks perfect."
"Damn Darcy!"
Aunt Mary blurted out.
She had just found out that Mr. Darcy had been turned into multiple pieces.
After her outburst, she quickly corrected herself:
"The damn killer treated Mr. Darcy like that."
Then,
Aunt Mary, unable to continue comforting Mrs. Hughes, also grabbed a tissue to wipe her own tears.
"What's wrong?" Mrs. Hughes looked at Aunt Mary in confusion. "Aren't you supposed to be comforting me?"
Aunt Mary choked up, "I'm just so sad for Mr. Darcy. He really… he suffered too much."
Mrs. Hughes looked up at Orpheus, who was standing there, and forced a smile, saying:
"Orpheus, Mary and I are planning to go out for barbecue tonight. Would you join us? It's a very famous barbecue place."
"I'd better not," Orpheus declined.
Aunt Mary looked up, her eyes slightly red, and said, "You should come. I want to have a drink tonight. You're the only adult man at home to accompany us."
Orpheus suggested, "I can call my uncle."
Aunt Mary nearly lost control of her emotions and shouted, "I'm not giving him the chance to carry us both to bed when we're drunk!"
"Okay, I'll go."
"Wait for me. I'll just finish up with the guests downstairs."
"Alright, Mary."
Aunt Mary stood up, wiping her tears as she walked to the basement. As she went down the ramp, a loud shout echoed from below:
"Damn it, poor Darcy!!!"
Mrs. Hughes, sitting on the sofa, sighed and even winked at Orpheus, saying:
"Mary's got her work cut out for her. By the way, Orpheus, where's the watch I gave you? Why aren't you wearing it? Don't you like it?"
Mrs. Hughes noticed that Orpheus's wrist was bare.
"I love the watch you gave me, but I haven't gotten into the habit of wearing it yet. I forgot to put it on this morning, but I'm sure I'll get used to it soon."
"That's good. I was worried you didn't like the Monroe I gave you."
"How could I not? It's the most valuable gift I've ever received, outside of what my family has given me."
Just then, the phone rang.
Orpheus walked over and answered it.
"Hello, is this the Immers residence? I'd like to speak with Orpheus." It was Inspector Duke's voice on the other end.
"Hello, Inspector Duke, this is Orpheus."
"We've identified the body under the stage at the Crown Ballroom. His name is Cole. He's from the neighboring city and came to Roja three months ago looking for work. This information was provided by the police in the neighboring city.
I've already sent officers to investigate the areas where he was active. We should soon have details on where he worked and who he interacted with."
"Publishing this in the newspaper might help," Orphe
us suggested.
"I submitted a request, but it was rejected. They told me the victim's death would cause social panic and spark protests from the Beret Church.
I wish I could kick those politicians hard enough to make a second hole in their butts!
They're all busy with elections and desperate to keep this quiet. If we could've published this earlier, we might already have tracked down his contacts in this city.
Now, I can only hope we find something soon.
I've already mapped out Mr. Darcy's social connections. Now I'm waiting for that poor fellow Cole. You said that if the two networks overlap, we can narrow down the suspect pool, right?"
"Yes."
"I have to ask again, Orpheus, is the killer really this stupid, targeting people around him? Isn't that an easy way to get caught?"
"My gut and experience tell me so. And the reality is, you haven't caught him yet."
"Haha, are you saying the police are so stupid that it makes the killer seem clever?"
"I didn't say that."
"Sigh…" Inspector Duke sighed, the sound of a match striking could be heard, probably lighting his pipe. "You said the guy would kill again soon to complete his shitty art. I hope to catch him before he does."
"I hope so too."
"Alright, I'll hang up for now. I'll keep you updated. I don't know why, but I have a feeling your judgment is correct."
"Thank you."
After hanging up, Orpheus smiled at Mrs. Hughes and pointed toward the basement:
"Ma'am, I'm going to help my aunt."
"Go ahead."
Orpheus went down to the workshop, where three bodies lay. Two were victims from the Crown Ballroom, one being Mr. Seymour, and the other a deceased hospital patient.
All three bodies were well-prepared, looking peaceful, as if asleep.
Aunt Mary sat on a stool, legs crossed, smoking furiously in anger.
However, this posture inadvertently trapped her skirt between her legs, exposing almost her entire thigh up to the root.
Orpheus closed his eyes,
Cleared his throat.
When he opened his eyes again, Aunt Mary had already adjusted her posture and was tidying her skirt.
"Orpheus, you knew that Mr. Darcy had been dismembered into dozens of pieces, didn't you?"
"Yes," Orpheus admitted.
"Do you know how hard it is to reassemble a person from dozens of pieces? I have to sort through them one by one in a bathtub-sized basin, piece by piece, and then sew them back together.
I'd rather do a hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle than this!"
"I know it's tough, Aunt Mary, but only you can do it."
"Why didn't you tell me earlier? Do you know how much this job is worth if we negotiated upfront? I've already agreed to charge her the welfare rate!
Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
Aunt Mary pulled at her hair.
For a job like this, the base price was at least tens of thousands of lu coins!
She added:
"And that's just the basic fee for the mortician!"
"Aunt Mary, I know it's hard, but we can factor this into the price when negotiating the purchase of Hughes' Funeral Home."
Aunt Mary's expression brightened a bit, but then she remembered something and asked,
"Wait, why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Grandpa said not to."
"Grandpa?"
"I asked if we should inform you about the difficulty of this job. Grandpa said no, that you are the most talented mortician he has ever seen."
"He really said that?"
"Yes."
Aunt Mary's expression finally softened, but she clenched her fists and said,
"Forget about the acquisition for now. Tonight, I'm ordering several good bottles of wine. Let her feel some of the pain too."
"I thought we were going for barbecue?" Orpheus asked.
"We are, but at a winery."
"However, I don't drink."
"You can have grape juice. I wouldn't dare let you get drunk and then be responsible for taking us home.
Also,
Your grandpa isn't home tonight; he'll be back tomorrow at the earliest. This is a rare opportunity."
At around 4:30 p.m., Orpheus and Aunt Mary got into Mrs. Hughes' car and drove toward the eastern district of Roja.
Since they were heading east, Mrs. Hughes turned at Chiswick Street, which meant they would pass the rowhouses.
Orpheus had wanted to ask Mrs. Hughes to take a different route because he still felt uneasy about 128 Chiswick Street, where his Uncle Mason's first love lived. But Mrs. Hughes drove fast and had already made the turn. Orpheus hesitated but decided not to ask for a detour.
"It looks like they're moving."
A large moving truck blocked most of the road, forcing Mrs. Hughes to slow down.
Orpheus saw that the people moving were from number 128.
Uncle Mason had mentioned that because of the Lazarus incident, his first love's family would be moving soon. It seemed that day had finally come.
Orpheus instinctively looked up at the second-floor French window, but the curtains were drawn tightly, hiding everything inside.
"Orpheus, are you alright?" Aunt Mary asked curiously. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Mary, once I sell the funeral home, I should buy a house here and be your neighbor. We'd be so close."
"That sounds great. You can come over to help out when it gets busy."
"Hahaha, aren't you afraid I'll steal all those male clients'—" Mrs. Hughes stopped herself, glancing at Orpheus with a grin, "—and use them myself?"
"Orpheus is right here. Don't you have any shame?" Aunt Mary scolded.
"Alright, alright. Let's see what number it is… 128. I'll have an agent come to take a look at the price."
After about half an hour, they arrived at a winery on the outskirts of town with a sign that read "Friday Winery."
"Is business bad here?" Orpheus asked as they got out of the car.
"Of course, so the owner decided to diversify," Mrs. Hughes replied, then turned to the approaching waiter and said, "I have a reservation for table seven, and please bring up my stored wine."
"Right away, ma'am."
They had to grill the meat themselves. The meat was good, but Orpheus didn't enjoy barbecue much. In his past life, he had digestive issues, and in this life, his body was frail, so he couldn't fully enjoy the indulgence of large chunks of grilled meat.
He only ate a little and spent most of his time grilling for Aunt Mary and Mrs. Hughes, who were drinking and reminiscing about old times, clearly enjoying themselves.
Around 9 p.m., Orpheus suggested ending the night, and the two women, now drunk, reluctantly agreed.
As they walked to the parking lot, Orpheus held each of them, one on each side, as they would stumble and fall if left on their own.
This was not a pleasant feeling; the two women reeked of alcohol and would occasionally gag, leaving a faint sour smell in the air, enough to extinguish any inappropriate thoughts.
Mrs. Hughes tried to get into the driver's seat.
But Orpheus couldn't let her drive drunk. Even if she felt confident, he didn't.
"Let me drive, ma'am."
"You… can… drive?" Mrs. Hughes asked, giggling.
"Yes."
"You… are… amazing."
She leaned against Orpheus, her right hand naturally pressing on his chest and tracing circles.
Orpheus gently pushed her away and helped her, like Aunt Mary, into the back seat.
Then,
He sat in the driver's seat and started the car.
Just as he drove out of the Friday Winery, he noticed a police car pulling in. Their vehicles passed each other briefly.
"Hmph, abusing public resources so blatantly."
...
Driving slowly to get accustomed to the car, and because it was his first time driving since his awakening, not to mention it wasn't an automatic, Orpheus drove cautiously.
The two women in the back had already fallen asleep, and Orpheus rolled down the window, letting the fresh night air flow in.
At 10:15, Orpheus pulled into Chiswick Street.
He first helped Aunt Mary out of the car, guiding her into the living room.
"You drank so much," Aunt Winnie, who was checking the accounts on the sofa, quickly stood up to support Aunt Mary and called Mina from upstairs to help.
"Where's Uncle?" Orpheus asked.
"Don't let him take us!" Aunt Mary suddenly sobered up and said, "Don't let him take us home."
Aunt Winnie, amused and exasperated, replied, "Mason got a call after dinner and went out with the hearse to pick up a client. The Maronko family had a dispute with their funeral home, and the client wants to transfer their loved one here. He hasn't come back yet."
"Oh, that's good."
Aunt Mary nodded, then bent over: "Ugh…"
Orpheus took a few steps back, gently covering his nose, and said, "I'll take Mrs. Hughes back home."
"Can't you just call a taxi? Oh no, taxis aren't safe."
Sending a drunk woman home alone in a taxi at night really wasn't ideal.
"The car is Mrs. Hughes'. I'll take her home, leave the car there, and catch a taxi back."
"Alright, if you can't get a ride, call me. I'll have Mason pick you up."
"Okay, Aunt
."
Orpheus left the house and got back in the car.
In the back seat, Mrs. Hughes was sprawled out, her skirt entirely bunched around her upper body.
Orpheus glanced over, shook his head with a smile, and started the car.
...
Roja Police Station;
Inspector Duke, smoking his pipe, dozed in his chair.
He hadn't slept for days and was trying to catch some rest in his office.
"Ring… ring…"
Inspector Duke immediately opened his eyes, picked up the receiver:
"Hello, this is Duke."
"Inspector, we found it. We found it!"
"Spit it out!"
"Cole used to work at a place called 'Friday Winery' in our city. It's a winery that also serves food. He worked as a waiter there for a month before he quit."
"Quit?"
"Yes, according to his colleagues, Cole boasted about landing a wealthy widow who frequented the place. He said she was going to keep him as her lover."
"Do we know who this widow is?"
"Yes, it's Mrs. Hughes, owner of Hughes Funeral Home."
Inspector Duke shot up from his chair.
Cole… Mr. Darcy…
One was her lover,
The other, her long-time employee.
She really only targeted those closest to her.
Inspector Duke gripped the receiver, disbelief etched on his face:
Orpheus had been absolutely right.
This killer,
Was really that stupid!
————
More chapters tonight.