15

My father pulled me into an empty office. On the desk sat a steaming lunch box. One lunch box, three boxes of vegetables. The meat dishes overwhelmingly dominated: fish-flavored shredded pork, braised pork, braised pig's trotters, and so on. There were three large meatballs alone, stacked like a mountain, making it difficult to close the box lid.

I took a few bites with my chopsticks and put them down again.

"I am innocent," I declared to my father without reservation.

"Of course. You're a police officer's son, how could you possibly do something bad?"

"Then why didn't you say a word for me and let the interrogation go on for so long?"

"It is precisely because I believe you are innocent that I dare to let them do whatever they want."

"Nonsense," I muttered.

"If I stand up to protect you now, even if others keep silent out of respect, they'll still be suspicious. After all, I'm your biological father. The subsequent investigation will be even more targeted at you, and they might even investigate your school, which would have an even greater impact. It's better to take this opportunity to let them ask all the questions they want, and then everything will be fine. What do you think?"

I snorted. "From this afternoon till now, I've said everything I need to say, but you don't look like you're alright at all."

"The way you answered the questions was clearly not cooperative."

"Hey, hey, the way that guy was asking questions made it clear that he assumed I was the murderer!"

My father stared into my eyes for a moment, as if assessing my mental state. Then, lowering his voice, he said, "Just listen to what I'm going to say next. Don't mention it to anyone else. Especially during the interrogation later, pretend you knew nothing about it."

I nodded repeatedly and pricked up my ears.

"The room where the body was found was actually a 'secret room'."

Around 8:00 AM, the police station received a report of a crime. A high school student rushed into the reception hall, reporting that his classmate's door was wide open and the house reeked of blood. Experience shows that 85% of crime reports are a waste of police time. The report comes from a wide variety of sources: those who have lost their cats, those who can't find their house keys, those who insist their wives are cheating and demand the husband be severely punished, those who falsely accuse their neighbors of hoarding guns and ammunition, and even those who are mad, drunk, or fabricating lies to attract attention. Many people will distort and exaggerate seemingly trivial matters to the point of necessitating the deployment of the SWAT team.

The report was filed by a minor, and the reason for the call was vague. The police officer on duty didn't immediately respond, dispatching only two officers to investigate. Upon arriving, they saw the victim lying in a pool of blood through the window, and only then realized the gravity of the situation. They immediately split up, one remaining behind to secure the scene and care for the terrified children, while the other called for reinforcements.

After reinforcements arrived, a female officer took the children back to the police station to rest. An ambulance soon arrived, but the officers still couldn't get the bedroom door open. They couldn't find the key, and even banging on it wouldn't work. From the window, they saw a U-shaped iron lock on the inside of the room, in addition to the simple lock on the door itself.

They also considered entering through the broken window, but the iron bars on the window were very secure and could not be removed.

Finally, they had to call a locksmith. This delayed them another half an hour. When they arrived, they quickly fixed the door's simple lock, allowing it to open a little. But then they were at a loss for the U-shaped lock on the inside. No tool at hand could penetrate the two or three millimeters of gap and reach the keyhole.

The police had to borrow specialized tools. By late afternoon, they had finally managed to knock the screws out of the door, removing the entire door. The medical staff, who had been waiting for a long time, entered and examined the patient. They informed them that there was no need for emergency treatment, as the patient had already been dead for a long time.

"Wait a minute," I couldn't help but interrupt, "So, before they broke in, the house was always a secret room?"

My father nodded. "Yes, it's difficult to open the door from the outside. And the U-shaped lock can only be locked by someone inside the house."

For a moment, I forgot my position as a suspect and became excited. A "locked room" is a plot that only appears in detective novels, but I never expected to encounter it in real life, and experience it firsthand.

"This is strange. How did the murderer commit the crime? Could he kill people through a wall?" I thought of the word "evil spirit curse" again and couldn't help but shudder.

But his father looked unconvinced. "Murderer? Where did such a person come from?"

"But didn't you just say..."

"I never mentioned the word murderer." His tone was a little impatient. "Reality is not a detective novel. In a situation like this, the first suspicion is suicide."

I was stunned when I heard this, then realized that it was indeed true. "Has it been confirmed as suicide?"

"We haven't reached a unified conclusion yet. But personally, I think it was definitely suicide. Most other people probably think the same."

According to preliminary examination results, the direct cause of Li Xueqiang's death was likely a stab wound to the neck. The slashed aorta caused heavy bleeding. The weapon that caused the wound, a boning knife not commonly found in kitchens, was found on the floor beside the bed. Li Xueqiang's fingerprints were found on the handle.

After checking with Li Tianci, it was confirmed that the knife had originally been in his kitchen. Xu Lan was a devoted wife and mother, a skilled cook. She had purchased the knife at a local department store before her death, part of a set of five. The remaining four were found in the kitchen.

Furthermore, those who had recent contact with Li Xueqiang confirmed his unstable mental state. He drank heavily, was late for work and left early. He had become somewhat neurotic, frequently bringing up Xu Lan's death and claiming a ghost was targeting their family and that he didn't have much time left.

"Given his mental state, and the fact that he was drunk, it's normal for him to commit suicide on impulse," his father analyzed.

"But since he was drunk, his mind should have been very unclear. How could he have completed the series of actions such as locking the door from the inside and then committing suicide?"

"He was so drunk he couldn't walk when he first came home, but that doesn't mean he'll stay drunk all night. Besides, many drunk people only pretend to be confused on the surface, but they're actually very sober inside. You're still young, so you won't understand if I tell you this."

"How do you explain the videotapes scattered all over the floor?"

"Those tapes you're talking about? They must have been piled up in the room originally, and were messed up by his actions when he committed suicide. When we were investigating Xu Lan's case, we reviewed the account books for the Hongfan Video Store. Li Xueqiang signed a sublease agreement for the store, but he didn't leave all the discs and videotapes to the new owner. Instead, he secretly kept a lot of them at home."

I thought about it carefully and found it difficult to list other suspicious points, but I was unwilling to believe that the truth was so simple. "These are just your speculations. There is no direct evidence to prove that it was suicide, right?"

"Indeed, no. But on the other hand, if it wasn't suicide, how did the murderer commit the crime? It can't be like the nonsense in the news reports, using a curse to kill people through the wall."

An idea struck me. "Maybe through the window. Use a long stick or something, tie a knife to the tip, and thrust it into the house. Or throw it directly from outside, like a flying knife."

My father shook his head. "That's impossible. The iron bars on the window are quite sturdy, and there's no sign of damage. The gaps in the bars are very narrow. Testing has shown that only the tip of the boning knife, the murder weapon, could pass through; the handle would get stuck."

"Perhaps after it was disassembled, the handle was left inside the house and then reassembled through the window."

"The knife is made of stainless steel and is made of one-piece molding."

"Then maybe there are other methods. In mystery novels, the methods of murder in a locked room are always bizarre..."

"Stop talking nonsense!" my father suddenly raised his voice and shouted, startling me. "Do you understand your current situation? If we can confirm it was suicide and close the case quickly, even if you did break into the house, you won't be detained and investigated as murder suspects. This is the best outcome we can expect right now."

I stared into my father's eyes, unsure if I was trembling because the heat wasn't on or because I suddenly understood his true intentions. The acne-faced interrogator shared the same thought, as did most of the other officers. The investigation into Li Xueqiang's death was like a puzzle, only missing the final piece: who had pried open the door? If Gao Yang and I could claim the responsibility for the lock-picking, all the questions would be answered, the puzzle complete.

But the problem is that the culprit who picked the lock was someone else.

"Do you think we really broke in?" I asked my father.

"I mean, what if?" My father looked at the back of his hand, where many curled hairs grew. From his eyes, it was clear that he already had a standard answer in his mind.

The half-hour lunch break was almost here, and my father led me to the interrogation room, repeatedly urging me to tell the truth.

"Your friend, Gao Yang, has been under interrogation and hasn't had a meal yet. He's not being treated as well as you are," he whispered. "If you really broke in, he would have succumbed to the pressure and confessed by now. You'd be in real trouble if you lied again."

Speaking of Gao Yang, I immediately thought of Li Zitong. Because the discovery of her body had been such a huge psychological shock, I had completely forgotten about looking for her.

I asked my father if he had found Li Zitong's whereabouts. He looked a little strange, as if hesitating whether to speak or not.

"Tell me, so I can have a better idea during the interrogation."

"Well, this is actually quite strange." His voice was unusually flat, different from what he was saying. "The girl has been missing for over half a month."

"Missing?" I was shocked. "Didn't you say you were just sick at home?"

"That's what Li Xueqiang said publicly. But according to his youngest son, he hasn't seen his sister since the end of last month. Neither have his neighbors. And Li Xueqiang hasn't reported her missing, nor has he taken the initiative to look for her."

"Isn't that rather suspicious..."

"Shh, someone is coming, stop talking."

He met a young female police officer who greeted his father, but he looked confused.

"I'm from the Wudu branch. We worked together last time I came to investigate," the policewoman explained.

"Oh, yes, Officer Xu Wenjing, right? There's been so much going on lately... Are you here to investigate Xu Lan's case?"

"Yes, I heard Xu Lan's husband also passed away, and the bureau sent me here to assist with the investigation." Xu Wenjing smiled businesslike, a glint of white teeth between her lips. Her eyes fell on me by chance, and like a magnet, she couldn't move away, and her smile faded.

"This is my child." Noticing her gaze, the father explained.

Xu Wenjing twisted her lips and said, "I've seen him."

"Really? He sometimes comes to the bureau to see me. You might have met him last time you were on a business trip."

"No, I saw him in a video." Her voice was very dry. "Remember? The last investigation document said that there was a strange videotape retrieved from the well, and the boy in it was him."

My father's face changed drastically. "Did you recognize the wrong person?"

"No, I've watched that video over ten times." Her pupils dilated, slowly flickering, the look of a beast staking its prey. Knowing detectives, she was probably imagining the scene of officially obtaining the arrest warrant and handcuffing me.

I instinctively took a step back and looked at my father for help, but found that his eyes were equally terrifying.