Chapter 233 More Clues
It was already afternoon, and the warm late autumn sunlight shone into Sherlock Moriarty's home through the bay window, shining on the private detective's face, making the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses reflect a golden light and obscure the eyes behind the lenses.
After a long time, he couldn't help laughing and lowered his head. The corners of his mouth behind his beard twitched, and his abdominal muscles wrapped in a vest and shirt trembled.
"Haha, divination, master divination...haha, sorry," he said, putting away his smile under Angel's serious gaze. "Then Miss Master Divination, could you show me some of your skills to broaden the horizons of a naive detective like me? It's not that I don't believe you, it's just..."
The cool performance was mercilessly ridiculed, which made Angel's already not-so-good mood even worse. She rejected Moriarty's request without hesitation.
Fortunately, the detective quickly got back to the point. Perhaps realizing that the person sitting across from him was also a Beyonder, or perhaps curious about the truth behind the O'Neill family's "suicide," he quickly grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down the location of the gang's base where Emily was rescued, while circling a street on the map.
"Right here, on Winster Street in Cherwood, there's a building with shops downstairs and residential buildings upstairs."
After thinking for a moment, Moriarty stood up from the sofa, straightened his clothes, and walked to the coat rack at the door of the living room.
"I'd better go with you, so you don't go to the wrong place," he said, turning around at the coat rack. "But I'm a private detective, and this kind of thing is also a commission, so I have to pay a fee."
Do you think this is forced selling?
Angel put away the map and the note with the address on it and looked at the detective who had suddenly become more active.
"So, Detective Sherlock Moriarty, how much would you charge for this commission?"
"Since this is an after-sales service for Mr. O'Neill, 1p, 1p will do."
Putting on his windbreaker, the detective returned the smile with a bright smile.
…
Half an hour later, the two men got off the hired carriage and stood in the middle of Winster Street.
This road is more of an alley than a street. Due to its age, many buildings on both sides have secretly added protruding roofs and supports, making the originally narrow street only wide enough for a four-wheeled carriage. When two hired carriages meet, they need to slowly go around each other, otherwise bumps and collisions are inevitable.
The location given by Moriarty was a three-story building sandwiched between these "illegal buildings". Since the original appearance of this gang's stronghold had not been changed, it seemed somewhat unique among the surrounding strangely shaped buildings.
"It's here. The last time I was here, there were four or five gang members inside, but none of them had guns or anything special."
He probably meant "there are no extraordinary people."
Angel nodded, looked at the endless stream of pedestrians around him, gave up the idea of climbing the wall and climbing through the window, took out the "master key", walked up the steps, inserted it directly into the keyhole and twisted it, opened the door as if he was returning to his own home, and walked in.
The house was dark, with only the sunlight coming in from the door illuminating the carpet, shoe cabinet and coat rack at the entrance. In Angel's dark vision, there was no sign of any movement deeper in the living room.
Are they not at home, or have they evacuated?
She did not relax and quickly walked through the rooms on the first floor, then went up to the second and third floors for a quick inspection.
"There's no one here, but there are signs of multiple people living here. Judging from their clothing, at least five or six people have lived here, all men. The ashtrays haven't been cleaned, and the food they bought hasn't rotted. I'm afraid they all left in a hurry, and not for long, three days at most."
Back on the first floor, Angel reported his examination results as he watched Moriarty cautiously enter the room, close the door and turn on the light.
"Three days... That should be the time after you met Mr. O'Neill and before the O'Neill family 'committed suicide.'" Moriarty reached out to stroke his chin, but retracted his right hand after touching his beard. He continued, "It's strange. It's been more than a week since I reported them to the police station, and they're still here. Either they have a reason to deal with the police interrogation, or they have people inside the Cherwood District Police Station."
"I'm going to go upstairs and look into their living area for clues. You're in charge of exploring the first floor and looking for a basement."
He looked towards the stairs leading to the second floor and quickly made a decision.
Angel was thinking about how to get rid of this extraordinary detective so that he could use the magic mirror to look for clues. He immediately agreed after hearing his suggestion.
Watching the hem of Moriarty's windbreaker disappear over the stairs, Angel took an almost full ashtray and two empty bottles from the living room, went to the study, piled them together, took out the magic mirror and chanted:
"Mirror, mirror, tell me the information about the owner of these items."
The scene of the living room of the building quickly appeared on the mirror. Several men in casual clothes were playing Fighting Evil at the table. Some copper coins were piled on the corner of the table, empty wine bottles were thrown on the floor, and the ashtray was full of cigarette butts.
"Let's go, Mr. Capin has a new assignment, and it's in the East District. Also, they said this location is unusable, so pack up your things and leave immediately."
At the command of a man who entered the living room, several people threw away their cigarette butts, collected their playing cards, and left the building through the back door.
"Apparently, it was when they left three days ago. So, who is Kapin? And what was the mission assigned to them?"
Stroking the mirror again, Angel tried to divine who this "Mr. Capin" was.
Soon, the black mirror returned to normal, reflecting the study ceiling and Angel's black hair.
"Insufficient information. As expected, divination is impossible with only a name..."
Hearing the footsteps coming down the stairs, Angel quickly put away the magic mirror and walked out of the study. He saw Moriarty walking quickly down the stairs to the first floor. He fastened the cufflinks on his left wrist with his right hand and held a lighter in his left hand.
"I found this up there. It's Mr. O'Neill's lighter. I saw him use it several times while searching for clues, but when I found Emily, the lighter was still on him. This means that Mr. O'Neill had been here after that, or someone else brought the lighter into this building."
He explained, handing the lighter to Angel, who took it and looked at it carefully before digging out his impression of it from the depths of his memory.
When Mr. O'Neill first came to the divination club, he took out this lighter several times, but when they met for the last time, he gave up trying to light a cigarette several times. It turned out that he didn't successfully quit smoking, but he didn't have a lighter?
Angel's heart sank as he stroked the cool metal surface of the copper lighter. All signs indicated that the deaths of the O'Neill family were likely related to these gangs, and the "Mr. Capin" behind them...
While he was thinking about how to tell the other party the result of the divination, Moriarty had already returned to the gate and turned off the gas lamp, as if he was not worried at all that the darkness would affect Angel.
"Let's go, let's go to O'Neill's house. There shouldn't be any more clues here."
"Do you know where his home is?"
Angel asked curiously as he approached the door.
"I was afraid something might happen on the way, so I planned to follow them home before leaving. Although Mr. O'Neill declined, I overheard the address he gave when he hired the carriage as I was leaving. I have a good hearing and memory."
Shrugging, he opened the door and walked down the steps back to the busy street.
I didn't expect this guy's memory is not only used to remember other people's nicknames, but also to use them in the right place...
Smiling, Angel left the building and considerately locked the door for the gangsters who were not planning to come back.
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