Chapter 98 The Dead in the Street
As dusk approached, Iron Cross Lower Street was bustling with people, and the noisy atmosphere of the market was overwhelming. Street vendors selling fresh and cooked food shouted at the top of their lungs, causing passers-by to involuntarily slow down their pace and move closer to them.
In this chaotic street, the carriage would be unable to move forward, so the night watchmen had no choice but to have the hired carriage stop at the street corner, get off and walk to the target location.
Klein had recovered some strength in the car and now looked warily at the passersby. He had lived in a nearby apartment before moving to Daffodil Street. Even now, with improved living conditions, he often came here to buy cheap prepared food, maintaining due caution towards the impoverished and chaotic Lower Iron Cross Street.
"Be careful of thieves."
He quietly reminded Angel and Leonard who were traveling with him.
"Don't worry."
Leonard didn't care. He opened one side of his windbreaker, revealing the holster at his waist. The brass receiver and exquisite handguard of the revolver were exposed, and the police badge on it was highly recognizable.
In an instant, all eyes filled with greed, suspicion and vigilance turned away from him, and the number of eyes staring at the three well-dressed outsiders decreased by half.
"You should also pay attention..."
Klein looked at Angel, who was still unaware, until she suddenly realized what was happening and fastened the hood of her windbreaker, blocking the rest of his sight.
But soon those eyes shifted towards Klein again, making him worry whether someone recognized him as the "Moretti boy."
You don’t know me, you don’t know me…
He muttered to himself, lowered his head, and followed Leonard, who was in the lead, and Angel, who was following closely behind, passing through the street vendors and pedestrians, praying not to be seen by anyone he knew.
Fortunately, the busy street was not long, and they soon arrived in front of a three-story house.
"This is the building, second floor, on the left."
Leonard stopped and confirmed the information in his hand again before entering the apartment through the open corridor door.
Klein finally entered the hallway. He looked around and found that this apartment was even worse than the one he had rented before. There were no gas lamps in the corridor, and it was illuminated only by the sunlight from the entrance. The wall paint was mottled, revealing the cracked bricks underneath. The wooden stairs creaked and seemed like they would break at any time, causing people to fall to the next floor.
They walked up the shaky stairs to the second floor, bypassed the unused public bathroom, and stood by the door of the room on the left.
“Dongdong——”
Angel knocked on the door.
"No one?"
After a long time without anyone responding, Klein asked.
As if he had not expected this situation, Leonard frowned and knocked on the closed wooden door again.
This time the door was opened from the inside.
"Who are you?"
Behind the door was a short woman wearing a simple linen dress with an apron over it. Her brown curly hair was tied back with a headband. Her hands were wet with some soap bubbles, as if she had just been washing clothes.
Seeing three well-dressed, serious-looking men and women outside the door, she was surprised and a little uneasy.
"I'm Inspector Mitchell of the Tingen City Police Headquarters. We're here to investigate the death of Val Allison. The chief constable for this street is late, so the three of us have no choice but to conduct the investigation first."
Leonard took out the inspector's badge he had taken off before entering Iron Cross Lower Street, hung it back on the outside of his windbreaker, and spoke seriously.
"You know Sheriff Beech Mountbatten, don't you?"
Klein added.
"Yes... yes, this is the Allison home. Sirs, please come in. I am... Miss Granger. Why is it you?"
When the brown-haired woman heard the name of the notorious sheriff in this neighborhood who liked to beat up suspects at the slightest disagreement, her expression became visibly panicked. She hurriedly made way for the door to let Leonard, who was in the front, enter the room.
But then she saw Angel following behind her and exclaimed.
"Do you know her?"
Klein looked at Angel curiously and asked.
"Her name is Tromi, Cole... My cousin hired her to do odd jobs and also do laundry. I didn't expect she lives here and I even know her..."
Angel's eyes widened mid-sentence.
"Val Allison is your father?"
Her gaze turned to the brown-haired woman known as Tromi.
"...Yes, I live with my father and brother. He was buried ten days ago."
A trace of sadness appeared on Tromi's face, but it was soon replaced by confusion and uneasiness. It seemed that compared to the death of her relatives, she was more worried about the purpose of the police officers in front of her and her future life.
"Buried..." Leonard pondered, turning his head to look at Klein behind him. Seeing him nod imperceptibly, he continued, "It's okay. Let's find out where he died. Please lead the way."
After wiping the soapy water off his hands on his apron, Tromi nodded silently, walked through the living room which had old furniture and messy tables and chairs but was full of life, and came to the outermost of the two bedrooms.
There were two single beds on both sides of the bedroom, one of which was covered with bedding and the other was empty.
Tromi needed no introduction as the three Night Watchmen gathered around the empty bed.
The deceased has already been buried, and it's been more than ten days since then, so the divination effect will probably be very poor...
Klein frowned as he looked at the empty bed board, wondering how to obtain useful information.
"My brother works as a security guard at the bar every afternoon and doesn't come back until dawn. That day, when he got home, he found my father lying in bed clutching his chest... He used to have chest pains all the time, but last month we saved some money and bought him some medicine, and he's gotten much better now. I didn't expect..."
Tromi whispered beside him.
"Did he leave anything behind? Anything he used regularly, clothing, or bedding?"
Leonard suddenly interrupted Tromi.
"What? Ah... Sorry, his sheets and quilt are still there, but his clothes are not."
"Please bring them here and re-lay them as they were. We need to... uh, review the scene."
Tromi opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but when he saw the inspector badge on Leonard's chest, he pursed his lips, went to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, took out the folded bedding, and spread it back on Val's bed.
After bringing Tromi back to the living room and whispering a few words to him, Angel returned to the bedroom alone, closed the door, and looked at Klein.
“Are these items sufficient?”
"It's been a long time, and the bedding has been washed. I'll try my best."
If we were to perform divination in the gray fog space, the results would definitely be better, but it was impossible to do it in front of the two of them, especially Angel, the "Queen" of the Tarot Club...
Klein hesitated for a moment, but decided to try dream divination.
Angel took out a dagger and used a simple ritual to sanctify it before constructing a spiritual wall to seal off the bedroom. Klein sat on another bed that probably belonged to Tromi's brother, half leaning against the headboard, sketching a ball of light, and quickly entered a dream.
In the hazy mist, images surrounding the middle-aged man appeared one after another.
He gritted his teeth as he carried the goods, occasionally holding his chest and gasping for breath.
He was bargaining with the fishmonger in front of the stall with his ears flushed.
He looked at his daughter who went out early and came back late, and his son who went out late and came back early, with a sad face.
While he was queuing up to receive his wages, a slender hand reached out from behind and patted him.
He covered his chest in pain under the crimson moonlight, tried to open his mouth to call for help, but finally closed his eyes.
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