Tingen, 2 Daffodil Street.

Klein left the note, locked the door, and quickly walked towards Leonard Mitchell who was waiting on the side of the road.

Leonard's short black hair was a little longer than last month, and it was unkempt and looked very messy.

But even so, with his good looks, emerald eyes and poetic temperament, he still has a unique beauty.

As expected, any hairstyle depends on the face... Klein complained subconsciously and pointed in the direction of Iron Cross Street:

"Frye is waiting for us over there?"

"Yes." Leonard adjusted his untucked shirt and asked casually, "Did you find any clues from the information?"

Klein held the cane in his left hand and walked along the edge of the street.

"No, I can't find any pattern in the way or time of death. You know, rituals involving evil gods and demons must be coordinated with specific time points or special methods."

Leonard touched the special revolver hidden at his waist and under his shirt, chuckled and said:

"This is not absolute. In my experience, some evil gods or demons are very easy to satisfy as long as they are very interested in what happens next."

"And there must be a considerable number of these deaths that are normal, and we must eliminate them to get the correct answer."

Klein glanced at him and said:

"That's why the captain asked us to re-investigate and rule out normal events."

"Leonard, your tone and description tell me that you have plenty of experience in similar cases, but you've been a Nighthawk for less than four years. On average, you encounter no more than two supernatural cases per month, and most of them are simple and easy to solve."

He always felt that his teammate Leonard Mitchell was weird and mysterious. Not only did he always doubt himself and think he was special, but he was also sometimes weird, arrogant, frivolous, and deep.

Did he have an adventure, too? An adventure that made him feel like the protagonist of a drama? Klein made a rough guess based on his extensive knowledge of movies, novels, and TV series.

Hearing his question, Leonard smiled and said:

"This is because you haven't officially entered the state of a Nighthawk yet. You are still in the training stage."

"Every six months, the Holy Church compiles the extraordinary cases encountered by each church in each diocese into a book. Based on the different confidentiality levels, certain deletions are made in different versions, and then distributed to each member accordingly."

"Besides the occult studies course, you can apply to the captain to enter the Chanis Gate and borrow the previous case books."

Klein nodded in realization and said:

"The captain never reminded me of this."

Until now, he has not had the opportunity to enter Chanis Gate.

Leonard chuckled and said:

"I thought you were used to the captain's style, but I didn't expect you to be so naive as to expect him to remind you."

At this point, he added meaningfully: "If one day the captain remembers everything and forgets nothing, then we need to be more vigilant."

Does this mean it's out of control? Klein nodded solemnly and asked:

"Is this the captain's unique style? I thought it was a problem associated with the 'Sleepless One' sequence..."

Staying up late causes memory loss or something...

"To be precise, it's the unique style of 'Nightmare'. Reality and dreams are intertwined, and it is often difficult to distinguish what is real and needs to be remembered, and what is fake and does not need to be kept in the mind..." Leonard wanted to say something else, but the two of them had already stepped into Iron Cross Street and saw Fry, the "corpse collector", waiting at the tram bus stop.

Frye wore a black round-brimmed felt hat, a thin windbreaker of the same color, and carried a leather suitcase. His complexion was so pale that people suspected that he would suddenly fall ill at any time, and his cold and gloomy temperament made the people waiting for the bus around him stay away from him.

After nodding to each other, the three of them did not speak, but met in silence, walked past the "Slin Bakery" together, and turned to the lower street of Iron Cross Street.

The noise was immediate. The street vendors selling oyster soup, pan-fried meat and fish, ginger beer, fruit and other foods shouted at the top of their lungs, causing passers-by to slow down their pace involuntarily.

It was already a little after five o'clock, and many people had returned to Iron Cross Street. The two sides of the road began to become crowded, and some children were mixed in, watching everything with indifference, staring at all the pockets.

Klein often comes here to buy cheap cooked food. He used to live in a nearby apartment and is quite familiar with the situation here. So he opened his mouth to remind them:

"Beware of thieves."

Leonard smiled and said, "Don't worry about it."

He pulled at his shirt and adjusted the gun pocket so that the revolver at his waist was exposed.

Suddenly, the eyes that were staring at him turned away, and the pedestrians around him unconsciously made way for him.

…Klein was stunned for a moment, then quickly caught up with Leonard and Frye, lowering his head to prevent anyone he knew from noticing him.

——Benson and Melissa still keep in touch with some of their former neighbors, after all, they didn’t move far away.

Passing through the area filled with street vendors, the three of them entered the true lower streets of Iron Cross Street.

The passers-by here were all wearing old and tattered clothes. They were wary and greedy about the appearance of strange and glamorous people, as if they were vultures staring at carrion and might attack at any time, but Leonard's revolver effectively prevented any accidents from happening.

"Let's start with the death last night, starting with Mrs. Lawes who made matchboxes." Leonard flipped through the documents and pointed to a place not far away. "Room 134, 1st floor..."

As the three men moved forward, the ragged children playing quickly hid on the side of the road, looking at them with confused, curious and fearful eyes.

"Look at their arms and legs, they're like matchsticks." Leonard sighed and was the first to enter No. 134, which has three floors.

A mixture of various smells immediately entered Klein's nostrils. He could vaguely distinguish the stench of urine, the stink of sweat, the damp and musty smell, and the smell of burning coal and wood.

Unable to help but raise his hand to cover his nose, Klein saw Beach Mountbatten waiting here.

The sheriff in charge of the surrounding neighborhood had a brown beard and was full of fawning towards Leonard who revealed his identity as an inspector.

"Sir, I have asked Lawes to wait in the room." Beach Mountbatten laughed in his unique, slightly shrill voice.

He obviously did not recognize Klein, who looked much more energetic and respectable. He was only concerned with trying to please the three officers and led them into the Lawvis home on the first floor.

This is a single room. On the innermost side is a two-story bunk bed. On the right is a table with paste, cardboard and other items on it. In the corner is a basket full of matchboxes. On the left is a tattered cupboard that holds both clothes and tableware.

There were stoves, toilets, a small amount of coal, wood and other things squeezed on both sides of the door. In the middle there were two dirty beds on the floor. A man was sleeping soundly in a quilt with holes in it, making it almost impossible to step.

On the lower bunk of the bunk bed, a woman was lying there, her skin was cold and gloomy, and it was obvious that she had lost all her life.

Next to the corpse sat a man in his thirties with greasy and messy hair. He looked listless and his eyes were lifeless.

"Lavis, these three police officers are here to examine the body and ask you some questions." Beach Mountbatten shouted loudly, without caring that there were people sleeping on the ground.

The listless man looked up weakly and asked in surprise:

"Didn't we check and ask about it this morning?"

He was wearing a gray-blue work uniform with many traces of patching on it.

"Just answer when I ask you to. Why do you have so many questions?" Beech Mountbatten scolded him harshly, then smiled at Leonard, Klein, and Frye, "Sir, that's Lawvis. ** is his wife, the deceased. After our preliminary examination, we found that she died of a sudden illness."

Klein and the others tiptoed through the gap between the mats and walked to the bed.

Frye, who had a high nose, thin lips and a cold temperament, did not say anything. He just patted Lawes gently, signaling him to make way so that he could examine the body.

Klein glanced at the man sleeping on the ground and asked in confusion:

"Who is this?"

"I, my tenant." Lawvis scratched his head and said, "This room costs 3 soli and 10 pence a week. I'm just a dock worker. My wife can only get 2 and a quarter pence for making a basket of matchboxes. A basket has, yes, more than 130 boxes. We, we have children. I can only rent the vacant space to others. A bed on the floor only costs 1 soli a week..."

"I have a tenant who helps with the stage set at the theatre and doesn't rest before 10pm. So he sold the right to use his floor during the day to this gentleman, who is the one guarding the theatre gate at night. Well, he only has to pay 6p a week..."

Listening to the other party's rambling introduction, Klein couldn't help but glance at the basket in the corner.

A basket of 130 boxes or more only earns 2.25 pence, which is almost the price of two pounds of brown bread... How many baskets of paste can be made in a day? (Note 1)

Leonard looked around and asked:

"Was there anything unusual before your wife's death?"

Lawvis, who had answered similar questions before, pointed to her left chest and said, "Since last week, or maybe the week before last, she has often said that it's stuffy and hard to breathe."

A sign of heart disease? A normal death? Klein interrupted and asked:

"Did you see her die?"

Lauvis recalled:

"After the sun went down, she stopped working. Candles and kerosene were much more expensive than matchboxes... She said she was very tired and asked me to talk to the two children while she took a rest. When I looked at her again, she had already stopped breathing."

Having said that, Lawes's sadness and pain could no longer be concealed.

Klein and Leonard asked a few more questions, but neither of them could find anything unnatural or abnormal.

After looking at each other, Leonard said:

"Mr. Lauvis, please go out and wait for a few minutes. We will do a thorough examination of the body. I don't think you want to see what happens next."

"Okay, okay." Lauvis stood up hurriedly.

Beach Mountbatten walked over, kicked the tenant who was sleeping on the floor awake, and roughly drove him out. He then wisely closed the door and stood guard outside.

"How is it?" Leonard then looked at Frye.

"Died of a heart attack," Frye said with certainty, withdrawing his hands.

Klein thought about it, took out a half-penny copper coin, and planned to make a quick judgment.

"'Mrs. Lawes's heart disease was affected by supernatural factors'? No, this is too narrow and the answer is misleading... Well, 'Mrs. Lawes's death was affected by supernatural factors'... That's it!" He whispered silently as if he was thinking, and quickly confirmed the divination statement.

As he silently recited, Klein came to Mrs. Lawes' body. His eyes darkened as he flicked the coin upwards.

As the sound echoed, the brass coin tumbled down and landed steadily in his palm.

This time, the king's head is facing upwards.

This shows that Mrs. Lauvis' death was indeed influenced by supernatural factors!

Note 1: At the end of the Victorian era, a basket contained 144 matchboxes, the labor fee was 2.25 pence, and the maximum number of baskets a woman could complete from morning to night was 7.