9
I still couldn't fall asleep. The contents of the book kept replaying in my mind. I tossed and turned in bed until seven in the morning.
Never mind, I'll sleep on the high-speed train back home. I opened the door and went to the bathroom to check my dark circles, but suddenly I felt something was wrong.
The hallway was pitch black. All the doors were shut. Even the master bedroom door was locked. Li Kaiyi had vowed last night that he would not close the door.
There was no warmth or sound from anyone else in the house. They'd all left? Li Zitong hadn't called me? That's not right. We agreed to take the same high-speed train back. I stood there for a moment, stunned, and I thought I could smell the faint scent of blood.
I heard a crunching sound, and then realized it was the clacking of my teeth. This scene reminded me of the day, many years ago, when I first saw a corpse.
A deep sense of foreboding washed over me. I rushed to Li Tianci's door, but it was locked from the inside. I pounded on it, calling out her name.
"Li Zitong, Li Zitong? Zitong! Zitong!"
The door opened suddenly. With the weight of my whole body on it, I couldn't help but fall forward, and the person who opened the door fell to the ground with me.
I supported my upper body with my arms, and in front of me was a head of scattered sleepy long hair, a flushed face and a shirt that was only buttoned to the second button from the bottom up.
"Have you seen enough?" She punched me in the left eye.
I rolled to the side, clutching my eyes. Li Zitong stood up quickly, clutching his collar. He turned his back and heard the rustling sound of buttons being fastened.
"I didn't mean to do that," I argued.
"I see. It's okay... No, something's wrong. It's a big deal! Why are you banging on my door so early in the morning? Is it an earthquake? Is it the end of the world? Are aliens attacking Earth? Did you get kicked in the head by a donkey?"
"I woke up early in the morning and found all the doors in the corridor were closed."
"Is it strange?"
"Including the master bedroom."
“Huh…”
"I can even smell the faint smell of rust."
Li Zitong hurriedly threw on a coat and walked barefoot into the hallway with me. I couldn't smell any blood anymore. I didn't know if it was because I was so used to it, or if it was just an illusion caused by the psychological suggestion at the time. Personally, I felt the latter. After that hilarious farce, I felt like a fool.
Li Zitong's expression was not as relaxed as mine. She almost ran to the door of the master bedroom and knocked hard, but no one answered.
She turned to the doorknob, but it was locked from the inside.
"Do you have the key to this door?" I asked Li Zitong.
"No, they were all taken away by my second uncle and aunt."
"Then let's wait until Second Aunt comes back. The person inside was probably just sleeping too soundly." I offered my opinion without any nervousness.
But she disagreed with me and shouted Li Kaiyi's name so loudly that I thought everyone in the building would be woken up.
"Why don't we go around and take a look outside," I had an idea. "We can see what's going on inside through the master bedroom window. If the window is open, it will be easier to wake him up."
Li Zitong agreed. Just like I had thirteen years ago, she also took out a worn-out bicycle from the corridor and leaned it against the wall, intending to use it as a footstool while she climbed up to see the view herself.
But I stopped her. Because the window was open, I was pretty sure I smelled blood.
"Let me do it. You're not tall enough. Just help me hold the bike."
Just like thirteen years ago, I trembled as I stepped onto the bicycle seat and peered into the room through the security fence. Panic swept over me, cruelly and easily clearing my mind.
Videotapes from nowhere were scattered throughout the room: on the floor, on the bed, and on the man lying in it. The man—Li Kaiyi—had his face distorted beyond belief. I couldn't imagine the horror of the last scene he witnessed before his death, the terror that had distorted his features to such an extent. For a moment, I even thought he'd been frightened to death. But a dagger was lodged in his chest, and blood stained the entire room.
Just like thirteen years ago, the bike tipped over and I fell to the ground. Ignoring the scrapes on my wrists and ankles, I backed away on my hands and knees until my back hit the wall.
At this moment, I had no time to pay attention to Li Zitong's subtle expressions.
The same location, similar secret room, and similar method of death as thirteen years ago, but the police quickly came to a completely opposite conclusion.
homicide.
Actually, even an amateur detective like me could spot the clues at the scene without a professional's help. First, the dagger lodged in the left chest was perfectly positioned; if the victim had committed suicide with the knife held backward, it would have been quite awkward. Furthermore, there were two stab wounds to the abdomen. It's hard to imagine someone being so brutal as to stab themselves three times in these vital areas.
Secondly, while the room was locked, it was just a simple built-in lock. The characteristic of this type of lock is that it can be locked from the outside with the key. There was also no U-shaped lock on the inside of the door, as was the case back then. Therefore, it wasn't a strictly secret room.
Third, Li Kaiyi had no reason to commit suicide. The day before, he was desperately fighting for his property, and the next day, he was stabbed three times and died in his bed. If the truth were known to the trending online media, they would probably fabricate horror stories about haunted houses, possession, and curses, but modern criminal investigation technology clearly doesn't support such ideas.
Although Li Zitong and I were the ones who took the initiative to call the police, we naturally became major suspects.
During the lengthy interrogation, I confessed my experiences on the day of the crime, while also learning a few clues from the police's cross-questioning. There were no fingerprints on the murder weapon's dagger; the doors and windows of the house showed no signs of damage from the outside; and my second aunt, who had taken the main door key home to rest, had a clear alibi. All of this seemed to be working against us.
But after a while, I was finally released. I guess it was because there were no contradictions or omissions in my confession, and there was no clear evidence to suggest I was a suspect.
My father took me out with a grim face.
The institute hadn't changed much over the years. I walked towards the main entrance as if I knew the way, but was stopped by my father.
"The deceased's family has gathered relatives and friends and is crying and making a fuss in the reception hall. It's better to take a detour."
He led me through the back door into the parking lot, got into his used Volkswagen, closed the door, but didn't start the car.
"Why lie?"
"Is it your turn to interrogate me? I thought you had retired long ago."
He slapped the steering wheel hard. "Stop talking nonsense. The girl you brought back is the girl from the Li family. Why didn't you say so earlier?"
"I was rushing to attend the funeral and didn't have time."
"Remember? Before you went to Shanghai to study, I repeatedly told you not to have any contact with that girl anymore."
I simply said, "You want to interfere in the issue of premature love? Do you think I'm a high school student?"
"You kid!" The wrinkles on his father's forehead suddenly deepened. "Yes, I don't care whether you have a relationship or not. I just ask you to break up with her and find someone else, okay? There are plenty of good girls to introduce you to."
"Is there something wrong with Li Zitong?"
My father scratched the blue vein on the back of his neck. His blood pressure had always been abnormally high, caused by his irregular work schedule, smoking, and drinking habits. "Based on my years of experience as a criminal detective, I know she's definitely not as simple as she appears."
"Come on, you said that ten years ago, and now you still can't prove anything."
"If she really had no problems, how did she get involved in a murder case and become a major suspect?"
"Wait, you mean Li Zitong is still a suspect? She wasn't released with me?"
"Hmph, it's not that easy. There's no sign of anyone breaking into the house from outside. It's obvious that the person who stayed inside that night committed the crime."
"But wasn't I released?"
"You're lucky, kid. You never set foot in the master bedroom. No footprints or fingerprints were collected."
It suddenly dawned on me that I had escaped suspicion by hiding outside the door out of momentary fear.
"But Li Zitong accompanied her second uncle and aunt into the master bedroom. I saw it with my own eyes. Her footprints and fingerprints must have been left at that time."
"But she could also have entered the room a second time and killed someone."
"Impossible. To create a scene that looks like a locked room after the murder, one needs the master bedroom door key to lock the door from the outside. But the keys were taken away by her second uncle and aunt in advance, and she doesn't have any."
"She told you this, didn't she? Do you trust her so much? Have you never been deceived by her?"
The words got stuck in my mouth and I remained silent.
He slammed on the brakes at the traffic light. "I'm retired now. While I can still gather some information, I don't know the specific direction of the investigation or its decision. But don't you think it's too much of a coincidence? Every time you appear at the crime scene at the perfect time, you provide testimony that favors that woman."
"every time?"
"In the case of the theft of the 'Dawn Star' crown, the perpetrator had no chance to remove the crown until security had cleared the scene. And you happened to be having dinner with her at the time, providing her with an alibi."
I remained silent, which was something I had never realized before.
"As a public figure, that woman has extensive connections. But this time, she only brought you, an unrelated outsider, to attend the funeral. Is it because you're easier to fool than others and will unconditionally side with her?"
"You said that the police solve cases based on evidence." I managed to come up with a decent rebuttal.
The cars behind him honked their horns. The light turned green. My father simply turned right at the next intersection and parked the car on the side of the road.
"Yes, what I said was all speculation. But as a father, I can't leave you alone. Remember, stay away from dangerous women. If you hang out with that kind of person for too long, you will become confused. Then it will be difficult to get out of it, and your life may be ruined. I am a negative example. My wife and children left me, and I retired. Do you understand what I mean?"
I was speechless. My father actually brought up his own extramarital affair in his youth to admonish me, suggesting that my relationship with Li Zitong was a separate matter. This was simply outrageous.
When the car reached the intersection of the small road, I asked my father not to continue driving home, but to turn right and go to the train station.
"Aren't you going home to sit for a while?"
"No, I've taken some time off, and the work at the company is piling up."
My father didn't say much and sent me to the high-speed rail station, but he looked a little lonely.
I entered the ticket hall, but had no intention of buying a ticket. I just found a seat and sat down.
No matter what others say, I don't believe Li Zitong is the murderer of Li Kaiyi. Her reasons for committing the crime are completely unfounded. Although she hated her relatives' coldness, she obviously wouldn't kill for it. And the claim that she killed to fight for the inheritance is even more unreasonable. She wasn't really short of money.
Someone walked past me, and our eyes met. We recognized each other, both a little surprised. He was the reporter who had come to the company to look for me and gave me his business card. His name was Yang Chunhui.
I was surprised at first to see him again after such a long journey, but then I realized it. It wasn't a coincidence at all. This person had been following the news about Li Zitong. He must have heard about the new case and traveled all the way to this small town to collect information.
"You reporters have a really sharp sense of smell," I said somewhat uncomfortably.
He stared at my face for a few seconds, his expression like he had a sour plum in his mouth. "It's the same here. You always show up where big things happen. I guess you didn't tell the whole truth during the last interview. Is your relationship with Ms. Li not that simple?"
"I just happened to be involved. It was bad luck."
He sneered, not seeming to believe it at all. "I have something else to do, so I'll leave first. As I said, if you hear anything valuable, feel free to call me."
He left in a hurry. I sat there for a considerable while longer before finally getting up and leaving the station. Sure enough, my father's car had already left.
Okay, where do I start investigating?
As I peered into the crime scene from the ventilation window, I noticed something odd. Although the videotapes were scattered all over the floor, they weren't evenly distributed. There were more on the side closest to the window. And as we moved toward the other side, toward the door, there were fewer. It was exactly the same scene as thirteen years earlier.
I also mentioned this during the record-keeping, but the officer in charge didn't ask any further questions and just wrote it down as usual, probably thinking it was insignificant.
But I don't think so.
Like wiping a clean blackboard, I refreshed my consciousness and tried to dig up my memory again. This time, the killer had staged the scene exactly as it had been ten years prior. The question was, how did he know what the scene looked like ten years ago? Despite the media's extensive coverage of the mysterious locked-room murder a decade ago, and the recent resurgence of the story with the jewelry theft, none of the reports included photos of the scene, only descriptions.
From what I recall, despite the overwhelming number of reports, the descriptions of the scene were remarkably identical. I'm afraid the sources were all the same: "The deceased was lying on the bed, with the videotapes spread out over him, and quite a bit on the floor."
If the killer was simply a copycat, he would have, based on the reports, scattered the videotapes around the bed and, more importantly, the body. However, he chose not to do so, instead accurately recreating the scene thirteen years earlier. This suggests he was one of the few people who witnessed the scene firsthand, or perhaps even the killer himself.
But this is very strange. Accurately reconstructing the scene would undoubtedly significantly narrow the range of suspects and have a very negative impact on the murderer's hidden identity. Why would he do this?
I remembered the crime analysis my father had taught me when I was little. For murderers, habit is addictive. If their method remains intact, they'll likely continue using it. Like polishing a piece of art, they perfect their skills by recreating the murders over and over again.
Wait, maybe you can find someone in the know and ask directly.
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