Chapter 172: “Autopsy”

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Two
“Autopsy”

“How—how long has that councilman been dead?” Klein asked directly, even as he packed up and rose.

If more than fifteen minutes had passed, the information he could obtain would drop off sharply. If more than an hour had passed, he could only gain rather superficial things.

If more than a month had passed, even spirit channeling itself had a very high probability of failure.

“Unfortunately, the preliminary examination report shows that Councilman Maynard died sometime between nine and eleven last night,” Dunn said, shaking his head. “You only need to provide help. Do not worry too much about whether there will be any result.”

“All right.”

Klein took off his coat, picked up his hat and cane, and walked out of the guard room while Dunn Smith replaced him on rotation before Chanis Gate.

In theory, so long as a Beyonder’s spirituality had been raised, they could learn spirit vision, divination, ritual magic, and similar things—especially since the Sleepless Sequence was known for high inspiration.

But in practice, the differences between the various “professions” of different Sequences remained very obvious in such areas. For example, Dunn Smith and Leonard Mitchell both currently grasped spirit vision, but the aura colors they could see were only pale white or light blue. They could not accurately distinguish the state of different parts of a person’s body. Of course, while in spirit vision, they could definitely see ghosts and spiritual bodies directly, but that was not as simple and effective as relying on their own inspiration.

This also caused Sleepless, Midnight Poets, and Nightmares to dislike activating spirit vision.

Likewise, if they were willing, they could learn the pendulum method, dowsing, dream divination, and so on, but the success rate would not be worth expecting.

It was the same in the field of ritual magic.

As the two brushed past each other, Dunn suddenly spoke.

“I forgot to mention this earlier. This matter is also being handled by Inspector Tolle. He is waiting for you in the reception hall of the security company. Remember to change into your new uniform and take your new identification.”

Klein smiled, not surprised at all.

“New uniform and new identification? The Tingen City Police Department is quite efficient.”

He had only advanced to Sequence 8 yesterday…

“Because this case is very important, so…”

Dunn spread his hands and sat in the seat Klein had occupied earlier.

Klein returned all the way upstairs. He did not hurry to the reception hall. Instead, he entered the Nighthawks’ lounge and went to the attached washroom to deal with personal matters, since the guard room provided only a toilet, water bottle, and basin.

Then he changed into the special police uniform upgraded to two silver stars, as well as the soft cap bearing the emblem of two crossed swords encircling a crown.

After transferring over his Sunflame Charms, Azik’s copper whistle, ritual materials, and other items, Klein straightened his clothing, took his cane, and walked out of the lounge.

As soon as he passed through the partition, he saw Inspector Tolle sitting in the sofa area.

After not seeing him for some time, this tall police officer had grown even rounder. His belly had become even more prominent. Together with his thick beard and hair, he looked just like a brown bear that had escaped from the circus.

“I am very glad to work with you again.”

Seeing that the Nighthawk was someone he knew, Tolle clearly relaxed. He leaned forward, stood, and stretched out a bear paw.

No, a hand…

Klein corrected himself silently and shook it politely.

“So am I.”

At that moment, Tolle glanced at the two silver stars shining on Klein’s shoulder badge and said with slight envy, “We are the same rank now. And it has not even been a month.”

Klein had originally intended to say with seriousness, “The danger we endure may be ten times yours.” But the words reached his mouth, and he remembered his current identity: a Sequence 8 Clown.

Perhaps I can try it…

With the mental reflection of his facial expressions, he raised the corners of his mouth and answered with a clear smile, “Perhaps in another two or three months, you will have to address me as superior officer.”

“You really are humorous,” Tolle said with a laugh, pointing outside. “Shall we go?”

“All right.”

Klein did not give up his cane. To him, after becoming a Clown, this “weapon” finally lived up to its name.

After leaving the front door of Blackthorn Security Company, Klein and Tolle went downstairs side by side—one thin, one fat, making the contrast extremely striking.

“I think we could even go to the circus and make the audience laugh,” Klein suddenly said with a smile.

Tolle nodded in great agreement.

“Yes. I think the contrast between us has excellent comic effect. Did you know? Some circuses are experimenting with clown duos of different weights and heights.”

No. What I actually meant was a trainer and a brown bear…

Naturally, Klein did not say anything so impolite. He merely echoed, “It is a pity that Tingen City has no permanent circus.”

“Yes. But we still have opera houses, theaters, and concert halls,” Inspector Tolle replied with slight regret.

The two exchanged small talk as they boarded the police carriage. Only then did Klein turn the topic toward the case.

“Has Councilman Maynard’s death been confirmed as murder?”

“Not confirmed. But his wife and his two sons are unwilling to believe it was a sudden illness. Mm, there are indeed some problems at the scene. When Maynard was discovered, he was not wearing a single piece of clothing. He was simply lying on the bed in a guest room,” Tolle said, choosing his words.

“He and his wife slept in separate rooms?”

Klein leaned back against the wall of the carriage, imitating all the detectives he had seen in films and dramas in his previous life.

Tolle shook his head.

“No. His wife has not been in Tingen recently. She went to Backlund to attend an important social ball. You may not know this, but she is the daughter of a New Party leader and member of the House of Commons. She is still on the steam train returning to Tingen and merely expressed her attitude ahead of time through telegram.

“Maynard was also a member of the New Party. He has been a Tingen City councilman for more than ten years and intended to aim for the mayoral seat in next year’s election.”

“In other words, his death may have something to do with that?” Klein casually asked. Then he laughed at himself. “I am only assisting with the ‘autopsy.’ Other matters are outside the range of what I should concern myself with. You do not need to answer.”

Tolle sighed, not minding too much.

“Autopsy… You are very cautious.

“As for your guess, I can only say perhaps. Last night, Councilman Maynard hosted a gathering at his home. Too many guests came and went, so for now we cannot determine the main suspect. Furthermore, all those guests have respectable identities. We must be cautious enough and cannot make mistakes.”

“Understood.”

Klein nodded gently and then, rather interested, asked about some details of the scene.

Maynard’s home was located in the Golden Indus District. It was a detached residence, surrounded front, back, left, and right by gardens and lawns. It had stables, a fountain, and wide roads paved in cement.

After putting on the soft cap with the police emblem, Klein walked beside Inspector Tolle, passed through the blockade that existed almost only in name, and entered the front door of the two-story house under the eyes of one police officer after another.

In the sitting room area, two male and two female trainee inspectors were separately interviewing people and collecting statements.

Klein swept his gaze across them and saw quite a few gentlemen in tailcoats, as well as several ladies in ornate court dresses with fine black veils covering their faces.

“They are all guests who stayed here overnight,” Tolle explained, leading Klein toward the stairs and heading straight for the second floor.

Along the way, perhaps because of his inspector’s shoulder badge, the police officers searching the house revealed respectful expressions at the sight of the two men and did not obstruct them in the slightest.

“This is the guest room where Councilman Maynard’s body was discovered.”

The tall, powerful Tolle stopped before a deep-red wooden door.

Klein thoughtfully asked, “Who did this guest room belong to last night?”

“No one. This house has far too many guest bedrooms, and this one was not assigned.”

Tolle put on white gloves and turned the knob of the deep-red wooden door.

He had the officer guarding inside temporarily leave, then nodded to Klein.

“Inspector Moretti, I will leave the rest to you.”

“May the Goddess protect you and me. I hope there will be a harvest.”

Klein also put on white gloves and locked the door from the inside.

He paced to the bedside and looked at the dark-red bed sheets, which were unusually messy. A corpse covered by a white cloth lay upon them.

Klein could now be considered someone who had seen things. Without fear, he pulled away the white cloth and looked at Councilman Maynard.

The man was in his forties. His blond hair had been cut very short, and his face still retained an expression in which pain and pleasure were twisted together.

Klein retreated two steps, took out the corresponding materials, and swiftly completed the preliminary preparations for spirit channeling.

After a series of incantations, amid the quiet, distant fragrance and the cold wind circling his body, he silently recited the divination statement he had already prepared:

“The cause of Councilman Maynard’s death.

“The cause of Councilman Maynard’s death.

“…”

As he recited, Klein retreated before a high-backed chair and slowly sat down.

His eyes turned black. Leaning back, he swiftly entered deep sleep.

Inside the illusory, dreamy, and hazy world, he suddenly saw the gentleman from just now.

Maynard, eyes wide and blue, was pressing himself upon a fair-skinned lady with a striking figure, thrusting with all his strength.

First, he revealed an expression of extreme satisfaction and extreme pleasure. Then he abruptly withdrew his right hand, pressed it against his chest, and his face twisted until it became ferocious.

Pap!

As Maynard collapsed, the scene rapidly shattered. Klein opened his eyes and awoke from the dream.

I did not expect to watch a little indecent film in this way… So, Councilman Maynard died in bed while having an affair. Died from overexertion?

Klein laughed softly and rubbed the corner of his forehead.

He took out a fountain pen and paper, performed the ritual again, and drew the woman he had seen in the dream. Of course, below the neck was omitted.

This was a woman whose exact age was difficult to describe. She possessed the mature charm of a woman in her thirties, while still retaining a trace of youthful innocence. Her eyes were moist and lustrous, giving others the impression of pitiful tenderness.

Glancing at his “own” work, Klein packed away the ritual materials and removed the wall of spirituality.

He turned sideways and reached for the silver-inlaid black cane leaning nearby.

Suddenly, he heard a ho-ho sound circling inside a throat—a ho-ho sound that instantly raised tiny bumps across the surface of his skin.

Klein snapped his head toward the bed and saw Councilman Maynard’s hands tightly gripping the dark-red sheets, the backs of his hands bulging with dark green-black veins.

With a rustle, the councilman who had died sometime between nine and eleven last night sat upright. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth, and his empty eyes opened wide.