Chapter 86: Finger Snap

Chapter Eighty-Six
Finger Snap

West Borough, Green Park Street.

Klein, who already had a shallow ring of beard around his mouth, wore gold-rimmed glasses and carried a half top hat and black cane as he followed beside Logo Caroman into a spacious, bright living room.

From the ceiling hung a huge crystal chandelier. The walls, corners, and tabletops were all decorated with various golden reliefs and ornaments. The overall impression was gorgeous, refined, and luxurious.

As expected of a jewelry merchant—a jewelry merchant who lives in the West Borough…

Klein swept his gaze past a few oil paintings nearby and sighed inwardly.

Every step Logo took made the fat on his body tremble, causing one to maliciously guess when his clothes and trousers might split apart.

However, as a jewelry merchant, he clearly had enough money to buy garments of the best quality.

“Detective Moriarty, this is my child, Adol.”

Logo stopped at the edge of the carpet and pointed toward the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy seated in a single armchair.

Because every fireplace in the house had already been lit, and heat was conducted through metal pipes, the living room was very warm. Klein himself wanted to strip down to only a shirt and a pair of trousers. Yet the boy was wrapped in a thick fur coat, with a blanket that looked unbearably hot spread over his legs.

At this moment, his head was lowered, his arms tightly hugging himself, his body constantly shivering. Even his dark-blue hair seemed to have lost its shine.

Logo looked at him worriedly and called in a low voice, “Adol, this is Detective Moriarty, who will be responsible for protecting you today and tomorrow.”

Hearing those words, Adol lifted his head, revealing a pale face, blue lips, and unfocused eyes.

“Protect me. Protect me… They want to kill me! They want to kill me!”

His voice grew sharper and sharper. By the end, he covered his ears with both hands and screamed loudly.

Only after several seconds did he gradually calm.

During this process, Klein had already tapped his teeth lightly and quietly activated spirit vision.

Eh…

He suppressed the astonishment that had risen to his lips and examined the boy carefully several more times.

He saw that Adol’s aura colors were dyed with a deep black luster tinged with green.

This was the sign of being haunted, even possessed, by a resentful spirit or shadow!

Adol’s bad friends have already begun taking revenge on him… Or perhaps there are no so-called bad friends at all. He encountered a resentful spirit and began hallucinating…

Klein quietly reached out and gripped Mr. Azik’s copper whistle, letting spirituality spread. Then, thoughtfully, he shifted his gaze to the other people inside the living room.

Near the bow window stood a man in a black coat. He was tall and burly, unsmiling, with his waist bulging as though a pistol were hidden there.

This should be one of the six security personnel…

Klein had just started examining the others when Logo Caroman had already begun introductions.

“Detective Kaslana, and her assistant Lydia.

“Detective Stuart.”

At this point, Logo half turned and pointed toward Klein.

“This is Detective Sherlock Moriarty.”

Kaslana was in her thirties, black-haired and blue-eyed, with thick brows. She seemed to have been quite a beauty when younger, but now, because of slightly sagging cheek muscles and other such issues, she looked somewhat difficult to get along with.

Her assistant Lydia was a red-haired lady in her twenties, with an excellent figure but fairly ordinary looks.

Both ladies wore clothing resembling noble riding attire: slim-waisted white shirts paired with close-fitting trousers convenient for movement. Only the pleated styling at collars and cuffs distinguished them from men.

In addition, they made no attempt to hide the two revolvers at their waists.

That made Klein think of something Solicitor Jurgen had once said: for private detectives, illegal possession of firearms was a problem that could be uncovered the moment anyone investigated. Given the difficulty of obtaining a full-category weapon-use permit, anyone who was not a noble, Member of Parliament, or senior government employee would find it very hard to apply successfully.

Stuart sat opposite Kaslana and Lydia. His face had little flesh, yet it was covered with a broad beard. His pale-green eyes were unusually lively.

He should be around Lydia’s age, while his height was close to Klein’s—a little over 1.7 meters—and his weight roughly 140 pounds.

Stuart wore an underarm holster, inside which sat what was clearly a specially made revolver.

After both sides greeted one another with restraint, Klein removed his coat and hat and handed them to the nearby maid.

“Place these somewhere I can retrieve them quickly. There are a few important items inside.”

In truth, he had already moved the paper figurines, notes, charms, matchbox, and other items into his trouser pockets. Inside the coat there were only herb powders, hydrosol essences, his wallet and keys, and the 206 pounds in banknotes inside that wallet.

Sitting there, Stuart turned his head and examined Klein for a few moments. With a chuckle, he asked, “You did not bring a gun?”

“A gun? This is my gun.”

Klein smiled as he lifted his cane.

At the same time, he puffed out his cheeks and imitated a sound.

Bang!

A gunshot abruptly rang out. Stuart rolled forward and down without thinking, while Kaslana and Lydia swiftly left the sofa and each found cover.

Logo and the servants beside him were both shocked and baffled, not understanding what had happened. Adol, however, still kept his head lowered, trembling.

Only after they clearly saw that Klein was holding nothing but a black cane, and understood that nothing had actually happened, did Kaslana and the others regain their composure. At the same time, they frowned and asked, “What was that just now?”

“Ever since I found a handgun and turned it over, I have been learning techniques for imitating sounds. It seems the effect is quite decent,” Klein answered half jokingly.

“This is not an amusing matter, Detective Moriarty,” Kaslana said gravely.

I only wanted to perform a little magic for you…

After making that inward comment, Klein handed his cane to the maid and nodded solemnly.

“I will be careful.”

Stuart, who had cut the sorriest figure just now, did not seem angry at all. Instead, he patted his clothes with interest, stood, and asked, “Mr. Moriarty, why have I never heard of you? What I mean is, I know quite a few people in this profession, but I never knew you before.”

“I only came to Backlund at the beginning of September,” Klein explained simply.

“I see…”

Stuart smiled.

“Tonight, the two of us will form a team and take responsibility from midnight until tomorrow morning. Is that all right?”

“No problem,” Klein replied with the same smile.

“Good. After dinner, you two will go rest, then rotate in at midnight,” Kaslana added from the side.

Klein looked deeply at Adol, who remained bent over and trembling, and nodded seriously.

…

Nothing happened for the entire afternoon. The worried master and mistress of the house prepared a lavish dinner for the detectives and security personnel, though without alcoholic drinks.

After eating and drinking his fill, Klein walked together with the young, broad-bearded gentleman Stuart toward the second-floor guest rooms assigned to them.

Seeing no one around, Stuart shook his head and said, “Sherlock, you should already have seen it. Adol’s problem is not that someone wants to take revenge on him.”

Brother, you certainly become familiar quickly…

Klein’s expression did not change as he asked back, “How so?”

“He looks like he has a mental problem. Or—or, in country terms, as though he is being haunted by ghosts and evil spirits. To be honest, I am very afraid of this sort of thing,” Stuart said with a sigh. “Mr. Caroman should take him to see a psychiatrist. If that still does not work, he should find priests of the Lord of Storms and have them sprinkle holy water and perform rituals!”

“You may make that suggestion to him,” Klein said, offering fair advice.

“If Adol still has not improved in a few days, I will consider it.”

Stuart turned his head and glanced at Klein.

Klein smiled.

“That is your business. My commission ends tomorrow.”

At this point, the two reached their destination and entered their respective rooms.

…

At one in the morning, inside Adol’s bedroom.

Klein sat in a rocking chair, holding Azik’s copper whistle as he quietly watched the person he was protecting. Stuart sat by the desk drinking coffee.

Neither of them spoke, afraid of waking Adol, who had finally fallen asleep.

Time passed second by second. Suddenly, a cold, sinister feeling swept through the room.

Adol sat up abruptly and opened his eyes.

“What is it?” Stuart asked, somewhat nervous.

“Go… to the washroom…”

Adol answered in a low, drifting voice.

His complexion seemed even paler, his lips increasingly blue-purple.

Stuart was just about to speak when he saw Sherlock Moriarty stand and nod at him.

“I will follow him.”

“Good.”

Stuart secretly let out a breath of relief.

With both hands in his pockets, Klein walked one step behind Adol, following him to the washroom door two rooms away.

Adol had just been about to casually close the door when he suddenly saw a figure slip inside.

“I cannot allow you to leave my sight. Heh, do whatever you need to do. Pretend I am not here.”

Klein smiled and leaned against the corner of the wall.

Adol remained silent. His unfocused gaze swept across the room and turned toward the washstand mirror.

He turned the tap, letting water rush out with a splashing sound.

At that moment, Klein took out a matchbox and struck a match, apparently intending to smoke.

However, he did not. Instead, he blew lightly, extinguishing the flame.

Snap.

Klein casually tossed the match before him, then took out another item.

With his back to Klein, Adol suddenly straightened. The figure in the mirror was as pale as a corpse.

Woo!

Within the washroom, the cold wind howled. Without moving his waist or legs, Adol directly turned around like that. His gaze locked onto Klein’s left hand, onto the exquisite copper whistle constantly being tossed up and caught.

Woo!

A blast of cold wind suddenly blew toward Klein’s face.

His smile did not change. He snapped his fingers.

With a sudden roar, flames rose from the floor and ignited an invisible figure.

That figure struggled only twice before completely scattering. The flames died out with it.

Klein put away Azik’s copper whistle and looked calmly toward Adol, whose eyes were gradually regaining focus.

Adol seemed to have awakened at last from a long nightmare.

Blankly, he saw a young man several steps away, wearing a white shirt, dark trousers, and gold-rimmed glasses, leaning against the wall with a faint smile.

Then he heard a gentle voice:

“What exactly happened to you?”