13 Minke Street

Diss stood behind Karen, observing his grandson.

While everyone else present was scared limp by the scene before them, only these two grandfather and grandson were calm.

“See anything?”

Karen looked back at Diss and shook his head.

“You didn’t see anything?”

Karen shook his head again, and said, “Disappointing.”

“Disappointing?”

“Yes.”

Although he had deliberately provoked the other party on the phone earlier, Karen still had some expectations in his heart.

Using “expectation” and “disappointment” to describe the scene before him was not really appropriate. In fact, when Karen hung up the phone and brought his grandfather over, he was also worried that Mrs. Hughes might be hurt.

However, the human psyche is very complex. You can be worried, anxious, and indignant at Old Darcy’s death. But at the same time, you can peel off another layer to weigh and consider the ‘work’ before you from another perspective. That is not contradictory.

And in front of his grandfather, Karen didn’t need to hide too much either.

“What’s disappointing?”

“Bland, cliched, unoriginal.”

“Is that so?” Diss looked at the ‘Lego Old Darcy’ again.

“That’s about it.” Karen shrugged. “Ultimately, the Crown Ballroom’s setting and environment was what elevated the killer’s creation. This time, this is his true skill level.”

“Did you really come to appreciate it?” Diss asked.

“No, there’s something else intriguing.” Karen’s gaze wandered around the building. “I recall during the phone call with the killer, he was struggling with the final piece.”

“So?”

“If you look at it from an investigative perspective, after hanging up the phone, the killer should have forcibly put the last piece in place.”

“So you’re looking for that?”

“Yes.”

“Let me help you find it.”

“Thank you, grandpa.”

Karen stepped forward to assist Mrs. Hughes, extending his  hand to help her up.

Mrs. Hughes was very pale. He had felt she was fair-skinned the first time he saw her, and upon closer contact, he discovered that she really was very white.

Some whiteness was superficial, static, dull, and boring; while some other had connotations—dynamic, sentimental, and irresistible.

Uncle Mason and Aunt Mary had both advised him to be careful of Mrs. Hughes. As people who was experienced in life, they were clear on what Mrs. Hughes meant.

“Old Darcy…” Mrs. Hughes wept profusely.

“Madam, you should call the police now.”

“Oh…okay.” Mrs. Hughes was a strong woman at heart after all. After wiping away the tears, she headed for the phone.

As for the three people still lying on the ground, Karen did not help them up. He started searching around the crematorium, while Diss also walked around surveying the place.

The crematorium was not very big, but it was large enough to fit three cremator.

Karen first noticed the cremator that was still hot. He looked at it closely but didn’t find anything unusual.

Next, Karen moved to another cremator.

“Hmm?” Karen furrowed his brow, reaching for the handle and opening the cremator. With a determined effort, he pulled it out.

On the rack inside lay a person, face down.

This person was wearing the uniform of Hughes Crematorium.

“NO!” Mrs. Hughes screamed behind Karen, startling him.

“There…there’s another one!” Mrs. Hughes was very panicked.

“No, it’s the same one.” Karen bent down, picked up a pair of tongs, and then scraped the corpse’s hand out of the sleeve.

Then, Karen pulled the corpse’s head out from the neck of the uniform.

The head that Karen pulled out was only half a head. It only had the back of the head, and the front part was missing.

The hand that was pulled out was also only half a hand. It had no bones, only skin, and it looked like a processed “boneless chicken claw”.

Karen turned around and approached the table where the urns were placed. Using the tongs, he flipped over the foot inside one of the urns.

The previous ‘foot’ had been positioned sideways. However, when he turned it over, he realized that this foot had been cut in half, leaving only one portion.

Standing on his tiptoes, Karen used the tongs to pull the head of Old Darcy in the topmost urn. The head turned over, and it was only half a head. The back of the head was empty, as if it had been cut horizontally like a watermelon.

So there it was:

On the crematorium rack lay half of Mr. Darcy, and the assembled remains on the table were also just half of him.

The perpetrator had divided Old Darcy into ‘two halves’.

“There’s something here too.” Diss pushed over a two-wheeled cart. It was originally used to transport ashes and other miscellaneous items, but now it was filled with tools and materials: hammers, nails, yarn, ropes, and several bottles.

“The bottle contains…” Karen was a little curious and poked around with the tong, but there were no labels on the bottles.

“It’s strong glue,” Diss said.

“Glue…” Karen took a few steps back, silently retreating to stand next to the phone again.

Diss walked over and stood beside Karen, asking, “There’s half a body on the cremator rack, and there’s half a body in the urn. So what exactly is the killer trying to do?”

Karen pursed his lips and said to Diss:

“Old Darcy is burning Old Darcy.”

“Is that what it means?”

“The killer likes to use irony to express his artistic emotions. Half of Old Darcy is lying face down on the rack, and the other half of Old Darcy is standing next to him with a mallet and gloves, ready to push him into the cremator..

“Or perhaps, one half of Old Darcy was to be cremated, and the other half was to be prepared to have his bones crushed and placed in the urn. From a certain angle, the two halves could be seen as two complete people.”

“Like wax figures,” Diss said.

In a wax museum, wax figures are designed in poses depicting various activities, such as a farmer tilling the land or a soldier charging into battle.

“Yes, grandpa, that’s a very apt analogy. I believe that’s the feeling the killer wanted to evoke.”

“But if that’s what the killer wanted to express, why did it end up like this? Was it because of your phone call, which caused him to run out of time?”

“I feel more that he realized his own inability to complete such delicate work. Separating the corpse and then stitching it together….not only does it require a lot of work, but it also needed a very high ‘tailoring’ skills. So he had to make do with this current look.”

No wonder when I was talking to the murderer, his emotions flared up with just a slight provocation. It turns out the murderer was in a state of creative frustration, where his ability couldn’t keep up with his thoughts.

“However, grandpa, there’s one thing I’m confused about. At the Crown Ballroom, the killer used ‘Song of the Soul’ to mock the Berry faith. Logically, religion should have been brought in this time as well.

“Criticizing authority and satirizing religion – ‘everyone else is drunk while I alone am sober’ – are factors commonly used to lift the artists’ spirits.”

“What’s in front of us is exactly that,” Diss said. “In the doctrine of the Church of the Abyssal God, there are records about the Abyssal God. It was said that He split Himself in two;

“One half forever fell into hell.

“The other half turned into crystalline powder and ascended to heaven.

“Then, the part of Him in hell and the part in heaven forcibly opened up a spatial passage with Himself as the medium. It belonged to heaven yet connected to hell, but existed independently, called…the Abyss.

“His followers also liked to call Him the Lord of the Abyss.”

“Lord of the Abyss?” Karen looked at Diss. “How come I’ve never heard of this before?”

“The origins of this church are in very remote places. Plus the rituals and doctrines of this church are too extreme, so it has been banned by the governments of many countries from spreading its teachings in their lands.

“Let alone in Roja City, even in the entire Ruland Country, there are no organizations of the Abyssal God religion. At least not openly.”

…

The police arrived.

Leading the team was Chief Duke again.

Because when he received the report, the sixth sense of an old detective made him feel that this seemed to be the new work of that murderer.

All afternoon, the ‘artwork’ in the Crown Ballroom kept pounding on Chief Duke’s head. And that young man named Karen….whose face was far too calm when he used that word. 

If it weren’t for the fact that there were a lot of things going on right now, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Inmerales family, especially the old man, had connections in Roja City, Chief Duke would really like to find an excuse to detain the young man and ‘take care’ of him.

Then, when Detective Duke led his men into Hughes Crematorium and saw Karen already standing there, he clenched his fists and shouted in disbelief:

“Dammit, did you make a deal with Grim Reaper?! How do you always manage to arrive so quickly!”

“Hello, Chief Duke,” Diss greeted.

“Uh, uh?” Chief Duke took the initiative to shake Diss’ hand. “Hello, Father Diss.”

The police began working. And Karen, having spoken directly to the killer, was asked to provide detailed written testimony. Chief Duke was present the whole time.

“….That’s all I know.”

“So this time, it changed from the Berry faith to the Abyssal God Church?” Chief Duke puffed on his pipe and patted his forehead. “What I’m worried about now is whether he’ll keep killing.”

Karen replied very calmly: “That’s certain, and it’ll be soon.”

“Soon?”

“Because this work of his was a failure. The killer is a person who thinks highly of himself but is actually quite mediocre. Such a person will not stop to reflect, but will impatiently want to prove himself over and over.”

In his previous statement, Karen concealed the content of his ‘taunting’ of the killer on the phone. “By the way, Chief, have you identified the first victim?”

Chief Duke shook his head and said, “We have some leads, but we’re waiting for confirmation from the neighboring city’s police. The victim doesn’t seem to be a local.

“Also, there’s one more thing. You said the killer and victim must have been very close, to have that sense of projection.”

“Yes, so I suggest you first investigate Old Darcy’s social network.”

Chief Duke narrowed his eyes, leaned forward slightly, and asked, “So, if we identify the first victim, connect their social circles together, and find common points, we can narrow down the suspect?”

“Theoretically speaking, yes.”

“Would the killer be that stupid?” Chief Duke asked in disbelief.

Karen shrugged and said, “He really is stupid.”

…

“Thank you, Mrs. Hughes,” Karen thanked Mrs. Hughes. She personally drove Karen and his grandfather back to Minke Street.

“I’m sorry to trouble you,” Mrs. Hughes spoke suddenly, her voice solemn.

“Don’t mention it,” Diss responded.

Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath and said, “Old Darcy was my longtime employee. I didn’t expect this to happen to him. Father Diss, I’ll leave Old Darcy’s funeral arrangements to you. I’ll cover all the expenses.” 

“Alright.”

Mrs. Hughes forced a smile and said, “It’ll be tiring for Mary. I just have one request – I hope Old Darcy can look…complete on the day of the funeral.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you. And there’s one more thing I hope you can consider.”

“Speak.”

“The crematorium, I want to sell it. Honestly, I’ve been tired for a while now. Over the years, it’s thanks to my old employees, especially Old Darcy, that I’ve managed to keep going. Now that he’s gone, I can’t keep it running by myself.

“I hope you can consider acquiring Hughes Crematorium. For the price, everything’s negotiable. As long as you name a price, I won’t refuse.”

This was complete trust in Grandpa’s character.

Because, although Old Darcy had died in there, what kind of place was a crematorium? A place that burns corpses every day wouldn’t care if it became a “haunted house”!

“I’ll discuss it with Mason.”

“Alright, thank you again, and…your grandson.” Mrs. Hughes bowed to Diss first, then she stretched out both arms and hugged Karen.

At that moment, Karen felt a sense of fulfillment, as if he had sunk into a lump of cream, without feeling cloyed at all.

It was like an old farmer lying on top of the barn at home, feeling extremely satisfied mentally.

Mrs. Hughes sat back in her car, started the engine, and drove away.

Karen followed Diss into the living room on the first floor of the house. Aunt Winnie was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in her ledger.

“Father, you’re back.”

“Mm.”

“Where’s Uncle? Isn’t he back yet?” Karen asked.

Earlier at the entrance, Karen hadn’t seen the hearse.

“Mason and the others came back in the evening, bringing back two ‘guests’ and a family member.”

In the Inmerales family, “guests” refer specifically to corpses, and the bereaved family members who pay the money are called family members.

That is to say, Uncle successfully received those two orders.

One was the individual with half their head missing, seated at the stall of the dancing hall. The other was severely injured and eventually died in the hospital.

“Then where’s uncle now?”

“He went shopping, taking that “guest’s” wife.” Aunt Winnie gestured to her own head as she spoke, indicating the widow of the decapitated victim.

Karen remembered that Aunt Mary said in the afternoon that the wife insisted that her husband was on a business trip to Vienna at this time and could not have died in the dancing hall on Hill Street!

It seemed the wife had now accepted the facts.

No, not just accepted it—she had also experienced severe emotional distress. Her husband had died during the day, and now she was sitting in the hearse, heading out for a shopping spree at night.

It sounded a bit mad…but Karen could understand it.

However, Karen was still curious and asked, “How could Aunt Mary agree to this?”

Letting Uncle accompany a woman who had just lost her husband to go shopping at night?

“Because Mrs. Seymour ordered the B package!” Aunt Mary’s voice echoed from the staircase, and she emerged from the basement looking quite lively.

Karen had seen the ‘menu’ at home. Package A was for the extremely rich people, and you may not even get one order in a year. The coffins used in that package are the ‘Golden Coffin’ and ‘Gentle Breeze Coffin’ that Karen saw before.

As for the package B, it was the highest-priced service in their primary business. It catered to normal clients who spared no expense for funerals. This also meant substantial profits.

“Package B, Karen! Forget about having your uncle accompany her for shopping; I wouldn’t mind lending her the hearse for two nights!”

Karen made a head-shaking gesture at Aunt Mary. Only then did Aunt Mary see Grandpa sitting on the sofa. She immediately covered her mouth in fright.

Diss just shook his head slightly and said, “Mr. Darcy is dead.”

“Who is Mr. Darcy?” Aunt Mary was a little confused, and then said, “Oh, that old cremator at Hughes Crematorium. Poor Mr. Darcy, may God accept his soul.”

After speaking, Aunt Mary even made a praying gesture, clearly making up for the absurdity in her earlier words.

Diss went straight upstairs.

Karen said, “Mrs. Hughes wants us to handle Darcy’s funeral.”

Upon hearing this, Aunt Mary didn’t have the excitement of getting another order. Instead, she rolled her eyes. “I dislike doing business with acquaintances the most. There’s no profit margin, and sometimes we even end up operating at a loss.”

Karen couldn’t help laughing in his heart. Now, this is a real BFF.

After hesitating for a while, seeing that Grandpa had not directly told Aunt Mary that Mrs. Hughes was planning to sell the crematorium, Karen did not tell his aunt that Old Darcy was now in pieces.

“Oh, that’s right, Karen, this afternoon while you and grandpa were out, a gentleman came looking for you. Knowing you weren’t home, he left, but he left you a letter saying you can go to his place for coffee whenever you have time.”

Karen accepted the letter. The name was ‘Piaget’, the psychologist who had cremated his wife at Hughes Crematorium last time.

The content of the letter was straightforward: today’s visit was unfortunate as they missed each other. It also extended an invitation for Karen to visit the psychologist’s home. The letter included a phone number and an address.

45 Rhine Street.

If Minke Street was considered the second ring road, then Rhine Street was the first ring road in the city center, and the city government building was also on that street.

“Alright, auntie, I understand. I want to go upstairs and take a shower first.”

“Sure, get some rest”

But at this moment, there was a sound of a car outside, and it was Uncle Mason and Mrs. Seymour who came back.

Mrs. Seymour was about 30 years old, dressed very modestly. Uncle Mason followed behind her, carrying numerous bags filled with shoes, clothes, and handbags.

“Mason, why didn’t you send Mrs. Seymour home?” Aunt Mary asked.

After shopping, shouldn’t she have been sent back first? It was so late, why bring her back home?

The handling of the body and the arrangements for the funeral will take place a few days later; it’s not something that begins immediately. After all, cases like Mr. Mauson’s children, who were in a hurry to dispose their father, are quite rare.

Most funerals would reserve ample time to print and send notices for relatives and friends to prepare to come pay respects. And also, the corpse needed embalming done first.

Mrs. Seymour answered first: “I heard from Mason that your family also offers psychological counseling services. I need this service now.”

Behind Mrs. Seymour, Uncle Mason raised his eyebrows at Karen, while also mouthing something to Aunt Mary.

Aunt Mary understood at once, immediately saying, “Yes, yes, we have it. We’ll arrange it right away.”

…

Doing psychological counseling requires a closed and comfortable space. However, Karen didn’t have his own office, and Aunt Mary also didn’t dare ask Diss to vacate his office now. It’s even less feasible to have Mrs. Seymour go to the basement.

In the end, Aunt Mary offered her and Uncle Mason’s bedroom for Karen to conduct psychological counseling with Mrs. Seymour.

“Please.”

“Alright.”

Mrs. Seymour walked in and began to observe the furnishings of the bedroom. It was a very warm bedroom, and she sat down on the edge of the bed.

Karen pulled over a chair to sit facing Mrs. Seymour on the bedside.

He knew this lady was currently in an ‘hysterical’ state; not just because of her husband’s death, but also from the betrayal from her husband.

“Mrs. Seymour, can you start by telling me about you and Mr. Seymour?”

Karen quickly got into the swing of things, and for a moment, he was in a bit of a trance. It was as if he had returned back to the person he was in his previous life.

And after this momentary trance, when Karen focused back on Mrs. Seymour, he discovered that she had already taken off her coat and was in the process of taking off her inner clothes.

“Mrs. Seymour, what are you…”

“Young man, you’re very handsome.”

“Thank you, but…”

“Do it with me once, now, immediately, right away.”

“Mrs. Seymour, we’re providing counseling services.”

“I know, after you do it with me, I’ll pay you the counseling fee.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll give you double the counseling fee!”

Mrs. Seymour, now only in her underwear, walked over and started tugging at Karen, trying to take off his clothes.

“Now, immediately, right away, on this bed, do it with me. I’ll satisfy you. Whatever positions you like, anything is fine. If you’ve never done it before, I can teach you too.”

Karen didn’t resist violently. Instead he spread his arms, allowing Mrs. Seymour to take off his coat.

Just then, Karen asked very calmly, “Anything is fine?”

“Of course, yes.”

“Then let’s go to the basement. I want to do it in front of Mr. Seymour.”

The next moment, as if doused by a bucket of cold water, Mrs. Seymour stopped moving.

Karen changed to a gentler tone and asked, “Is it worth it?”

Mrs. Seymour slowly squatted down, hugging herself, and started crying. “Why, why, for his sake, I gave up my career, gave up my family, was always his good wife at home, why did he do this to me, why did he do this to me, how could he do this to me!”

Karen picked up Mrs. Seymour’s clothes and draped them over her. Then he sat down on the floor, not saying anything, just watching her cry.

Crying it out would make it better.

Mrs. Seymour reached out and hugged Karen’s arm, pressing her face against Karen’s shoulder, choking and sobbing, repeating, “Why, why….”

And Karen knew she didn’t really need an answer.

…

“How much did you quote her?” At the dining table, Aunt Mary asked softly.

“Two thousand lubi,” Uncle Mason replied.

“Are you crazy? That’s so expensive!”

“The last one paid twenty thousand lubi,” he corrected her. “I asked around, and this is the going rate.”

“Do you think Karen can complete this job?”

Uncle Mason pondered for a moment before answering, “I…I think so. Ever since my nephew woke up from that illness, he seems like a different person.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s makes me want to call him ‘sir’.”

Click.

The door opened. Karen stood at the doorway, and Mrs. Seymour walked out.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s my duty.”

Mrs. Seymour then bowed to Aunt Mary and Uncle Mason again. “I’ll leave my husband’s funeral arrangements to you.”

“Of course, of course. You’re too kind.”

“I really bothered you today. I’ll head back now.”

“It’s too late now, and it’ll be hard to find a taxi. Let me drive you home,” Uncle Mason offered.

“In that case, I’ll trouble you. I live at 46 Rhine Street.”

“No problem, it’s not too far,” Uncle Mason said.

When he heard this address, Karen, who had been politely smiling and seeing off the client, spoke up:

“Mrs. Seymour, may I ask if you know Mr. Piaget?”

The address Piaget left for him was 45 Rhine Street. If things went as expected, he should be Mrs. Seymour’s neighbor.

“Mr. Piaget? Of course I know him. He’s my neighbor, and he and my husband were very good friends. They would often go fishing together.

“His wife Linda is also a very nice person. She’s a great cook and would often invite us to her house for dinner.”

“Oh, I see.” Karen noticed that when Mrs. Seymour mentioned Piaget’s wife, there was a smile on her face.

This smile was a bit strange. And logically speaking, she should have added: “Unfortunately, his wife passed away last week.” That would have made more sense.

Mrs. Seymour continued: 

“Just this morning, Linda brought me an apple pie. It tasted so good! I saved half of it in the fridge for my husband, but unfortunately, he won’t be able to enjoy it.”