The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 638 Ch.637 The Familiar Old Sheriff

Roland?

"He's on a business trip," Rose puffed her cheeks, "I'm still looking for him."

She excitedly introduces her maid to Kingsley, and asks him why he is looking furtively into other people's windows - but Kingsley quietly asks her why she didn't ask him when he came to London.

Rose: ...

It's going to be bad.

"I...was about to ask?"

Rose's eyes were filled with the question "Are you satisfied with this answer?"

Kingsley just stared at her for a while without saying anything, then turned his gaze to the 'maid' beside him - Halida's performance was beyond Rose's expectations: she did not get sick on the spot, but greeted Kingsley calmly and politely.

"I am Mr. Rowland Collins's maid."

"It seems we have a common friend. I'm Kingsley, a detective." Kingsley bowed slightly and turned to Rose again: "I said I would come to London to open a detective agency."

"Oh... so," Rose pouted, "a business?"

The detective wasn't being secretive, and this case didn't need to be hidden from anyone: "A gentleman hired me to investigate."

He said a name, which made Halida exclaim.

"Wang!"

Kingsley: ...

He turned his gaze in surprise to the maid who had a pretty face but a rather unpleasant complexion.

She barked, pressed the necklace that fell from her neck, and breathed deeply—strong, energetic, with a great appearance and beautiful eyes…

pity.

A sick slave.

"...Je...Woof! ...Mr. Blake!"

Haridas had no idea what Kingsley was thinking.

At this moment, she was filled with shame and tears welled up in her eyes.

It’s so wrong!

Halida! This is totally wrong!
You actually forgot about this gentleman!
Forgot to repay!

Forgot to come and say thank you!

Jack Black.

Kingsley's first client after arriving in London was the man who once sold the truth about 'Dover Powder' to Halida for five shillings - a dog breeder with curly hair, a beard and abundant hair.

"Live at the crossroads..."

"In the hotel," Kingsley saw that she had difficulty speaking, and continued casually: "There are many hounds..."

Halida covered her mouth, choking and nodding.

Rose knew why Halida was so excited, and patted her shoulder gently: "When I'm free, I'll go with you. How about giving him ten pounds? I just want a hound..."

Halida: ...

"Ten pounds for a hound?" someone repeated, neither positive nor negative.

Rose rolled her eyes: "Why do you always go against me?"

Kingsley seemed not to have heard or seen anything, and slowly turned the brim of his hat: "You must prepare at least a hundred pounds, otherwise it will be robbery."

Rose looked bored: "I really don't know what kind of woman would be interested in you, Kingsley."

"The premise is that I have to be interested in her," Kingsley said with a droopy face. "So, may I ask, Miss Shelley, why did I see you in the East End?"

Rose blinked, "Halida and I are also investigating this case."

Kingsley said in a strange tone: "A Shelley?"

The Shelley children...

Ok.

Think about what happened in Innstown, and then think about your own last name.

There is always something special.

"Well, I wish you good luck. Goodbye." Kingsley nodded to Halida and Rose respectively, and turned to leave. Rose:?
"Maybe, we can investigate together?"

'I don't think -' Kingsley was about to say what he always said: I don't think a woman can help me in this.

But then he remembered the case on the train.

Facing Rose's 'victorious' face, he really couldn't say such words.

"Are you trying to say—" Rose narrowed her eyes.

Kingsley lowered his eyes: "Obviously, not."

He twirled his hat, walked to the nearby shoemaker, put it on the shoemaker's son's head, and turned back, thanking him profusely: "So, what news do you have that I don't know?"

…………

……

What was wrong with the case was that, whether in the East or South District, these women whose husbands, brothers or fathers had died, always seemed to be at ease when answering Kingsley's questions.

Don't forget where they live.

How could these people who can't even read be able to be foolproof?
Kingsley was a detective, not a policeman, and he was not qualified to interrogate the suspect in the case - they didn't even know this.

But can all the problems be explained?
It's really contradictory.

“Someone taught them.”

Kingsley concluded after leaving a certain house.

According to the women, their husbands had no signs or symptoms before they died—they just fell asleep peacefully and could never be woken up again…

Kingsley frowned in thought, and went with the two ladies to the residence of the next suspect: just across the street.

Interestingly, they saw the police from a distance.

An old dark-skinned man in a loose coat, with a striking black spot on one side of his face, looked like a 300-year-old persimmon without a drop of moisture, shivering dryly in the wind.

Rose had met her once.

I also heard Roland mention this old sheriff who was a little "different".

"I remember you."

Dan Batch, holding a cigarette in his mouth, coughed and smiled at Rose with a mouthful of black teeth: "Executive Officer Mr. Collins's dirty little female companion..."

That's not very respectful.

"I remember you, too," Rose retorted, "a sheriff who had no ability to solve crimes."

Interestingly, Dan Budge was not angry about this. He laughed sinisterly as the air passed through the thick phlegm in his throat and his vocal cords: "You are about the same age as my daughter, kid. Don't tell me that what happened in this room has something to do with you."

He patrolled Rose and Kingsley with his terrifying eyes, holding a cigarette in one hand and tapping the short stick at his waist with the other. Even those who hated books could point at his nose and make a literary comment: This is not a good thing, nor is he a young, moral, good thing.

"Bad habits can kill people, such as having a mistress whose background you don't know."

He was speaking to Kingsley.

The old sheriff could fully foresee the consequences of a woman who contradicted an executive officer. On this point, he told Kingsley, whom he had never met, and secretly reminded Rose...

Still has some humanity.

But he spoke it in public, in front of Halida and the two men and women who were "doing bad things".

Not too much humanity.

Rose thought he was just plain bad.

"It seems someone's eyesight is failing."

Dan Budge chuckled twice, and after blowing out two streams of white air from his nostrils, he asked Kingsley what his name was.

"A detective?"

The fingers holding the cigarette trembled, and the long, crisp ash was like his laughter that was about to burst, blowing everywhere in a gust of cold wind that blew against the wall.

He made no effort to disguise his voice, and pointed at Kingsley as if he were a monster with a baton on his forehead.

"Detective? Thank you, I can't keep up with the fashion trends of young people..."

He looked at Kingsley's angular diamond face, smiled and shook his head, spitting spit on the wall: "I'm not being sarcastic, young man, I just rarely hear this name when I'm sober..."

The honesty in the sheriff's eyes, like his chastity, had disappeared before Queen Victoria could wipe her own bottom.

(End of this chapter)