The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 640 Ch.639 Elixir
The woman who confessed that she had killed her husband received more beatings.

"Can't you take her back to the police station and beat her up?"

Rose was annoyed by the woman's high and low voices: "She admitted that she killed someone."

The old sheriff shook the blood off his fist, touched the bloody woman in the mud with his toes, and exhaled: "I am not the head of the district police station, miss. You don't seem to understand how to get along with people at all."

Rose scoffed at his words: "Get along? Do you mean secretly investigating cases as a messenger of justice while pretending to be a well-behaved and obedient pet dog?"

Halida glanced at Rose silently.

"Just because some people get away with it doesn't mean they don't deserve to die."

Dan Budge hooked his index finger, loosened his tie, and there was a chill in his words.

Ten full minutes.

He treated the poor woman like an animal - at least in Kingsley's eyes, the police's handling of the case was too rough: this could be seen from the old sheriff's attitude towards the suspect.

He didn't sympathize with the murderer; he was just a novice who relied on his passion and ideals but had never really handled a case independently - you couldn't accuse him of showing foolish compassion in this matter.

Although everyone in the room could see it.

Dan Budge is back to being sarcastic again.

He just didn't like this man.

detective?

If one could catch these cruel and inhuman criminals and make them beg for mercy and repent with just a clever brain - why did humans invent cannons?
Just like you can make a woman fall in love with you with sweet words, but you can't make her fall in love with you with just those words.

What is the key to being a tough guy? Only grown and mature men can understand it.

"A child."

He gathered up a mouthful of thick phlegm and spat it on the woman's face, but his eyes glanced in Kingsley's direction.

"I just don't agree with your way of trying her, Sheriff. I think she's learned her lesson, and doesn't need any additional punishment from anyone except the judge and the gallows - she's not a tool for you to vent your anger."

Kingsley curled up two fingers and tapped the tabletop repeatedly.

He saw the bloody woman wriggling on the ground, making an indistinguishable hissing sound towards Halida - or rather, his child.

"You should ask her accomplices."

"I don't need you to teach me how to investigate a case," the old sheriff reached into his pocket, pulled out a wrinkled cigarette case, took out a cigarette and lit it, squeezing the wrinkles on his face: "... Let her suffer enough first, then she will naturally relax her mouth."

Kingsley disagreed.

He stood up, walked in front of the woman, and slowly squatted down.

"Tell me where your accomplices are. If you don't want to continue to be beaten, or hanged - if you tell enough... I mean, maybe... you have a chance to live."

Hearing the sound, the woman struggled and raised her head with difficulty.

Opened his mouth.

Take heart.

He spat a mouthful of blood foam on Kingsley's leather shoes.

"Pooh!"

The sheriff was furious when he saw this and wanted to step on her head with his shoe, but was stopped by Kingsley.

"I would like to ask, what wishes did those people make to teach you to cover up like this--" The young detective lowered his head and spoke in a gentle voice.

Gentle like a straight line that never shakes.

"You have seen what the sheriff did. I don't know what happened to you, but your child..."

These words burned through thin paper like a red-hot charcoal.

The struggling woman in front of him grabbed Kingsley's ankles and sobbed, blood and knocked-out teeth flowing out of her mouth. Her tears instantly washed away the mud and blood on her face.

She looked at Kingsley quietly, staring at him intently, as if to see into his heart.

"You are a special criminal."

Kingsley returned the gaze, his stretched tone like an invisible thread winding around the woman's neck again and again.

"We have investigated and found that the deceased not only had a husband, but also a young child. You are the only one who left the child. You love him very much, right?"

Under the gaze of those cold eyes, a suffocating feeling rose up in her throat. Kingsley spoke to her, as if talking to himself:

"The gang must have some way to communicate with each other. I have observed the places where you live," he read out all the places he had visited today to the woman one by one: "Illiterate people can't pass messages through letters - I believe you don't have any talent for art."

"Newsboy? Messenger?"

"An extra layer of danger."

"Look, if a carriage or a person on foot starts from the farthest house in the East End and goes all the way along Newspaper Lane in Little Cross Street..."

As Kingsley spoke, Dan Budge's eyes flashed with surprise for a moment.

he…

That's right.

Judging from the location, these suspects whose husbands had died lived on "the same road".

A way where there is no need to turn back.

"I don't know how you signaled, what time, who was to announce the party - but I do know one thing, ma'am: you must go in person, mustn't you?"

The blood-stained brown quagmire was an extremely terrible environment.

He spoke with the precision and calmness of a university speech, embellishing his long and short sentences with an extra spirit to make the whole speech as free of dullness as possible.

"Maybe we can make a deal."

Kingsley didn't care about the woman with a distorted expression. She looked like a crocodile sticking its head out of the mud, and continued to speak in a gentle voice:

"I'll take good care of your child, and in return you have to give something. Fair enough, isn't it?"

The woman looked at him for a long moment.

Suddenly laughed.

The wounds of varying depths on his face began to wriggle like red worms.

"Bodie is...sick."

Her voice was hoarse and her face was ruined like a cake in a child's hands.

"is it?"

Kingsley held his knees and turned to look at Halida, at the baby in her arms.

"Then we will cure it. Doctor? There should be no doctor in London that we can't find." Kingsley nodded to her and gave his name: "I am a detective. The most reputable detective so far - you should trust me, and only me."

This method is indeed more effective than beating.

The woman quickly revealed the 'secret': she said the woman called herself Carlo.

He is a pharmacist.

She provided these suffering women with some "magic medicine" for free - a magic medicine that could kill people silently and control the length of time, and those who took the medicine would die in great pain.

She told them to mix the powder into bread or wine, not more or less.

You need to be patient in doing this big thing.

Give it little by little to your husband, father, brother or child, so that this 'magic medicine' that no one can find can seep into their flesh, blood and bones.

If they proceed slowly enough, they won't even know they are sick.

Those who took the elixir would only feel dizzy and gradually lose strength. Even if they drank it all day long, their flesh and blood would be blown by the wind and sand and become drier and drier.

They suffer from insomnia.

The temper is getting worse.

The head will ache severely.

Death is extremely painful.

“But there is no evidence.”

The woman laughed dumbly: "I killed him, and sure enough, no one found out."

(End of this chapter)