The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 928: Stupid Detective

Chapter 928 Ch.927 Stupid Detective

"Where did you get this cute little thing?"

"Someone you are not a stranger to at all."

Kingsley glanced at Halida, who was squatting on the ground fiddling with the clock.

"Mr. Balfour."

Roland blinked and said without hesitation: "I don't know anyone with the last name 'Balfour', Kingsley."

"Black Dog Jack."

The detective bent down to pick up the papers scattered on the ground, smoothed them out one by one, and stuffed them into the cabinet door. He habitually stabbed Roland: "Black Dog Jack, Jack Balfour, Mr. Collins - you should be ashamed of yourself for accepting help from others without knowing their last name."

Roland said, "Oh!" "You have received my help, but you didn't tell me your last name, Kingsley."

Kingsley: ...

"Because you did not ask formally, Roland Collins. If you had, I would, of course, have told you that my father was——"

Roland: "Right now, I don't really want to know."

The detective's breath caught in his throat.

"So, what are you looking for?"

"What a joke, Roland. I rented this floor, paid a lot of money, and the landlord gave me promises that were more demanding than marriage vows - in the end, there's not even a lampshade?"

Although Kingsley was wealthy, he could still wear dirty mining clothes with Roland and go deep into the mines - he didn't care about the details of life, and a lampshade didn't cost much...

But he couldn't accept the landlord's deception.

"She told me, especially about the curtains, the lampshades, the cloths on the dressers - you see, I went through almost everything in the room, even the cabinet where I kept my record books and case files..."

He found the cover in the gap between the piano and the wall, and the newly washed curtains were neatly folded on the big bed.

Then.

Where is the lampshade?

Kingsley pointed to the bare wall lamp in the room.

Obviously.

There should be a cover on it.

"It's not worth a few shillings, Kingsley."

"Of course, if she had been honest and told me that two lampshades were missing from the room, I could have even spent a few pounds on the best ones - but I cannot accept lies and deception, Roland."

Kingsley always likes to get serious about strange things.

Roland couldn't understand him either.

"Okay, how long do you plan to look for it?" Roland ran his fingers over the smooth black piano paint and looked around this definitely 'spacious' house - it was an entire floor.

Three bedrooms.

Two study rooms.

Half a smoking room and a washroom.

There are also dining rooms of matching sizes, servants' bedrooms, and a laundry room - it seems a bit empty for Kingsley to live alone.

"Another afternoon."

Kingsley had a sullen face and was in a bad mood.

"If not, I'll have to ask Mrs. Morton - we signed a contract, whether the lampshade and 'honesty' are also included..."

Roland had a headache.

Meeting a tenant like Kingsley can be said to be a disaster for Morton.

"I don't demand precision from others as much as I do from myself, but I couldn't stand her repeatedly referring to something that didn't exist."

'Luckily she didn't say there was a dragon in the house...'

Halida heard what Roland muttered. The maid rubbed the puppy's head and smiled secretly.

Kingsley heard it too, but he didn't bother to pay attention to Roland.

"Besides letting you know, I followed the agreement between us - "Magnifying Glass Detective Agency"... This name is quite 'special', Roland, why don't you give yourself such a name?"

It was Roland's turn to frown: "Let's get down to business, Kingsley. You have already made the house number. If you regret it now, you will only offend me. There will be no benefit."

Kingsley said it was rare for anyone to offend a lunatic with the mental capacity of a three-year-old.

"Let's get down to business."

"The real thing is: I've got a case and I need your help."

"Wow, I thought those 'nice words' you said to me were the opening remarks of a creditor forcing a debtor to pay back the money."

Kingsley sat down on the brown leather sofa, pulled out three upside-down glasses, and pulled out the cork of a half-full bottle of whiskey. "Dan Budge came to me first, Roland. This case is a bit complicated and requires a certificate from the court - you know the tower that was recently started, right?"

Roland turned away his eyes from his fellow servants, who were whispering to the clock, stepped onto the carpet, and sat down on another armchair.

He picked up the whiskey and took a sip.

"Champagne is a little better, but I kind of hate the color."

"Tower, Roland."

"I know. You mean the clock tower in Victoria."

Of course Roland knew.

Because recently the debate on this topic has spread from parliament to the court.

This kind of "landmark" building cannot be built without the involvement of religious sects. Let's put it this way, from design to construction, from construction start time to completion time, from designers to drawings, from drawings to materials - there are countless sweet juices flowing out of the cracks of each link that attract flies and ants.

He had heard Enid complain a lot.

Concerning money, influence, material or spiritual.

——Just imagine, if on top of this bell tower there was a white bone dove of the Ring of Eternal Silence carved in addition to the Holy Cross…

"So, you see."

Kingsley stood up and took out a blueprint from his desk drawer and spread it on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

Roland stared straight ahead with blank eyes, feeling around with his fingers.

"…Halida! Halida! My good maid! Someone wants your blind master to 'read' a piece of paper——"

Kingsley couldn't help it.

He hit Roland hard on the shoulder - how could anyone resist hitting him?

of course.

If he really asked, he would get a simple and reasonable answer: he couldn't help but beat him.

"Okay, so, this map—you drew this?"

Dense lines are drawn on the white paper with black ink: arcs, shadows, some crosses and hooks.

Kingsley hummed and pointed to Roland.

"…The fork is the cat of death. The hook is the crowded street. Look at this shadow—"

Kingsley said.

With the bell tower that was about to be built as the center of the circle, the closer to the bell tower, the denser the number of cat corpses.

There are three such 'rings'.

They are located near the clock tower, east district, and south district factories respectively.

He explained all this to Roland, and then told him about the case that old Sheriff Dan Budge had come to him for: Recently, dead wild cats had been found from time to time in London—not just one or two, or three or five as usual.

No.

There are too many.

"This is not normal, Roland."

Kingsley, perhaps realizing that his wisecracking friend had no idea what cats meant to the city, was prepared to extend an extra word, but the maid, who had just been talking to a cat of her kind, gave a timid cry.

"Two gentlemen."

"Miss Halida?" Kingsley frowned.

Halida's voice came from another room.

A few seconds later.

A head popped out from the corridor.

"The lamp shade you and Mrs. Morton 'agreed' on was blue."

Kingsley stared: "No doubt about it. But, Miss Halida, how did you know?"

Halida came out silently.

Holding that 'innocent' puppy.

"I found 'two' long-dehydrated feces under your bed in your bedroom..."

The maid paused and lifted it gently in her hands.

“Blue shit.”