The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 929: Cat and Blueprint
As for the fact that the "famous" detective couldn't discover that his pet loved to eat lampshades - anyway, Roland made good use of the opportunity to mock Kingsley as a "noseless" detective, otherwise he wouldn't have noticed the dried feces under the bed.

"You can try buying a few of them, and buy a few different colored lampshades, Kingsley. Maybe you can make a 'rainbow'."

The innocent clock was placed on the floor, limping to its owner's feet and rubbing its head against his socks.

Kingsley was terribly embarrassed.

——Because this shows that he, the detective, the detective who runs a detective agency, is not as perceptive as a maid.

"My Halida has a very keen sense of smell, Kingsley, don't try to compete with her."

Speaking of smell, Halida didn't seem to want Roland to go deeper into the topic. She waved her hands and walked to the kitchen to peel and separate the skewered horse meat. She also asked Kingsley where the "pet bowl" was and made some lunch for Miss Clock.

"You also give her milk?"

Halida poked her head out of the kitchen and asked.

Mr. Kingsley is serious, looks scary, and is always picky about this and that - but he is surprisingly good to pets?
"of course."

Kingsley was trimming the cigar Roland handed him. He looked up and replied calmly:
“It would make me feel like a ritualist.”

"Ritualist?"

Every time he fed him milk, the clock's expression was like: Mr. Kingsley, do you know magic? This always made Kingsley's bad mood instantly better.

“That’s what pets are for.”

Halida smiled.

A winter mask, but a summer heart.

This is what Halida thought of Kingsley.

Otherwise, Mr. Black Dog Jack had countless good hounds around him - why did he pick only a 'lame' one?
When the young maid brought the rice bowl and the bowl of milk to the living room, she half-shyly tried to whisper praises to Kingsley like her master, and the other party's performance was very consistent with his usual "precision" -

"You shouldn't be so sure, Miss Halida. Maybe I'm the reason why the dog is lame."

Halida: ...

Good people are indeed good people.

It's just a little difficult to communicate.

"Let's talk about the cat," Kingsley pinched his cigar, folded up the white gauze behind the sofa and put it in the drawer - in case his clock produced grayish-white feces one day, "Mr. Dan Budge was a little hesitant about whether he was making a fuss - I asked Mr. Balfour."

According to the hunting dog expert, large-scale animal deaths are usually caused by poison and epidemics.

But it's just a cat...

It’s hard to say that it’s not human-caused.

Kingsley spent a whole week drawing this distribution map, and took the opportunity to carefully observe the cat corpses and found that their deaths were indeed man-made.

"Some were stabbed in the abdomen with sharp objects or had their heads chopped off. Others were poisoned."

Roland was a little confused.

He didn't know about other places, but the status of cats in London and even in the entire empire was no less than that of their supreme lady - if they really picked out the cutest ones to participate in the election, it was hard to say who would win.

Who doesn't like cats?
"That's the crux of the matter, Roland. I don't think that a man who is doing business would commission thugs to kill wild cats in London every day just because he was scared by the sound of cats. This is not decent. If it gets out, it will be enough to make him live a hard life for three to five years with a reputation as a fool..."

"Who? Why would they follow..." He pointed at the drawing: "These three 'rings' to kill wild cats?"

This is indeed a strange thing.

Roland rubbed his cigar, and his amber eyes rippled slightly: "You came to me, which means that the police department does not take Dan Budge's "concerns" seriously - right?"

Kingsley sighed.

"Sometimes I don't understand why people can be so stupid - I'm just a detective, why should I get involved in a case that a 'hero' should be involved in..."

"It's time for Scotland Yard to do something... at least, live up to its name." Roland thought of Ms. Julie Valentine who had "interrogated" him, and her foul-mouthed assistant, the detective who had risked his life to fend off the animated corpses and died in the alley... They have the ability to solve most cases.

But they don't.

"Parrots don't lay eggs, Roland. No one would have unrealistic expectations of those gentlemen wearing black top hats. Speaking of which, I need your help. At least, ask the citizens in the most densely populated areas... Those people should know something... "

As he was talking, he suddenly sat up and looked at the clock while he was enjoying his meal.

pet…

horsemeat…

correct.

Who knows more about wild cats than the cat butchers in the City of London?
"I don't think I'll have any use for you."

Roland: ...

"Businessman style, Kingsley."

"My father was originally a businessman - are you coming?" He stood up hurriedly and put on his coat.

"No one will wear a windbreaker in this weather, Kingsley." Roland stretched, pinched a piece of butter biscuit that had been on the plate for who knows how long, and took a bite of it -

Then he spit it out silently, put it together, and put it back intact...

It smells like rotten clothes, and is harder than stone.

"You should find a servant."

"If I have the time, and the other person is smart and diligent enough - can you please stop acting like a 200-year-old man?"

The detective with the new idea couldn't wait.

Roland was not in a hurry at all.

"I thought you were going to talk to me about 'steam cars' today."

"What is there to talk about? The times are always moving forward and will not stop for anyone who can't keep up. My father ordered one a long time ago." He picked up Roland's hat and put it on his head without saying a word. He picked up the crutch that was leaning against the clothes rack and stuffed it into Roland's hand.

"Hurry up, I have a rough idea of ​​what this case is about - maybe the judge of the court will have to step in..."

…………

……

A living wild cat, a dead wild cat.

There were also carcasses of wild dogs.

These were all too common - at least for the workers who hurried away at dawn, animal carcasses and even human corpses were no big deal.

People who don’t pay attention won’t actually count, but will just mutter after noticing: Are there a lot of dead animals recently?
But in the eyes of Dan Budge and Kingsley, this was already very abnormal.

The master, servant and Kingsley got into the carriage.

coincidentally.

The cat dealer they found was the talkative young man Roland met today.

As expected, he had already noticed the wild cat's corpse.

"Too many dead, sir."

The young cat butcher's eyes showed a sad look: "I can't save them, and I don't know which bastard it is - to be honest, gentlemen, I thought they were children at first..."

Kingsley added indifferently, "It's not shameful at all. Those little fangless monsters are capable of such things."

(End of this chapter)