novelraw Chapter 28 The Man with the Crooked Lips
Chapter 28 The Man with the Crooked Lips
Surrey Police Station.
The meeting room was silent, but that couldn't mask the almost frozen anxiety in the air.
A stack of files was slammed onto the table, the rustling sound breaking the silence.
"Fuck!"
Immediately following was a huge curse, which seemed to make even the magic lamp on the ceiling shake, casting a trembling shadow on the U-shaped round table.
The handwriting on the file was hurried and messy, but the details were chilling—all the dead had their bellies cut open and all their internal organs removed.
"This time it's the Whitechapel district!"
Surrey Police Chief Thomas Bradstreet, with his disheveled hair, stubble, and bloodshot eyes, looked like an angry lion.
He slammed his fist on the table, spitting as he spoke.
"The cleaners found the fifth body near the Bishop's Gate this morning! Same method! Disemboweled, all the internal organs removed! Clean as if it were a surgical operation!"
His voice was hoarse, and he breathed heavily: "Three days! Three whole days! Where are the clues?! What's the progress in the case?! Is the killer really a ghost, able to move freely in the London fog?! Someone answer me!!"
The deputy chief, sitting to his left, also had puffy eyes and looked exhausted. He sighed deeply, "Chief, we've really done everything we can. Everyone's been working non-stop these past few days, visiting every possible location, asking thousands of people, and even seeking help from other police stations. But we haven't found any valid witnesses... The fog in London at night is just..."
"Shut up!" Brad Street interrupted him rudely. "Does blaming the weather do any good?"
He pointed out the window and roared, "The Guardian, The Times, The London News… those shit-eating hyenas don't care about any of that! They've been blocking the way all day! I had to withstand the pressure and keep them out!"
"They've even come up with a nickname for that beast—'Jack the Ripper'! They're just waiting for us to make a mistake so they can attack us as a bunch of parasites who only waste taxpayers' money!"
"Investigate! Continue the investigation! I need results by today!!"
Just then, a young police officer sitting at the end of the long table, as if summoning all his courage, shakily raised his hand: "Chief, I have an idea."
Brad Street frowned. "Speak."
The young officer stood up: "Could we consider seeking help from certain individuals? Like that Charlotte…?"
"idiot!"
Before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted by an angry roar.
Brad Street's forehead veins bulged as he pointed at him and launched into a tirade: "How did you, you idiot, you moron, even graduate from the police academy?! Haven't you been humiliated enough already?!"
"Even if that arrogant brat manages to catch the Ripper, what do you think those scavenging vultures will report? 'Genius teenage detective saves the incompetent Surrey police once again'! It'll just be her achievement! And we'll become the laughingstock of the London police force! A laughingstock forever!!"
The young officer's face grew even paler, his body trembled, and he kept repeating words like "I'm so sorry" and "I'm sorry."
The atmosphere in the meeting room became even more deathly silent.
Some stared at the worn cuffs of their police uniforms, while others looked at the wood grain on the table. In short, no one dared to make a sound, let alone meet the glare of the furious chief.
Brad Street's chest heaved violently. He glanced around at the exhausted, somewhat numb faces of his subordinates and realized that his behavior was nothing more than a fit of temper.
He calmed his anger and let out a long sigh:
"...I'm sorry, Officer Waltz, I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you."
He placed his hands on the table, lowered his proud head, and looked like an old lion licking its wounds after a defeat: "And everyone, I shouldn't have put so much pressure on you. I lost my temper just now."
"Chief, please don't say that!"
We understand!
All sorts of words came from everyone's mouth.
Brad Street had a very volatile and irritable temper, but he was still well-liked by his subordinates.
This is because he is at least someone who can recognize his mistakes and apologize for them.
"If I really can't hold on, I'll ask my superiors for a break. If I can still manage... I'll try my best. As for the reporters, the accountability from above, and all the external pressure, I'll take the blame."
And he would never shift responsibility and blame onto his subordinates.
Brad Street concluded, "That's all for now, meeting adjourned."
He then turned to the still-standing young officer: "Officer Waltz, if you have time, come with me to the Whitechapel district to investigate the scene."
Waltz looked up, seemingly in disbelief. He quickly straightened his back and saluted, "Yes, Sir!"
At that moment, a police officer on duty pushed open the door and entered: "Reporting to the chief, there are two guests outside requesting to see you."
"Looking for me? Those damn scavengers again?"
"No, they're not journalists." The officer shook his head. "They claim to be from Bohemia."
"Bohemia?" Brad Street was taken aback, then quickly replied, "Take them to the reception room and wait a moment. I'll be right there."
.
Brad Street pushed open the door and his eyes quickly locked onto the visitor.
A man and a woman were sitting on the sofa at the back.
The men were about five feet seven inches tall, wearing metal-framed glasses and conservative three-piece suits, while the women were shorter and dressed similarly simply.
Their appearance is also unremarkable; they are the kind of people who would not attract attention if they walked into a crowd.
Brad Street frowned.
Because he was certain he had never seen either of them before.
He walked over and sat down on the sofa opposite the two men, placing his hands folded on his knees. "I am Thomas Bradstreet, Surrey Police Chief. What brings you two here?"
The male visitor said calmly, "Director, the matter we are about to discuss is very important. Could you please ask that unrelated personnel leave temporarily?"
Brad Street thought for a moment, then waved to the two officers in the room, signaling them to leave.
The door was gently closed, leaving only three people in the reception room.
The female visitor then extended her right hand.
"...?" Bradstreet looked at the slender hand with some confusion, on which was a precious emerald ring that was completely out of place with her attire.
"Madam, what is this?"
She spoke softly, "This is our proof of identity, Director."
Upon hearing this, Bradstreet's expression froze, and his tone unconsciously became cautious: "Could you please remove this ring so I can take a closer look?"
The woman nodded slightly, gracefully removed the ring, and placed it on the table.
Brad Street carefully picked up the ring with his fingertips, looked up, and began to examine it closely in the light of the magic lamp.
"This is……"
His expression gradually stiffened.
As the police chief of Surrey, he was already a high-ranking official in the police system, second only to the three ministers, and had met countless important figures.
The ancient craftsmanship of this emerald ring, with its intricate griffin motif on the base—
Without a doubt, it is the coat of arms of the Bohemian royal family, the House of Olmstam.
He gently placed the ring back on the table: "Excuse my intrusion, but who are you two?"
"Director, you should know this very well." The man adjusted his glasses. "We represent the will of Her Majesty the Queen of Bohemia."
Brad Street slowly shook his head: "This ring is indeed of extraordinary origin, but it is not enough to prove your identities."
The woman frowned: "Director, we've clearly shown you our appearances. If we were impersonating someone, we'd probably be wanted by both Britain and Bohemia."
"That's not enough."
Brad Street still hasn't given up.
After a brief silence, the male visitor took a piece of parchment from his pocket.
He folded the parchment in half from the upper middle, obscuring the contents.
However, the exposed part clearly shows the personal seal and signature of the Queen of Bohemia, along with the royal seal.
In addition, the parchment itself faintly exudes an unusually pure magical aura.
"Director, this document is classified as top secret, and I cannot show you its contents. But you can confirm the uniqueness of these two seals, the signature, and the magic mark. I believe no one has ever been able to perfectly forge all of these at the same time."
Brad Street's gaze lingered on the parchment for a full ten seconds before he finally nodded: "As you said."
The male visitor carefully retrieved the parchment, placed his hands on the table, and gave him a hostile look: "Now, is this enough to prove anything?"
Brad Street let out a breath and lowered his head: "I'm sorry, please forgive me, I was being overly cautious."
"Please raise your head." The man's tone softened, even becoming somewhat approving: "Being conscientious in your duties is a virtue, and your behavior is beyond reproach; we fully understand."
Brad Street straightened up, forcing a polite and gentle smile into his otherwise fierce expression: "So, what brings Her Majesty's envoy to Sari? If there is anything we can do to assist you, please feel free to speak your mind."
The man interlaced his fingers and got to the point: "We want to confirm something with you. Do you have someone here named 'Hugh Boone'? Of course, he may have used other aliases, but his facial features are very distinctive—red hair, a crooked mouth, and a large scar on his face."
Brad Street thought for a moment: "I don't know about these things. I'll have to check with the officer in charge. Please wait a moment."
As he spoke, he prepared to get up and leave.
The man smiled and nodded: "Thank you for your trouble, Director."
Once Brad Street had disappeared outside the door and the footsteps had faded into the distance, the male visitor turned his head and said, "Miss Holmes, according to your plan, it seems we don't need to disguise ourselves at all?"
Clearly, these two "visitors" from Bohemia were Erin Adler and Charlotte Holmes.
Charlotte said calmly, "When I first became a detective, I had some unpleasantness with this chief. For the sake of his fragile cardiovascular health, it's better if we visit him dressed like this."
"Alright." Erin nodded. "However, your plan seems to have obvious flaws. Without the documents I have, we simply cannot trust him."
"Mr. Adler, I naturally have follow-up plans; you've acted too quickly," Charlotte said with a smile. "Speaking of which, why do you have documents with the Queen of Bohemia's signature and seal?"
Erin smiled in response: "That's top secret, I'm sorry I can't tell you. But could you tell me about the original follow-up plans? I'm quite curious about it."
Charlotte shrugged. "I can't say for sure either, but please don't underestimate a detective."
"hehe."
"Hehehe."
Steady, rapid footsteps sounded outside the door.
Brad Street pushed open the door and entered, then sat down again.
"You two, it is indeed as you say."
He slammed a file on the table: "At 8:13 a.m. yesterday, a man who identified himself as Hugh Boone came here to report that he had witnessed an incident."
"However, after preliminary investigation and questioning, our officers found numerous inconsistencies in his statements, and there is evidence suggesting a significant connection between him and a missing person case. He has been formally detained on suspicion of murder, pending further interrogation."
His gaze sharpened, as if scrutinizing a criminal: "So, what exactly do you two want with a murder suspect?"
The current situation is largely consistent with Erin's previous predictions.
It seems that Mr. St. Clair did indeed know some unspeakable secrets, but he did not expect that there was a faction of the Golden Bird Pavilion within the police department.
The other party not only suppressed Mr. St. Clair's report, but also accused him of murdering him.
Mr. St. Clair clearly understood the situation but dared not reveal it, otherwise his family might be in danger.
Thinking of this, Erin couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
He met the chief's gaze: "Chief, if I'm not mistaken, the person Hugh Boone is accused of murdering isn't named Neville St. Clair? And his body hasn't been found yet?"
Upon hearing this, Brad Street gasped, his eyes widening instantly: "How...how did you know?"
Erin smiled gently: "That's precisely why we're here."
He added calmly, "Simply put, this murder charge is completely false. And we might even be able to help you with that."
Brad Street seemed struck by lightning, jerking to his feet and bracing himself on the coffee table. His weathered face held a desperate look, as if he'd grasped at a straw: "You mean... Hugh Boone is connected to Jack the Ripper? What does he know?! Or...?"
???
Erin's composed smile turned into confusion.
and many more.
Am I right?
Jack the Ripper?
He instinctively cast an inquiring glance at Holmes, but Holmes simply shook his head slightly.
Yeah, where did Jack the Ripper come from in the Sherlock Holmes series?!
【warn! 】
【warn! ! 】
[Error! Error! Error! Error!]
An unprecedented, sharp roar exploded from the deepest part of Erin's brain without warning!
He felt as if his head had been hit by a giant hammer, his vision instantly turning crimson, or as if countless shards of glass were scraping against his skull.
Cold sweat poured uncontrollably from his brow. He gritted his teeth, enduring the pain as he refocused his pupils.
Finally, Erin could see what was in front of him.
The system pop-ups, which had been quietly and harmlessly hidden in the corner of the field of vision, now spread out like snowflakes!
The once elegant blue font has been transformed into chilling, distorted scarlet characters!
【Detected ■■■■!】
[■■Probability Increased!!]
[■■中……]
[■■ Completed]
【Error-001: Erasing the Ripper■■】
[Progress: 0/1]
【■■■■Reward: "Apocalypse·■■■■"】