Returning to the living room, Klein picked up the letter opener, casually broke the seal, and took out the letter from
The famous detective wrote in the letter: "Your idea has been of immense help to us. Allow me to express my gratitude here first."
"After receiving your letter, we immediately organized personnel to investigate some key areas. As expected, we found the corresponding clues. Quite a few stray animals that frequently appeared in the area and were remembered by the local residents successively disappeared."
"During this process, we also noticed an interesting thing. In the serial murder case four years ago, the one targeting single prostitutes with a child, many of the people living near the crime scene mentioned that the most suspicious youth, though withdrawn and ruthless, had a considerable love for animals, especially a large black dog."
"After that youth died in a gang shootout, the people around never saw that dog again."
"I'm very curious. Who is its current owner? Was it the killer of an even earlier unsolved serial murder case?"
"The above matters have received some confirmation at the scene of the 12th murder and played a key role, allowing the police to preliminarily lock down the suspect. If everything goes smoothly, after the criminal is arrested, we will be able to obtain the vast majority of the bounty."
"My friend, I clearly remember your contribution. I won't forget your share."
...
Isengard Stanton seemed to suspect that I know the truth about the "Demon," and was deliberately hinting at something? Klein put down the letter and silently muttered to himself.
However, this letter also truly set his mind at ease: The official Beyonders hadn't targeted the wrong person!
If that demonic hound didn't receive additional help, it was only a matter of time before it was captured or killed.
As for Isengard Stanton's speculation that it still had another master, Klein lacked sufficient evidence to confirm it and could only say there was a certain probability.
"Anyway, my task ends here. The rest is the business of the Nighthawks, the Mandated Punishers, and the Machinery Hivemind teams." Klein pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, picked up his round-belly pen, and wrote a reply to Isengard Stanton, full of humility, completely ignoring his subtle hints, just like a true ordinary private detective.
After cutting out another paper figurine and going out to mail the letter, Klein strolled to the public carriage stop, feeling completely relaxed: "Now I just have to wait to collect the money..."
"Raypard said he wants to visit the Roselle Memorial Exhibition for three days straight. I have to wait until Saturday to find him and make the final payment. I hope the patent for the bicycle will have been filed by then. Sigh, the
Klein had just thought out today's schedule. With no Beyonder gathering being held and no way to buy the corresponding items, he suddenly found himself free, briefly without any need for busyness.
"In the morning, go to the Cragg Club, practice shooting, practice Beyonder abilities, and have lunch there. Then find a good circus and observe the magicians' performances, see if I can get some inspiration." He took out his gold pocket watch, glanced at it, and boarded the public carriage in a good mood.
...
Hillston District, Cragg Club.
Since Klein came at least twice a week, all the waiters remembered him, so he no longer needed to show his membership certificate and the White Frost Constellation Badge.
It was Wednesday morning, and most of the Cragg Club members belonged to the relatively well-established middle class, engaged in fixed and fairly respectable jobs. It wasn't Sunday, annual leave, or teatime, so it was hard for them to come.
The spacious and bright hall looked unusually empty, with only a few people sitting in the sofa area in the corner.
Scanning the area, Klein saw an acquaintance and went over to greet him: "Talim, the weather is so wonderful today. You should be at the racetrack."
This acquaintance was the aristocratic equestrian coach who, at Mrs. Mary's request, had introduced him to the club, Tarim Dumont. He had once brought Klein a case, which was to protect
Tarim raised his head, touched his short brown curly hair, and smiled: "Ah, the esteemed great detective. What have you been busy with lately? I haven't seen you for a long time."
*That's because you haven't been to the club for days...* Klein laughed and sat down on the sofa beside Tarim. "Helping the police investigate that serial murder case. Even if I don't get any results, the bounty is tempting enough. Besides, building a good relationship with the police department is very important for us private detectives."
*Everything said above is bragging. I'm just an inconspicuous role that was called in...* he silently joked to himself.
A few members sitting in the sofa area behind them, led by a man who seemed to be a stockbroker, were discussing the latest Western Railroad stocks and East Balam plantation stocks.
Tarim didn't doubt Klein's answer at all and chuckled: "This is indeed the kind of thing a great detective worries about."
After exchanging pleasantries, he gradually drifted into a contemplative state.
Just as Klein was about to take his leave and head to the underground shooting range, Tarim suddenly looked at him and said: "Mr. Moriarty, can I ask you a question?"
"Mm-hmm. You can charge a consultation fee."
"This one is free. And just call me Sherlock." Klein laughed heartily.
Tarim nodded slightly and said hesitantly: "A friend of mine fell in love with the wrong person. How should this situation be handled?"
*Although I've always thought that 'a friend of mine' equals 'myself' when asking this kind of question, Tarim's emotional colors show it's not him. He's troubled, but there's not a trace of pain in him...* Klein, who had activated his spiritual vision, leaned back slightly and clasped his hands together: "I'm sorry, I'm not a psychologist, nor am I one of those experts in solving emotional problems featured in the newspapers and magazines."