Chapter 119 The Real Street

Tingen, Narcissusstrasse 2.

Klein, who left the note behind, locked the gate and walked quickly to Leonard Mitchell who was waiting by the side of the road.

Leonard's short black hair grew a bit longer than last month and was left unkempt and disheveled.

But even so, coupled with his good looks, emerald eyes and poet-like temperament, he still has a different kind of beauty.

Sure enough, any hairstyle depends on the face... Klein subconsciously complained, pointing in the direction of Iron Cross Street:

"Frye is waiting for us over there?"

"Yes." Leonard adjusted the shirt that was not tucked in, and asked casually, "Did you find any clues from the documents?"

Holding a stick in his left hand, Klein walked along the edge of the street:

"No, I can't find a rule whether it's the way of death or the time of death. You know, rituals involving evil gods and demons must match specific time points or special methods."

Leonard touched the special revolver hidden at his waist and under his shirt, chuckled and said:

"This is not absolute. In my experience, some evil gods or demons are very easy to satisfy, as long as they have a strong interest in the next thing."

"And there must be a significant proportion of these deaths that are normal and must be eliminated to get the correct answer."

Klein glanced at him and said:

"That's why the captain asked us to re-investigate and rule out normal incidents."

"Leonard, your tone and description tell me that you have sufficient experience in similar fields, but you have been a Nighthawk for less than four years, and on average, you encounter no more than two extraordinary cases per month, and most It’s the simple, easy-to-solve kind.”

He has always felt that Leonard Mitchell, a teammate, is weird and mysterious. Not only has he been doubting himself and thinking that he is special, but he is also sometimes nagging, sometimes arrogant, sometimes frivolous, and sometimes deep.

Did he have adventures too? There are also adventures that make him feel that he is the protagonist of a drama? Klein made a rough guess based on his rich "insight" from movies, novels and TV series.

Hearing his question, Leonard smiled and said:

"This is because you haven't officially entered the state of Nighthawks yet, and are still in the training stage."

"Every six months, the Holy Church organizes the extraordinary cases encountered by various churches in various dioceses into books, and according to the different levels of confidentiality, certain deletions are made in different versions, and then distributed to each member accordingly."

"Besides the mysticism course, you can apply to the captain, enter the Chanis Gate, and borrow the previous case books."

Klein nodded in amazement and said:

"The captain never reminded me about this."

He hasn't had a chance to enter Chanis Gate until now.

Leonard chuckled and said:

"I thought you were used to the captain's style, but I didn't expect you to naively expect him to remind you."

Speaking of this, he added meaningfully: "If one day the captain remembers everything and forgets nothing, then we need to be more vigilant."

Does this mean out of control? Klein nodded solemnly, then asked:

"Is this the captain's unique style? I thought it was a problem with the 'Sleepless' sequence..."

Staying up late causes memory loss or something...

"To be precise, it is the unique style of 'Nightmare'. Reality and dreams are intertwined. It is often difficult for people to distinguish which ones are real. They need to remember and which ones are fake, so they don't have to keep them in their heads..." Leonard Ben They wanted to say something more, but the two had already stepped into Iron Cross Street and saw "Corpse Collector" Frye waiting at the tram stop.

Frye was wearing a black felt hat with a round brim and a thin windbreaker of the same color, and was carrying a suitcase in his hand. His complexion was so pale that it was suspected that he would collapse from a sudden illness at any time.

And the cold and gloomy temperament made the people waiting for the bus stay away from him.

After nodding to each other, the three of them didn't open their mouths. They joined together in silence, passed the "Silin Bakery" together, and turned to the lower street of Iron Cross Street.

The hustle and bustle came immediately, and the street vendors selling food such as oyster soup, pan-fried meat and fish, ginger beer, and fruits yelled hoarsely, making passers-by involuntarily slow down.

It was early five o'clock at this time, and many people returned to Iron Cross Street. The two sides of the road began to be crowded, and some children mixed in, watching all this indifferently, and staring at all the pockets.

Klein often came here to buy cheap cooked food. He used to live in a nearby apartment. He knew the situation of this place quite well, so he reminded him:

"Beware of thieves."

Leonard smiled and said, "Don't worry."

He pulled his shirt and adjusted the pouch so that the revolver at his waist was exposed.

All of a sudden, the eyes looking at him moved away one after another, and the pedestrians around him gave way unconsciously.

...Klein was stunned, and quickly followed Leonard and Frye, and lowered his head to prevent people he knew from noticing him.

——Benson and Melissa still keep in touch with some of their former neighbors, after all, they didn't move far enough.

Passing through the area with many street vendors, the three of them entered the real lower street of Iron Cross Street.

Passers-by here are all wearing old and tattered clothes, full of vigilance against the appearance of strange and glamorous people, but also showing greed, as if staring at carrion vultures, and may attack at any time, but Leonard's revolver effectively stopped them. All accidents happened.

"Let's start the investigation with the death incident last night, starting with Mrs. Lovis who pasted the matchboxes." Leonard flipped through the information, pointed not far away, "The first floor of No. 134..."

As the three of them moved forward, the ragged children quickly hid on the side of the road and stared at them with blank, curious, and frightened eyes.

"Look at their arms and their legs, they're just like matchsticks." Leonard sighed and entered No. 134 with three floors first.

All kinds of mixed-smelling gases immediately penetrated into Klein's nostrils. He could vaguely distinguish the smell of urine, sweat, damp mustiness, and the smell of burning coal and wood.

Unable to resist, he raised his hand to cover his nose, and Klein saw Beachy Mountbatten waiting here.

The sheriff in charge of the surrounding neighborhood had a brown beard and was full of flattery towards Leonard, who showed his identity as an inspector.

"Sir, I've asked Lauvis to wait in the room." Beachy Mountbatten laughed with a slightly shrill unique voice.

He obviously didn't recognize Klein, who had become much more energetic and decent. He only cared about currying favor with the three officers, and led them into the Laoweisi's house on the first floor.

This is a single-room house, with two-story bunk beds on the innermost side, a table on the right, where paste, cardboard, and other items are placed, baskets full of matchboxes piled up in the corner, and dilapidated cupboards on the left , both clothes and tableware.

There are stoves, toilets, a small amount of coal, wood and other things crowded on both sides of the door, and there are two dirty floors in the center. A man is sleeping soundly wrapped in a quilt that has rotted out holes, making it almost impossible to get off.

On the lower bunk of the bunk bed, a woman was lying there, her skin was cold and gloomy, and she had obviously lost all her life.

Beside the corpse, sat a man in his thirties with greasy and disheveled hair. His expression was sluggish, and his eyes lost their luster.

"Lauvis, these three police officers are here to examine the corpse and ask you something." Beachy Mountbatten shouted loudly, not caring about the fact that there were still people sleeping on the ground.

The dispirited man looked up feebly and asked in surprise:

"Didn't you check and ask this morning?"

He was wearing a gray-blue work uniform, with many stitches on it.

"Answer as long as you are asked, there are so many questions!" Beachy Mountbatten reprimanded the other party severely, and then smiled at Leonard, Klein, and Frye, "Sir, that is Lauvis, On the bed was his wife, that is, the deceased, after our preliminary examination, he died of a sudden illness."

Klein and the others stepped on their toes and walked to the bed from the gap between the floors.

Frye, with a high nose and thin lips, and a cold demeanor, did not speak, but patted Lauvis softly, signaling him to get out of the way so that he could examine the corpse himself.

Klein glanced at the man sleeping on the ground, and asked suspiciously:

"Who is this?"

"I, my tenant." Lauvis scratched his scalp and said, "This room costs 3 soli and 10 pence a week. I'm just a dock worker. My wife pastes a basket of matchboxes to get two and four. One-tenth of a penny, 1 basket, yes, more than 130 boxes, we, we have children, I can only rent the spare space to others, a floor shop only costs 1 soli a week..."

"I have a tenant who is helping with the set in the theater. He won't rest before 10 o'clock in the evening, so he sold the right to use the floor during the day to this gentleman. He is the person who guards the theater gate at night. Well, he only uses Pay 6p a week..."

Listening to the other party's rambling introduction, Klein couldn't help looking at the basket in the corner for a moment.

With more than 130 boxes of baskets, you only earn 2.25 pence, which is almost the price of two pounds of black bread... How many baskets can you make in a day? (Note 1)

Leonard looked around and asked:

"Did anything unusual happen some time before your wife died?"

Lauvis, who had answered similar questions long ago, pointed to his left chest and said, "Since last week, um, maybe last week, she often said that it's stuffy here and she can't breathe."

Signs of heart disease? Normal death event? Klein interrupted and asked:

"Did you see her die?"

Lauvis recalled:

"After the sun went down, she stopped working. Candles and kerosene are much more expensive than matchboxes... She said she was tired and asked me to talk to the two children. She had a rest first, and when I saw her again , she has, has stopped breathing."

Having said that, Lawvis's sadness and pain can no longer be concealed.

Klein and Leonard asked a few more questions respectively, but they couldn't find anything unnatural or abnormal.

After looking at each other, Leonard said:

"Mr. Lauvis, please go out and wait for a few minutes. We will conduct an in-depth examination of the body. I don't think you want to see the next picture."

"Okay, okay." Lauvis hurriedly stood up.

Beachy Mountbatten walked to the side, kicked the tenant who was sleeping on the floor awake, and drove him out roughly, while he wisely closed the door and stood outside.

"How is it?" Leonard immediately looked at Frye.

"He died of heart disease." Frye withdrew his hands and said affirmatively.

Klein thought for a while, then took out a halfpenny copper coin, intending to make a quick judgment.

"'Mrs. Lovis's heart disease was caused by extraordinary factors'? No, that's too narrow, and the answer is misleading...Well, 'Mrs. Lovis' death was caused by extraordinary factors'...that's it!" He whispered silently as if thinking, and quickly determined the divination statement.

While meditating, Klein came to Mrs. Lawvis's body, his eyes deepened, and he popped up the coin.

When the lingering sound echoed, the brass-colored coin tumbled and fell, and landed firmly in his palm.

This time, the king's head is facing upwards.

This shows that Mrs. Lauvis' death was indeed affected by extraordinary factors!

Note 1: At the end of the Victorian era, a basket consisted of 144 matchboxes, and the service fee was 2.25 pence. The limit for a woman working from morning till night was 7 baskets.