Chapter 97 Beria Attacks

261

East End, a cheap cafe.

Klein successfully sold his bicycle shares for 500 pounds. When he arrived at the meeting point agreed with Kohler, Kohler was already waiting there.

The middle-aged and elderly man has a pair of gloves made of cloth. The stitching is fine, and it looks like a set with the scarf. You can tell whose hand it comes from at a glance.

He couldn't help but smile, took off his scarf, took off his hat, sat across from him, took out a stack of 1 sole banknotes and handed them to the other party: "The funds for next week's activities plus the reward for the last message total 1 pound."

Old Kohler's face was obviously much rosier than before. He took the cash with some embarrassment and said: "The news I gave last time doesn't seem to be too important..."

"No, whether it's important or not only depends on who sees it. Many things that you think are insignificant may be the source of other people's money." Klein explained with a smile, "What's going on this week?"

Old Kohler took the stack of banknotes and stuffed them into his pocket while thinking: "Same as before, many people are still looking for followers of 'The Fool'. Haha, how can anyone believe in 'The Fool'? This is not a good thing."

call."

...Klein's mouth moved slightly and he said, "Have they made any progress?"

The Aurora Society is really persistent... Klein thought helplessly.

"No, there is no such person at all." Old Kohler shook his head and said, "Some people have been organizing strikes recently and have approached me several times, saying they want to fight for more reasonable working hours and wages."

"Although Miss Maria has successfully expanded the factory and hired at least a hundred more people, there are still more and more people demonstrating and unemployed. Alas, I really don't know what to do."

It is a normal thing in this era, but it may lead to quite serious consequences... Klein said thoughtfully: "Pay attention to who is organizing this matter, but don't be too eager. Safety comes first."

"Okay." Old Kohler cleared his throat and said.

After Old Kohler finished recounting his other experiences, Klein followed the Nighthawks' tutorial and briefly taught the other party some tricks of clichés, as well as emergency response plans in individual scenarios.

"It's time for me to go to the dock. Thank you, Detective Moriarty, for letting me have a wonderful life again!" Old Kohler picked up the old bonnet on the table and thanked him sincerely, "Taylor finally made up his mind.

I bought discounted fabric and made myself a new skirt. Haha, I haven’t seen her so happy in a long time. Thank you, Mr. Detective, thank you very much!”

In his opinion, Mr. Detective not only provided him with a well-paid job, but also taught him many useful things. Even if the other party no longer needs informants in the future, these skills will be enough for him to survive in the East District, especially

After he got older and older and became less and less able to do heavy work.

A good life? In my opinion, what you have now is the most basic life for a person... After watching old Kohler walk out of the cheap cafe, Klein sat there in a daze.

Slowly exhaling, Klein took his scarf and hat and walked out of the cheap cafe.

262

Hillston District, outside a somewhat old house.

Klein stepped off the carriage, pressed his hat, and went straight to the gate. This was the home of Isengard Stanton.

The great detective wrote to Klein a few days ago, inviting him to come over as a guest to discuss a murder case.

Because Klein was busy with the financing of the bicycle project, he euphemistically replied that he was not available recently to express his refusal. Who knew that Essinger Stanton didn't care and said that the case had entered a dead end and there would be no solution in a short time.

What kind of breakthrough? He was very happy to wait for the visit of Detective Sherlock Moriarty, and he was very much looking forward to an exchange that would burst out with sparks of wisdom.

Klein had no choice but to divine a suitable date to visit the other party, chose the one closest to the negotiation date, which was this afternoon, and wrote back to finalize the matter with the other party.

Jingle bell, jingle bell.

Klein rang the doorbell twice. After more than ten seconds, the door creaked open. Detective Essinger's assistant smiled and said: "Good afternoon, Detective Moriarty, Mr. Stanton is waiting for you in the living room.

Would you like coffee or tea?"

Klein raised his head and glanced at him and said, "Let's take black tea, add less lemon slices."

"No problem." The assistant led Klein into the living room and pointed to the doorway of the living room, "I'm sorry, our servants are temporary. They just have a day off today, so I can only trouble you to go there by yourself."

Klein nodded slightly and walked outside the living room on the first floor.

As he raised his hand to knock on the door, he suddenly felt something was wrong: My visit to Mr. Stanton had been decided a few days in advance. How could it happen that all the temporary servants were on break?

Klein narrowed his eyes, reached out and took out a copper penny.

At this moment, the door of the living room opened, and a small gap opened. In an instant, it seemed that some seal was lifted, and the strong smell of blood came out and penetrated Klein's nose.

In his sight, the easy chair in the living room was overturned on the ground, stained with a lot of dark red blood, and a book fell next to it, with the cover facing up.

With just a glance, Klein seemed to have seen the scene of a murder. The name of the book then caught his eye: "The Legend of Demons in the Silveras Region".

Devil...Klein was about to make a move when a strong wind suddenly blew in the living room, and he quickly pulled the door back.

Bang!

Klein saw the complete scene inside the living room clearly: the charcoal in the fireplace had long since burned out, and there was no longer any red appearance; the coffee table, sofa, chairs, cupboards and other items were toppled over and broken into pieces, as if they had witnessed an event.

There was a fierce battle; there were a lot of blood stains on the carpets and walls, along with a lot of scorch marks, but there was not a single body at the scene, not even the remaining limbs.

Something happened to Detective Stanton? Klein took a step back and planned to get out of here first. But almost at the same time, he felt like he was being targeted by someone.

There was someone hiding somewhere who was watching him coldly and mercilessly!

Once he makes a mistake in his response, he will immediately encounter a fatal attack!

How is this suitable for visiting Isengard Stanton? There is something wrong with my interpretation of the revelation? Klein did not dare to act rashly.

But he is not too nervous or panicked. He has experienced many battles and "performances" and knows that the most important thing at this time is to calm down.

Da, da, da, Isengard Stanton's assistant came over carrying a tray, with a tin teapot and two white glazed porcelain cups placed on the tray.

The assistant was stunned when he saw the scene in the living room. He looked at Klein, his expression suddenly full of fear, and said in one word: "Kill you, Mr. Stanton..."

Every time he spat out a word, a piece of flesh on his face would fall off, dripping with blood. When he finished speaking, he was torn apart and turned into a corpse, just like it had always been like this, always in this state, but just stitched up.

Same as getting up.

When! Click! The tin pot and the white glazed porcelain cup fell to the ground at the same time, rolling or splashing, and the black tea quickly soaked the surrounding area.

Klein didn't move, just watching all this happen, because he felt that he was still being watched.

The guy who caused all this seemed to be waiting for him to make a move, then pounced on him from behind and bit his neck.

After an unknown amount of time, in a silent and eerie stalemate, Klein saw the door to Isengard Stanton's house being opened, and a group of police officers in black and white checkered uniforms rushed in.

They discovered the disgusting and terrifying corpses on the ground, and immediately pulled out their revolvers and pointed at Klein at the door of the living room.

Facing the black muzzles of the guns, Klein relaxed.

That silent gaze, as if holding a gun to the back of his head, disappeared at this moment!

Klein raised his hands and smiled helplessly: "I won't say anything until I see my lawyer."

263

Knock, knock, knock, Lawyer Jurgen knocked on the door of a single-family villa with a garden in the Jowood District.

He heard the sound of birds flapping their wings from somewhere in the garden, but when he looked over, he saw nothing. Attorney Jurgen took a step back and stood on the next step, waiting for the door to open.

After five or six seconds, the old mahogany door opened a crack, and a smiling, kind-faced young man wearing a monocle poked his head out from behind the door: "Hello."

"There are no visitors with appointments today, what can I do?"

Jurgen guessed that this young man was an assistant or something, so he replied seriously: "I was entrusted by Sherlock Moriarty to visit Mr. Edward Vaughan. We have cooperated before."

"I see, please wait a moment." The young man was still smiling and very friendly, but Jurgen still had a straight face. The door closed vaguely, and after half a minute, it opened again. Standing at the door was

It was the landlord whom I had met several times before, a middle-aged gentleman with black eyes and brown hair, Mr. Edward Vaughn.

Jurgen glanced at his pocket watch. Time was urgent. Sherlock was still waiting for him at the police station. He skipped the steps of greetings and invitations into the house, and spoke directly to the other party's questioning eyes: "Long time no see, Mr. Vaughn."

.Please forgive me for my unexpected visit. Detective Sherlock Moriarty asked me to come to you. He was accidentally involved in a murder case. I was about to bail him out, but he said he wanted me to help you.

Take us there together, I need your help."

"Sherlock... was involved in a... murder case?" The older, well-dressed gentleman knitted his eyebrows together deeply, as if it was difficult to connect the two words together. Yu Er

Gen was not surprised. Almost all private detectives were charged with illegal possession of guns and illegal housebreaking. It was precisely because of the special nature of his work that Sherlock established a long-term cooperation with him.

"Was he murdered by someone else?" the gentleman asked seriously.

"I'm not sure." Jurgen answered truthfully.

Although it is indeed a bit serious this time, Sherlock is probably just an unlucky detective who happened to be passing by.

"...Okay, I understand. I'll pack up and go with you. You know me. Sorry, I just remembered that you seem to be a member of the law firm that cooperates with our editorial department. Forgive me for being old.

I have a bad memory and can’t remember your name.”

"Jurgen Cooper. Just call me Jurgen."

"Okay, Mr. Jurgen, please wait for me a moment."

Edward turned back to the house, gave the young man some instructions, then took off the light-colored cashmere scarf on the hanger near the door, put on his thick double-breasted woolen coat, picked up his cane, put on his top hat, and followed Yu.

Ergen took to the street in a cab.

Coincidentally, it was neither off-duty time nor dinner time, so there were only two of them in the taxi.

Edward asked softly: "Did Sherlock tell me what to do?"

Jurgen frowned: "Sorry, he was taken away by the police station. He is now the main suspect and cannot come to me directly. The police officer brought his message. I thought you would know something."

"It seems that we are all the people he thinks of in critical moments." Mr. Edward couldn't help but smile, slowly straightened his back, sat upright without leaning on the cushion behind the seat, and put his hands on the top of his cane.
To be continued...