Chapter 228: Chapter 228

Detective Ignaz rose to his feet and declared, "Mr. Williams makes a valid point. It's entirely possible an intruder broke in from outside. Please, rest assured."

He paced back and forth a few times, his black leather shoes making a crisp tapping sound on the wooden floorboards bordering the carpet.

"But there are still a few matters to confirm," he continued. "If we can find the murderer before the police arrive, I think we can all avoid a great deal of trouble."

"Detective, have you already figured out who the killer is?"

Jenkins asked at once. Ignaz nodded at him. "Yes, I have a working theory. Now, I'll need to inspect the personal items you're all carrying. Is that acceptable?"

Of course, no one objected. The general public had a rather poor opinion of the police. If the detective could find conclusive evidence before their arrival, the culprit would face swift punishment, and the innocent wouldn't be needlessly implicated.

Jenkins could see that none of the maids were carrying any items that emitted a spiritual aura, which meant the detective's search would be futile. Still, since everyone else was emptying their pockets, he couldn't very well refuse.

He had a few emergency talismans in his coat pocket. To an ordinary person, they would look like nothing more than uniformly shaped metal plates. Still, it was best to keep them hidden if possible. Safety first.

He glanced down instinctively at Chocolate in his pocket, reaching in to give the cat a gentle pat. The feline immediately began to squirm in protest. Seeing that Jenkins was occupied with his cat, and considering he wasn't a suspect anyway, the detective didn't ask to inspect his belongings.

The detective must have a permit, Jenkins reasoned, or he wouldn't have been so willing to be searched. Still, it was best not to bring the weapon out into the open. The maids would surely panic.

Once the mutual inspections were complete, Detective Ignaz suggested they all go take a look at the kitchen. It wasn't far from the study, he noted, and as long as they locked the doors and windows, they wouldn't have to worry about anyone tampering with the scene.

As for the key, it was naturally entrusted to Jenkins for safekeeping, as he was the least suspicious person present.

The kitchen wasn't particularly large, but it was neat and tidy. The freckle-faced maid, eager to clear her name, frantically explained to everyone how she had prepared the refreshments and drinks.

Ignaz listened to her intently, also examining the other bottles that had been purchased along with the one from the study. The villa didn't have a dedicated wine cellar, but since it was autumn, there was little risk of the extra stock spoiling.

There was nothing to be found here; at least, Jenkins couldn't detect any poison emitting a spiritual aura. The toxin must have come from an object with such a faint glow that his vision couldn't penetrate the walls to see it.

It seemed Ignaz held little hope of finding anything here either. Though he made a show of carefully inspecting the kitchen, Jenkins noticed he was covertly observing Miss Joyce's expression.

Joyce was the maid who had accompanied Mrs. David to Pops Antique Shop, which suggested she was the lady's personal attendant.

By common custom, tasks like helping her mistress remove her makeup and change her clothes would have been her responsibility.

"Could Detective Ignaz have deduced it was her, too?"

Jenkins was rather surprised. He had worked backward from the result, which was why the truth had come to him so easily. The detective, however, had no such advantage. Could the man before him be one of those so-called master detectives?

The search of the kitchen yielded nothing, and with the police due to arrive at any moment, Detective Ignaz finally moved on to the crucial question:

"Ladies, I would like to know what Mrs. David was doing after she returned—during that interval after Mr. Williams and Miss Best went upstairs, while I was waiting in the study. And what were the rest of you doing?"

The freckled maid wrung her hands nervously. "I was in the kitchen the whole time, preparing... besides the refreshments and wine, there was also afternoon tea... Ever since the master passed, my lady's appetite has been poor. She likely skipped lunch, so I prepared some snacks for tea ahead of time."

The detective nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. He placed his hat back on his head and turned to Joyce. "And what was Mrs. David doing?"

"My lady was in her room, tidying her clothes... Oh, Mr. Ignaz," she added, "that is a private matter. Please, show some respect for the dead."

Jenkins watched from the side. The conclusion was already obvious. Now, he was just curious about two things: the motive, and the nature of the poison.

"I hope this doesn't involve some cult or other fanatical organization."

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. She was just an ordinary maid. As much as fate enjoyed its little jokes, it wasn't as if every random person was part of some grand conspiracy.

"I believe the best way to respect the dead," Ignaz said, "is to find her killer."

Ignaz's tone was polite, but his words were uncompromising. He took a step to the side, positioning himself squarely in front of the kitchen's only exit.

"Miss Joyce," he pressed, "please tell me now. In that period after Mrs. David returned but before she entered the study—in which room did she change her clothes and remove her makeup?"

"Second floor. First room on the left."

She said nothing more, simply lifting her chin and pursing her thin lips, meeting the detective's gaze as she stated the fact.

Ignaz nodded, gesturing for everyone to follow him. He shot a meaningful glance at Jenkins, who paused for a second before blinking back, feigning incomprehension.

"Mr. Williams, bring up the rear."

He sighed at Jenkins's apparent slowness, but then reminded himself that the young man was only a shop apprentice. Such a reaction was to be expected.

Jenkins, the consummate actor, had once again successfully deceived a stranger. Updates are released by novｅlfire.net

The first room on the second floor was a bedroom, though judging by the decor and the arrangement of the furniture, it wasn't the master suite.

Ignoring the bizarre oil painting above the bed and the intimidatingly large chandelier overhead, Jenkins narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixing on a small vial on the dressing table.

One bottle in particular was no thicker than a thumb and made of translucent glass, its surface etched with intricate, petal-like designs. Judging by contemporary glassmaking techniques, the artistic value of the vial alone surpassed that of more than half the individual antiques in the adjoining room.

The liquid faintly visible inside the bottle shimmered with a pale green light. This was it.