The Bizarre Detective Agency Chapter 57
Ten minutes to midnight. On Ira Street, a translucent figure slipped into a perfectly ordinary house. The door was shut tight. In the evenings, most families were preparing dinner or already eating, and the couple in this house was no exception. Except they sat at a table with one empty chair. The man sighed heavily while the woman's eyes were red and swollen.
Michelle settled into the empty seat as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Staring at the space opposite her, she began to speak to herself.
“The interview was moved to tomorrow, so I'll go in the morning.”
“It's fine, my classmates are used to it by now. I spoke with the professor, and he said it was okay for me to work part-time.”
“Yes... everything's fine. My classmates are nice to me.”
“No, they're good people. No one... no one bothers me. Yes...”
...
Lu Li was seated in the armchair behind his desk. Across from him sat Oliver's cousin, Joan.
“My name is Joan,” she explained quickly, her tone matter-of-fact. “My cousin wanted me to take his place, but he didn’t explain anything. He just said I would see everything I’ve ever wanted to see here.”
“Is that so...” Joan frowned and removed her mask.
Beneath it, a charming face dotted with a few freckles was revealed.
“We're hiring,” Lu Li abruptly changed his mind.
From beside him, he felt a familiar, scornful glare.
“You're a very... authentic detective. I like that. But honestly, I think my cousin is playing a trick on me, like he always does...” Joan offered a sweet smile.
It was clear Lu Li would have to explain the situation Oliver had created.
“And so?” Lu Li asked, leaning on the armrest and propping his chin on his hand.
“Can you prove it?” Joan asked, a spark of excitement in her voice. Then she added, “Just a little.”
Lu Li tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on empty space. He couldn't see Anna, but that didn't stop him from communicating with her. Anna understood his intent, and in the next moment, every object on the desk lifted into the air.
“Is that your power?!” A flicker of excitement ignited in Joan's eyes.
The moment she spoke those words, the floating objects crashed back down, scattering across the desk with a clatter. A pen rolled off the edge and dropped to the floor.
“Obviously not,” Lu Li frowned, then added in a low voice, “Clean it up later.”
“Ohhh...” Anna pouted.
Lu Li shifted his gaze back to the young woman across from him and saw a mixture of delight and curiosity on her face.
“Who are you talking to?!” she asked impatiently.
“Exactly who you think.”
“Can I see her?!” Joan leaned forward, planting her hands on the desk.
Lu Li raised an eyebrow slightly. “Are you sure you want to see a ghost?”
“Yes!” Joan nodded vigorously.
Lu Li leaned back in his chair and, turning his head, said, “Do you want to come out?”
“Yes!” a clear voice chirped nearby, and Anna slowly materialized beside Lu Li.
Joan blinked, and then she saw the translucent silhouette next to Lu Li.
“So that's...” There was no fear or horror in Joan's eyes, only awe, as if she were meeting someone she had long admired. She even reached out a hand to touch Anna.
“Mmm...” The timid Anna hid behind Lu Li's back.
“So when can I start working?!” Joan asked hurriedly.
“Have you decided?”
“Yes!”
Lu Li considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Decisions made in the heat of the moment aren't always the right ones. To make sure you can handle this work, you need to prove you're accepting it with a clear head. Wait three days.”
“How long do I have to wait?”
“Three days,” Lu Li replied. A three-day break before starting. If Joan was still insistent after that, he would keep this girl who was so obsessed with the supernatural. The detective agency had felt empty since Oliver left.
“Is anyone else coming for an interview?” Anna asked, looking curiously at the door.
“Unlikely,” Lu Li said, getting to his feet.
“Where are you going?”
Lu Li took his coat from the rack and, turning back, said, “I'm going to buy a newspaper. See if anything interesting has happened.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lu Li returned to the detective agency with a fresh newspaper, the ink still fragrant.
Under Anna's curious gaze, Lu Li sat down at the desk and handed her the paper. “Page four.”
“Is there really something?” Anna took the newspaper, flipped to the indicated page, and slowly, syllable by syllable, read the headline aloud. “Student at Polis Aristocratic Academy... committed suicide last night...”
“She died?!” Anna exclaimed.
“Yes. She's a ghost. The same Michelle from the story,” Lu Li said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“How is that possible! If she's a ghost, why didn't I feel anything?”
“Are you asking me?” Lu Li looked at her.
“Mm...” Anna covered her mouth with her hand, realizing her foolish question, and continued reading. The newspaper detailed Michelle's story. She was the daughter of wealthy parents, a bully who tormented her classmates, set thugs on other girls, ran with a local gang, had an abortion, and was even involved in human trafficking...
“She's horrible! She looks so beautiful, but she's actually a villain!” Anna fumed. “Is she coming tomorrow?”
“Possibly.”
“Then we'll deal with this ghost.”
“We'll see about that...” Lu Li gazed thoughtfully out the window, not answering directly.
The next morning, Ira Street was unusually noisy.
“Hello, I'm a reporter from the Daily News. Could you tell us what you think about the girls your daughter bullied?”
“Is it true what the students are saying? For example, that she poured urine on her roommates' beds and broke school rules? Did you know about this?”
A crowd had gathered in front of one of the houses. There were gawkers, passersby, and reporters all trying to push their way inside.
Not even the overcast sky and drizzling rain could muffle the commotion.
“The victims are still undergoing psychological therapy. What would you like to say to those your daughter hurt?”
“Rumor has it that you, Michelle's father, work at the city hall, which is why she could get away with anything she wanted at school. Is that true?”
The reporters relentlessly fired off their questions.
“No! My daughter was killed by those sons of bitches! It's all lies!” Michelle's father stood in the doorway, using his calloused, work-worn hands to hold back the press of reporters.
The noise filtered into the house. Michelle's mother had hidden herself in her daughter's room, lost in memories and choked with tears.
An almost transparent girl in a white dress hovered above the bed. Her once-beautiful face was now pale and frozen, and a gray film veiled her clear eyes.
The weeping woman did not see her.