The Bizarre Detective Agency Chapter 78

Lu Li woke up. His gaze fell upon the incessantly ringing telephone. Finally, he lifted the receiver and silently brought it to his ear.

"Excellent, you're there. Come to the agency."

A familiar voice came through the receiver. Lu Li recognized Marcus.

After a slight pause, Lu Li asked quietly, "Has something happened?"

"Do you want the truth or a lie?"

"I want both."

"Whoa, Lu Li, what a greedy detective you are! The lie is that I'm just calling to keep in touch, since we haven't spoken in a few days, heh heh heh... The truth is, I have a new case."

"I'm not ready yet..."

"Don't be so quick to refuse. The client is very generous this time."

"Between 300 and 500 shillings. The client's from Himmfast, a real simpleton. He doesn't have a good grasp of the local rates yet. An opportunity like this doesn't come around often."

"When?"

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"I want both."

"The good news is that the client is in a great hurry, so you'll get the money quickly. The bad news is that other exorcists have already taken the case, so you'll need to move fast."

...

Two wagons bearing the inscription "Tesla Brothers Transport Company" rumbled over a road paved with blue stone and came to a stop on a quiet, tree-lined street. This place, situated near a forest, undisturbed by neighbors, and with a view of the sea, was anyone's dream... Or rather, the real reason was its remote location, practically on the very edge of Belfast.

One after the other, the two wagons pulled up in front of a detached house.

A family of three and a golden retriever emerged from the rear wagon. The coachman, stripped to the waist, dropped the reins and followed them, a smile on his face as he entered the house with the family.

A little over ten minutes later, the family and the coachman came out of the house, having apparently reached an agreement. Two workers who had remained in the other wagon jumped down and began carrying belongings into the house.

Bookshelves, books, a piano, a writing desk.

The movers carried items into the house not typically found in an ordinary home.

The couple stood by the door, murmuring quietly to each other. Then, it seemed a dispute arose, fragments of which were carried on the wind.

"...It hasn't been easy for you..."

"...The child... Her studies... The new school..."

"...I didn't... want to move here either..."

Macpherson was an artist, passionate about music and the piano.

But the title of "artist" didn't pay well, at least not in Himmfast.

The reason he moved from Himmfast to Belfast was simple: life here was cheaper and quieter.

Of course, more importantly, Himmfast was overflowing with "artists," and even with sufficient talent, it was difficult to survive there.

Despite the self-proclaimed artists who called Belfast a barren wasteland for the arts or a city reeking of money, Macpherson had still decided to try his luck. He bought a detached house on the outskirts of Belfast, near the woods. Inexpensive due to its location, the two-story house cost as much as a single room in an apartment building on a bustling street.

Consequently, the house looked dilapidated: its gray, dust-covered facade and weed-choked yard spoke of long neglect.

Macpherson watched the bustling workers carry his precious books into the house by the stack. He used to have far more books, but after some grim-faced men came and confiscated his geography and history texts, his collection had been cut in half.

He wasn't sure whether he should thank those impassive men for saving him a few shillings on the moving costs.

"I think there's something strange about this house... Don't you feel it? When we went inside, Jack was even afraid to run around," came his wife's voice.

Macpherson turned to her helplessly.

"It's just your imagination, dear. It rains constantly during the wet season, so of course an empty house is going to feel damp and cold. Once we're moved in, everything will be fine. Jack's a dog; he's always a little timid in a new place. You could ask Betsy to play with him."

He put his arm around his wife's shoulders and said earnestly, "Listen, I believe everything will be all right. Sooner or later, some orchestra will take notice of me. Sooner or later, some singer will choose one of my compositions. Trust me, okay?"

"...All right. I'm not worried about myself, only the child..."

"I know... I know..."

He embraced his wife, and the couple, holding each other close, seemed to have reconciled.

A short time later, the two wagons, having unloaded their cargo and received payment, departed. The family saw them off at the gate, then took each other's hands and walked through the iron entrance.

...

"The hallway is so dark."

Dorin had resigned herself to their current situation, but that didn't mean she wouldn't complain.

"It's like this in all big houses," Macpherson soothed her, looking around. "Where's Jack?"

Their daughter, skipping ahead, pointed down the dark corridor. "Over there. Jack, Jack!"

She called out loudly for her friend.

"Woof!"

Just then, in a corner of the hallway a few meters away, the golden retriever, Jack, was tearing at a peeling piece of wallpaper on the wall.

"Grrr..."

Jack bared his teeth, revealing sharp fangs and showing his ferocious side.

Beneath the wallpaper he had ripped away, a black, withered hand appeared on the wall, like a child's drawing on the bare plaster.

"Jack! Jack!"

At that moment, Dorin's voice echoed from down the hall. Jack's ears perked up, and he ran off.

The empty hallway fell silent after Jack left.

The drawn, black, withered hand behind the torn wallpaper slowly vanished.

...

Five o'clock in the evening.

The overcast sky seemed to herald the coming of night.

Lights flickered on in the house's windows as the unlit street sank into darkness.

Macpherson and Dorin sat huddled together on the living room sofa. A short while earlier, they had gone to introduce themselves to their new neighbors. The neighbors they met were warm and welcoming, but at several houses, no one answered the door. They assumed the owners were simply out, but when dusk fell and no lights appeared in those homes, they realized no one lived there at all.

"Maybe we shouldn't have bought a house on this street, and we shouldn't have bought such a big one," Dorin said anxiously. The house was too large, and their savings didn't allow for the luxury of keeping oil lamps lit in every room and hallway. As darkness fell, they lit lamps only in the bedrooms. This meant that most of the house was plunged into thick shadow.

It was somewhat unsettling.

"It's for the best. At least we won't be bothered by neighbors and passersby," Macpherson patted his wife's hand. "Go make dinner. I'm going to get some work done in my study."