OBS Chapter 4483 The Darkest Night (1)
Chapter 4483 The Darkest Night (1)
Chapter 4483 The Darkest Night (Part 11)
Victor nodded. Gotham's food culture is quite diverse, even compared to the rest of the East Coast. Because of its coastal location, many people are fishermen, especially those from lower-class families. During the fishing season, they might stay on their boats for months at a time, not going ashore. Therefore, they have a tradition of drying cured meats, sausages, and salted fish. These cured meats can be preserved for a longer time, are well-suited to the humid environment on the boat, and make cooking on board easier.
When they entered the villa, they saw various kinds of cured meat hanging by the windows, and almost all the windows on the first floor were like that, completely blocked by all kinds of meat and miscellaneous items, rendering them useless as windows. There was no reason why the second floor would be so clean.
However, in both the scene they saw at the time and the photos they took now, there was nothing on the windows.
You see, in these shared accommodations, it's not like whoever's room is next to a window owns the window. Even if Chik's mother didn't have the habit of drying cured meat, he couldn't stop others from doing so; otherwise, he'd be violating the collective's survival rules and might get kicked out. So it was strange that there was nothing drying on the window.
"Did Chick take them down? Because he was going to perform?" Victor asked.
Schiller nodded and said, “But the problem is, he probably only realized this after he had put the noose around his neck. Imagine, he had everything prepared, but as he sat on the windowsill, he discovered that the salted fish that almost covered the entire window would poke his legs, the sausages would hit his head, and the clutter outside the window was even worse. It would completely block his view from below, making him invisible to anyone who was already approaching.”
Victor couldn't help but cover his head. Schiller turned to him and said, "You can't have too high expectations of ordinary people, especially Chick. He's not good at comprehensive and long-term planning; most of the time he acts on impulse, putting a good idea into practice. And only when things get to the last step do he realize that the first step was flawed."
"Okay. So he might have slipped?"
"Yes. Untangling the complicated lines and moving the junk wasn't as simple as he thought. He might have tried to remove the rope around his neck first, but he couldn't tie any knots other than a dead knot. The knots on the curtain rod were exactly the same as the one around his neck, which proved that. Untying and tying knots was difficult for him. So he gave up, thinking that there was only one last thing to do."
"The sudden drop in temperature and the snowfall made the window frame very slippery," Gordon said. "He probably lost his balance and fell straight down while turning around to move the clutter outside the window into the window."
"Didn't anyone notice?"
"It's possible that no one was leaving get off work at that time. But it's more likely that visibility was poor due to the snow and the weather was very cold, so everyone was in a hurry to go home and didn't notice anything unusual about the exterior wall."
"And what about the people inside the windows?... Oh, wait. The windows on the first floor are all blocked up, so it's probably hard to see them."
“That’s right,” Schiller said. “After he fell, he couldn’t be seen from the second floor. But from the first floor, all that could be seen were his calves and feet, which looked like hanging sausages. And because he had hung himself out of the window, there was very little room for him to struggle, and he couldn’t make any noise. And compared to the more likely cause of death, such as suffocation or a dislocated spine, the time to death might only be a few seconds.”
“God,” Victor said, making the sign of the cross. “Maybe I’m the one who hurt him. Schiller, you’re right. We should have been tougher then, let him know that this tactic didn’t work. Then the kid wouldn’t take that risk again.”
“Where’s Fanny?” Schiller looked up at Gordon and asked.
"You're right again, great detective. It was Perrotta who killed her and tried to frame Milos. His initial version of the confession is basically consistent with your speculation that Milos committed the home invasion murder—Milo somehow bypassed Brainiac's surveillance, went out in the middle of the night and killed Chick, just because he saw Jenna and was afraid she saw him, so he went to her house to silence her."
"What's the reality?"
“Milos did not leave the house in the middle of the night. After using Jenna to provoke Fanny, Perrotta tricked her into sleeping in Jenna's bed, and then stabbed her to death.”
Gordon flipped through the stack of photos, pointed to one, and said, “Look here, the blade is facing the victim’s face. Perrotta deliberately turned the blade to make it look like someone came in from outside to kill her. The motive is similar to what you said—she wanted to get into the chemistry department, and Fanny was an obstacle to her, so she killed her.”
"She even stole Milos from Chick in order to murder Fanny and frame him. She orchestrated it all."
"A standout among the new generation," Schiller commented.
Victor, however, still seemed somewhat sad. Even when he returned to Schiller's office, Schiller called out as soon as he entered, "Brainiac, two cups of hot tea, no sugar, thank you."
A soft hum emanated from the kitchen machine. Schiller removed his overcoat and suit jacket, sat down opposite Victor, and spoke in a cadence-like, melodious tone: “I feel incredibly sad, even as I recount the moments of such sorrow I’ve felt over the years, and then confirm that this is truly unique. My student was innocent; he shouldn’t have died. But Milos and Perrotta were immature, barely 20 years old, far too reckless and impulsive. I don’t believe they were fully capable of acting, and in these cases, I was the only mature and prudent adult, yet I failed to prevent the tragedy. It was because I was too soft-hearted, not firm enough. Victor Frith, perhaps Rodriguez is right. A life of ease, a hero’s grave. Your life has been so peaceful that you’ve become accustomed to compromise and tolerance, forgetting the lingering shadows of this dark city, forgetting the most important survival rule in Gotham…”
“That’s enough,” Victor said, turning his head away.
"How many were correct?"
“Except for the part where you flatter yourself, everything is correct.” Victor took a deep breath, walked over, brought out the hot tea and placed it in front of the two of them, then said, “Do you think I should include this part in the book?”
"Of course, as a contrast to my indifference."
“You’re not cold-hearted, and I admit I was wrong about that. Superficial gentleness and tolerance often don’t solve problems.” Victor rubbed his face vigorously. “Young people are at the age where they need stern warnings. I understand now why they’re so afraid of you, yet the psychology department has never had any trouble.”
“That’s simply because they have the ability to prevent things from escalating,” Schiller said. “Psychology students, especially those in my psychoanalysis program, are not ordinary people. They don’t need to escalate things to solve problems. But similarly, their methods of solving problems are also…”
"DiDi! DiDi!"
“Brainiac, you’re not a cell phone,” Schiller said, turning to his phone. “You can just say what you need to say instead of playing a ringtone.”
“I think it would be more polite,” Brainiac said. “After all, I’m looking to have a role in the upcoming Rodriguez stories, and I think it’s important to act like a gentleman.”
"Then what should we call you, Mrs. Brainiac?"
“I have no gender, so you can use either male or female terms, but I'm sure I'm not married. Perhaps ‘unmarried’ would be a good term.”
"Let's get down to business." Schiller remained unmoved.
"Perlotta is dead."
Victor turned his head sharply. Brainiac paused for a moment before continuing, “After identifying the perpetrator, the police were to transfer her to the judicial process. Bail is not permitted for this kind of felony. She would be detained throughout the judicial process. The heating in the GCPD's detention cells was being upgraded, so she was to be transferred to another detention location about 13 miles away. During the transfer, there was a car accident; the car overturned. The driver and the police officer were both unconscious. When they awoke, Perrotta was dead.”
"He didn't die in a car accident?"
"No."
Where is your webcam?
"It was all damaged. Only the video of the moment the accident occurred was preserved, but it didn't capture how Perrotta died."
“Has anyone told you this?” Schiller stood up and asked, “As an electronic life form, the quality and quantity of your cameras are not even comparable to Batman’s.”
"It's an honor to be compared to Batman, especially in this respect."
"The appearance of another case ended my grief. I must say, three murders in one night, involving several interconnected individuals, is a 'spectacle' only seen in a bygone era. Now, I must admit, I am the one more interested in the murders than Rodriguez. He sat in the car, feigning sleep as usual. I was now certain he wasn't weaving any case threads in his mind, while my brain was already filled with the impending case. Why did Perrotta die? Who killed her? Was this series of murders a coincidence? 'No.' Rodriguez's mind-reading ability worked again. He answered the questions in my mind. And when I pressed him, 'How do you know?' he simply pointed silently to the sky."
Victor looked out the car window but saw nothing unusual in the sky. Schiller then reached out and tapped his watch. Victor glanced at it, then his eyes widened.
"It's already 7:30???" Victor said incredulously, "Is your watch broken?"
He pulled out his phone, glanced at the time, and saw it was still 7:30. This confirmed that Schiller's watch wasn't broken, since Brainiac's timekeeping was definitely accurate.
In winter, it does get light later. Given Gotham's location, the latest sunrise of the year is probably now. However, it usually doesn't go later than 7:20. That means it should be light by now.
However, 10 minutes had passed since sunrise, and the sky was still pitch black, showing no sign of dawn.
Many years ago, when Gotham was always shrouded in clouds, this scene was common. Because the clouds were so thick, the sun was invisible just as it rose, and sunrise was about an hour later. In winter, it barely got light until eight or nine in the morning.
Victor looked up at the sky. Perhaps because of the snow, the clouds were still very thick. However, even through the gaps in the clouds, one could still see that the sky had not brightened at all; it remained dark and gloomy, giving one an inexplicable sense of unease.