HBWnovel Chapter 701 Genius among Geniuses
Chapter 701 Genius among Geniuses
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Mr. Deduction was sprawled on the leather sofa in the office, his posture languid and lazy, as if all his bones had been removed.
He tilted his head, his eyes half-closed, staring at the slowly rotating ceiling fan, maintaining this lifeless posture for a full three hours.
The cigarette between my fingers had long since burned out, and I only snapped back to reality when it burned my fingers. I casually stubbed it out in the ashtray full of cigarette butts with a soft "sizzle" before quickly falling silent again.
To be honest, his detective agency was quite well-known locally thanks to its long-standing relationship with the police department—maybe. Occasionally, they would solve a few high-profile cases that shocked the entire city, his photo would appear in the newspapers, and people would gossip about "that amazing detective."
But with such a great reputation, where are there so many thrilling and dramatic cases waiting for him?
Most of the time, the things that come to his door are trivial matters: an old lady who lost her pet cat cries and asks him to find it; a small supermarket owner suspects his employee of stealing money and asks him to check the accounts; and even a couple comes to his firm to argue about who broke up first, asking him to judge the matter.
These things were wearing him down, but he couldn't refuse them—after all, the firm needed rent and utilities, and they couldn't just sit around and do nothing.
Take this incident for example; it perfectly exemplifies the phrase "a complete mess."
A wealthy man suddenly passed away from a heart attack. Before his funeral was even over, his family was in complete chaos—the crucial will had mysteriously disappeared. His three children were like a firecracker going off, constantly arguing outside his law firm. Later, they came to his place, pushing and shoving each other, accusing the other of hiding the will. The eldest accused the second of being greedy, the second accused the youngest of plotting against him, and the youngest cried out that he was innocent, claiming his two older brothers had ganged up on him.
That wasn't all. Even distant relatives who were practically unrelated to them jumped on the bandwagon, such as cousins and nieces, claiming that they had received "favors" from the wealthy man and deserved a share.
The group of people gathered in the office, spitting everywhere and shouting at each other, turning what was originally a relatively quiet space into a bustling market.
Mr. Deduction was so annoyed by their noise that his head was buzzing and his temples were throbbing. He even smoked half a pack of cigarettes but couldn't calm his frustration.
Looking at this group of people who were tearing each other apart over money, he felt suffocated—compared to tracking down the murderer's clues, dealing with these chaotic family matters was simply killing him.
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that's it,
The will theft case handled by the law firm was stuck for three whole days. Mr. Deduction's desk was buried under a mountain of documents, and the ashtray was full of cigarette butts, which gleamed with a cold, hard metallic luster. The bottom cigarette butts had long been pressed out of shape, and the oozing tobacco oil had formed a layer of dark yellow stains at the bottom of the ashtray.
The afternoon sun slanted in through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the documents. He rubbed his throbbing temples as he looked at the client's asset list, his pen leaving a few messy marks on the paper before he irritably crossed them out—behind that string of hundreds of millions of figures were densely marked real estate, equity, and overseas trusts; just sorting through them was enough to give him a headache.
Strand sat there obediently, not moving an inch. Although he occasionally looked through some of the evidence, Mr. Detective felt that no matter how good the child's memory was, it was impossible for him to accurately find the evidence he needed from such a large and messy pile of clues. Let him play if he wants; anyway, Strand would put it back in order for him after he finished looking at it.
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"Mr. Deduction, could you tell me the details of the case? I'd like to hear them."
"of course."
Consider it a recap.
Mr. Deduction thought to himself.
"The doors and windows of the wealthy client's study were intact, the locks showed no signs of tampering, even the dust in the window frame gaps remained undisturbed, and the climbing vines outside the windowsill showed no signs of being broken or trampled,"
The detective's voice betrayed his weariness as he tapped his fingertips on the police scene photos.
"The safe features the latest biometric fingerprint lock with dual encryption and an alarm function. Besides the trustee, only three heirs know the fingerprint password, and each unlocking is recorded with a time stamp."
At 2:10 PM on the day of the incident, the safe was successfully unlocked once, precisely when all three heirs were at the manor. The eldest son was answering a phone call in the living room, the second son said he was in the garden, and the third son was in the kitchen looking for snacks. None of them could completely prove their innocence.
He paused, then pulled out another document:
"During the police investigation, they also found a fresh scratch on the velvet pad inside the safe, as if it had been scratched by a hard object. The direction of the scratch was consistent with the angle at which the safe door was opened, suggesting that it was accidentally scratched while retrieving documents."
In addition, on the carpet next to the safe, besides the half-torn note, there was a small clump of black fibers, which, upon examination, turned out to be the sole material of specially made handcrafted leather shoes. Of the three heirs, only the second son regularly wore shoes of this brand.
However, even so, we cannot conclude that the second son is the murderer based on a small amount of fiber. After all, it was their own family's clothing fiber, which is a perfectly normal thing, isn't it?
"Only two copies of the will were kept after it was drafted. The original was locked in the safe in the study, and the photocopy was kept by the law firm."
However, the original document contained special clauses added by the client before his death, handwritten by him on an appendix using his treasured custom-made fountain pen and specially customized ink, making the handwriting appear thicker and more substantial than on a printed copy.
The detective found a sample of the client's handwriting from before his death.
"This part was not recorded in the photocopy because the supplementary clause was added a week before the client's death. At that time, he was already very weak and was unable to get the law firm to update the photocopy in time."
Now that the original document has vanished, the three heirs are arguing over dividing the hundreds of millions of dollars in inheritance based on a photocopy. The eldest son wants to keep all the company shares, the second son is eyeing the overseas villa, and the third son insists on liquidating the art collection. Even distant relatives who are practically unrelated to them are getting involved. If this drags on any longer, it will end up in court.
Stellan, clutching the law book he had practically worn out, quietly crept up to the desk, his little leather shoes making a soft slurping sound on the floor.
His brows furrowed slightly, his eyelashes like two small fans obscuring the thoughtful look in his eyes, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the worn gold lettering on the spine of the book:
"Sir, Article 1143 of the Civil Code clearly stipulates that a will must express the testator's true intentions. A will made under fraud or coercion is invalid, as is a forged will."
If the photocopy doesn't reflect the client's true intentions, even if the case goes to court, the judge will likely consider other evidence such as witness testimonies and the client's past behavior. Furthermore, since the client added supplementary clauses, they will most likely have left behind relevant drafts or communication records.
Mr. Deduction looked up at him, his pen pausing slightly.
"That makes sense, but the problem now is that we can't find the original document, so we can't confirm whether the so-called 'special clauses' really exist, nor can we prove whether the photocopy is complete."
He suddenly remembered something, abruptly pulled open the drawer, and pulled out the police scene investigation records, the papers rustling as he flipped through them.
“Look, all we found at the scene was half a torn note next to the safe. The paper was imported recycled paper that the client often used, and the words ‘Article 17’ were scribbled on it. The ink was his study’s exclusive blue-black fountain pen ink. But none of the documents in the safe, including the backup contract and the property certificate, had a clause numbered 17.”
Strand's gaze fell on the words "Article 17," his pupils contracted slightly, and then his eyes suddenly lit up, as if he had discovered a firefly hidden in the grass.
"Sir, in the Trust Law you showed me last week, Article 17 concerns the independence of trust property —"
Except in the following circumstances, trust property may not be subject to compulsory execution: (i) where a creditor had a priority right to receive payment from the trust property before the establishment of the trust and exercised that right in accordance with the law; (ii) where the trustee incurs debts in handling trust affairs, and the creditor demands payment of those debts…
He recited it word for word, and then added to it.
"Moreover, at the end of Article 6 of the copy of the will archived in the law firm, there is an inconspicuous annotation written in pencil, 'See Supplementary Clause 17,' in very small and somewhat illegible font. It must have been added by the client himself. You thought it was a typist's mistake and even complained that it was 'unnecessary.' I remember you even threw the copy on the table, and the pencil mark was almost rubbed off."
Mr. Deduction's heart skipped a beat. He immediately reached into the pile of documents and pulled out the copy of the will. His fingers carefully traced the end of Article 6 and found a faint pencil mark. The small print was smaller than an ant and was mixed in with the dense clauses. It would be impossible to find it without paying special attention.
"But even if you know there's a 17th clause, it's useless if you can't find the original document."
He gripped the photocopy with slightly increased pressure, causing the edges of the paper to wrinkle.
"The police searched the study thoroughly, checking the safe's hidden compartments, bookshelf drawers, and even the cracks in the floor. They even searched the caps of the client's frequently used pens, but they couldn't find the will."
"On the third shelf of the client's study, the fifth book from the left is 'Interpretation of the Civil Code'."
Strand stood ramrod straight, his small face full of determination, his memory replicating the details like a precise printer.
"There's a light coffee stain on the cover of that book, in the upper right corner, shaped like a small leaf. It must have been spilled accidentally. Also, there's a tiny scratch on the lower half of the spine. It was from when I went with you to collect evidence last time, and I accidentally brushed it against a metal hook on the bookshelf."
There was a ginkgo leaf bookmark tucked into page 173 of the book, its edges slightly curled. You joked at the time, "The old tycoon certainly has a leisurely and refined taste." I noticed that the client had deliberately placed the bookmark on that page when he was flipping through the book before. And you said, "Rich people always like to hide important things in the most conspicuous places." The client has a habit of keeping his private folders among his frequently read books—last time we visited, the contracts in his desk drawer were tucked inside a copy of the Code of Law.
He paused, then pulled a crumpled weather forecast newspaper from his pocket, which he had specially cut out from the newspaper:
"Furthermore, Article 64 of the Civil Procedure Law stipulates that parties have the responsibility to provide evidence for their claims. Of the three heirs, the second son said he was watering the flowers in the garden at 3 p.m. on the day of the incident. However, I checked the newspaper from that day, and it started raining heavily at 2:50 p.m. and continued until 4:30 p.m. The rain was quite heavy, and the soil in the garden was soaked to a pulp. Yet, when he was questioned by the police, the Italian handmade leather shoes he was wearing had clean uppers and not a speck of mud on the soles. There was only some dry dust in the seams, which is contrary to common sense. Moreover, the gardener of the estate said that the water hose had been put away long ago that afternoon because the weather forecast predicted heavy rain, and there was no need to water the flowers."
Mr. Deduction abruptly stood up, the chair scraping loudly on the floor. He stared into Strand's clear eyes, then grabbed his coat after a moment: "Let's go to the client's study!"
The police car stopped at the entrance of the wealthy manor. The ornate iron gate slowly opened, and the stone path leading to the study was lined with roses. The petals were still covered with raindrops and glistened in the setting sun.
Pushing open the study door, the familiar scent of sandalwood wafted out, mingled with a faint aroma of ink and the smell of old books. On the third shelf, the fifth book from the left, was indeed the coffee-stained "Interpretation of the Civil Code," the scratches on the spine exactly as Strand had described.
Mr. Deduction walked over quickly, took out a book, and a ginkgo leaf bookmark gently floated down, landing on the sun-drenched floor.
Sure enough, between pages 173, there was a sealed kraft paper envelope, sealed with red wax and bearing the client's personal seal, perfectly intact—inside was the missing original will.
Upon opening the envelope, the client's handwriting, strong and clear, pierced through the yellowed paper, the ink slightly darkened. Item 17 was clearly written:
"I voluntarily establish a family trust with 30% of my assets to support impoverished students in completing their studies. This clause is irrevocable. None of the three heirs have the right to interfere with the use of the trust property. The trustee will be appointed by the law firm."
The appendix also details the regions, recipients, and amount of funding, and even indicates the annual monitoring methods.
Behind this supplementary clause lies a little-known story from the client's past.
According to the old butler of the manor, the client came from a poor family when he was young and was able to complete his studies with the help of an anonymous philanthropist. He later built his business from scratch.
In his later years, he always wanted to repay this kindness, but he could not find his benefactor from back then. So he decided to set up a trust to help more students who were in the same predicament as he was back then.
“The gentleman often said that money cannot be taken with you when you die, and that the most meaningful thing is to enable more children to have access to education.” The old housekeeper said with tears in his eyes, “On the day the supplementary clauses were drafted, he even asked me to pick up a few ginkgo leaves from the garden, saying that he wanted to put them in the will as a memento.”
With the evidence irrefutable, the second son's face turned deathly pale. His straight back suddenly slumped, and his hands unconsciously clenched the hem of his clothes.
When questioned by the police, he initially tried to deny it, saying that he had never touched the book. However, when the police presented him with the record of unlocking the safe at 2:10 p.m. that day, as well as the gardener's testimony, weather forecast records, a report on the leather fibers on the carpet, and a sample of dry dust from his shoes, he finally broke down and confessed to the crime with a sob in his voice.
"I'm just not reconciled..."
The second son lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly.
“My father clearly said that after he passed away, the villa overseas would be left to me, but the copy didn’t mention it at all. I knew he must have added supplementary clauses, afraid that he would donate the assets. So, while he was taking a nap, I used the fingerprint template I had secretly recorded to open the safe and stole the will.”
I was going to find somewhere to burn it, but I ran into the butler as soon as I left the study. In a panic, I stuffed the will into the "Interpretation of the Civil Code" book and accidentally tore up the sticky note with the clause number on it. I was thinking of dealing with it when I came back after the butler left. I didn't expect you to find it so quickly..."
He also confessed that in order to forge his alibi, he deliberately put the water hose back in its original position in advance and even wiped the soles of his shoes clean with tissues, but he forgot that it would rain heavily that day, which gave him away.
When the case was solved, the setting sun had already dyed half the sky red.
Mr. Deduction sat on a bench in the manor and handed Stellan a bottle of chilled milk. Fine water droplets condensed on the bottle, and a cool sensation came through his fingertips.
“My personal legal counsel has done a great job this time.” His voice was tinged with laughter, and the weariness in his eyes was replaced by relief. “If it weren’t for you remembering so many details, this case would have been stuck for a long time.”
Strand took the milk, his little fingers gripping the cool bottle. He pursed his lips, placed the milk on the bench beside him, and then took out a copy of "Evidence Law" from his backpack, beginning to carefully peruse it.
“Let me take another look at the relevant clauses of the Evidence Law. Maybe it will help you find the key evidence faster next time you encounter a similar case. Also, I think next time you can pay more attention to the parties’ lifestyle habits and past experiences, as many clues are hidden there.”
The afterglow of the setting sun bathed his small figure in a warm golden glow, and the pages of the book were turned gently by the wind, as if applauding this natural memory monster.
As Mr. Detective looked at his focused profile, he suddenly realized that having such a "human database of laws" as a sidekick meant that every case from now on would not only uncover the truth but also touch the warmth deep in people's hearts. This was probably the most precious meaning of solving cases.
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By the way,
From that day on, Inspector Jose also learned that Stellan was a genius. As a result, Jose picked Stellan up from Mr. Detective every morning and took him around everywhere. In his words, it was much more useful to have him than to have Mr. Detective (hey! (▼皿▼)).