HBWnovel Chapter 704 The Past
Chapter 704 The Past
"So, Mr. Deduction, have you found any clues?"
The silence lingered in the air for a long time before being broken by Stellan's voice.
His fingertips unconsciously rubbed his cuffs, his gaze falling on Mr. Deduction's perpetually tense profile—his hat was pulled low, obscuring most of his expression, revealing only his hard, cold jawline.
The flickering candlelight cast long and short shadows of the two people, and the dampness unique to the manor, mixed with the smell of decaying vegetation, became even more pronounced in the silence.
Mr. Deduction slowly raised his eyes, a cold glint reflecting from his metal glasses, his voice low and restrained:
"Currently, only the general course of the case has been reconstructed. The victim's whereabouts and the timeline of the incident have been verified, but more evidence is needed to support the key modus operandi and the identity of the perpetrator."
He paused, tapping his fingertips on the table. "The clues are very fragmented, as if they've been deliberately scrambled."
Just then, Inara, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, suddenly flinched. Her weak voice, tinged with uncertainty, pierced the heavy atmosphere in the room: "Mr. Deduction... I might... I might have discovered something."
Mr. Deduction and Stellan both looked at her. The little girl clutched the hem of her clothes, her eyes filled with trepidation, her cheeks flushed slightly with nervousness, as if she had mustered a great deal of courage to continue speaking:
"When I went to the restroom just now, I passed by the dressing room that Mrs. Bella used to use—the door wasn't locked, so I glanced at it subconsciously. There was a handkerchief embroidered with roses on her dressing table, and I... I smelled it out of curiosity, and it smelled really strange."
She frowned slightly, trying hard to recall and recreate the scent, her small nose twitching gently: "It was a little bitter and a little astringent, not like perfume, nor like the smell of flower petals."
Her memory suddenly jumped back to an afternoon in the manor, where Sister Lisa held her hand and led her through the flowers, patiently teaching her to identify the plants with their special scents. The feeling of her fingertips brushing against the leaves was still as clear as yesterday.
"That's it!" Inara's eyes lit up, then turned to fear. "Sister Lisa taught me, it tastes like belladonna!"
The moment the words left his mouth, Mr. Deduction's pupils contracted sharply, and his hand under the table clenched tightly. Cold sweat instantly ran down his spine, sending chills down his spine—belladonna, a highly poisonous plant, can cause hallucinations and unconsciousness in a tiny amount, and is fatal in a sufficient dose.
This handkerchief, reeking of belladonna, was no accident. He abruptly stood up, his gaze sharp as an eagle beneath his top hat: "Where is the handkerchief now?"
Before she could finish speaking, Inara deftly pulled something out of her pocket—a silk handkerchief embroidered with blooming roses and adorned with tiny pearls at the edges, which belonged to Lady Bella.
The little girl carefully held the handkerchief in her palm, her eyes filled with a hint of excitement at having "done something," but her tone remained serious: "I know belladonna is poisonous. Sister Lisa said that you can't touch or eat it. It's too strange for it to be in the dressing room, so I quickly took it out and wanted to give it to you directly."
Mr. Deduction's face instantly darkened. He strode forward, not immediately taking the handkerchief, but instead pressing down on Inara's wrist. His voice held a barely perceptible urgency, yet he deliberately softened his tone: "Silly child, how could you touch it with your bare hands?"
Inara was startled by his serious expression, and pursed her lips pitifully, "I... I just wanted to show you as soon as possible..."
“Belladonna is extremely poisonous,” Mr. Detective said, his gaze falling on the handkerchief, his eyes behind his glasses extremely serious. “Even skin contact, if there is any sap left on it, can cause dizziness and nausea, and in severe cases, it can even be life-threatening.” He turned to look at Strand beside him, who instantly understood the danger, and the composure on his face vanished.
"You just ate so much chocolate and cookies with your hands with Strand,"
The detective's voice held a hint of lingering fear as he gently touched Inara's hand with his fingertips.
“If you get any residual belladonna juice on your hands and then eat food, the consequences could be disastrous.” He paused, then added, “Even if the juice looks dried now, you can’t be careless—the toxins in belladonna can adhere to fabric fibers, and you can easily get them on your hands if you’re not careful.”
Stran stepped forward, his tone concerned: "Inara, next time you find something suspicious like this, don't touch it directly. Just tell us immediately."
Inara nodded as if she understood, but looking at the detective's serious expression, she belatedly felt a little scared and subconsciously handed him her handkerchief: "Then... what do we do now?"
Mr. Deduction took out a pair of thin gloves from his pocket and put them on. He then gently but quickly took the handkerchief, carefully folded it in half, and put it into the sealed bag he carried with him.
After doing all this, he breathed a sigh of relief, and his gaze towards Inara softened considerably: "Don't be so reckless next time. However, your discovery this time might be the key to solving the case."
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Unbeknownst to anyone, in the shadows of the corner of the room, Ronald remained leaning against the dining table. He held half a cookie between his fingers, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if he were merely an detached observer, indifferent to the conversation unfolding before him.
But when Inara pulled out the handkerchief embroidered with roses, Ronald's pupils constricted sharply, as if pierced by an invisible icicle. His relaxed smile froze on his lips, and his face drained of color at a visible speed, turning deathly pale. His heart sank, then pounded wildly, as if about to burst from his chest—the handkerchief, and the mentioned scent of belladonna, struck his mind like a thunderbolt.
But this loss of composure lasted only a moment.
As the theater's principal, his years of stage experience had honed his emotional control to perfection. He quickly lowered his eyes, avoiding everyone's gaze, and when he looked up again, his face had regained its usual composure. He even slightly furrowed his brows, pretending to be puzzled by the word "belladonna."
But only he knew that something absolutely impossible had appeared here.
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Mr. Deduction carefully put away the bag containing the sealed handkerchief, then turned to look at Inara and the silent Strand, his tone softening slightly:
“You don’t need to help with things here for now. There’s a place at the end of the theater corridor where they store their costumes. Go play there for a while, but don’t wander too far.” He took two fruit candies out of his pocket and handed them to the two children. “I’ll come find you after I’ve finished dealing with things.”
Inara took the candy, immediately forgetting her earlier nervousness. She grabbed her brother's hand and skipped out, gently closing the door behind her to shut out the noise from outside.
The room was instantly left with only Mr. Deduction and Ronald.
The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the wall, and a subtle tension filled the air.
Mr. Deduction slowly turned around, his gaze behind his metal-rimmed glasses sharp as an eagle's, locking onto Ronald. He didn't beat around the bush; after a moment's hesitation, he slowly voiced the question that had been weighing on his mind, his tone cautious: "In the death of the previous female chief, Lachesis, the elevator worker who was pushed forward to take the blame—he couldn't be…"
His words were unfinished, yet they were clear enough.
Ronald leaned against the edge of the table, the half-eaten cookie still between his fingers. He merely raised his eyes slightly at the question, showing no surprise whatsoever, as if he had already anticipated it. He paused for two seconds, then nodded readily, his voice as calm as if recounting a past event unrelated to himself: "It was my father."
After he finished speaking, the room fell into a brief silence.
Ronald looked down at the ground, a faint, self-deprecating smile playing on his lips. He wasn't surprised that Mr. Deduction had uncovered this—they had served in the army together, comrades-in-arms who had fought side-by-side, and knew each other's pasts, family backgrounds, and even hidden secrets to some extent. They had lost contact after leaving the army. Now, reunited in this misty manor, those long-buried memories naturally wouldn't escape Mr. Deduction's eyes.
But he also knew that this frank admission would only push him into a more obvious position of suspicion. Ronald looked up, meeting the probing gaze of the Detective, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes: "If it were me, I'd probably be suspicious too." He chuckled softly, a hint of bitterness in his laughter, "A vengeful avenger seeking revenge for his father—what a perfect template, isn't it?"
He did not defend himself, but calmly stated this obvious fact, as if he had already anticipated everything that might come next.
But the only answer he received was a single sentence from the Detective:
"I'll find the evidence."