13 Mink Street

Chapter 13 Criminal Minds

"Did the killer do it on purpose?"

Sheriff Duke asked, puzzled.

But in reality, another word in Karen's words had stirred his heart:... a work of art.

A young man,

actually, used the word "work of art" to describe the victim's remains.

Although Sheriff Duke knew this young man was speaking from the killer's perspective, it was hard not to be surprised by the speed with which he could formulate and translate such a description.

But he still wanted to hear the young man continue, and immediately asked, "How did you determine this?"

"Clearly, this wasn't a crime of passion."

"Yes," Sheriff Duke nodded.

A crime of passion is the opposite of premeditated murder: a person without any intentional motive to kill, but driven by the victim's provocation and irritation, loses control and kills.

But this body, with all the decorations and embellishments, had long since fallen outside the realm of a crime of passion, as he had already completed all the necessary post-mortem procedures.

Sheriff Duke twirled his pipe and continued, "How did you base your judgment? After all, we haven't done a thorough on-site investigation yet, have we?"

Karen hesitated, then replied, "A feeling."

"A feeling?"

"Yes, the feeling I had when I saw the body."

"Investigating based on feelings?" Sheriff Duke raised his hand. "No, I want to hear your feelings. Can you be more specific?"

"The murderer hid the body under the stage..."

Sheriff Duke continued, "So, the murderer is very familiar with the environment of this dance hall. Combined with what you said before, that this accident was not an accident but a deliberate act, then the murderer must be either an employee of this dance hall or, at the very least, a regular customer.

Oh, sorry, I interrupted you again. Please continue."

"I can only follow my feelings, Sheriff," Karen explained again.

"It's okay, you say."

"A dance hall is a very lively place, crowded and noisy. Generally speaking, when a murderer disposes of a body after killing someone, their primary goal is to destroy the evidence. But here, it's completely different.

The murderer placed the body here, and arranged it so intricately and meticulously, probably with the intention of presenting it someday... today.

It's like a painting covered with a red cloth after the artist completes it, and then, when the guests arrive, the cloth is removed, revealing the work.

Also,

Placing it under the stage, I think there's another meaning."

"Another meaning?"

"Although it wasn't a crime of passion, the murderer clearly harbored an extremely strong hatred."

"Don't worry about that. After we identify the deceased, we'll investigate their social network, focusing on those who had conflicts or antagonisms with them."

"No, no, no, you misunderstood me. The hatred I'm talking about is different from the hatred you understand, Sheriff."

"Different?"

"It's not the kind of hatred you associate with everyday life, the kind of resentment that arises from friction within the social circles of colleagues, relatives, neighbors, and friends, ultimately transforming into a motive for murder.

The hatred I'm talking about is on a different level.

You see,

The murderer's treatment of the victim's body was incredibly detailed. Not only is it steeped in religious meaning, but it also conveys the artistic expression of a sculptor."

"I understand the words you're using, but when you put them together, I feel..."

"Come with me."

Uncle Mason had already led the others out, carrying the seriously injured man. Only Karen and Sheriff Duke remained in the backstage.

Because neither Sheriff Duke nor Karen screamed when the body was discovered in the hole in the center of the stage, in the chaotic situation, no one else even noticed there was a body there that wasn't part of this "accident."

Karen walked off the stage and headed for the seating area. The layout of this ballroom resembled a theater. In fact, before it opened as a ballroom, it had been a theater in Luojia City.

So, the steps leading from the stage to the "audience seats," or booths, ascended, rising higher and higher, resembling a gladiatorial arena.

Karen continued his ascent, stopping when he reached the center.

Here, there were tall coffee tables, small enough to hold only a few glasses of wine, with no chairs nearby. If you wanted to sit comfortably, you had to pay extra for a booth in the front.

This was where you could place your glasses and chat with friends. Of course, if you were a girl, you could freely share a table and drink in the front seats.

Unlike Uncle Mason, who had long since retired, Ron was a regular at this ballroom, and this area was his specialty, as there was no minimum spending requirement.

Each song lasted only three minutes, at five rupees. Even though Ron had a good income, he had a lot of expenses, so he couldn't find dancers to dance with as often as he wanted.

Most of the time, he'd just dabble in the beer he'd bought, dabbing it on his lips as he glanced around, glancing at the "ragged" beauties.

He'd wait until the most beautiful and enchanting one appeared before inviting her to dance with him for a song or two. Afterward, he'd immediately give the dancer the money, leave the stage, and return to dabble in the beer again, savoring the moment while slowly searching for his next partner.

Ron recounted all this on the bus ride here. He was proud of himself for having achieved the ultimate in pleasure with minimal expense.

Karen turned around and saw Sheriff Duke standing behind him.

"Sheriff, please turn around."

"Okay."

Sheriff Duke turned around, standing mid-height, facing the stage below.

Karen's voice came from behind him.

"Sheriff, please use your imagination. This is no longer the dance hall where the stage collapsed. Now, it's operating normally.

Listen, the music is playing. It's the upbeat "Rodja Elf."

It's a cheerful tune. Aunt Mary loved to play it while working in her studio.

"Look, the lights are gradually dimming. The guests have chosen their partners and are walking onto the stage.

Look, in the center of the stage, hundreds of couples are dancing together, hugging each other.

There are indeed a few couples on the periphery, dancing earnestly. Their movements, while not perfect, are decent.

Inside, the male patrons are huddled close to the dancers, their hands slipping into inappropriate places, constantly caressing.

Listen, the sounds of hormones are constantly ringing and surging on the stage.

Look, everything before your eyes is a concentrated manifestation of human desire. Everyone is pressed together, using each other's bodies as a shield, stripping away disguises, and even seeking a kind of public pleasure."

Look up again.

The glass stage above is another breathtaking spectacle.

Morals, ethics, reserve, and so on, have all been thrown off the stage. Money and primal desires are now rampant. Things that should be shy to see are now openly on the two stages before you.

As Karen narrated,

Sheriff Duke seemed to see a similar scene unfold before his eyes. Light and shadow began to intertwine and shift.

"Please lower your gaze again to the stage, to the center, then slowly, slowly, to the bottom of the stage.

Please tell me,

What do you see?"

Sheriff Duke replied, "A corpse. A corpse with a Berry Bible on its chest, held in a particular, mocking pose."

"Then, please tell me, what position was it in?"

"Lying down."

"Oh, really?"

"Isn't it?" "

"Stand here now, please take a closer look. Is he...really lying down?"

Sheriff Duke's gaze narrowed. Because of the height, as his perspective shifted further, he couldn't help but exclaim:

"No, he's not lying down. He's standing. And those people dancing on the stage are actually lying down! "

Suddenly,

Sheriff Duke clenched his fists.

For he suddenly realized something:

that this position was that of an observer, no, an admirer.

Sheriff Duke slowly turned his head to the left.

In his "sight," a dark figure seemed to appear. It stood there, beside him, a smile on its lips, admiring the dynamic scene before him.

He... was the murderer!

Sheriff Duke instinctively reached out, wanting to grab him;

But the moment his hand touched the shadow, it dissipated, and with it, all the light and shadow around it, returning to the chaotic state of reality.

There was no other sound, save his own slightly heavy breathing.

Sheriff Duke turned back to Karen and said, "That's a guy who enjoys killing. He's enjoying it." "

Things are serious.

Accidents are unpredictable, and the deaths and injuries they cause will cause grief to family and friends.

But a psychopathic killer is different. His presence can plunge the entire city of Luojia into panic.

"He doesn't actually think of himself as killing, he's painting. He believes he's presenting a form of art."

"The Berry Bible, the flowerpot on the belly, the middle finger, the naked body—all of this..." Sheriff Duke frowned slightly. "These things seem... seem..."

"Sheriff, are you trying to say that these things have become unimportant?"

"I... do feel that way."

"Because the visual quality is already sufficient. No, to be more precise, these details are merely supporting elements that fill out the painting and make it more elegant."

"So, whether it's the flowerpot, the middle finger, or 'Soul Song,' investigating these things is actually meaningless. They aren't intentional expressions of the murderer, but rather random additions?"

Is it even possible that this corpse, whose identity I still don't know, wasn't actually a member of the Berry Cult?

Karen nodded, but still reminded him, "But the Berry Cult yearns for nature, and nature is a natural instinct."

Sheriff Duke: "Yes, some Berry Cult members enjoy organizing large gatherings and orgy parties. They see this behavior as a way to connect with nature, and this element just happens to resonate with the stage scene.

So, the murderer isn't a Berry Cult member, nor does he hate the Berry Cult. His hatred stems from this attitude. No, it's because what he hates contradicts what the Berry Cult advocates."

"The Sheriff is right. Artwork without emotional expression is just a refined, empty accumulation of meaning. It cannot bring joy to the creator. Hatred can also be a form of joy, and joy requires empathy.

This corpse isn't being punished here. It's not the murderer's target of punishment, but rather a vehicle for the murderer's empathy."

As the murderer stood there, watching all this unfold, he could imagine himself standing there, the two men and women dancing with such disgrace on the stage the objects of his hatred and ridicule.

He stood, while the men and women lay, like a god, looking down upon the filthy creatures. This was a hatred beyond the ordinary.

Sheriff Duke nodded, then shook his head. "I seem to have grasped something, but I don't have a clear grasp. The murderer, impersonating the victim, then, perhaps there was no enmity between the murderer and the deceased... perhaps they even had a very close relationship, a very intimate one. Only then could the murderer have found the victim..."

Karen smiled and said, "I find the sense of empathy."

Sheriff Duke tapped his head with his pipe.

He chuckled self-deprecatingly:

"Ha... Ha... Ha..." "

Then,

He let out a long sigh and said, "I think everything you just said is completely baseless, pure fantasy and fabrication, but I also feel like what you said makes a lot of sense."

"I'm just fulfilling my duty as a good citizen, maintaining the goodness and order of this city."

"In my subsequent investigation, I'll focus on those close to the deceased. The closer they are, the more I'll pay attention."

Karen said nothing.

"Are you from the Immeres family? What's your relationship to Mason?"

"I'm his nephew, and he's my uncle."

"Oh, I knew it. You shouldn't be one of their hired hands. You're so handsome. If you want to make money, you don't need to be a corpse mover. You can just stand here and wait for the ladies to pay you to dance." "

After saying this, Sheriff Duke, who thought he was quite humorous, burst into laughter.

Karen merely smiled politely in agreement;

He had grown somewhat accustomed to the fact that this world was often filled with hostility towards attractive people.

"My name is Duke Malraux. You can call me Cigarette-Pipe Duke."

"Karen Inmerles."

"Karen, how old are you this year?"

"Fifteen."

"Tsk, Mason has a very capable nephew. This experience was the first of its kind in my entire investigation career."

At this moment, officers began to arrive.

"If there's any progress in the case... no, regardless of whether there's any progress, I'll come back to see you. Mink Street... 13, right?"

"Yes, Sheriff." "

Sheriff Duke turned and shouted to the newly entered police officer:

"There's a body beneath the hole in the middle of the stage. Secure that scene and contact the station for reinforcements."

He continued down the stairs, his back to Karen as he muttered softly:

A nephew who can resonate with a psychopathic killer.

After taking a few steps, Sheriff Duke suddenly stopped and turned back to Karen:

"One more thing."

"Go ahead."

"When I examined the body just now, I found it had been embalmed to some extent. Plus, it's winter, so it won't decay as quickly. The murderer could have continued to enjoy this kind of embalming, or perhaps hatred.

Why did he choose to present the body in this way... as a work of art?

I understand his desire to show off, but I think he could have played with it a little longer, right? "

Karen looked at Sheriff Duke and replied, "It's possible the killer has grown tired of the past."

Sheriff Duke's pupils narrowed slightly. "You mean, the killer has already found a new target?"

"No."

"Oh." Sheriff Duke breathed a sigh of relief.

Karen continued:

"The killer may be admiring it now." "

…

Karen walked out of the ballroom and saw two ambulances parked outside. Many injured people were being loaded into the ambulances, and a degree of order had been restored to the previously chaotic scene.

But to Karen's embarrassment, the Inmerlese family's modified "Guoke" hearse was missing.

Uncle Mason was so busy transporting his "guests" that he didn't notice his nephew wasn't in the car!

Desperate, Karen prepared to take a taxi home.

The reason he had volunteered to help Duke with his criminal profile wasn't because his detective instincts had caught up, but because he had a pressing need for social interaction. Although he didn't dare "run away" now, it didn't stop him from making preparations for the future, such as making more friends.

As for hiding one's incompetence, there really wasn't any need. Why would you hide your incompetence when you have a grandfather constantly considering whether to kill you?

Just then, a taxi pulled up in front of Karen.

A man wearing a peaked cap, with a hooked nose and a pointed chin, got out of the taxi.

After he got out,

Karen naturally got in, but then she noticed a woman in a gray dress sleeping soundly in the back seat, her head resting against the window.

The taxi driver turned and called out,

"Madam, madam, you've arrived."

The woman, awakened by the call, opened the door and got out, muttering a bit resentfully,

"Boss, you're such a fool! The police said it was an accident. How could it possibly be connected to demons? And you insisted on coming here to take a look? Hey, boss, wait for me!"

"Sir, where are you going?"

"Sir?"

Sir?"

"Ah, huh?" Karen replied, a little dazed.

"Where are you going? You have to tell me where you are so I can take you there."

"13 Mink Street."

"Okay." "

The taxi started.

Karen silently opened her clenched left hand, then slowly opened it, looking at the cross burn scar on it.

She had just said, "Demon?"

At that moment,

Karen suddenly felt a pang of guilt and a deep, uncertain fear.

The world outside of home,

didn't seem so rosy after all...