He felt every day that he wasn’t going to work, but rather to save the galaxy. He was extremely unreliable in getting things done. When he first started as an intern at the grassroots level, even if he was casually assigned to mediate a neighborhood dispute, he could turn it into a full-blown battle.

That evening, they happened to be after a gang of robbers who were roaming around. Multiple districts were mobilized, and personnel from the city bureau, all the district branches, and even the local police stations were all called away. Only William Carter and Eric Harris, the two young men regarded by their seniors as “more likely to mess things up than accomplish anything,” were left on duty.

“110 got a call—there was a kid in our jurisdiction who reported a case. It was the weekend, he came home from school and found his mother’s corpse at home. That kid was Edward Bennett, and he was still in middle school at the time.”

Samuel Reed was stunned.

“Later, we found out his mother really had committed suicide. William went to tell him in person, but he didn’t believe it... Ever since then, the two of them haven’t gotten along.” As he spoke, Eric Harris had already reached the entrance of the sub-bureau. “You must have noticed, his family is pretty well-off. His father is a career man, always on business trips out of town. When something happened at home, it took him several days to get back. Edward Bennett was a bit withdrawn as a child, couldn’t get along with any of the nannies they hired, and usually stayed by himself in that big house where someone had died. This was the first real case the two of us ever handled, so it means something different to us—we’ve never forgotten it. Sometimes, seeing that no one was looking after the kid, I’d bring him over to stay with me for a few days during the holidays. During that time, he interacted with us a lot, and over time, we discovered he had a special talent.”

Samuel Reed: “A talent for what?”

Eric Harris paused, then said softly, “Crime.”

Samuel Reed immediately noticed that he used the word “crime,” not “deduction” or “investigation” or anything like that. But before she could ask further, Eric Harris had already stopped talking, waved at her, and hurried off.

Chapter 7: Julien Six

“Tao... Tao, Deputy Captain!”

Eric Harris turned around to see the sub-bureau’s “fast talker,” the bespectacled Jason Turner, running toward him at full speed.

Jason Turner’s glasses had broken yesterday, and he hadn’t had time to get a new pair. They were crooked, hanging down below his cheekbones. He was out of breath as he stopped in front of Eric Harris, his expression unusually grave as he gasped for air, making even Eric Harris feel a bit short of breath in sympathy.

Jason Turner’s face was so tense it looked like he’d just had a facelift. He wiped the sweat from his palm onto his pants, straightened his barely-hanging-on glasses, cleared his throat, and pulled out his phone’s notepad: “Deputy Captain Tao, I have something I’d like to report to you.”

Eric Harris patiently waited for him to catch his breath: “Don’t rush, take your time.”

“It’s like this. Yesterday, when I was canvassing the West District, I noticed that the people living there are a very mixed group, with a lot of turnover and seasonality. Tenants changing jobs and moving out is common. Rather than calling it a group rental, it’s more like a shabby, long-term hostel. So people aren’t very close to each other, unless they’re fellow townsmen looking out for each other. The team spent all day there yesterday, but didn’t get much useful information.”

Eric Harris nodded at him encouragingly: “Mm.”

“But among the people living with Stephen Wright, there’s one from the same province as him. This person is called...” Jason Turner checked his notes, “called Scott Grant, and he was on good terms with the deceased. Apparently, it was Scott Grant who introduced Stephen Wright to the delivery job. Kevin Parker said he went back to his hometown for a couple of days.”

Eric Harris raised his eyebrows in surprise—this was exactly the person he’d wanted to contact.

Jason Turner: “Last night, I found the manager of that coffee chain’s distribution center and got Scott Grant’s contact info. When he heard about it, he agreed to take the last long-distance bus back to Yancheng last night. I arranged to meet him today.”

Eric Harris looked at him thoughtfully: “I thought the sub-bureau’s investigation was focused on Kevin Parker right now.”

Jason Turner’s face grew even more tense. He subconsciously tugged at the hem of his shirt: “I... I just feel like there’s something off about the mysterious person who gave the deceased the phone. If we just decide that Kevin Parker is the killer now, there are still a lot of doubts... I reported this to our captain too... He told me not to always think I know better and not to go looking for trouble.”

At this, Eric Harris’s face darkened, and his gentle smile disappeared: “What time did you arrange to meet?”

“Oh,” Jason Turner checked his watch, “if the long-distance bus isn’t delayed, it’ll be in about an hour.”

Eric Harris made a snap decision: “I’ll go with you. Let’s go!”

While the grassroots detectives were pounding the pavement under the sun, Mr. Bennett Sr. was lounging in his office’s leather swivel chair.

He pressed a finger lightly to his forehead. On the desk beside him, the laptop screen displayed Stephen Wright’s brief and unremarkable life history. Edward Bennett scrolled through his contacts and dialed a number.

“Hello, Brother Chang, it’s me,” Edward Bennett listened to the voice on the other end, then lowered his head and smiled, “Yeah, sorry to trouble you, but I do have a favor to ask.”

In less than half an hour, Edward Bennett had gotten exactly what he wanted—the surveillance footage from all the cameras near Chengguang Mansion on the night of its grand opening.