When going upstairs, she slipped on the floor and almost fell flat on her face. She hurriedly grabbed the handrail in a panic, and when she looked up, she happened to see William Carter coming down from the floor where the director’s office was.

William Carter met her gaze, his face unusually grave.

Samuel Reed reached out and pinched her bangs stuck to her forehead. “Boss, what’s going on? You look so serious, it’s making me nervous.”

“Eric Harris and that little guy with glasses from the sub-bureau followed a lead from Stephen Wright’s roommate today and deduced that Stephen Wright might have come into contact with a mysterious person before he died,” William Carter said in a low voice. “Apparently, for some reason, that person had a conflict with Stephen Wright during his work hours, and later, to apologize, gave him that phone.”

William Carter was tall and long-legged, walking quickly, so Samuel Reed had to jog to keep up. After hearing this, she felt like her brain was about to evaporate through her damp hair, and she repeated blankly, “A bit of a conflict? And… just gave him a phone? Then how come I have conflicts with people on the subway every day and no one ever gives me anything?”

Unusually, William Carter didn’t respond to her joke. “Eric Harris and the others re-investigated the delivery points where the deceased worked, retraced his delivery route, and finally found an eyewitness in a chain coffee shop. The witness said that a few days ago, when Stephen Wright finished a delivery and was about to leave, he did have a physical altercation with someone not far from the shop entrance. The store’s surveillance happened to catch the person’s license plate.”

As they spoke, the two of them arrived outside the interrogation room. Through the one-way glass, they saw Eric Harris sitting across from a young man.

The man looked to be in his early twenties, his hair dyed flaxen, dressed in flashy designer brands. It was obvious he was struggling to hold back his temper, and anger was about to burst out of him.

“Yes, maybe I hit that loser, so what? I’ve hit plenty of people, but this really has nothing to do with me. If you don’t believe me, ask Edward Bennett, wasn’t I with him that day? Officer Harris, I’m telling you, if it weren’t for Master Bennett, you guys bringing me in like this, I would’ve… I would’ve already…”

Samuel Reed looked blankly at the arrogant young man inside. “Is that the second suspect? Why did we bring him back to the city bureau specifically?”

“The night the victim died, he said he was going to a place called ‘Chengguang Mansion.’ That guy inside happened to be at Chengguang Mansion that day.” William Carter sighed. “His name is David Clark, the son of a rather well-known local entrepreneur.”

“Oh, a rich second generation.” Samuel Reed blinked. “So what?”

William Carter: “He’s also Director Clark’s nephew.”

Samuel Reed: “……”

Before she could reboot her frozen brain, a duty officer ran over and whispered to William Carter, “Captain Carter, someone surnamed Bennett is here, says he’s looking for Deputy Harris.”

Edward Bennett politely thanked the duty officer who poured him water, took a sip, and set it aside—the coffee they gave him was instant, with a weird oily aroma.

He glanced around at the interior decor of the city bureau, feeling the taste was truly questionable, and everything was shoddily made. There were still paint spots on the table corners, probably just painted, and if you sniffed carefully, you could still smell it.

William Carter walked in from outside and saw Edward Bennett seriously examining the grain of their table. He was frowning, his expression extremely gloomy—if the table weren’t hollow, Captain Carter would almost have thought there was a corpse hidden underneath.

Edward Bennett lifted his eyelids and saw him, as if not surprised, simply nodded at him. “Sit.”

William Carter: “……”

This guy is acting like he’s at home!

Edward Bennett stirred the oily-smelling coffee with a plastic spoon and asked, “Where’s Eric Harris?”

“Busy.” William Carter pulled out a pen and opened his notebook, skipping any small talk and getting straight to the point. “On the night of the 20th, the day before yesterday, were you with David Clark? Think carefully before you answer.”

Edward Bennett leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly, his long legs sprawled out in a relaxed posture. While it couldn’t be called “improper,” it somehow made the place feel too small for him.

He looked at William Carter with a half-smile and asked in return, “Captain Carter, am I a suspect?”

William Carter shot him a cold look.

Edward Bennett shrugged indifferently. “Then you’d better be polite to me. I’m not a suspect, and there’s no obligation for a criminal summons. If I’m unhappy, I can leave at any time.”

“Oh,” William Carter put down his pen, “so I have to keep you happy, huh? Fine, you tell me—how should I do that? Should I sing you a song right now, or go out and buy you a bag of candy?”

Edward Bennett, who had just been given a milk candy card by Officer Harris the night before: “……”

Outside, the wind and rain battered the window frames, making a chaotic noise. Inside, the two people who couldn’t stand each other sat in silence.

After a while, William Carter probably realized he was being a bit childish and let out a snort of laughter. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped it lightly on the table corner, about to light one.

“Mind if you don’t,” Edward Bennett said, answering the unasked question, “I’ve had a bit of pharyngitis lately.”

William Carter gave a sarcastic smile. “If you went mute, world peace would be just around the corner.”