Chapter 380: I Am, After All, a Detective
Chapter 380: I Am, After All, a Detective
Feng Bu Jue followed the butler upstairs. As they turned the corner of the staircase, he noticed a travel bag discarded by the hallway. It must have been dropped by Young Master Jack when he heard the gunshot.
Over a minute later, Feng Bu Jue and Henderson arrived at the Master Bedroom on the second floor. The door stood wide open, and heated arguments erupted from inside.
One voice was clearly Dennis, shouting furiously: “This has nothing to do with you! Jack!”
Jack fired back just as fiercely: “Hey! I’m not a three-year-old kid anymore. I have the right to know what you told Father that made him furious!”
“Enough!” A third voice boomed, deep and commanding. It was unfamiliar to Feng Bu Jue but carried undeniable authority. “Both of you, shut up!”
Bang—
Another gunshot rang out, unmistakably from the same weapon.
By then, Odette and Carol had also arrived, hurrying from the far end of the corridor.
“Oh God, what happened…?” Odette’s face twisted with concern.
Carol wore a similar expression, visibly uneasy.
They weren’t the only ones drawn by the gunshots. Maid Oliver, gardener Barton (whom Feng Bu Jue had seen before), and an unfamiliar tall, thin man in his fifties with glasses soon appeared in the hallway. Everyone wore anxious, puzzled looks, muttering variations of “What’s going on?” or “I heard a gunshot.”
“Master… my lords…” Henderson, the butler, stepped through the doorway first. “This… this…”
No one inside responded. The room fell into a tense silence.
Feng Bu Jue, undeterred, edged closer and peered over Henderson’s shoulder. Three people occupied the bedroom: Dennis, Jack, and the third figure—Lovecraft’s patriarch.
To the average person, Dennis’s tall, commanding figure might seem impressive, but beside his father, his presence paled in comparison.
The family head was unforgettable. His resolute face bore sharp, defined features. His eyes were cold yet calm, his every movement exuding the authority of a ruler—aloof, unquestionable, and untouchable.
“Hmm… no wonder he managed to marry a woman thirty years younger. Definitely got the looks,” Feng Bu Jue mused, his eyes scanning every detail of the room.
The patriarch sat in an armchair, clad in a crimson-red robe. In his hand was a silver-barreled, wooden-handled Colt Revolver handgun—a classic six-shooter, still smoking.
Dennis and Jack stood two meters away, unharmed.
“Tch… He just fired at the ceiling to intimidate them,” Feng Bu Jue thought, his tone laced with disappointment. “So that’s the ‘?’ in the last chapter’s title…”
“Coleson!” The tall, thin man forced his way through the crowd in the corridor. “Excuse me, coming through!” He squeezed past Feng Bu Jue and Henderson into the room, addressing the patriarch: “Coleson, have you lost your mind? Put that gun down before someone gets hurt!”
“If he’d shot anyone in front of all these witnesses, how would we last thirty-three chapters?” Feng Bu Jue quipped inwardly.
“Hmph…” Coleson placed the revolver on the small table beside the chair, exhaled deeply, and fixed his gaze on his two sons. “You two, leave first.”
Dennis and Jack exchanged a hostile glance but said nothing, obeying their father’s command and exiting the room.
“Powell, stay. I need to talk to you,” Coleson said to the tall, thin man. This must be the “Dr. Powell” Odette had mentioned earlier.
Once the sons were gone, Coleson signaled Powell to shut the door.
The mood in the corridor grew awkward. Everyone speculated about what Dennis had said to Coleson, their eyes reflecting a mix of emotions.
“Darling, are you alright?” Carol clasped her husband’s hand anxiously.
“Don’t worry, dear…” Dennis, skilled at concealing his true feelings, already wore his usual composed expression as he stepped out. “Father was just… upset about some trivial matter. You know, his temper’s gotten worse these past few years. I think it’s related to his illness.”
“Hah! Sounds like a real explanation,” Jack scoffed, turning to leave.
“Is that how you address your elder brother?” Dennis snapped.
“You should be glad I don’t have that gun,” Jack replied lightly, perhaps unaware of the dangerous undertone in his joke. To Feng Bu Jue, if Dennis were murdered later, this line alone would mark him as the prime suspect.
Jack strode toward the stairs, likely to retrieve his abandoned luggage. Dennis grunted but did not call him back.
As an outsider, Feng Bu Jue had no business interfering. He simply observed the others’ reactions—Butler Henderson, gardener Barton, maid Oliver, Lady Carol, and Lady Odette. In Feng Bu Jue’s eyes, each seemed to harbor their own secrets.
“Alright, everyone, disperse. Nothing more to see,” Dennis addressed the crowd. Only now did he notice Feng Bu Jue’s presence and stepped forward. “Ah, Mr. Feng, my apologies for letting you witness this. Father once served in the military; that revolver is a war souvenir…”
Feng Bu Jue brushed off the fl(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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