Translator: 549690339
Unable to find a motive for murder, the truth seemed obscured by a thick fog, barely visible through the haze.
Purple Summers took the case file home with her, and before getting out of the car, she instructed Marcel Jefferson to look into Delilah White’s roommate.
There were no signs of forced entry at the crime scene, so if the murderer didn’t come in through the window, they must have had a key. Delilah’s roommate, who had never shown up, was another clue to be explored.
On Monday, Purple Summers purposely brought the handkerchief to school.
During lunchtime, everyone gathered in the cafeteria to eat, and Purple took out the handkerchief, handing it to Jane McCain to look at.
“Can you tell what brand it is?” Purple Summers asked.
Although she suspected that the handkerchief had been left by the killer, there were no labels on it, and she didn’t know where to start. Jane McCain had a deep understanding of clothing, so Purple asked her for help.
“I can’t tell.” Jane shook her head.
Purple Summers was somewhat disappointed.
“However, the owner of this handkerchief must have very good taste.” Jane McCain mysteriously added.
Purple Summers was slightly taken aback and quickly asked her, “Why do you say that?”
Jane McCain pinched the handkerchief and gently rubbed it, confidently stating, “Because the fabric of this handkerchief is excellent – it is West Indian Sea Island cotton, and pure cotton.”
“What’s so special about pure cotton?” Zara Jameson didn’t understand and asked, “Isn’t all the clothing we usually wear pure cotton?”
“It’s different.” Jane shook her head repeatedly, “What we call pure cotton in our daily lives is not really pure cotton. It’s actually pure cotton fabric with 2% synthetic fibers added to overcome some of the drawbacks of pure cotton. But this handkerchief is absolutely pure cotton, without a single trace of synthetic fibers.”
Purple Summers vaguely understood and asked, “So what you mean is… it’s expensive?”
“How expensive can such a small handkerchief be?” Jane McCain laughed, then explained, “But with the absence of that 2% synthetic fiber, the taste is immediately different. Just think about it, a person who cares about the natural material of a handkerchief must be very particular about their clothes too.”
She continued with an example, “It’s like 24k gold. It’s valuable but soft. What if it’s replaced with 18k gold? It’s harder but less valuable. People with real taste would never buy 18k gold jewelry. Once it’s mixed with something else, even if it’s still beautiful, the taste becomes inferior. What a terrible thing!”
Purple Summers couldn’t quite comprehend how terrible the deterioration of taste could be, but she did gain something valuable—
This handkerchief could not have belonged to the model.
Nor could it have been Second Young Master Graves’. He always chose the best and most expensive clothes, both extravagant and casual, and wouldn’t bother to examine the composition of the fabric.
Ryan Wesley was also sitting nearby and had followed the conversation, praising Jane McCain unexpectedly, “I didn’t realize you knew so much.”
Jane McCain was a little smug, “How could I not have a few tricks up my sleeve?”
So today’s lunch was especially harmonious, with the two of them not quarreling and even chatting happily.
Both Purple Summers and Zara Jameson found it quite unusual.
After lunch, Purple Summers returned to the classroom, sitting alone at her desk, pondering while holding the handkerchief.
Such fine material could not be produced in ordinary factories—it must have come from a luxury brand. If only she knew the brand of the handkerchief, as the luxury boutiques would typically keep their customers’ purchase records.
Purple Summers decided to ask Jane McCain again.
Jane wasn’t at her seat and didn’t seem to have returned to the classroom after lunch.
Purple Summers walked out of the classroom to see Jane McCain and Ryan Wesley standing close together near the stairs, their silhouettes from afar appeared somewhat ambiguous.
Purple Summers couldn’t help but raise the corners of her mouth, a playful smile flashing in her eyes. She wanted to see when these two had ended up together.
She quietly approached and heard Ryan Wesley’s helpless voice—
“Stop talking nonsense all day long. I’m telling you the truth, our Master Xander is engaged…”