Chapter 757: Chapter 757 Hopeless_1
Two men walked into the low, gray building.
They wore cotton jackets, of average height, with peaked caps pulled low over their eyes, obscuring their faces.
At a glance, they were just two more unremarkable people, so ordinary that they blended into the surrounding scene as if they were residents of the area.
“What do you think, how will Evelyn Willard die?” Nathaniel Summers discussed with relish to Purple Summers, “Jade Carlson was burned to death, but these old buildings don’t have fire barriers, once a fire breaks out, it would be difficult to control the spread. I think we should use another method.”
Purple Summers watched wordlessly as the two men walked in, her breathing oppressed, and felt an extreme heaviness in her chest, having no desire to join in on this discussion.
She even doubted, was Nathaniel tricking her? Otherwise, what basis did he have for saying those plain-looking men were Alexander Summers’ subordinates?
“I think poison would be fitting.” Nathaniel continued, “Evelyn Willard was a drug addict herself, an accidental overdose would raise no suspicions… or a home robbery wouldn’t be bad, but Evelyn Willard likely doesn’t have much money. Even if she did, she would have immediately spent it on drugs…”
Purple Summers couldn’t make out what he was saying; her mind was in turmoil.
Was this some sort of prank by Nathaniel?
Or was Evelyn Willard truly inside, facing a life or death crisis?
At that moment, the two men came out from inside, mounted a motorcycle, and quickly left the alley.
Purple Summers couldn’t hold back any longer, burst out of the car door, and ran straight to Evelyn Willard’s room upstairs!
The old building had a simple layout; Purple Summers raced up to the third floor. Unable to distinguish which room was Evelyn’s, she stood in the middle of the corridor, looking around in panic, finally dashing to the easternmost room!
The door was closed but not locked. Purple Summers turned the handle, pushed the door open, and saw a woman curled up on the floor, her body convulsed, continually twitching!
“Evelyn Willard!” she exclaimed.
Purple Summers immediately reached for her phone, intending to call the emergency center.
A hand reached over, gently lifted the phone from her grasp, and she turned in surprise to see Nathaniel, who had followed her.
“She’s past saving,” Nathaniel said flatly.
Purple Summers turned pale and said through clenched teeth, “We still need to call the police!”
“Call the police?” Nathaniel seemed to hear a particularly ludicrous remark, “When they come to question you, how will you answer? Why did you come to Prosperity Street? How did you find out about Evelyn Willard’s death? Did you see any suspicious people?”
Each question pinned Purple Summers to the spot.
Nathaniel placed Purple Summers’ phone into her jacket pocket, took out a tissue, wrapped it around the doorknob to wipe off the fingerprints, then gently closed the door.
Purple Summers watched the door slowly close…
He was right, Evelyn Willard was beyond help.
Evelyn Willard had foamed at the mouth, her bare arms showed veins bulging under the skin, the flesh marred with bruised needle marks.
On the floor, there lay a toppled syringe and a vial.
If the police came, they would only assume an accidental overdose by a drug user had occurred. But if Purple Summers were found there, she wouldn’t be able to explain herself and would invite suspicion.
Nathaniel grabbed Purple Summers by the arm, guided the dazed woman away from the scene, and back to the car.
The old building continued its life with people coming and going occasionally. But in its cold indifference, who would discover that the third-floor tenant had died? Maybe not until the landlord came to collect the rent, or perhaps, when the stench of the corpse became noticeable, would someone realize something was amiss.
Purple Summers sat in the car with the heater on, feeling as if she were in a cold storage, her limbs stiff with cold, not knowing where to put herself.
Nathaniel found an old-looking phone booth nearby, dropped in some coins, and to his surprise, it still worked. He reported the crime, then drove away from the alley.
On the chaotic Prosperity Street, no one knew they had been there.