He died in front of everyone.
He swelled up like a balloon, then—
Flesh and blood flew everywhere, covering the whole Sausage Street.
And Cecil had just left Hannibal’s clinic before his death.
Sitting in the back of the old car, Jason and Edward listened to Bansey’s narration, with Jason sporting a playful expression, while Edward’s face became solemn in an instant.
It was Hannibal again!
The detective who solved the case at the Aimeida Restaurant.
Such incidents had made him familiar to them.
Now, as Jason appeared here, the reporters swarmed toward him like sharks scenting blood, frantically converging on him.
“Mr. Jason, are you here to investigate the murder of Chief Cecil?”
“Mr. Jason, what is your opinion regarding Councilor Davide’s assassination attempt?”
“Mr. Jason, I heard you have taken an advisory role in the special operations unit of the police?”
The crowd of reporters bombarded Jason with one question after another.
Their words peppered him like machine gun fire, non-stop.
Remembering his “City Recognition,” Jason stood ramrod straight, allowing the reporters to take his photographs.
Only after the flashbulbs had ceased did he start to respond one by one:
“I’ve just arrived at the scene, so I cannot confirm anything about Chief Cecil’s case.”
“I regret the assassination attempt on Councilor Davide.”
“You are well informed, I am indeed an advisor to the special operations unit now.”
Jason’s cooperation made the reporters even more excited.
Besides at press conferences, they rarely encountered someone so accommodating.
Most people would either sidestep the discussion or rudely push the cameras away.
“What do you think of the case before you?”
“Do you know why Chief Cecil exploded?”
“Is it a new kind of weapon?”
“Do you believe ‘mysteries’ truly exist?”
The reporters clamored with their questions.
And still, Jason maintained a composed demeanor.
He once again waited for the barrage of questions to subside.
“It’s a mistake to confuse the odd with the mysterious; the most ordinary crimes are often the most inscrutable because they lack strange features to serve as a basis for deductive reasoning.”
“There is only one truth!”
Having said this, Jason no longer gave the reporters a chance to speak and strode forward.
The slight air of a predator about him prompted the reporters to subconsciously clear a path.
Watching his broad, towering figure pass, the reporters pressed their shutters once more.
The flashbulbs twinkled again.
The veteran reporters turned their attention to the vehicle Jason had arrived in.
Noticing the mud on the tires that did not seem to come from the city, these savvy reporters immediately whispered to their assistants, “Check where Mr. Jason has come from. ”
The assistants nodded in agreement.
They then acted swiftly.
A reporter’s instinct can sometimes be as sharp as a detective’s.
Only, their lines of thought are different.
Edward walked shoulder to shoulder with Jason, while little Bansey followed behind.
“Jason, I can’t believe you managed to handle that crowd!”
Edward expressed his admiration.
Behind them, little Bansey felt similarly.
“When they question me, I always feel like I’m being interrogated.”
“Even though I did nothing wrong.”
“Yet they seem to have already come up with the answers.”
“As if I was the one who did it.”
“It’s really… terrifying.”
Bansey, seemingly having a deeper experience, had a look of lingering fear on his face.
“Composure is your only way to respond,” Jason said, coming to a halt.
In front of them was a typical two-and-a-half-story building with a garden and a terrace; the walls were brightly colored and the windows clean.
At the entrance, on the left pillar of the black iron fence, hung a small sign: “Hannibal Psychological Clinic.”
The door was not closed.