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墨書 Inktalez
I was led into a spacious room where a youthful-looking agent took my statement.
I recounted everything I had seen, but when I mentioned how I discovered the body, my gaze flickered, and I stammered that I had stumbled upon it while stargazing.
The agent listened intently, his eyes scrutinizing me with a hint of ambiguity. After all, who would be stargazing at home?
"You’re young and already learning to spy on others. Why don’t you focus on your studies?" the agent remarked. I had no response, my head hung low in shame as I fidgeted with the hem of my clothes.
The process of giving my statement was uneventful, and soon enough, I left the station.
As I stepped out of the police station, I took a deep breath, feeling considerably lighter.
I wandered alone through the streets; they were quiet after nightfall, and the air felt fresh. It was hard to imagine the bustling scene from earlier that morning.
In this fast-paced city, it seemed that only after dark did time slow down, allowing people to enjoy themselves.
With my hands in my pockets, I strolled leisurely, occasionally glancing up at the night sky.
By the time I returned home, it was past midnight. I unlocked the door with my key and dragged my weary body into the room. When I collapsed onto the bed, a wave of comfort washed over me; the fatigue of the day slowly faded away, and my eyelids grew heavy.
The next morning, I recounted everything in detail to my older brother, who was four years my senior.
His previously listless eyes suddenly sparkled with interest. He had always been fascinated by solving cases; that’s why he worked at the Detective Agency. Unfortunately, he often ended up dealing with mundane tasks like following people or digging into their backgrounds. He frequently complained about being a hero without a cause and lamented how his severe nearsightedness hindered his aspirations of becoming a police officer.
"Finally, I have a chance to shine!" my brother exclaimed excitedly, his face beaming with enthusiasm as he unconsciously clenched his fists.
At school, I was completely distracted, staring blankly at the blackboard while my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of last night. I kept wishing for the school day to end quickly, tapping my fingers rhythmically on the desk.
When I got home, my brother was waiting for me in the living room with a bright smile. As soon as I walked in, he waved slightly for me to come over.
I received the following information:
The deceased woman was named Jenny, twenty-three years old, and worked as a designer at a fashion company.
Her time of death was between 9:00 PM and 11:00 PM last night.
A few months ago, she purchased a life insurance policy worth three million dollars, with her boyfriend Tom as the beneficiary.
At exactly 8:00 PM, she went to Y Bar (the one downstairs from my apartment) with Tom. Jenny left at 9:00 PM, while Tom stayed alone at the bar until 9:32 PM.
I frowned slightly, pondering for a moment before looking up at my brother and asking, "Do they have any time witnesses for their whereabouts?"
"Yes, the bartender knows them well; they frequent that place," my brother replied slowly, adjusting his glasses.
"But with so many customers, why would the bartender only pay attention to them?" I crossed my arms and questioned him curiously.
"Did you notice that too? Good! It does seem a bit unnatural."
"I see two possibilities: if Tom is the murderer, he might have conspired with the bartender to create an alibi. You discovered the body at half-past nine, right?" My brother gently patted my shoulder, looking at me with approval.
"To be precise... it should be around nine twenty-eight," I recalled seriously, narrowing my eyes slightly.
"The bartender confirms that Tom left the bar at nine thirty-two, which gives Tom an alibi for the time of the murder. The two possibilities I mentioned are: 1. Tom colluded with the bartender; 2. Tom used the bartender to fabricate his alibi." As he spoke, my brother paced in the living room, his steps steady and rhythmic.
"Did Tom not step out of the bar at all after Jenny left?" I followed closely behind him, my eyes fixed on his back.
"He left the lobby once or twice, but only for a minute or two. I conducted an experiment: it takes two minutes to exit through the back door of the bar, cross the street, and run up the back stairs to Jenny's apartment on the eighth floor where the building manager can't see you. Add in the time to commit the murder and return to the bar, and it would take at least five minutes."
My brother stopped and turned to look at me, his gaze focused and profound.
His explanation plunged me into deep thought. I slowly walked over to the sofa and sat down, resting my chin on my hands. On the surface, Tom seemed to be the prime suspect for murder; however, what about his alibi?
Even if all evidence pointed to him as the killer, having an alibi could allow him to walk free.
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