Jim Rhodes froze upon hearing those words.
Locke had a bright expression on his face.
"What is it, Mr. Rhodes? You weren't just joking, were you?"
"...What? No!"
Jim Rhodes snapped out of his daze quickly. Looking at the expression on Locke's face, he let out a hollow laugh. "I just thought Mr. Broughton was in a rush with his schedule..."
Locke said, "I was before this morning. Now, I'm not."
Jim Rhodes: "..."
Originally, according to the normal rhythm of a story, the script should have been written like this.
Locke discovers the body, and then the antagonist, Jim Rhodes, flies into a rage. He immediately arranges for his men to find a way to destroy Anila Katz's body or make it disappear once more.
If that happened, things would be easy.
Since the opponent flipped the table, then they would just play by flipping the table. Locke wouldn't even need to make a move; Carrie alone could handle everything. Moreover, it wouldn't even take a whole night—an hour would be more than enough.
The remaining time would be spent tidying up the loose ends, and then returning to New York tomorrow morning. The timing would have been perfect.
That was the written script.
But right now?
Someone completely refused to follow the script, leaving Locke slightly at a loss for words. From a certain perspective, Jim Rhodes could actually be considered a high-IQ opponent.
The reason was simple.
Buson Katz's suicide note would not hold up under scrutiny. Although it explained the motive, Lake Pontchartrain was closed to the public in December. If Buson Katz had really done it, she absolutely would have needed the cooperation of someone within the Dolan Church.
The surveillance alone was not something Buson Katz could have altered by herself.
That brought up this so-called Mullen.
Mullen was a member of the church, and Jim Rhodes had even stated that Mullen was the fifth-in-command of the church. If Mullen was the killer, and Buson Katz simply chose to sacrifice herself because she didn't want Mullen to be exposed, it would make complete sense.
A perfect chain of logic.
But...
Why did you absolutely have to provoke me?
Locke looked at Jim Rhodes with a smile. He had originally been hesitating. Considering that the rule of a sole glimmer of survival was set by himself, he had intended to follow his own guidelines.
Yet, Jim Rhodes just had to invite disaster by provoking him.
He was just thinking that this guy had a high IQ, but unexpectedly, the man committed another blunder.
Locke said with a smile, "So, Mr. Rhodes, you highly welcome me to participate in your Great Witch Trial Gathering three days from now?"
Jim Rhodes' expression was on the verge of collapsing. "Of course. It is an occasion worth celebrating for Mr. Broughton to be able to attend."
"Then it's a settled deal."
Locke laughed. "Plane tickets can be changed at any time. Coming to New Orleans, it's rare to encounter such an event that is said to happen once every hundred years. It would be too much of a shame not to witness it."
With that.
Locke left behind a statement saying he would definitely be present, and then took Carrie away with him.
The moment Locke turned around, Jim Rhodes' entire face completely fell.
Why did I have to run my mouth?
However...
Right after his face fell, Jim Rhodes instantly piled a smile back on. He walked forward, full of smiles as he saw off Cop, who was taking Mullen away, as well as Locke and Carrie.
"Boss..."
"Shut up!"
When his subordinate approached again, preparing to speak, the man undoubtedly ran straight into the volcano, directly bearing the brunt of Jim Rhodes' pent-up frustration.
After a short while.
Jim Rhodes' eyes flickered. "How are things on Fox's side?"
"That witch is from out of town, and she's hiding very well."
"...After he finds her, don't make a move yet. Give me the information first."
"Understood."
Jim Rhodes looked at the disappearing taillights, taking a deep breath to calm the irritation in his heart, and then let out a heavy sigh.
Inside the interrogation room of the New Orleans Police Department.
After Ian Mullen was brought back, he sat quietly inside the room.
However...
His state seemed very peculiar.
Inside the observation room.
Detective Kaynor flipped through the files printed out by the officers regarding Ian Mullen. Then, looking through the observation mirror at Ian Mullen inside the interrogation room, she said with some confusion, "Since coming back until now, it seems he hasn't uttered a single word."
Locke and Carrie, wearing temporary visitor badges, were also inside the observation room.
Right at that moment.
The door to the interrogation room was pushed open. Detective Cop Thornton walked in clutching a stack of documents. Only then did the seated Ian Mullen shift his gaze from his blank stare and lock it onto Detective Cop Thornton.
"Good afternoon."
Cop smiled, acting exactly like an old friend as he pulled out a chair and sat down, speaking with concern, "Would you like a cup of coffee? The coffee on our side is quite good."
As he spoke.
Without waiting for Ian Mullen across from him to reply, Cop called out toward the doorway.
Inside the observation room, Detective Kaynor looked at Cop inside the interrogation room. As he spoke to the suspect, he looked high-spirited, resembling an old general who had everything completely within his grasp.
The corners of her mouth curved upward as she introduced him to Locke and Carrie. "With any suspect, as long as Cop catches an opportunity, they will definitely show their true colors."
Carrie spoke up, "Is this the reason why you like Cop?"
Detective Kaynor, whose face had been full of the expression of a little fangirl, stiffened slightly. She gave a dry laugh, looking at Carrie.
Carrie looked at Detective Kaynor. "Detective Thornton seems to be ten years older than Detective Kaynor."
Detective Kaynor let out a cough, brushing it off. "I simply admire Detective Thornton, that's all."
Mhm, mhm.
Admire.
Carrie glanced at Locke, then said, "But why does Detective Thornton look so... unkempt?"
Detective Kaynor blanked slightly, then let out a couple of dry laughs. "Perhaps Detective Thornton doesn't have any other hobbies."
Carrie let out an "oh," her peripheral vision scanning Locke.
It was as if she was saying.
Detective Kaynor knows Cop has a gambling addiction as well.
This was a topic Locke and Carrie had chatted about while driving back from Lake Pontchartrain. Locke had leaned toward the belief that Detective Kaynor didn't know.
After all, according to Locke's analysis, if Detective Kaynor knew Cop had a gambling addiction, she definitely would have stepped in to intervene.
Gwen would certainly do that.
Locke had experienced this firsthand. Before he had even shown any signs, Gwen was entirely convinced he had a slight psychological issue. In fact, after he refused to see a therapist, she went as far as self-studying psychology. Sometimes, a single date could turn into a psychological therapy session.
But...
Locke seemed to have guessed wrong.
Inside the interrogation room.
The cup of coffee had already been placed on the table over there.
Cop also took a cup of coffee, took a sip, and looked at Ian Mullen, who sat opposite him holding the coffee but making no movement. "If you want to talk, you can do so at any time."
Ian Mullen gripped the coffee and looked toward Cop.
He spoke.
His voice was raspy, and it even seemed to carry a hint of a screech.
"This..."
Carrie couldn't help but look toward Locke.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
The aura of magic.
"What I want to say, I'm afraid you won't believe it."
"You can give it a try."
Cop spread his hands, acting as though they were just chatting about family matters as he smiled at Ian Mullen. "We have plenty of time here."
Mullen looked up, his expression thoroughly dejected and grey.
Cop frowned.
"Cough, cough!"
Mullen covered his lips. When he pulled his hand away, a pool of blood was clearly visible.
Cop hurriedly stood up, preparing to call for a doctor.
Seeing this, Detective Kaynor in the observation room also blanked slightly.
"Wait a moment."
Looking at the rising Cop, Mullen hurriedly called out, "If you don't listen to what I have to say right now, you won't have another chance to know the truth of the matter."
Cop turned around, looking back at Mullen.
"On December twenty-second, I didn't have any illness whatsoever."
"My body was perfectly fine, and I could eat anything."
"But on the morning of the twenty-third, I became sick."
"And it's late-stage lung cancer."
"Even though I steal and rob, I don't smoke."
"Do you know why I contracted this illness?"
"This isn't an illness; this is a curse!"
"A witch's curse."
"..."
Using his raspy voice, Ian Mullen recounted a story between a malicious witch and a righteous witch hunter to Cop.
To put it simply, he had received a plea for help from the believer, Buson Katz. Her daughter was a witch, so he provided Buson Katz with plane tickets, telling her to bring Anila Katz to New Orleans.
And then...
While Ian Mullen was performing an exorcism on Anila Katz, Anila Katz cast a malicious curse upon him, causing his lung organs to become diseased.
Right at that time, Buson Katz watched her daughter's vicious nature break out. Left with no choice, she shed tears and burned her own daughter to death.
The story was highly dramatic.
The logic was also very clear, capable of perfectly matching up with the suicide note left by Buson Katz in New York.
As for why Mullen's fingerprint was on the body.
It was actually very simple as well.
In the beginning, Mullen and Buson worked together from the inside and outside, which went completely unnoticed. But he hadn't expected that Anila Katz had a very close friend who cared deeply about her.
Upon learning that there was actually such a thing as a tracking device, Mullen hurriedly dredged Anila Katz up from the lake, stripped her naked, and moved her into the woods.
"Never did I expect..."
Ian Mullen let out a dismal smile, coughing once more as he spat out a mouthful of fresh blood. "I am guilty, but I don't regret it. Witches are all evil. The Lord has never spoken wrongly."
Standing at the doorway, Cop roared, "Doctor!"
Ian Mullen, however, stared closely at Cop, shaking his head. "This is still the curse. When I fell under the curse and began to speak, the curse had already taken effect. I can feel that the Lord is already calling for me."
As he spoke.
Ian Mullen's pupils began to dilate, and his entire body coughed unconsciously. Immediately following that, accompanied by the fresh blood he kept coughing up, a seemingly hypnotized Ian Mullen stared at the ceiling while vomiting blood.
"The Lord..."
"But..."
"Why is it hell?"
"No!!"
"Pfft!!!"
"..."
***
Bonus chappy
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