The Archangel of Death - Chapter 82
82: Mission investigation (1) 82: Mission investigation (1) Chapter 82 Spirits.
Put it in modern terms, they are ghosts.
Sometimes when people die, if they have a very strong will, they succeed in harvesting a small amount of very thin impure death energy that causes their consciousness to stay in this world rather than pass on to be judged for their lives.
Spirits can only be bad in nature however because death energy is highly corrupting and normal humans can’t bear it.
Naturally, their souls can’t as well.
So even if a spirit manages to stay behind for a good cause with a very strong will, the spirit will slowly corrupt over time, and then, every living being would receive its resentment.
Of course, if a spirit had a very strong will at the time of death or in their entire life whether of good nature or bad, they succeed in hunting and killing only a certain type of people.
For example, the ghost of a virgin Mary who was cheated by her beloved would only target the men who cheat or the ghost of a child would befriend and protect children but kill their parents.
But usually, it is the latter part because, in the first place, a spirit can only prevent itself from crossing if it has a strong will.
The first scenario is very rare.
We entered the mansion and the first thing that my eyes fell on was a painting.
A painting of the woman I saw back in the morgue sitting on a chair and a man standing beside her.
The woman was a beauty, to say the least, but the man wasn’t behind in the competition as well.
They both had blonde hair and the way they were smiling, they seemed to be the most perfect pair to ever exist.
“Search everything in the house.
Even a book that seems ordinary.
Make a detailed report.
The report made by the militia doesn’t give us much information.” I instructed my teammates who nodded and split up.
Tanisha was embarrassed when I mentioned the Militia’s incompetency but if she was so embarrassed, then she should have done a better job even if her captain was useless.
“Was the body found in the bedroom?” I asked.
“Yes.” She replied, suppressing her embarrassment.
“I see,” I replied and headed straight for the bedroom.
Eric and Layla were already there, searching for clues.
I addressed them and said, “I can cover up here.
Search for other places.” Layla nodded and left and Eric, although a little annoyed at being ordered around, didn’t show a much annoying reaction as Zefton and left as well.
On the bed I saw blood.
It was a white bedsheet but it was now almost all crimson.
The bedroom wasn’t tempered with much but signs of contamination were still there.
“Was a murder weapon found?” I asked.
“No,” Tanisha replied.
I glanced around the room but there wasn’t anything of great importance.
‘Do you feel anything?’ I asked Allison since I couldn’t feel death as my progress in death was still at a single strand.
[No] [It is faint all over the house] ‘Space-time occurrence?’ [Could be] Which means the spirit is bound to an item.
It isn’t surprising actually but perfectly normal.
Spirits are mostly bound to something.
Rarely, very rarely, a spirit manages to break away from an item it is bound to after amassing a somewhat decent amount of death energy.
[It would be a new item then] ‘It could be.’ New means new to the house but it has to be really old and considering we were in the house of a noble, many things could be easily hundreds of years old.
There wasn’t much in the room except for some expensive-looking cutlery which wasn’t for eating but display.
A beautiful tea set.
A few paintings of a scenery but one painting was of a family.
A man, a woman, and a girl of almost seven.
“Who are those?” I asked Tanisha.
“I have no knowledge of that.
It was never considered to be an object of interest.” She replied which was a valid assumption.
‘Do you feel anything?’ [No] [The energy is all over the house] [Makes it difficult to pinpoint] It would be strange if it could be pinpointed.
[But you might want to take a good look at the painting] Heeding Allison’s advice, I focused on the painting and took everything that was in it.
It was a normal painting of a family.
Old yeah but not that old to be called an antique.
At most a hundred years or a hundred and ten.
But after carefully focusing on every little detail, I saw something that matched the M.O.
of the murder.
“Layla.” I loudly called and after a few moments, Layla appeared along with Zefton who was no doubt sticking to her the entire time as proved by Layla’s annoyed expression.
“Layla isn’t your servant to call like that.” Zefton remarked which I maturely ignored which angered him even more and addressed Layla, “Find out everything you can about that painting.
Where it came from.
Who had it before this family and all the families that had it before.” She nodded at my instructions but I continued, “Keep everyone with you all the time.
Take Zefton, Eric, and Asmara with you.
Stay with them all the time and don’t separate no matter what.
Also, try to avoid secluded spaces and remain in crowded places.
Understood?” She was estranged at my strange instruction but I urged her again, “It is vital you do that Layla.
All of you.
Understood?” Even Zefton was a little alarmed and nodded.
Both of them left for the other two for the info gathering.
“What is going on?” Tanisha asked but I instead replied with an instruction, “Take me to the husband.” ===== A blonde man in his early thirties.
He seemed as if he was younger than his wife.
His eyes were lifeless, a stark difference from his lively eyes in the painting back at his home.
“Have you spoken to him?” I asked.
Tanisha replied, glancing at her captain who had also joined in when we came here, “We did but he claims that he was in another room when it happened.” “He must have done it.
That is the only explanation.” The Captain spoke.
To berate him so he doesn’t speak, I asked a question of my own.
Of course, rhetorical.
“How?
He isn’t a blessed.” “He must have hired someone.” He argued.
“There was no sign of breaking in.
Also, there was no evidence of someone being there.” I countered.
“He must have let someone in.” He said again.
“Then what?” I asked for his expert opinion.
“He must have let them out and closed the door from behind.” He replied.
“And then came back to the room where his wife was sliced and diced?” I countered.
[It’s a hassle dealing with idiots] ‘You can say that again.’ He had no reply to this one.
If the husband had hired someone, then he would have also left after the hired blessed.
In the first place, it isn’t logical for the husband to do it at home.
If he wanted to do it, even an idiot would do it the way that he wouldn’t be busted.
Just as we finished, Layla entered the room followed by everyone else.
She handed me a file and said, “This is all I could obtain.” I opened the file and gave it a quick read.
The painting was almost a hundred and thirty years old and the family in it was the Farfalle family.
[It seems it is true] The Farfalle family was a family that existed about a hundred and fifty years ago.
Their stuff was taken once they all died and the painting was the only thing that was put up for auction.
The key point here is that the head of the house, Josef Farfalle was a butcher by profession.
It wasn’t a noble family but bought a second name once they made it big.
[They had no children] This was what was actually bothering me.
“The girl in the painting was adopted?” I asked.
“We have no information of that.” She replied.
“Is it possible to get information about them?” I asked.
“The city hall must still have a few details about them,” Tanisha replied to my question.
“I see.” I nodded in response and turned my attention back to the husband.
“I think it is time to question him,” I said and headed for the door.
===== I entered the room the husband was held in.
He was sitting there lifeless.
His blonde hair was dirty from not having a bath for a long time.
I sat in front of him and took in every detail.
He was a little skinny than he was in the painting.
He seemed like he hadn’t smiled for a long time.
The man who sat in front of me was dead either from piling up too many emotions inside of him or from being accused of something he didn’t do against his beloved.
[Or he is simply devastated by his wife’s death] No.
He is relieved in that case.
That’s what makes him the most compelling suspect.
“Good evening.
I am Adrian.
A private investigator assigned to your wife’s murder case.
Will it be okay if I ask you a few questions?” I introduced myself and asked next.
He nodded dryly as if it didn’t matter anymore.
“Good.
Then can I begin by asking your name and your wife’s name?” I began with my first question.
“My name… My name is Vincent and my wife’s name is Estella.” He replied hoarsely as if he didn’t have any energy to do so.
I simply nodded and asked ahead, “How long had you and your wife been married?” He took some time to reply and replied again in a dried voice, “Thirteen years and seven months.” The information matched so far so I asked the next question, “What about children?
Were there any complications?
Or could you not have any?” At my questions, his eyebrow flinched slightly but he remained silent.
When he didn’t reply for a long time, I said again, “Please be cooperative Vincent.
I am not your enemy here.” Maybe it was the overflowing sincerity in my voice, he replied after some brief contemplation.
“We couldn’t.
We tried for some time but we couldn’t.” “I see.” I replied and continued to ask, “Does not having children a problem for you or your wife?” He replied after some time, “We were under pressure from my father that if we didn’t produce an heir, he would disown me from my position.” “Your position as an heir?” I asked just for clarification.
“Yes.” He nodded.
“And was it a problem for your wife?” I asked next.
“Yes.” He replied not long after.
“Did you consider a concubine?” I asked.
He simply shook his head instead of replying.
I contemplated my next question because it could be a rather insensitive one.
But I asked anyway.
“Did your wife consider siring another’s child?” He flinched at my question.
This wasn’t a slight flinch but it could also be called a tremble.
I was right at the mark.
“She did, didn’t she?” He was shaking slightly now at my urging but he couldn’t still reply.
“You need to answer, Vincent.” I sternly spoke.
At my stern tone, he trembled and simply nodded.
“I bet it started off as a simple suggestion but then she became desperate and did it behind your back,” I said.
He nodded slightly amidst his constant shaking.
“You found out, didn’t you?” I asked and he nodded in return.
“You confronted her?” I asked to which he again nodded.
“Is that why you have bruises on your ankles and ribs?” I asked pointing at the bruises on his body.
He nodded again.
“But then, that wasn’t it, was it?
She made you watch.” I said next that outright got him trembling.
“Many, many times,” I spoke again.
“What a b****” I spoke and he began to clench his fists.
“It makes you angry, doesn’t it?
Hearing me berate her like that.” He didn’t reply but his clenched fists were a clear indication of that.
“You loved her, didn’t you?
Truly.” Again no reply came.
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