Chapter 271: Detective Chuck - "Mia, you have a heart condition, don't get too close!"
"Why?"
Although Dr. Cameron didn't like Sheldon's self-importance, seeing him so frightened, she felt sorry for him and quickly asked.
"Because there's a homeless man's autopsy report in the morgue, and the results are somewhat similar to his."
Dr. House replied, continuing to look at Sheldon with a mocking expression.
"Don't scare him!"
Dr. Cameron said, displeased.
"I just admire his keen observation!"
Dr. House laughed. "And it's precisely this keenness that might have helped us discover a murder case!"
Saying this, he looked at Sheldon with ill intent. "So, do you want to come along?"
"..."
Sheldon froze, almost crying.
Most people keep their distance from the morgue, let alone someone as timid as him who had once been chased by a dog and forced to hide in a tree.
"Since he's alright, I'll take him home first."
Professor Alicia Harper said. "Chuck, are you coming along?"
"Oh, no!"
Dr. House immediately interrupted. "You can go, but he has to stay. I need to show him my amazing crime-solving process... Besides, the nun needs his help."
"You drive him home first."
Chuck said, choosing to stay.
Professor Alicia Harper glanced at him, nodded, and pulled the frozen Young Sheldon away from the hospital.
"See?"
Dr. House winked at his good friend Dr. Wilson. "He chose to stay as soon as he heard about the nun."
"Just tell me what you found out."
Dr. Wilson said irritably, ignoring Dr. House's further provocation.
"Follow me!"
Dr. House limped towards the morgue in the hospital basement. "While I was resting in the morgue, I found an interesting body—a homeless man's. On the surface, he died of the flu, but after the autopsy, I discovered that the flu wasn't the real cause. Do you know what it is?"
"Soda."
Chuck said calmly.
"That's right!"
Dr. House laughed. "He had a lot of local soda bottles among his belongings. The kid just said the soda tasted off, and their lab results are clearly similar, so I suspect there's something wrong with the soda!"
"I've drunk that soda before, and it was fine."
Dr. Wilson retorted.
"In that case, try this!"
By this time, the four of them had entered the morgue. Dr. House pulled a glass soda bottle from the trash and handed it to his best friend.
"..."
Dr. Wilson retreated in disgust. "I won't drink this!"
"I remember you drank it too?"
Dr. House then handed the discarded glass soda bottle to Dr. Cameron.
"What exactly do you suspect?"
Dr. Cameron looked at Dr. House shaking the discarded glass soda bottle, gathering the remaining liquid in front of her eyes, and took a step back. "The soda manufacturer produced defective products, leading to people dying? That's unbelievable."
"Impossible?"
Dr. House looked at Chuck.
"Possible. There's too much corporate negligence and cost-cutting involved!"
Chuck nodded. "Based on the current information, the local soda's selling point is that it's free of preservatives and other additives.
But we can't just look at what they say, we have to look at what they do.
Sheldon may be a hypochondriac, often thinking of minor ailments as terminal illnesses, but he wouldn't make such a big mistake regarding taste.
Since he says the soda tastes wrong, then it's probably wrong. You have a testing lab—just test it directly."
Dr. House looked at Dr. Cameron.
Dr. Cameron immediately knew what she had to do and turned to leave. "I'll go buy some now."
"Want to make a bet?"
Dr. House chuckled. "I bet the soda's formula was altered, creating a batch of counterfeit products, but because of the cost of recall, they were unwilling to recall them, allowing this batch to continue circulating in the market, leading to this situation."
"I hope not."
Dr. Wilson sighed.
"What about you?"
Dr. House pressed the silent Chuck.
"I bet you don't care at all."
Chuck said expressionlessly.
"Of course I care. This is one of my favorite quiet places. These people are like family to me. You can ask Wilson if you don't believe me."
Dr. House joked.
"House!"
Even though Dr. Wilson knew his best friend liked to joke, he still disliked this kind of talk.
Who considers the corpses of various deaths in the morgue as family!
That's too morbid!
"Wilson, do you know the nun's husband?"
Dr. House suddenly asked.
"I've seen a picture. Why?"
Dr. Wilson was taken aback.
"You're lucky."
Dr. House chuckled. "Perhaps you don't need the expressionless detective to help your nun find a husband, and in your favorite way."
"You're going too far."
Dr. Wilson retorted, glancing at the rows of corpses in the morgue as his best friend hinted, though a thought flickered in his mind.
"I was just giving you a heads-up. Whether you look or not is your decision."
Dr. House shrugged.
Just then, Dr. Cameron returned with the soda.
"Very refreshing!"
Dr. House took it, unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and then gulped down the remaining liquid the homeless man had drunk from.
"You!"
Dr. Cameron tried to stop him, but it was too late.
"What's wrong with me?"
Dr. House shrugged dismissively.
"You know that if your guess is right, then this soda is problematic. And aren't you disgusted?"
Cameron said, exasperated.
"Of course I'm right!"
Dr. House said indifferently. "And don't be nervous. Even if this soda is problematic, the homeless man drank many bottles in one go before he had problems.
You're a doctor too. You should know that discussing toxicity without considering dosage is meaningless—unless that little guy is right, and your medical license is really forged."
"...Did you taste anything?"
Cameron, not wanting to be teased about her medical license any longer, retorted. "Do I need to take this to the lab for testing?"
"Of course I tasted something wrong."
Dr. House said sarcastically. "Otherwise, do you think I like drinking the leftovers from a homeless man..."
He then looked at Chuck. "Look! Look! He's looking at me like that again, as if to say, 'You like it because you're British'..."
"Don't joke around!"
Dr. Cameron said seriously. "This soda is mass-produced. If what you're saying is true, then there must be a large number of defective products circulating, endangering many lives. We must act immediately."
"Go to the lab to test it and get a verifiable conclusion as soon as possible."
Chuck took out his phone and dialed a number. "I'll notify the police department to start investigating this case."
"Okay!"
Dr. Cameron immediately went to rummage through the trash bags, found other soda bottles with residual liquid, and took them, along with the ones she had bought, to the lab for component analysis.
Chuck notified Chief Randy Disher and also headed out of the hospital, preparing to go directly to the local soda manufacturer for an on-site investigation.
"Hey, wait for me!"
Dr. House limped after him. "This is a case I discovered. I want to get involved too!"
Chuck answered him with his actions.
Dr. House chased after Chuck for a while, but found that Chuck was getting faster and faster, and he couldn't keep up at all. He had to stop, touched his slightly sore leg, and a hint of frustration flashed in his eyes. He turned around and didn't see his best friend following him, and a smile returned to his lips.
"Did you find it?"
Back in the morgue, Dr. House leaned against the door, took out a few Vicodin pills from his pocket, and popped them into his mouth. He looked at his best friend Wilson, who was secretly examining the body, with amusement.
"Thank God, no."
Dr. Wilson was a little embarrassed.
"I didn't expect that!"
Dr. House looked at his best friend with a strange gaze, as if to say, 'I didn't expect that you, with your Boy Scout routine, would stoop to this.'
"What's wrong with you now?"
Dr. Wilson asked helplessly.
"According to common sense, you should say 'it's a pity, no.'"
Dr. House said. "But you said 'thank God, no.' That only means you genuinely wish her husband were still alive. But if that's the case, you have no hope. Don't tell me you don't care if you can't have her as long as she's happy. You know I don't believe in that! I only believe in the selfishness of human nature, that everyone lies!
So don't lie to me!
And if you're not lying about what you said, then there's only one possibility: you genuinely wish her husband were still alive.
And you like her.
So the conclusion is obvious: you're into forbidden fruit!
If she lost that identity, perhaps her appeal to you would decrease."
"Stop talking nonsense!"
Dr. Wilson interrupted, frowning.
"Don't rush to deny it!"
Dr. House didn't let him off the hook, saying sarcastically. "Do you think I didn't see the cross around her neck? God, the path to salvation is there! If it were me, I would also want to hear her confess to me, look down on me with those judgmental eyes, and cry out to God!"
Dr. Wilson walked over directly, snatched the cane from Dr. House's hand, and walked away with a cold expression.
"Not again? You've picked up that stoic guy's tricks!"
Dr. House steadied himself against the wall, yelling at his best friend's retreating figure. "So, he can do it, but I can't even talk about it?"
"Chuck didn't do anything!"
Dr. Wilson stopped and turned back to retort.
He didn't even want to repeat Dr. House's description of the scene—it was too inappropriate!
"He just hasn't done it yet!"
Dr. House laughed. "Your nun perfectly fits his profile. So I bet he'll do it given the chance!"
Dr. Wilson glared at Dr. House, tossed his cane over, and left.
Dr. House, dragging his aching leg, caught the cane, watching his best friend leave in displeasure, shaking his head and muttering to himself. "I'm telling the truth. How can you not see through me..."
Chuck left the hospital, took a cab to the factory where the soda company was located, and met up with Chief Randy Disher, who had arrived.
The factory wasn't large, and the owner wasn't a major corporation.
According to the principle that 'in capitalist society, the higher you climb, the more sociopathic you become,' this female owner's antisocial tendencies were relatively mild.
So, under Chuck's persistent questioning, she couldn't hold back any longer and revealed the truth. "The all-natural, additive-free soda tasted too bland, so we added ethylene glycol as a stabilizer. Initially, the formula was unstable, resulting in a batch of substandard products."
"What's ethylene glycol?"
Chief Randy Disher looked completely bewildered.
"A colorless, odorless, sweet-tasting toxic liquid."
Chuck explained.
"You actually used a toxic liquid as an additive?"
Randy stared at the female owner in disbelief.
"It's not like I'm the only one doing this."
The female owner said with a wry smile. "It wouldn't kill anyone. At most it would cause bloating and discomfort, but who would have thought someone would drink 12 bottles in one go!"
"How many of these did you produce?"
Randy asked.
"Around 500 bottles."
The female owner said.
"Were they labeled?"
Randy pressed.
"No need to mark them."
Chuck interrupted. "Do you think anyone would care whether her products are defective or not in this situation?"
"You're under arrest!"
Randy nodded. Once the news got out, everything would be recalled or pulled from the shelves. No one would drink this anymore. So he took out handcuffs and said to the female owner.
The two arrested the female owner and took her to the police station.
At the police station, after handing the female owner over to his officers, Randy asked Chuck, "Is what she said true? And she's not the only one doing this?"
Chuck looked at him. "It's all about cutting corners and profits over people. You don't want to know."
"Okay."
Randy thought for a moment and decisively chose to give up.
He wasn't rich. Even if he knew how widespread this problem was, what could he do?
Life still had to go on.
"What are you looking at?"
Randy saw Chuck look away and immediately followed his gaze, seeing two very different beautiful women in the police station.
"Let's go see."
Chuck didn't explain. He just walked over.
The delicate, beautiful woman with a cross around her neck, seeing Chuck approach, flashed a hint of panic in her eyes, turning her head to look at the other, more assertive woman who was half-embracing her.
The assertive woman frowned and looked over.
"What's going on?"
Randy asked the officer who was receiving the two women.
"Chief, they're teachers from St. Catherine's Boarding School. They came to report that their husbands are missing, and they just heard we found an unidentified body here, so they want to identify it."
The officer explained.
"I'm Randy Disher."
Randy said, looking at the two women. "What are your names?"
"My name is Nicole Honor. I'm a teacher at the boarding school," the assertive woman said, taking the initiative. "This is Mia Balan, the principal's wife. She discovered her husband is missing, so I accompanied her to report it. When we got here, we found that an unidentified body was found here today, so we want to identify it."
"Alright, we'll take you there."
Randy said, glancing at Chuck.
"Dr. Wolfe, hello."
Mia, nestled in Nicole's arms, finally managed a smile and greeted Chuck.
Chuck nodded expressionlessly. "Your heart isn't strong, and your impulse control isn't great either. Don't get too close to her."
Mia froze.
Nicole, however, narrowed her eyes, looking at Chuck with displeasure.
Chuck ignored her gaze and walked towards the police station's basement morgue.
(End of Chapter)
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