Chapter 272: Mia - "I Can't Breathe!"
The basement morgue.
"Hi there!"
The police forensic pathologist's eyes lit up when he saw Mia and Nicole, two beautiful women, and he waved them over.
Then, noticing their gazes were fixed on the body covered by a sheet in front of him, he said somewhat awkwardly, "You might need to be prepared. The body is badly damaged—water decomposition."
"Lift it."
Randy ordered.
The forensic pathologist nodded and slowly lifted the sheet.
Mia, peering through the window, widened her eyes and couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh, my God!"
"Is this your husband?"
Randy asked.
"No!"
Mia shook her head in horror, then turned and ran out, covering her mouth.
"I'll go check on her."
Nicole nodded to Chuck and Randy, quickly following after her.
"Is it just me, or if he's not her husband, why does she seem like she's seen a ghost?"
Randy looked at Chuck strangely.
Before Chuck could speak, the forensic pathologist interrupted. "This is normal for ordinary people seeing a corpse for the first time. There's nothing strange about it."
"Really?"
Randy immediately revealed a reserved yet uncontrollable smugness. "When I first went on a call and saw a corpse, I wasn't like this at all! It was like it was something I was born with."
"That's right!"
The forensic pathologist flattered him. "Otherwise, how could you be the chief!"
Randy was even happier. The forensic pathologist took out a Tupperware container, stood in front of the corpse to eat, and when he saw Randy looking over, he offered him some, politely saying, "Chief, would you like some?"
The food in the container was a reddish paste mixed with what looked like marinara sauce. Randy watched the forensic pathologist eat with relish, waved his hand, and said to Chuck, "Let's go."
He then walked out first.
But before he even left the basement morgue, Randy couldn't hold on any longer and immediately bent over and vomited violently.
The forensic pathologist heard the commotion outside, unsurprised, a mocking smile appearing on his lips.
He loved seeing those who tried to act tough in front of him crack within seconds.
"Detective Chuck, want some?"
The forensic pathologist tried to offer some to Chuck, who hadn't left yet.
Clearly, his dark sense of humor hadn't faded.
"No thanks."
Chuck shook his head, glancing at the forensic pathologist's mocking expression. He pointed out the recipe for his marinara pasta, then offered his own improved version.
"This tastes even better?"
The forensic pathologist asked skeptically.
"That depends on your perspective."
Chuck said calmly. "This is the recipe I know that best matches your aesthetic, achieved through molecular gastronomy and unconventional ingredients. Even Dr. House would give it a thumbs up and say it tastes authentic!"
"Matches my aesthetic?"
The forensic pathologist looked bewildered.
Chuck glanced at the badly mutilated corpse in front of him, then at the food the pathologist was enjoying.
"..."
The forensic pathologist froze. "You're really joking!"
"Do I look like someone who jokes?"
Chuck said expressionlessly.
"...You're definitely trying to mess with me."
The forensic pathologist forced a smile. "How would you know what that tastes like, and even went to the trouble of artificially creating a similar-tasting formula?"
"Do you know Dr. House?"
Chuck asked.
"Of course!"
The forensic pathologist was also a doctor, so he naturally knew the famous Dr. House in the area.
"This is based on his research."
Chuck said seriously, then took a deep look at the severely mutilated corpse and left.
The forensic pathologist recalled the legend circulating in medical circles that Dr. House was particularly cavalier about hygiene. If he thought the logic was sound, he would often directly use his hands and mouth to test things, quickly ruling out whether a disease was caused by food.
Looking down again at his lunch, he felt nauseous, increasingly disgusted, and finally dumped the pasta from his container into the trash can, starting to retch violently.
Chuck bypassed Randy, who was recovering against the wall, and went upstairs.
Mia and Nicole were no longer in the police station. They were talking about something some distance away outside. Chuck watched them.
For a long time.
Mia noticed the gaze, realized something, and quickly turned away, her face pale.
Chuck had already walked over and said to Mia, "Come with me."
"Where to? Why?"
Nicole blocked Mia's path.
"To my office."
Chuck ignored her and looked at Mia. "Aren't you looking for your missing husband? For Dr. Wilson's sake, I'll take the case."
"No need."
Nicole refused. "We've already filed a police report. If we need a detective, we'll find someone else. We can't afford Detective Chuck."
"You can afford me."
Chuck said calmly. "Mia is the heiress of St. Anselm's School. Since I have no problem, and money isn't an issue, what problem could make someone desperately searching for their missing husband refuse such help?"
Mia and Nicole immediately fell silent.
"Come with me."
Chuck said again, waving to flag down a taxi.
Mia looked at Nicole in fear, waiting for her to make a decision.
"We have a car. I'll drive you there."
Nicole squeezed Mia's hand and said through gritted teeth.
"No need."
Chuck looked at her. "I need to talk to the client. Are you the client?"
"Mia has a heart condition. She needs someone with her!"
Nicole tried to meet Chuck's gaze.
"Did you bring your medication?"
Chuck looked at Mia.
"Yes, I did."
Mia stammered.
"She has her medication, I know first aid, and I can get her to the hospital immediately if needed."
Chuck looked at Nicole expressionlessly. "So what other reason do you have to insist on coming along?"
"Of course!"
Nicole said, her face pale. "You're a man, and Mia is a woman. I'm concerned! And even if we really hire you as our private investigator, I don't understand why I can't come with you."
"Do I really need to spell it out like this?"
Chuck asked.
Mia trembled.
Nicole remained silent, pulled a pack of Virginia Slims from her suit pocket, took one out, lit it, took a deep drag, and said stubbornly, "We want to hear it."
"You're bisexual."
Chuck said calmly. "You're attracted to Mia, and now that Mia's husband has disappeared without a trace, you yourself are a motive and a suspect.
I'm excluding you and speaking to the client alone. Are you still going to keep insisting?"
Nicole flicked the ash from her cigarette, scattering it, and after a moment of silence, she turned her back to block Chuck's view, exchanging glances with Mia, and said,
"Then go ahead. If he dares to lay a hand on you, call me immediately, and we'll sue him into bankruptcy!"
Mia understood Nicole's look. Although still terrified, she could only nod in agreement and get into a taxi with Chuck, heading towards Summit.
The journey was silent.
Even though Mia repeatedly stole glances at Chuck, she noticed he showed no intention of speaking.
They arrived at the office in Summit.
Secretary Helen glanced at Mia and greeted her. "Mrs. Balan."
Mia gave her a weak smile and obediently followed Chuck into the inner office.
Secretary Helen looked at the photo of herself and her niece Jane on the desk, and sighed as she looked at Jane's radiant smile in the picture.
The reason she had urged Jane to come over in the first place was not only because of those extremely domineering wives, but also because of those ordinary yet incredibly alluring women.
The principal's wife of St. Anselm's School, the largest Catholic boarding school near Summit, was one of them.
She had thought that Chuck wouldn't have any interaction with her, especially after Jane came from Las Vegas. Even if they did interact, it wouldn't matter.
But now, not only had Jane spiraled again, leaving Chuck's side, no longer his assistant, but also going off to do dangerous FBI fieldwork.
Now, this unexpected threat had appeared beside Chuck.
This had caused her, his secretary and confidante, endless worry.
"Sit."
Chuck said after sitting down, and then turned on his computer.
Mia sat opposite him, nervously surveying the office, glancing at Chuck every now and then. Seeing him just staring at the computer screen without saying a word, she grew increasingly uneasy.
"Do you know why I know you're wealthy?"
Chuck suddenly asked.
"Because you know me."
Mia said, glancing at Secretary Helen in the outer room.
"Yes."
Chuck nodded. "I've donated money to all the schools nearby, except yours. You know that?"
"I know."
Mia nodded.
As a wealthy man with such a high profile, Chuck's every move in Summit was magnified, including his public charitable donations.
The fact that St. Anselm's Boys' School, the largest Catholic school near Summit, hadn't received a donation from Chuck had already caused quite a stir.
"You don't agree with Guy's educational philosophy."
"You don't either, do you?"
Chuck said. "The original St. Anselm's Boys' School, as a Catholic school, inevitably had some religious values instilled, but it was generally legitimate.
But ever since you left the convent, inherited the school, and married your current husband Guy, putting his name on the school's ownership agreement and letting him take over the management, he started sweeping reforms.
Now, when you mention St. Anselm's Boys' School, do you know what people's first reaction is?"
"A boot camp..."
Mia smiled bitterly.
How could she not know!
Chuck directly flipped the computer screen, pointing it at Mia, and played an advertisement. On the screen, a man in a suit and tie spoke to the camera. "Failure, frustration, pessimism, rebellion, defiance—why?
There are always some people with ulterior motives who create a bunch of theories to blame you, the parents. Don't worry! These problems will not happen at St. Anselm's Boys' School..."
"Does your school use corporal punishment?"
Chuck asked.
"What?"
Mia was taken aback, then quickly grasped the implication and immediately shook her head. "We would never treat children like that!"
That's right!
So-called boot camps are special schools where parents send unruly children they can't control, and these children are forcibly reformed through harsh discipline.
It's easy to imagine the dramatic change that St. Anselm's Boys' School, originally a Catholic boys' school, underwent after the principal changed the policy and even filmed advertisements for promotion.
Parents who originally sent their children there transferred them out en masse, and those who remained, continuously arriving from all over, were all 'troubled' children, completely transforming the Catholic boys' school into a behavioral correction facility.
"That's a shame."
Chuck said expressionlessly. "At least this treatment method might work for young Howard, who just enrolled in your school."
"Young Howard?"
Mia asked in surprise. "You mean Howard Wolowitz?"
"Yes."
Chuck nodded. "His mother just moved here from Pasadena with him, and because of some well-known issues, she wanted to correct some of his bad habits.
After all, she shares a bathroom with him, and she chose your school immediately. It seems your school's advertising wasn't in vain."
"This isn't what I wanted."
Mia sighed.
"It seems young Howard has left a deep impression on you."
Chuck turned the computer screen back.
"Yes."
Mia chuckled nervously. "He is indeed memorable, especially his behavior toward Nicole..."
She trailed off.
"She's not a good person."
Chuck said, looking at her.
"Who?"
Mia was taken aback. "Nicole? She's a good person."
"You know her well?"
Chuck asked.
"Yes."
Mia explained. "She's an English teacher at the school, a very talented writer...and she takes good care of me. Not in the way you think—we're very close, like best friends."
"Have you read any of her work?"
Chuck asked, looking at her.
"No, not really."
Mia shook her head.
"Let me read you a few passages..."
Chuck read a few lines.
Mia was immediately surprised, murmuring, "She writes crime thrillers..."
"Not simple crime thrillers. The plot is intricate, the details are compelling, far beyond what most writers can achieve."
Chuck looked at her. "Why would a novelist who could easily become famous and wealthy be an ordinary English teacher at your school?
And endure such abuse? Don't look at me like that—there are obvious contusions near her eyes.
Don't tell me it's all for you. Believe me, she might be attracted to you, but definitely not to that extent.
So tell me, why did she do this?"
"Why?"
Mia was stunned, almost unable to believe it, and instinctively asked Chuck.
"You said your husband is missing, but you didn't really want my help. When you went to the police station to identify the body, and it wasn't your husband, you looked like you'd seen a ghost."
Chuck looked at her. "Your husband's credit card statements showed an extremely high percentage of alcohol purchases, clearly indicating alcoholism. He must have been the one who beat her.
In that kind of closed campus environment, only the principal could prevent you, the principal's wife, from speaking up for your best friend.
And since he beat her, he naturally wouldn't make an exception for you.
To write a compelling crime thriller with such vivid details, one must have an intimate understanding of the criminal process.
Do I need to say more?"
Seeing Mia clutching her heart in horror as she looked at him, he calmly said, "Don't be nervous. If I'm not mistaken, your husband isn't dead."
"What?"
Mia gasped.
"Your husband isn't dead."
Chuck stood up, walked to her side, and helped her regulate her breathing. "No matter how she encouraged you to take action, they were setting you up."
"Why?"
Mia grabbed Chuck's hand, breathing heavily, her eyes full of incomprehension, no longer denying certain things.
In fact, when she and Nicole were discussing things outside the police station and she saw Chuck watching them, she already had a premonition.
She knew Chuck's amazing abilities. Lip-reading was nowhere near the top of his list of incredible skills.
"You're a former nun, which means you believe in God and the devil."
Chuck said, looking down at the cross on her chest. "And with your heart condition, there's a real chance you could actually be scared to death.
If you die of a heart attack, he can perfectly inherit the school.
As for her, she can write a crime thriller that makes her a literary sensation, and she can get substantial hush money from your husband.
And it won't stop there."
(End of Chapter)
[500 PS unlocks 1 Extra Chapter]
[10 Reviews unlock 1 Extra Chapter]
Thanks for reading—reviews are appreciated.
P1treon Soulforger has 50+ advance chapters