Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

The carriage stopped, and the coachman, dressed in a raincoat, said respectfully.

"Ah."

Charlotte opened her umbrella and carefully stepped over the stepping stones to avoid the fine snow falling on her clothes... Well, it was impossible to avoid it anyway, so the girl quickly gave up on this futile effort and instead tilted the umbrella down to create a peaceful space for the little sparrow.

Almost as soon as I got out of the car, a short, thin maid with a nervous expression quickly came out of the house to greet me.

This is an unremarkable townhouse, slightly dilapidated on the outside, with lush vines climbing the walls. There is a mailbox at the entrance, which is empty of paper, only filled with dust. The outside is marked 13 Wake Street, Marais District.

"Madam, are you a detective from Singer's Detective Agency?"

After looking around and making sure no one was watching, the maid finally caught her breath and asked anxiously.

"Ah."

Having learned about the victim's social relationships, Charlotte simply nodded slightly and gave a soft, unchanging murmur of agreement.

"The appointee, Ms. Farlinger, is she still alive?"

"Ah, you mean the lady from Florence? She's only staying here for a few days because of relatives. She had breakfast early this morning and went to the theater where the performance was being held."

It was clear to the naked eye that even if she pretended not to care, the maid still straightened her back and showed an uncontrollable pride when talking about the former's name.

Just as she was about to speak again, a fragrant breeze arrived first, carrying the soft rustling of her skirt against the snow, followed by a wisp of smooth, flowing dark blue hair.

"No need. I will explain in detail to you both from now on."

"Miss Falinger, what's wrong...?"

Surprisingly, the person in question returned.

She wore a long lavender purple dress and a thin scarf woven from soft feathers. Her waist was straight, her posture was dignified, and her slender figure resembled a willow swaying in the wind. Her delicate eyebrows and eyes were like flowers painted by a master.

From those slender hands, clasped together in front of her abdomen, Charlotte saw unusually pale skin. If Watson was healthy, with a delicate complexion that was fair and rosy, then hers was sickly, lifeless, and deathly pale.

With dark circles under his eyebrows and stars etched in his purple eyes, like a butterfly or a soap bubble, he could faint with just a gust of wind, without needing sticks or needles.

It is a fragile beauty, an alluring charm.

How stunning! It is more vivid than any painting or photograph could capture its beauty; to describe it as merely beautiful would be an embarrassing oversight.

"Since I issued the appointment, it would be rather impolite to leave irresponsibly."

It is a soft-spoken explanation.

Gazing at this figure, the girl surprisingly felt a touch of jealousy and fervor.

But soon, she realized that this situation was unusual. After so many romantic entanglements, she found herself being subconsciously affected.

It cannot be attributed to desire. Charlotte opened her eyes wide and looked at the person in front of her again without flinching.

"I'm sorry, I didn't do it on purpose."

Noticing the questioning look in the girl's eyes, the beautiful woman frowned slightly, as if she were bothered by the same thing and lacked the will to do it.

She possessed neither the arrogance of a star nor the haughtiness of an aristocrat; she was gentle and approachable, elegant and intelligent. Moreover, when her self-reproachful voice reached my ears, a feeling of pity quietly arose within me.

However, this was only the most superficial thing. No longer swayed by that charm, Charlotte then began to observe the former's posture.

With shoulders tucked in and chin slightly raised, but not excessively so, the posture of the head and neck remained consistent throughout the walk, with elegant lines and a smooth, even gait, without swaying left or right or bouncing up and down.

Stepping forward, standing still, switching feet, stepping forward again, the smooth back, the slightly sunken spine, the straight legs crossing back and forth, without a trace of trembling or bending.

How perfect, how impeccable, it's like she's a born actress, playing the role so lifelike, it's practically identical to her.

This is the result of long-term training, a well-shaped and proper appearance. However, beneath this facade, one can still see the accumulated fatigue and the haggard appearance that has become unseemly.

In the past, Charlotte might have had the leisure to delve deeper into these matters, but now...

Looking back at her own little bird, she saw that it was equally unaffected, only secretly watching her. The girl smiled gently, easily dispelling the desire that had arisen in her heart.

She raised her thin lips and said.

"Madam, please be careful to avoid the snow rubbing against your skirt."

"Thank you for reminding me. My name is Eliza von Farlinger Dikbadov. When we talk, there's no need to address each other by our surnames. Eliza is friendly enough compared to those cumbersome suffixes."

With her skirt lifted and her words sincere, the dark-haired girl did not show any disrespect or indifference due to Charlotte's youth, which won Charlotte's favor.

Undeniably, appearance always enhances a person's first impression, not to mention the previous person's impeccable manners, which fully considered the feelings of the guests.

"Alright, please tell me the details of this incident."

"plz follow me."

Her skirt billowed over the green duckweed. Eliza didn't speak directly, but instead took the lead and led the group into the row of houses.

Stepping across the soft carpet, the stone fireplace still burns with a smokeless flame, and further inside, you can see a deer head hanging on the wall and raw hides suspended on a shelf.

"Ms. Eliza, did your victimized sister have a hobby of hunting in her spare time?"

Based on what she saw and heard, Charlotte inquired about every detail of the common situation.

Putting aside the generational gap in their identities and setting aside their extraordinary perspectives, she now works as a detective, empathizing with others to search for clues and uncover the truth.

“No, these are all Mr. Palmer’s collection. He was a hunter in his youth and now works as an animal trainer in a circus.”

"Mr. Palmer?"

“She was my sister, Evonne’s stepfather, and after Ms. Tracy passed away, she was the only elderly person left in the family.”

The words rose and fell like the sound of rain, the leather boots and high heels tapping on the ground, and Charlotte and Eliza's gazes followed in turn.

"Ms. Tracy was the former mistress of this place. Her husband, whom she met in her early years, died a glorious death in the expansion of the empire, and she herself passed away a few years later in a train accident. Mr. Palmer was the man she remarried during that time."

She exhaled softly, her tone calm, yet the nearby candlelight flickered and illuminated the dark-haired beauty's purple eyes, as if they held a blazing fire within them.

In this era, women could not freely dispose of their property and had to register it under the names of their elders or husbands. Therefore, in order to preserve their wealth, remarriage was not uncommon, and in fact, quite common.

Eliza pulled out a soft chair nearby, gesturing for the girl to sit down. She then took a porcelain cup from the coffee table, gently and elegantly poured in tea leaves, and added a suitable amount of warm water.

Would you like some black tea?

Her fair fingers deftly moved the cup and spoon, leaping across the porcelain like a graceful dance, captivating the eye.

"No need. On the contrary, I'm rather curious, Ms. Eliza, why you're temporarily staying in this... rather uncomfortable residence."

Looking around, Charlotte noticed some crisscrossing spider webs tied to the corners of the room's walls.

These signs often indicate that the room has not been lived in or cleaned for a long time.

"How could this be? I clearly cleaned these areas yesterday. Where did these eight-legged worms come from?"

The maid who was with them muttered something and tried to explain herself in a flustered manner.

Quietly watching the snow falling outside the window, Eliza paid no attention to the words of others, only pursed her thin lips and spoke calmly.

"People always expect an opera star to be perfect, both in character and appearance. She should be gentle and dignified, frugal and kind, and possess all the virtues they lack."

"Like a Sachertorte, two beautiful chocolates, a layer of unparalleled apricot jam, forming a perfect circle, without mold or impropriety. Expensive hotels are not allowed to be indulged in; to become famous but not forget one's roots, living in the old house of relatives and friends is the right choice."

As if the description in the story had nothing to do with her, the black-haired beauty put two fingers together, grasped the cup handle, and took a sip of warm tea.

"This has little to do with the incident. Evonne was about to get married, but she died mysteriously in her bedroom. The doors and windows were closed, and there was no loud noise. I had no intention of getting involved in the case, but the reporters and the news media were unwilling to just use the word 'suicide.' They would always add more details and exaggerate the sensationalism without regard for the impact, which caused me a lot of trouble."

"Therefore, although I am somewhat sorry, I hope to use the reputation of Singh's firm to make a definitive statement about this incident."

After a moment of silence, Charlotte walked from her seat to the fireplace, watching the flames dance and the orange glow spread, feeling the warmth caress her.

Eliza's request was not excessive and was within the scope of normal commission.

However, the known clues cannot provide too many hypotheses. If suicide cannot be explained, then there is a lack of motive and suspects.

"Does Ms. Evonne have any financial entanglements?"

Eliza did not speak immediately. She simply opened her beautiful eyes, looked at the sweating maid beside her, and spoke after a long while.

“I know very little about this elder sister’s social connections. According to current laws, if she gets married, she will receive a share of the property left by Ms. Tracy.”

To take a portion of the existing assets...

The transfer of the will within the family seemed to be without any contradictions, but in reality, Charlotte had already noticed something amiss.

After Ms. Tracy remarried Palmer, all her former assets were transferred to that man's name. From the stepfather's perspective, it was his motivation to take away money from his accounts when his non-biological children got married.

From this perspective, it is also necessary to supplement the methods and processes of murders committed in locked rooms.

"Would it be convenient for me to see the crime scene?"

"of course."

Following the former, they pushed open the door to the inner room. The bedroom was quite simple, with only a floor-length mirror and a wardrobe, and an ordinary wooden bed.

At this moment, a layer of white gauze was covering the human-shaped object protruding from the bed, which was clearly the body of the victim, Ivani.

Charlotte looked at the beautiful woman with her eyes, asking if she could come closer to touch it. After receiving a nod of approval, Charlotte reached out and half-covered the bird's eyes before lifting the veil.

Although autopsies are the work of forensic doctors, the cause and time of death are particularly important for solving cases quickly. Once the white veil was removed, Charlotte's eyes were immediately drawn to the deceased's dark complexion and swollen limbs.

The state of death was not pleasant to look at, and quite eerie. Before taking any action, the girl's keen senses had already detected it, so she covered Winnie's eyes in advance, lest the sight frighten the timid girl.

However, their own little sparrow didn't seem to think so.

“Miss Watson, I can do it. Whether you leave or not, this is something I will always have to face…”

Turning her head away, Winnie, though trembling, kept her eyes wide open, trying to encourage herself as she stared blankly at the bed.

Since the little bird is so determined, Watson, as a friend and assistant, will naturally offer comfort and inquire about its condition.

"Did you find anything?"

"It's very strange. This lady seems to have died from severe poisoning."

Charlotte lowered her fingertips, pried open the woman's eyelids, and seeing the shrunken pupils, nodded in response.

In a sealed room, such a state would not occur if one were suffocating or inhaling an excessive amount of gas.

In the present era, people's understanding of medicine and biology is shallow and development is slow. In cases of large-scale skin necrosis, it is difficult to determine the time of death and the cause of death. Moreover, due to superstition, this is even regarded as a curse that is avoided.

Of course, no matter how they try to cover it up, Evonne's death is inextricably linked to poisoning.

Moreover, the room where the crime occurred was not an absolutely locked room.

Looking up at the high part of the wall, there was a ventilation opening. Although it was not big enough for a person to pass through, smoke and some small creatures could still get into it.

"Ma'am, does this ventilation duct lead to the outside?"

Upon hearing this question, the maid's expression turned somewhat awkward. She clearly wanted to hide something, but under Eliza's furrowed brows and gaze, she could only stammer out the truth.

"No, it leads to Mr. Palmer's room."

"Then let's visit this gentleman's bedroom."

I stepped over the threshold with my toes and entered the room with a soft creak. The owner of the room was not there, and the furnishings inside were also very simple.

A wardrobe, a wooden bed, a chair leaning against the wall, a whip hanging in a loop, and a safe with a lock.

"Trampled marks..."

murmured softly, and even after wiping, Winnie still keenly spotted the footprints in the slight indentations of the chair's cushion.

Therefore, it can be concluded that Mr. Palmer frequently stood on the chair, but the only high point he couldn't reach was that narrow ventilation opening.

Following the former's habit, Charlotte also stepped onto the chair, tiptoed closer to the ventilation opening, and saw several thin, transparent threads penetrating the pipe between the smooth inner walls, extending from one end to the other.

Those were endless spider webs.

Animal trainer, property division, bizarre death, ventilation shaft—a combination of coincidences—it seems the answer is already quite obvious.

The distant clock tower tolled the evening chimes, and Charlotte leaped lightly down, landing right in front of the dark-haired beauty.

Without much hesitation, she leaned down, whispered a warm breath into Eliza's ear.

she says:

"Madam, my work is done."

"The murderer was Mr. Palmer, who did not want his property to be divided among his children. Therefore, relying on his previous professional habits, he kept highly venomous spiders and carried out an alibi by killing them in a locked room through this ventilation shaft a few days before the wedding."

"If I'm not mistaken, his little pets are in this safe now."

Hearing the girl's words, the black-haired beauty was not moved by the dampness around her ears. She nodded slightly, and with a calm and graceful manner, lifted her skirt and bowed to express her gratitude.

"Thank you both for your expertise. This commission has been successfully completed. I am extremely grateful and will pay you as agreed to explain your contributions to the reporters."

"The troupe's performance is just around the corner. If you two are interested, the theater will always reserve two seats for you in the front row."

Her bright, thin lips parted and closed, but a red tongue inappropriately spilled from the corner of her mouth, staining her delicate, pale skin.