BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 83

Sir William paused for a moment. His eyes were cold. "What a strange thing, how are you quickly spread in Bjork? I told Inspector Robert not to spread this news."

"Gentlemen," cut the Krip fast. His face was sour and fierce. "If you don't want to buy something, you better get out."

"Your conduct is different from that of Mr. Argent" said Sir William.

"Well, of course, customers do have to be distinguished!"

Jose stared at the glint of hate and demeaning in Sir William's eyes. Again, that sight made him feel uncomfortable. His stomach was nauseous. He decided to give up. "Mr Bannet, if there's anything you want here, just take it. Think of it as a sign of friendship."

"The price of your friendship is very cheap" Sir William quipped after a glimpse at the contents of the shop. "Fourth son, what can I do."

Jose's whole body started to cool, even though his ears were hot. He gave a big smile as he said sweetly, "Price is always directly proportional to what is offered, right?"

"You're offering me something cheap?"

"It's not me who considers cheap whatever's between us, is it?"

William laughing. "It seems you're misunderstanding something. Was there anything until you dared to call 'us'?"

"I feel astonished," Jose smiled wryly. "Sir William, the wildly popular Mr. Bannet was willing to go all the way to a cheap grocery store, to insult his meaningless fourth son. Makes me think, don't-don't be the fourth son isn't that bad."

Krip caught a cold gag between the two men. He himself usually does not lose control, always able to be flexible to face 'customers' like anything. But since Sir William came just now without being able to know his presence, something woke up in Krip. High sense of horror. Now he feels he understands how cats feel when threatened by danger.

Sir William moved his hand, making Jose and Krip a little jolted, but the man simply rubbed his golden blonde hair, then chuckled. "You're right, Mr. Argent, I didn't come here for that. My time is not that bad. Just who was the friend you were with when you came to the party the other day? Maria's? Maria from the Garnet family? Pretty girl, isn't she?"

Jose's blood froze. He got up from his seat and stepped forward, snatched away William's stained collar, then shook it. "I don't know who you are or what" he whispered coldly, "if I mess with him, I crush you. I'm crushing it to ashes."

Sir William nodded in surprise. Even Krip felt the seriousness and coldness that spread through the threat of Jose. Boss seriously.

"Why are you? Is he your fiancee or what?" Sir William laughed, pulling Jose's hand from his collar. "I didn't come to fight, I told you just now. Just a greeting from the sweet Miss Garnet. He will be with me tonight, unable to keep your promise to play at the festival."

Jose frowned. He had no promises with Mary. He had even forgotten that today there was a city festival. But Jose is aware, the point Sir William wants to say is not that. The man just wanted to convey the threat, that Maria was with him. Sir William's eyes channeled a terrifying chill. The same coldness that Jose felt every time he saw Marco bring the workers home as a child.

Jose knew what that eye sight meant.

It is the eyes that have no mercy. There is no empathy. There is no love.

Those are empty eyes.

The eyes of a killer.

***

While Jose was away at Krip's shop, Marco had already called Rolan to discuss what they should do with Mr. Wallace's body.

Marco stood beside Rolan. His thick eyebrows furrowed at the doctor's question. "Of course we'll call the police. Then, what do you think we should say? That we tied Mr. Wallace to a chair, left him, then knew he was dead while our two workers fainted?"

"I don't mean a cop but Robby" said Rolan, correcting his sagging glasses. "People are gonna make a fuss knowing Mr. Wallace is missing."

"Every day there are always missing people in Bjork. No one will suspect."

"Sure, but he's gone after coming to see you." Rolan. "It definitely makes a difference."

Marco snorted, but did not reply. No one will be able to touch him, but that doesn't mean he's completely undropped. The trouble with Wallace made him very upset.

"He died alone, so why did you have to bury him?" Rolan asked. "You can call an ambulance. Calling police. Didn't you kill him?"

Marco shakes. "To be honest, there's something I want to prove, so he's a mutant near the house. After all bringing the police here would be troublesome. As long as no one asks, we'd better keep our mouths shut about Wallace."

Rolan laughing. "But the man knew Mr. Wallace was here. Sir William knows."

Marco was silent for a long time, then shook his head. "He won't say anything."

Rolan looked at Marco, seeing that the man was already deep in thought. He shook his head slowly, then sighed, returning his gaze to the photos on the table. "Unfortunately, the room has been cleaned. I really want to know what it's like."

"You have a picture in your hand."

"That's different. There are many things that can be found when watching in person. Photos can give false impressions. Photos can't give you a scent." Rolan rubbed his jaw. "You know, this is what distinguishes exact science from religion, right? Religion makes people believe before seeing firsthand. While facts require that we look before we believe."

Marco rolled his eyeballs. "To me, whose name believes it exists because it doesn't know. Because they do not know the certainty, then all that can be done is to believe. If you have seen it directly, you can no longer say about believing, but knowing. So the real sentence is: fact requires that we look before we know."

"Semantics," Rolan said unconcernedly.

"Language is about semantics" Marco said.

"You're saying, the voices only get louder when George knocks on the door?"

"That's what George said. Only he testified," Marco sighed.

"So why do you think he even amplified the sound of dings and destruction when George knocked on the door?" Rolan's digging up information. He flipped through the scattered photos, seeing that each photo was numbered in sequence. His eyes noticed the position of the broken vase on photo number one.

"He's looking for something, that's obvious." Marco rubbed his mustache. "The voices are the result of the circumstances he is trying to create. Camouflage. He must be trying to disguise what he's looking for."

"And what he's looking for is ...?"

"Of course the necklace."