Seeing the strange expressions of Detective Louis and the surrounding officers, William immediately understood that this idiot was suspecting him. After listening to Sunday's quiet report in his earpiece, William put on a displeased expression, his face dark as he spoke.
"If I tell you that it was Charles who brought the Spitz couple to my house, will you accuse me of lying? Do you think I hired the Spitz couple to kill Marco, Toby, Sergei, Susie, and even Charles, who's currently lying in a hospital bed?
"Would you then have your officers here take over 'protecting' Charles, wait for him to wake up, and have him point a finger at me?"
Louis froze, startled. Before coming to the hospital, this was exactly what he had been thinking. But having his thoughts so easily read and called out left him feeling embarrassed and angry.
Uninterested in the petty historical grudges between the English (John Bulls) and the French (Gauls), William took out his phone and instructed Sunday, "Play the footage of my meeting with the Spitz couple."
As the light beam from the phone displayed the footage, Louis watched in surprise. It was clear from the video that the Spitz couple had been brought to meet William by Charles, not the other way around. Reluctantly, Louis offered a stiff apology.
"Apologies, Mr. Devonshire."
Waving dismissively to cut Louis off, William asked, "Spare me the apologies. What I want to know is why you suspect the Spitz couple of murdering Susie and Sergei."
Looking at William's calm expression, Louis remembered that this man wasn't just any ordinary person—he was a super-rich and influential figure. If William decided to involve himself in the investigation, he might uncover evidence beyond what the police could reach.
"The Spitz couple has disappeared. That makes us suspect they went into hiding after committing the murders."
"You suspect them just because they've been out of sight for a few hours? What if they're being hunted as well?"
"That's certainly possible," Louis admitted with a nod, but then he shook his head. "However, we have reason to believe they're hiding something. Nick Spitz lied to us, claiming he was a detective in New York. But his actual rank is that of a patrol sergeant, and patrol sergeants have no authority to handle criminal investigations."
William raised an eyebrow at that. Lying to the French police was a clear example of Nick's recklessness—it was the kind of mistake that could land him in serious trouble.
Meanwhile, the Spitz couple was in the back of a taxi, heading toward Lake Como in Italy.
Three hours earlier, after being questioned by the French police, they had returned to their hotel room. Just minutes later, as they were discussing who the real killer might be, they were interrupted by a knock at the door.
Nick had started toward the door to open it but stopped short when he saw an envelope being slipped under the door.
"F***, what is this?" he muttered, staring at the envelope. The gunfire they'd heard earlier, coupled with his twenty years of police experience, immediately made him suspicious. Nick pressed himself against the wall, staying out of the line of fire in case someone was aiming a gun at the door.
After waiting a few minutes without any further movement, he cautiously picked up the envelope. Inside was a note with a simple message: "Come to Room 808."
"808? That's just a few doors down from us," Nick said. Audrey, who had come over to look, asked, "Nick, should we go?"
After thinking it over for a moment, Nick said, "You stay here, lock the door, and let me check it out alone."
"No way!" Audrey immediately refused. "I'm not staying here alone. What if someone's trying to separate us?"
Nick hesitated. "But what if it's a trap?"
Audrey considered this possibility before grabbing a small camcorder from their suitcase. "You go in first, and I'll record from behind. If it's a trap, the footage will prove we were innocent."
"Smart thinking, honey." Nick kissed Audrey on the cheek before grabbing a heavy brass lamp from the room to use as a weapon. Together, they cautiously headed to Room 808.
Nick knocked on the door. After waiting several seconds without a response, he began pounding on it with his fist, shouting, "Who's there? What do you want?"
Still no response. Audrey reached for the doorknob and gave it a twist. To their surprise, the door opened immediately.
Rolling her eyes at her husband, Audrey gestured with her head for Nick to go in first. She stayed just outside the doorway, holding the camcorder in one hand and aiming it into the room.
After filming for about ten seconds and seeing that Nick still hadn't entered, she grumbled, "For God's sake, Nick, stop being such a coward."
"It's easy for you to say when you're not the one going in," Nick muttered under his breath. After a sharp glare from Audrey, he reluctantly stepped into the room, gripping the brass lamp tightly.
"We're coming in! We're coming in!" Nick shouted as he cautiously advanced.
The room wasn't large. After doing a full sweep and finding no one, Nick called out, "There's no one here!"
Hearing this, Audrey finally relaxed and stepped into the room. But as she walked past the bathroom, she was suddenly shoved from behind by Marco's bodyguard, Sergei, who had been hiding inside.
Nick quickly caught Audrey before she could fall, but as he raised the lamp to strike Sergei, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
"Don't move. I don't want to hurt you," Sergei said, his voice calm but firm.
With a gun aimed at his head, Nick wisely dropped the lamp and backed away.
Sergei closed the door and locked it, but he failed to notice a pair of eyes watching him intently from a nearby corner of the hallway.
"Easy, man. Easy," Nick said, holding his hands defensively in front of his chest while keeping Audrey behind him.
"This is a hotel, buddy," Nick continued, trying to reason with Sergei. "And this is your room. If you fire that gun, you're not getting out of here."
"Shut up, Yank," Sergei snapped. He pointed to the bed. "Sit down. If you weren't outsiders, I'd have beaten you both to a pulp by now."
After putting the gun away, Sergei gestured for them to sit. Relieved, Nick and Audrey sat on the edge of the bed while Sergei remained seated a few feet away.
Sergei's gaze landed on the camcorder in Audrey's hand. Nick noticed and was about to tell Audrey to turn it off, but Sergei spoke first.
"Keep recording if you want," Sergei said indifferently. "It's better to leave evidence behind. Otherwise, I might end up like Charles Cavendish—dead without leaving a single clue behind."
His words brought back the vivid memory of Charles lying on the floor, his chest drenched in blood after being shot hours earlier. Both Nick and Audrey fell silent.
Breaking the silence, Sergei turned to Nick. "So, Yank, are you sure Charles is dead?"
Nick nodded grimly. "He's as good as dead. A single bullet pierced his chest, going straight through his heart. Blood was gushing out of both the entry and exit wounds. You weren't there, but trust me—no one survives that."
Sergei, who had once been a special operative in Russia before becoming Marco's bodyguard, understood the slim survival odds of such a wound. He lowered his head in thought for several minutes.
Just as Nick and Audrey were growing impatient, Sergei looked up and said, "I don't know who killed Charles, but I do have a good idea who one of Marco's killers might be."
"Who?" Nick immediately stood up, eager for answers.
"Colonel Uranga."
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American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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