After that, Mary asked Ben to seal the room and write everything in detail in the logbook while checking every corner...in case of handprints or hidden footprints or any single clue.
While Mary and Derin got out to question the neighbours…
"Aiish… can't these people at least die giving us a clue? A note, something," Derin complained, waving his arms like he was swatting invisible flies. "At least then we could give them justice, right? But these bastards die without telling anything and we end up checking even their bathrooms—"
"Shut up," Mary cut in. "It's what you're getting paid for."
"Yeah, yeah… I know...respectable chief," Derin grinned.
Why the damn hell is she always stepping on me? It's not like I'm wrong. The whole world's stupid. If I die, I'll write a damn 100-page book telling everything about me. Who knows—at least after death I might get famous, Derin thought while chewing on his gum..and giving a proud smile unconsciously.
Mary stepped on his foot. "Hey. Where are you lost? We're on duty, Inspector Derin. Stay focused."
"Yeah, yeah…" he waved her off, earning one of Mary's sharp stares before she moved on.
They stopped at House No. 22 and rang the bell.
DING DONG.
"Who is it?"
A middle-aged woman with brown hair and tired brown eyes opened the door. She wore a nightgown, and her pale face was framed by dark circles. She looked half-asleep—or maybe just exhausted from life.
Damn… I can't tell if she's young or old, Derin thought.
"Hello, ma'am. We're from the crime department—" Mary began showing her identity card.
"Hello." The woman bowed slightly. "What do you need? My husband isn't home, please… come back later," she said nervously.
Mary's eyes scanned her. Looks like a patriarchal house, from the looks she looks really overworked. But this isn't my department to check that out...aah let's focus on work,
"Madam, we're not looking for your husband," Mary said evenly. "We just want to ask you some questions about Drill Den, your neighbor in House 23. If you allow it."Mary said in a soft and respectful tone.
"…Ah. Please, come inside." She stepped back, letting them in.
She offered them the sofa and brought glasses of water.
What a decent house, Derin thought. Everything was spotless, nothing out of place, the kind of cleanliness that felt oppressive.
"Your house is beautiful," he blurted before catching himself. The woman rubbed her hands nervously and thanked him.
"About Drill ahh—what do you want to ask? Did something happen? He's a lovely kid.... sometimes he even comes to help me cleaning my home. My husband has OCPD, so if he finds a single speck of dirt, he gets aggressive and ahhh…so I have to clean three or four times a day so he always helped me with that."
What a bastard, Derin muttered.
Mary shot him a look sharp enough to slit throats. Derin read it perfectly: Shut your mouth.
Derin rubbed his hand as working for so long he understood each of her eye movements and the words conveyed by them properly.
The woman tried to break the awkward silence. "No, no, he's a good person. We've been married for many years. He loves me and takes care of our kids…"
"It's fine, miss," Mary said, then shot Derin a look that clearly said: Apologize.
"…Sorry, madam. I was just—caring. There are a lot of women who suffer like this."
"No, no, it's nothing." She waved it off. "What do you want to ask?"
Mary leaned forward. "You said Drill came here often to help you. When was the last time?"
"…About a week ago. I even visited him because I thought something was wrong. I brought him snacks—he likes donuts. But…"
"But?" Mary prompted.
"He seemed… sad and depressed. His eyes had big dark circles like he hadn't slept for days and he looked weak too...ah
I think it was because the girl who used to visit him stopped coming. He was happy when she use to visit him...she even worked in his cafe...but she left really a while ago..so after she stopped coming, he looked… lost and more depressed."
Mary exchanged a look with Derin.
"A girl? Do you remember what she looked like?"
"Red hair, green eyes, freckles on her face—she looked a pretty child. If you asked me, she might have been in her teens. I supported them, though a part of me resist the memory's pull as it was quite sad afterwards. They were happy—yes, but happiness like that can fade into something heavier, something you carry in your chest when you're not looking," she spoke, a fragile smile brushing her lips.
What happened..? Mary asked
ahh...they broke up I think...she stopped meeting with and him afterwards I never saw her...and Drill was getting sadder day by day...it really made me feel pain, as he was all alone.
Derin cut in. "Anyone else visit him? Any friends? Family?"
"No… Drill was an orphan. He opened a café after taking a bank loan. Few visitors use to come, mostly friends. I don't know much else."
Mary's thoughts churned. They might have been dating there is great possibility about that… but we need proof.
"Chief… I remember in the kitchen I saw some matching mugs and plates. I ignored them, thinking it was just a hobby. But maybe they lived together?"
Do they use to live together...?Mary asked the lady
Ahh..n-no they didn't and even they did it's possible I might not know.
Mary and Derin looked at each like processing something...she is hiding something possibly.
The woman's eyes flicked between them. Mary noticed. That hesitation was more than surprise—more like she was checking a mental list of what she was allowed to say.
"Derin, let's talk outside."
They stood. "Thank you, madam. If you have more info, please call." Mary handed her a card.
"…But why are you asking about Drill?" the woman asked, hesitant.
Mary's gaze softened. She hated delivering this kind of news, but she couldn't lie. "Drill committed suicide and we are investigating it."
The woman's face crumpled. "Wh-what? No… that's not possible. He wasn't like that...someone who will do that. He always aspired to live saying I will show everyone. There must be something else. Please… investigate properly I request you."
"We'll find the truth no matter what...don't worry," Mary promised.
The woman closed the door behind them, her hands trembling. She hadn't taken two steps before a voice spoke from the shadows.
"You did well."
She froze.
From the hallway, a man emerged, dressed in black. A pistol hung lazily from his hand—but it was pointed right at her chest.
"I hope you don't step out of line," he said, his tone calm and cold. "Or your whole family will die with you. And remember—the Boss's office does not appreciate loose ends."
Her breath hitched. She nodded quickly, eyes fixed on the floor.
"Good."
They stepped outside.
"About those cups… why the hell didn't you tell me sooner?" Mary snapped.
"I thought it was just a hobby," Derin shrugged.
Well...apart from that don't you think she is hiding something, if she was that close to him...she just talked from the upper surface...Mary pointed out.
Why didn't you ask her then..Derin grinned
You know why I didn't...it didn't looked like she was going to answer and she already looked bad, I can't force someone to give me information until they are a suspect.
"Well, whatever. Let's ask Ben to collect the matching dishes too and search if there are more things to prove they lived together...who know it might be a clue. Leaving that—what do you think?"
"I think he killed himself because of a breakup," Derin said. "Tch. That girl's a haunting ghost, killing everyone close to her."
Mary frowned. "Derin… I get Drill might've done it if they were dating. But what about Violeta? Kids don't kill themselves over losing a friend. And you remember that girl from before… And remember—this isn't just some breakup case Drill did suicide after Violeta it can't be just agony for seperation.
Damn… everything about this guy feels suspicious, Ben thought as he crouched by the kitchen counter. What a troublesome man. When's the chief coming back?
Footsteps echoed from the hallway.
"Ben, how's it going?" Mary's voice came from behind him.
"Ah—Chief," Ben straightened slightly. "How did it go out there?"
"It was fine. We got some clues, but nothing solid. According to the neighbor, Drill and Lyla might've been dating but from her words even she wasn't sure about that. Did you find anything that supports that?"
"Dating? Hm. He might have been, but Lyla Brojorn… I'm not sure."
Mary folded her arms. "What else did you find?"
Ben opened the half-shut cabinet fully. "You know… this place looks like someone else used to come here. Two sets of plates, and a huge stock of both Japanese matcha and European black coffee beans."
Derin frowned. "So what? Maybe he liked both."
Ben shook his head. "Matcha and coffee are really different. People might try both once, but to drink both regularly? That's unusual and he was a proper European, so I don't quite get it."
Derin snorted. "Yeah, or maybe he was an over-caffeinated samurai in the morning and a moody French poet at night. What's so suspicious about having taste?"
"Derin." Mary's tone sharpened. "If your job was trying to get on my nerves, you'd be employee of the year."
Ben gave a subtle smirk, then pulled out a plastic pouch containing a scrap of dark fabric. "Found this behind the wardrobe."
Mary turned it over in her hands. "It's just a piece of cloth. What about it?"
Leaning against the doorframe, Derin raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're turning every random thing into a clue now. Can't people own clothes without being accused of being suspicious and that too a dead?"
"Derin, enough," Mary said flatly. "You've been doing this job for years—act like it."
Derin shot her a look but stayed quiet.
Ben adjusted his glasses. "It's not just any cloth. It's from a European coat suit. Very expensive. According to Luther's intel, Drill was drowning in debt from the café."
Mary frowned. "So how could he afford something like that?"
"I can't even afford something like that with my salary," Ben muttered.
How much is it even...it's just a cloth isn't it?..Derin spoke in between.
Ben's tone stayed calm. "At the very least… ten million dollars."
Derin stopped mid-step and swallowed. "…Right...haha, Suddenly I feel poor in three different currencies."
"This is suspicious," Mary said, slipping the cloth into an evidence bag. "Send it to forensics. We'll see if anything comes up."
Ben sighed and gave a conclusion. "There's plenty that's suspicious… but in that annoying way where it could either make us look too paranoid, or not paranoid enough."
Mary sighed. "Perfect. Nothing like a case where the biggest clue is 'maybe'."