Chapter 210: One Wave Subsides Only for Another to Rise: The Widow's Bizarre Plea for Help!
The courthouse.
"Want to come over to my place for dinner tonight?"
Captain Randy Disher sincerely invited everyone.
"Let's skip it."
Chandler shook his head, self-deprecatingly adding, "I'm like your kryptonite; forcing us together won't bring happiness~"
"Why?"
Captain Randy Disher, as always, 'focused on the key question,' not dwelling on Chandler's sarcastic tone, but directly asking what puzzled him.
"..."
Chandler's lips twitched, jumping up and pointing at Randy's naturally clueless face, shouting, "That's why!"
"Okay."
Captain Randy Disher couldn't follow Chandler's logic, and somewhat disappointedly looked toward Chuck and Jane.
"No."
Chuck shook his head.
"Next time."
Jane was much more tactful.
"Alright then."
Captain Randy Disher gave a resigned smile, clearly disappointed. "I've already told Sharona about the dinner party tonight. Dr. Wolfe and Monk are very similar, and Sharona and Monk were really close. She was thrilled to hear Dr. Wolfe was coming. I think I've messed things up again and will disappoint her again..."
"...Chuck!"
Jane looked at Captain Randy Disher, a middle-aged man who seemed to be intentionally or unintentionally displaying a look of disappointment and self-blame. Speechless, she could only look at Chuck, signaling with her eyes for him to agree.
She was actually willing to go to the dinner party that night, but she declined because she wanted to follow Chuck's lead. Otherwise, if she agreed and Chuck didn't go, Captain Randy Disher would definitely press for a reason, and if Chuck bluntly said, 'I could go, but I don't want to,' it would be too hurtful.
Chuck looked at her without speaking.
"..."
Jane's expression darkened, staring at Chuck with disbelief. Seeing Chuck remain calm and show no shame or embarrassment, and listening to Captain Randy Disher's incessant self-pity, she interrupted irritably, "Alright, we'll go tonight."
"Really?"
Captain Randy Disher looked at her with surprise.
"We're going?"
Chandler looked at Jane, puzzled.
"Yes! Everyone's going!"
Jane said decisively.
Chandler looked at Chuck.
"Yes."
Chuck nodded.
"Going!"
Chandler said with a self-deprecating joke, "The boss has spoken."
Jane glared at him, annoyed. She realized that the "boss" Chandler referred to wasn't Chuck, but her!
But how could he understand what she had sacrificed to become the boss who made the final decision?
"Great!"
Captain Randy Disher didn't care about any of that. Seeing everyone change their minds, he happily picked up his phone and called his wife to confirm the dinner.
Then he received another call. After hanging up, he waved his phone at everyone and laughed, "Got another work call. See you tonight?"
He started to walk out.
"You have to give us the address,"
Chandler reminded him.
"Oh right!"
Captain Randy Disher slapped his forehead, realizing his mistake. He took out a notepad and pen from his pocket, looked at them, and gestured for Chandler to turn around so he could use Chandler's back as a writing surface.
"Oh my God!"
Chandler, watching Randy repeatedly gesturing for him to turn around and offer his back, couldn't help but exclaim: "Are you sure Sharona is actually a woman?"
"Of course!"
Captain Randy Disher, as always, ignored the sarcasm in Chandler's words, writing the address on a piece of paper against Chandler's back as he awkwardly turned around, while laughing: "Sharona is a wonderful woman, she's my dream girl."
After writing one, he tore it off and then looked at Chuck and Jane asking: "Do you need me to write two more?"
"No need, you can just tell us."
Jane reminded him: "Not to mention Chuck won't forget anything, even we can remember an address, right?"
"Why didn't you say so earlier!"
Chandler was stunned, then jumped up.
"I know you enjoy this."
Jane said flatly.
"Oh, right."
Captain Randy Disher also suddenly realized, then put the notepad away and left.
"..."
Chandler's lips twitched. He watched the clueless Randy get into the patrol car before finally yelling, "Your address!!!"
Even if you know we can remember your address after hearing it once, you should at least say it first!
"Oh, oh!"
Captain Randy Disher finally reacted, apologetically rolling down his window to shout out his address before driving away, leaving Chandler scratching his head, looking exasperated.
On a bridge.
"Officer, what's going on?"
Captain Randy Disher drove up and saw two cars that had collided in the middle of the bridge, one almost completely crushed by the other. He asked the patrol officer who had first spotted the accident and called him.
"Captain, car accident. Three adults are dead, but two little girls are completely unharmed. It's a miracle."
The patrol officer described the scene to the captain, then pointed to the two little girls beside the crash site and sighed, "But they probably don't think so."
Captain Randy Disher followed the officer's gaze and saw a blonde girl, about eight or nine years old, wearing a dress, standing there blankly, seemingly in shock. Another girl, also about eight or nine years old, with dark hair in braids and wearing a dress with a bow at the collar, stared at the blonde girl with strangely hostile eyes.
"Have you contacted their families?"
Captain Randy Disher asked as he walked over to examine the scene, ruling out the possibility of foul play.
"Not yet."
The patrol officer explained, "The blonde little girl's name is Elizabeth—Beth for short. She comes from a single-parent family and lives with her mother. Her mother appears to have a PhD in mathematics, but she's been essentially homeless, probably suffering from mental health issues."
"Poor kid."
Captain Randy Disher, finding no signs of foul play and determining it was just an accident, shifted his attention to feeling sorry for the little girl.
"She is indeed unfortunate,"
the patrol officer said oddly, "but compared to her, the little girl with the dark braids seems even more unlucky."
"How so?"
Captain Randy Disher asked, puzzled.
"Her name is Esther, no last name,"
the patrol officer said in a low voice, "She just came from the Saarne Institute—it's an orphanage—and was being adopted by this couple. I never expected she'd encounter something like this before even getting home... If word gets out about this, I'm afraid no one will want to adopt her anymore."
"I see."
Captain Randy Disher's eyes widened, acknowledging the patrol officer's point that the little girl with the dark braids, Esther, was indeed more unfortunate.
"Have you contacted the orphanage?"
"Yes, we have."
The patrolman nodded. "They're on their way. Saarne Institute specializes in girls; they should be able to take them both in."
Captain Randy Disher nodded and said nothing more. This kind of thing was all too common in America, where drunk driving was rampant. His responsibility was to determine if it was an accident, and once it was confirmed to be just an accident, the rest was no longer his concern.
He casually mentioned it at dinner that evening, and Jane and the others had only remarked on it briefly before moving on.
Chuck didn't say anything. He had specifically investigated the Saarne Institute, a charitable institution near Summit, and compared to other institutions that frequently had problems, it was a very reputable and reliable facility.
The only concern was that, like other facilities in the state, it followed state policy, implementing a medication protocol and distributing psychiatric medications to the children.
On one hand, it was similar to a psychiatric facility; medications kept the children calm and easier to manage.
On the other hand, it was naturally a result of the state's lenient approach to pharmaceuticals and the vigorous lobbying of pharmaceutical companies.
As for the serious consequences of giving children psychotropic drugs from a young age?
Sorry, these were orphans; nobody cared!
However, after Chuck learned about this, he went to great lengths to expose the matter, sparking public outcry, and also donated money. With this two-pronged approach, all facilities near Summit, including the Saarne Institute, stopped distributing unnecessary medications to the children.
The atmosphere at Captain Randy Disher's dinner party was very pleasant.
Jane initially felt some regret and thought it wasn't worth it. After all, to appease the naive Captain Randy Disher, she knew she had to sacrifice a lot just by looking at Chuck's silent response.
Fortunately, it wasn't a world of difference between 1 and 0, just a difference between 3 and 1.
And after arriving and meeting Captain Disher's wife, Sharona, and having a good conversation, she felt she had gained a lot, and her mood improved considerably.
She couldn't help it!
Hearing from Sharona how she had served as Detective Monk's assistant for several years, helping the severely obsessive-compulsive man navigate daily life, gave her a lot of insight.
Although Chuck seemed relatively normal, that was just a facade, a result of his self-control. In essence, Detective Chuck and Detective Monk were remarkably similar.
The difference that disappointed Jane the most was that Chuck couldn't be as devoted as Detective Monk, especially with Detective Monk truly embodying the concept of "one love for life." Chuck's insistence on "experiments" only made Jane feel more helpless.
That night, back at the hillside villa to pay the price, before falling into a deep sleep, Jane couldn't help but murmur, "Will I be your Trudy?"
"I'm not Monk!"
Chuck said honestly and calmly.
Detective Monk's lifelong beloved wife was named Trudy. Everything revolved around Trudy, and he hoped everyone could find their own Trudy.
"Who's Trudy?"
came Monica's curious voice from the other side. "And who's Monk?"
Chuck didn't hide anything and directly told Monica the story of Detective Monk and his Trudy. Then Monica burst into tears, unable to stop.
Her emotions were suddenly overwhelming; the usual analytical approach no longer applied, and even Chuck couldn't figure out exactly why Monica was crying at that moment.
A few weeks later.
Leonard stared intently at the screen, holding his phone, and said with a wry smile, "Did I lose again?"
"Checkmate in five moves,"
Chuck's voice came through the phone. "You've improved."
"But it's still not enough,"
Leonard lamented. "Sheldon always looks down on me for not being able to beat him at chess. My birthday is coming up soon, and because I gave him a gift last time—even though I was being sarcastic—he didn't understand that. So this time he insisted on buying me something of equal value. Fine, he bought it, but he doesn't like surprises at all, so he didn't give me one. He just told me what it was! Do you know what it is?"
Before Chuck could speak, Leonard blurted out angrily, "Modern Chess Openings! I told him I didn't need this kind of beginner's book, but he said he thought I needed it, and that it was the most appropriately equal birthday gift he could give! Damn it! This is blatant mockery! It's infuriating!"
Sheldon disliked birthdays and even more so, giving and receiving gifts. If he had to accept one, he considered it an unavoidable social obligation, emphasizing the importance of reciprocity.
When Leonard gave him the little snowman last Christmas, he said, "This was my dad's favorite decoration."
But what he really meant was, "This is my dad's favorite decoration, but he's the parent I resent the most. And you remind me of my mom's favoritism, which I hate even more!"
Young Sheldon didn't understand the subtext; he only took the surface-level explanation. It was a gift Leonard had carefully selected, thinking he would appreciate it.
So this time, to reciprocate properly, he meticulously prepared a gift he thought Leonard would like and that he needed most: "Modern Chess Openings"!
He genuinely thought Leonard was terrible at chess, so he genuinely felt Leonard needed this to improve.
But for Leonard, this unintentional mockery had maximum effect.
At their school, he was the top player in the chess club!
"Then work harder and beat him!"
Chuck encouraged. "Your IQ isn't much lower than his, and his emotional control is even worse. His talent in chess is also fairly limited. As long as I'm your practice partner, you can beat him if you work hard enough."
"Fairly limited talent, huh..."
Leonard smiled helplessly. "For you, that's true."
He clearly remembered the first time Chuck and Sheldon played chess. Sheldon was so frustrated by his loss that he demanded Chuck come back for a rematch. Chuck didn't come in person, but he immediately started a video call. After only a few moves, Chuck's analytical gaze almost made Sheldon cry.
Just as Sheldon was about to touch a piece, Chuck immediately announced how many moves it would take to checkmate him. Sheldon thought for a long time and prepared to change his move. When he reached for another piece, Chuck didn't even look at the board. He just stared directly into Sheldon's eyes and announced how many moves it would take to checkmate him.
Sheldon was unconvinced and made the move anyway, which proved that Chuck was absolutely right.
After several rounds, under Chuck's watchful eye, Sheldon's hand hovered in the air, moving back and forth, but he couldn't seem to find a good move. Unsurprisingly, he finally burst into tears, ending the game.
To Chuck, Sheldon's talent was indeed limited, though Sheldon also had similar advantages over Leonard.
"You can lack confidence in yourself,"
Chuck's voice remained calm, "but you must have faith in my judgment. If I say you can do it, you can."
"Of course I believe in your judgment!"
Leonard quickly said, "I'm just afraid I'll improve too slowly... and take up too much of your time."
"Don't worry, I can multitask; it won't affect me at all,"
Chuck said.
"Okay... thank you, Chuck,"
Leonard said, deeply moved.
"Beating him is the best way to thank me,"
Chuck said bluntly.
This was the truth, because young Sheldon would definitely figure out why Leonard had beaten him, and then Chuck would surely reap double the satisfaction.
"Right!"
Young Leonard, of course, didn't know the real reason; he only thought Chuck was being exceptionally kind to him as always, and his lips involuntarily curled into a wide grin.
"Playing chess again?"
Jane, seeing Chuck talking on his phone, couldn't help but complain after he hung up: "If you like playing so much, why don't you compete against professional chess players and win an international championship? Is it fun to bully a kid?"
She knew Chuck had a peculiar enjoyment in challenging young Sheldon.
"It's fun,"
Chuck said honestly: "Winning an international championship against professional chess players would be pointless."
"..."
Jane's lips twitched. She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she felt she heard a hint of 'I'm not singling anyone out, but professional chess players are all beneath me'?
She admitted that Chuck was incredibly skilled, but chess is fundamentally a game of intellect. Professional chess players, especially world champions, are also incredibly intelligent, and they are all specialists. In the world of chess, it's really hard to say definitively who is superior!
Yeah!
It must be her imagination!
"Dr. Wolfe, someone's here to see you."
The two were talking in the inner office when Helen called from the outer office. After getting Chuck's permission, she opened the door. Behind her stood a heavyset woman who looked at Chuck: "Detective Chuck, my husband is going to kill someone. I need your help."
"Ma'am, please sit down and tell us what's going on."
Jane noticed the woman's distressed expression and quickly helped her sit down. "How do you know this?"
"He told me. He's been talking about it constantly. He says his plan is flawless, foolproof, and that he'll never be caught,"
the heavyset woman said.
"Did he say who he's planning to kill?"
Jane asked in surprise. "And you should have called the police directly. Why are you coming to Chuck?"
"Because he said the person he's going to kill is me,"
the heavyset woman said with a bitter smile.
"..."
Jane felt like she must be hearing things, and said uncertainly, "Ma'am, I might have misheard. You said your husband planned to kill you and told you about it to your face?"
"Yes."
The heavyset woman smiled bitterly. "You heard correctly. He kept repeating to me that he had a perfect plan to kill me."
"So you came here hoping Chuck would save you."
Jane suddenly understood.
"No."
The heavyset woman shook her head. "No one can save me. I came here to ask Detective Chuck to help me get justice after I'm dead."
Jane: "..."
(End of Chapter)
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