Chapter 8 The Evening Meal

Evening, eight o'clock, in the villa's dining room.

Apart from the maid, Oliver, all the other suspects were seated at either side of a long table. Officer Dumpty stood guard near the dining room door, his posture appearing casual but in reality closely monitoring everyone in the room.

The atmosphere in the dining room was very oppressive, with little conversation. Everyone sat there, lost in their own thoughts. Of course, this was normal... a brutal murder had just taken place under this roof. Apart from a weirdo like Feng Bujue, who could possibly maintain a good mood?

"The moonlight is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" Feng Bujue's figure appeared at the doorway, attracting everyone's attention. He seemed to be in high spirits, as if signaling to everyone that he had already found the true killer.

However... due to his previous behavior, the Lovecraft family didn't have a very good impression of this great detective. Although this guy's reasoning was clear, assertive, vivid, and serious... in the end, all his ridiculous slanders had very obvious loopholes, loopholes that ordinary people could see through at a glance and refute with a single sentence.

"It's a pity I don't have a mold, otherwise I'd make a batch of mooncakes for dessert," Feng Bujue said as he walked towards the dining table. He was also carrying a large paper bag that he didn't know where he got from under his arm, which seemed to be full of things.

Aunt Oliver pushed a small trolley into the dining room behind Jue-ge. The trolley had three tiers, and was already filled with dishes.

"Your kitchen is really nice, Mr. Lovecraft," Feng Bujue sat down in the seat directly opposite the host, and casually placed the paper bag he was holding under his chair. "I've been to some so-called 'high-end restaurants' that are all style and no substance. They have luxurious facades, luxurious dining environments, luxurious tableware, and luxurious prices. But the kitchen is a scene of filth and chaos... filled with all kinds of buzzing and crawling invertebrates, and the chefs are mostly undercover agents sent by those animals into the human race, because their only talent is to use their hands to create disgusting dark matter."

"If you want to use a compliment as a way to start a conversation..." Colson looked at Jue-ge coldly and replied, "Just say the first sentence, there's no need to take the opportunity to share your unpleasant past experiences with us."

While they were talking, Oliver had pushed the trolley to the side of the dining table. Since the tableware had already been set in advance, she started serving the dishes directly.

Henderson saw this and stood up from his chair, walking towards the trolley: "Let me help you, Oliver."

"No, sit down, Henderson." Jack quickly got up and came over, pressing the old butler back into his chair. This second young master was quite good to the servants in the family, and he was embarrassed to let an old man who had just fainted in the afternoon help serve the dishes.

Before long, a plate of appetizers had been placed in front of each person.

Feng Bujue obviously didn't intend to be polite with this family. Not only did he not get up to help, but he also grabbed the half-bottle of red wine placed in the middle of the table and poured himself a glass.

"Hmm... Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, 1985..." Feng Bujue took a sip, then picked up the wine bottle to look at the label, "Heh... life is full of surprises." He had really made a profit with this sip. In real life, this bottle of red wine could probably be exchanged for a gaming pod...

"Oh? Do you also know that winery?" Mrs. Odeta said, "My husband likes it very much too. We order a batch from there every year."

"Ah... I know it." Feng Bujue shrugged, "It's just... my financial conditions don't allow me to make bulk purchases from famous wineries in southeastern France every year... The only commodities I can stockpile in bulk are probably toilet paper and carbonated drinks."

"Oliver..." Miss Nancy on the other side of the table suddenly spoke, "Did you make this dish?" She looked at the things in the plate in front of her, her face showing a hint of doubt.

"No, Mr. Feng made all the dishes today." Oliver replied, and then pushed the trolley to prepare to go to the kitchen to get the soup. Usually, she, Barton, and Henderson ate separately from the master and madam. And Dr. Powell's home was in the town, and he usually went back before evening. Therefore, the situation of more than a dozen people gathering at a table for dinner today was quite rare.

"Oh?" Nancy turned to Feng Bujue and said, "I can't tell... you have this skill, this charcoal-grilled asparagus with salmon roe is already at a professional level, right? Compared to a detective, I think you're more suitable to be a cook."

While people were talking, Feng Bujue was adding red wine to his goblet, it seemed that he was not going to hand over the bottle in his hand to anyone before he finished drinking it, "There are many jobs I can do, this is nothing."

"Hum... a good cook will end up begging for food." Jack put a piece of asparagus in his mouth, judging from his attitude, he was obviously deliberately trying to pick a quarrel.

"There's my booger in your plate." Feng Bujue only took a second to calmly utter a very lethal sentence.

Jack's expression changed drastically, he coughed and choked, nearly choking to death.

"Hehe... just kidding." Feng Bujue said two seconds later, "The plates are randomly placed on the trolley, and you distributed them yourself, how could this kind of thing be possible."

"You..." Jack wanted to curse a little, but at this table... there were elders and ladies. He really couldn't lose his temper, so he could only wipe his mouth with a napkin and swallow his anger.

"See, my analytical ability is still very convincing, right?" Feng Bujue laughed.

"Alright, Mr. Feng." Colson said, "Let's stop with the clowning." He stared at Jue-ge, "You restricted our freedom with the police officers, and claimed that you knew who the murderer was, but you have been slow to say it." He took a breath, "Odeta said that you went to the kitchen to help more than an hour ago, I thought you were just using the reason of helping to ask her and Oliver questions, I didn't expect you to really be cooking... what exactly do you want to do?"

"Hehe... want to do what?" Feng Bujue picked up his knife and fork and began to eliminate the appetizers in front of him, "You're asking the obvious, Mr. Lovecraft." He chewed on the asparagus, making a clicking sound, not minding showing the food in his mouth when he spoke, "Everyone here... isn't expecting a detective show? Ha... don't worry, the great detective Feng Bujue will not let you down, I will now present a good show."