Chapter 7 Start With Myself

"Hold on." Suddenly, Jack spoke up, "I've heard enough of your unreliable reasoning." He looked at Feng Bujue and said, "You've basically accused everyone here of being the murderer, haven't you?" He raised his arm and pointed, "Before you falsely accuse another innocent person, I want you to explain how you can clear your own suspicion? How do we know... you're not using the guise of a detective, and assisting the police to solve the case as a pretext to frame someone else?"

"Heh... good question." Feng Bujue replied, then smiled without saying anything, leaving Jack hanging.

After a brief silence, Brother Jue turned his head and said to the two police officers, "Detective Schofield, Officer Dumpty, please sit down and eat. Look, I've prepared your portions too. Aren't they already on the table?"

"Uh... this..." Schofield and Dumpty looked at each other.

These two were indeed hungry, and there were several empty seats at the long table. After hesitating for a few seconds, they politely took their seats.

"Hey! Don't change the subject! Answer my question!" Jack said again.

"Indeed," Corston added, "I also want to ask you, where do you come from? And how can you prove that you are not the murderer? Earlier in the study, you spoke harshly and avoided my questions. Now, in front of everyone, can you please explain?"

Just as the atmosphere became tense, Aunt Oliver returned from the kitchen with the soup this time.

At this critical moment, no one got up to help. Every pair of eyes at the dining table was looking at Feng Bujue, wanting to hear his response.

While taking the soup bowl from Oliver, Brother Jue said comfortably, "It seems... you still haven't understood the meaning of my questions. It doesn't matter, I'll demonstrate it again."

Then, he began a shocking narrative: "I believe... the murderer who killed Dennis Lovecraft is me—Feng Bujue!" The tone he used to say this line was exactly the same as when he targeted others...

"Wow... is he having a split personality... why am I not surprised at all..." Officer Schofield thought to himself.

The others at the table basically had the same thought. Even Aunt Oliver, who was serving the soup, stopped and looked at Brother Jue with the eyes of someone looking at a lunatic.

"Ms. Oliver, the soup won't taste good if it gets cold." Feng Bujue turned his head and said, "Don't mind what I'm saying, please continue serving the dishes."

"Uh... okay... okay," Oliver replied woodenly.

"As for the motive..." Feng Bujue gently stirred the soup in front of him, continuing from what he had just said, "Maybe I was asked to do it..." He tasted a spoonful of the Marseilles fish soup in his bowl, "Hmm... the taste of the Mediterranean is dancing on my tongue, hoo hoo..." He blew away a little bit of the heat and drank several more spoonfuls.

"Mr... Mr. Feng..." Schofield couldn't turn a deaf ear to these words, "You're joking, right?"

"Isn't it interesting?" Feng Bujue smiled, "If a person says something extremely unfavorable to themselves in an unusually calm tone, others will be confused." He paused, "Detective, you already have an idea who the murderer is, don't you? Please don't question the conclusion you've already reached because of my few words."

"Uh... okay," Schofield replied, wiping his sweat with a napkin, thinking: Indeed... Mr. Feng always looks nonchalant when he's talking nonsense. It's impossible to judge the truth from his expression and tone. The famous detective is amazing, mixing truth and falsehood, profound and unpredictable...

"Where was I... oh right, motive." Feng Bujue continued, "There's one thing that can't be denied no matter what, and that is that Dennis and I had no contact before today. Even if you check it repeatedly, the result won't change.

"So... the possible motives for murder that can be established on me are as follows. First, Dennis and I hated each other at first sight, and I disliked him for no reason. He kindly offered me a ride, but I secretly harbored murderous intentions and wanted to kill him." He ate a few more mouthfuls of the soup and continued, "Second, I'm a perverted killer myself. There's basically no reason for me to kill. It's just out of interest and pleasure, or I just treat it as an after-dinner activity or something." He raised his eyes and glanced around at everyone, satisfied with their expressions, "It seems that the first two are not very convincing, but the possibility of the third one seems greater."

Feng Bujue leaned back in his chair and spread his hands, "Maybe I'm a professional killer." He pointed to the dishes on the table with the spoon in his hand, "As you can see, I'm a versatile person. Compared to a chef, the professional connection between a killer and a detective... seems to be stronger, doesn't it?" He smiled, "As long as the physical conditions allow, an excellent detective can mostly become an excellent criminal. Although I myself prefer a position like a criminal consultant, but a professional killer... why not?"

"Yeah, pretty cool." Miss Nancy suddenly interjected, obviously, she had understood what Feng Bujue was doing, so... everyone should talk nonsense together.

"Heh..." Feng Bujue smiled at her, then continued, "So, I, this professional killer, took action. I found out about Dennis's whereabouts in advance and ambushed him in the mountains, on his inevitable route.

"What do you think of the plan to 'put some obstacles in the middle of the road, and take advantage of him stopping the car, rush out with a mask and shoot him'? No! I won't do that. I decided to disguise myself as a car accident victim, and then strike after getting close.

"Then what do you think I should do? Put on a fake beard or something to disguise myself, hide a gun in my pocket, and shoot him directly on the highway while he gets out of the car to talk to me? Then I would be too lame and simply insult my professional name.

"I have to follow him to this villa... In a place with many people and eyes, let as many people as possible see my appearance, remember my name, and then look for an opportunity that may come at any time to take him..."

"Enough!" Corston interrupted, "Your point is already clear, there's no need to continue."

"You were the ones who interrupted, and you were the ones who couldn't listen anymore." Feng Bujue glanced at Jack maliciously again, "Originally, I might have been able to finish speaking when the raspberry vinaigrette sesame leaf salad and pan-fried bacon tender chicken rolls with fig puree came up, but now... ha... I guess I won't be able to finish speaking until the dessert comes up."

On the surface, Brother Jue was confronting the father and son arrogantly, but in reality, he was very grateful to them.

"Indeed... people can't do without a few enemies... thanks for helping me get through another chapter." He thought to himself.