I am creating a esoteric religion in London

Chapter 152 Speechless
Early in the morning, the sky is not yet bright.

The veritable Fog has just experienced a night of blizzards, and now the hard-frozen soil is covered with a thick layer of gray snow, as if the haze and dark clouds in the sky have settled down to the ground.

Big Ben, which also has the mission of protecting the Virgin Queen, has just struck six.Douglas, who had gained fame for solving several murder cases in succession in recent days, yawned and walked into the blackened sailing and tobacco tavern.

Originally, he should not be responsible for this case, but since Mr. Grayson has been promoted, and Mr. Lestrade is busy with other vicious cases, the murder case that caused a total of 13 deaths fell to him. On the head—all this is due to his recent achievements in solving murder cases. While his reputation was revealed, he also attracted some unnecessary jealousy, so those stingy and incompetent guys all elected him to be in charge of the case.

But Douglas had already heard the name of the Sailboat and Tobacco Tavern, and he knew that it was the property of the Burton Brothers-it was obviously a vicious struggle between gangs.

He walked around the charred corpses and charcoal wood blocking the way, and took out his newly bought pipe from his arms—he liked the feeling of using a pipe to taste nicotine very much recently, as if in the rising smoke after puff, He was also able to see the essence of things through that smoke.

Douglas struck a match with his boots, lit the tobacco in the bowl, and took a deep bite from the cigarette holder. The familiar bitter taste of tobacco flooded into his mouth, filled his lungs, and made his spirit tremble. vibration.

He squinted his eyes and carefully looked at the scene of the tragedy in front of him. At the first sight, he immediately noticed the three charred corpses lying in front of the bar. Even if they had been smoked and turned into half-coke, it was difficult to cover up their original robust figure. ——It seems that these are the low-level thugs who are in charge of watching the scene.

But at the same time, he also noticed the circular bullet hole in the center of the foreheads of the three charred corpses. Even though the three had stood in different positions and had different heights, the bullet hole could always hit them precisely. center of the frontal bone.

Douglas didn't even need to use a ruler to measure, he knew that the three bullet holes must be in the center of the three frontal bones, and the distance between the two ears was almost exactly the same!

"The murderer was a sharpshooter."

Douglas first made such a judgment, but unfortunately, as the most advanced and developed city in the world, the current Fog City hides many capable men, and the masters with such precise marksmanship are more powerful than his ten fingers. So many, he couldn't guess which gang's senior thug it was for a while.

Is that Shelby from the Bathers?It is said that he is a war hero who retired from the army, and it is not unusual to have such precise marksmanship.

Or Chen's unbraided killer squad?I heard that those guys are from a certain fanatical organization in the far east. They are good at burning, destroying, and killing all living things. They are simply an extremely dangerous assassination army!

Or the siblings from the Black Crow Gang?But I heard that they never liked to use firearms and firearms, especially that Jacob—it is said that he is cruel and irritable by nature, and he likes to use metal knuckles to break the enemy's bones inch by inch, savoring the crunching sound .

Or is it……

Douglas had many suspicious targets in his mind. After all, the Burton Brothers had made too many enemies in the city, and any gang could take such revenge on them.

By the way, why do we, Scotland Yard, care about the fighting between these gang members? !Wouldn't it be nice to just let them beat each other up, and London would be a bit cleaner - instead of investigating the deaths of these gang members, I might as well go back and read this week's new Illustrated London News.

But complaints are nothing but complaints, and the work must continue—at least the superficial work must continue—Douglas exhaled two thick green smoke from his nostrils, and then walked to the source of the fire, the back kitchen of the tavern.

As soon as he came in, he smelled the particularly strong smell of barbecue, like fried and stewed mixed vegetables on the street.

The narrow kitchen was originally full of all kinds of ingredients, but now they are all roasted, mixed with the stench of corpses, unscrupulously drilled into his nostrils, even the smell of tobacco can't cover up the smell A nasty and savory complex smell.

He looked at the three round, pitch-black ball-like heads scattered on the ground, and saw that the cracks in the scorched necks were unusually smooth.

Such a neat planar incision can only be made with a clean cut - the murderer is either an extremely muscular hunk, or possesses an exceptionally sharp weapon.

Douglas is more inclined to think that the murderer is a burly, strong and experienced swordsman with a sharp blade, but if it is inferred from this line of thinking, it seems that the only suspect left is Jacob of the Black Crow Gang - the other party is rumored to be good at Use all melee weapons, all weapons, whether it's a cane, tomahawk, machete, or even a two-handed greatsword!

In a certain urban legend, someone claimed to have seen Jacob single-handedly charged into a gang stronghold with dozens of guards in his hand, holding two sharp hatchets, and killed the man covered in blood before coming out of the thick black smoke. When it was time, it was like a berserker in Viking mythology who became more and more courageous!
But Douglas once conducted a careful investigation on this matter, and found that the source of this urban legend all came from what I heard. Uncertain statement.

He knew that this incident must be just a simple urban legend—hehe, how could it be possible that someone could kill dozens of guards with real guns and ammunition just by relying on two hatchets?Even the fleeting monster I met before couldn't resist the shooting of dozens of people in turn, right? !
But if it is said, whether someone can cut off the neck of a human being with a single knife - this statement is completely believed by Douglas. He was born in a family of blacksmiths, and he has been helping to make some swords, axes, halberds and other weapons for his family since he was a child. , he once witnessed a mighty and majestic customer who easily cut off a big tree with the thickness of an adult's waist while trying a knife. At that time, he was so scared that he hid in bed and cried all night After all, when I was a child, I liked to enjoy the shade under that tree the most.

However, that customer's ability to accomplish such a feat so easily seems to be inseparable from the weapons he forged at home--the old man seems to have mastered some kind of forging secret that has been passed down from ancient times to the present.

Every time he forges weapons for those mysterious customers, when he completes the important process of hammering, beating and quenching, he hides in the secret room alone to complete it. What Qi's kid should know - this stubborn father is even wary of his own son!

Douglas touched his new beard, which felt thick, hard and prickly.

After he scanned the scene thoroughly, he didn't seem to be able to find any other suspicious points—the safe upstairs was also forcibly broken open. Obviously, while the murderer was eradicating his opponent by the way, he still had a black hole. thought.

He went back downstairs and looked at the sparse crowd of onlookers. These were gamblers without regular jobs, and they must have been frequent visitors of this sailing and tobacco tavern in the past.

So Douglas cleared his throat and asked loudly, "When the murder happened last night, did anyone see the murderer's appearance?!"

But when the group of gamblers heard the question, they turned their heads to look at a guy leaning against the wall next to him with his head bowed. After getting a nod from the other party, they said in a hurry:
"Yes, yes, I saw it last night. The murderer was very tall. He was eight feet tall and four feet wide at the shoulders. His arms were thicker than my thighs, and the palm holding the gun was bigger than my head. Even bigger—it’s a little giant!!!”

"I saw it too. The murderer is tall and big, and his complexion is as black as coal. He must be those Nekos from Africa!!!"

"Fart your mother, talk nonsense, although the murderer is wearing a mask, I can clearly see that the skin around his eyes is white - the murderer is obviously a white man!"

"You know what the hell, that's the war makeup of the Africans. They like to smear some white paint on their faces when killing people. It can also be used to frighten prey in ancient times. Do you know history? ah?!!"

Listening to the nonsense of this group of people, Douglas was even more speechless-I might as well go back and read this week's new "Illustrated London News"!

However, the noisy crowd suddenly quieted down, and saw a low-key luxury carriage driving from the street that obviously did not belong to East London.

The four-seater carriage stopped in front of the tavern, and a cool and beautiful lady came out of the carriage.

The history-knowledgeable gambler immediately shouted, "My God, it's Miss Sherlock Holmes!!!"

(End of this chapter)