There's definitely something wrong with this murder mystery game Chapter 159 Chapter 155 Serial Shark Offenders

The lawyer returned to the study.

Compared to the master bedroom and the living room, which was a ss with bloodstains strewn about, he felt that the study might yield more useful information.

As the master of the villa, this might be his "territory".

The lawyer examined the stack of candid photos over and over, finally determining that none of them showed the female writer wearing any brooch on her clothes.

The female writer wasn't always wearing that chiffon shirt, either. She was indeed wearing it when she drank tea with the blind girl and the piano teacher in the garden, and when she perford a duet with the piano teacher.

The garden photo was taken from a side angle, so it was unclear whether the female writer had a brooch on, while the angle of the duet was from the back, completely preventing a view of it.

This ant that the brooch was a recent affair?

Or could it be that, having seen the brooch on the female writer last night, the lawyer began harboring a murderous intent?

The lawyer put down the photos and opened another drawer, which contained his recent work files.

Most of them were litigation and defense docunts from clients. The lawyer glanced at so casually and then rummaged through the drawer for other irrelevant docunts.

They were employnt contracts for the servants and the chef. The servant's contract was a bit old, he had been hired a year earlier than the chef.

The lawyer searched the desk and unfolded the calendar that was buried underneath, revealing the page for June, while the chef had been brought in during May.

It had only been a month.

Wait, where was the piano teacher's employnt contract?

If the piano teacher was a residential musician, there should be a contract as well.

The lawyer searched for a while and eventually pulled out a contract from under the desk that had been crudely torn and crumpled into a ball before being stuffed into the wastebasket.

Getting this angry over sothing not yet proven made one worry about the lawyer's ntal state.

Muttering to himself, the lawyer pieced together the contract to read it.

The contract with the piano teacher was for half a year, and the other party had also been hired in May, a little later than the chef.

The lawyer glanced at the stack of photos.

Doesn't this an that almost as soon as the piano teacher was hired, the lawyer started to be suspicious?

Indeed, his wife was fond of music, and then a talented and handso young man who understood music appeared; probably anyone would be a bit worried.

The lawyer touched the top of his head and as his gaze casually swept over the wastebasket, he reached in and pulled out a newspaper.

The newspaper hadn't been so roughly treated, just casually thrown away like rubbish.

The date on it was June, likely a recent newspaper, with news items being ordinary events concerning public affairs.

After carefully reading every report and feeling that there might not be any useful information, his eye caught a police report tucked into the corner of a section.

A serial killer who had appeared a month ago was still at large.

Due to the article being filled with the reporter's sarcasm towards official efficiency, it had been cautiously placed in the corner section.

The criminal had actually appeared a year ago, and in that ti, at least three female victims had been gruesoly dismbered, but the police still had no leads on the identity or whereabouts of the perpetrator.

The lawyer furrowed his brow in deep thought; he wasn't sure if this kind of cri report was related to the events at the villa.

After all, most Scripted Murder Gas inherently involve the criminal elent, and if such examples appear in the script, it wouldn't hurt to pay a bit more attention.

He set the newspaper aside for the mont and picked up the wastebasket to continue looking for anything else inside.

Just then, the piano teacher and the female writer, who had co to seek collaboration, walked in and saw the lawyer intently rummaging through the trash can.

The trash can in the study was usually filled with discarded papers or docunts, which actually weren't very dirty, on the contrary, there might even be so decent clues—but there was sothing odd about this scene.

"Did you find any clues?" the pianist asked as he walked over, his gaze drifting toward the lawyer's desk.

The two had entered so suddenly that the lawyer, whose attention was on the trash can, hadn't managed to put everything away.

Looking at the pianist who had just moved into the villa a month ago, the lawyer's mind flashed with information from the newspaper, filled with doubts and hesitations.

Finally, the lawyer gestured to the newspaper on the table and tentatively said, "There might be clues in here about the villa's disorder, I suspect that a serial killer has mingled among us."

"Serial killer?" the pianist raised an eyebrow and picked up the newspaper.

The lawyer watched his expression, which didn't seem to show anything unusual.

anwhile, the writer, whose attention was drawn to a half-concealed photograph in the corner by so books, pulled out the photos while the lawyer looked on uncomfortably.

As the pianist read the newspaper, he glanced over, "Oh? Evidence of our affair?"

The writer: "..."

The lawyer said awkwardly, "It must be a misunderstanding, I haven't seen either of you doing anything inappropriate."

The writer didn't respond, carefully examining each photograph, especially focusing on those featuring the blind girl and the pianist.

Because the main subjects of the candid shots were the writer and the pianist, the cara's focus on the blind girl was sotis blurry, making her appear like an unwitting third party.

But...

The pianist's gaze was sotis strangely placed.

The writer brought a photograph up close and squinted for a better look.

But in the candid shots taken from a distance, trying to discern the exact focus and gaze of the people in the photos was indeed quite difficult.

"A serial killer who appeared a year ago, with the most recent cris occurring a month ago?" mused the pianist, his attention returning to the newspaper.

No wonder the lawyer had been giving him strange looks just now, clearly suspecting him, the newcor.

The lawyer, who was rummaging through the trash can, paused and unfolded another crumpled newspaper; the trash can was quite deep, and there were still many wads of paper piled inside.

Before long, he had dug out three bundles of newspaper.

"The dates are consecutive. Do you have a habit of subscribing to the daily?" asked the pianist.

"Probably. After all, it's not unusual for , given my profession, to keep up with daily events, and sotis the writer might also draw inspiration for stories from reading the newspaper," the lawyer said as he brushed the dust off his hands and examined the three crumpled newspapers.

Two were daily papers, one was a weekly publication.

Apparently lacking any important information, the newspapers were thrown into the trash can entirely intact, with no sections cut out.

The lawyer had intended to look at the weekly paper first, but the pianist quickly snatched it up before him and started to read it earnestly.

The corner of the lawyer's mouth twitched.

"Speaking of which, what were you planning to do when you ca to find just now?" he queried with suspicion.

"Do you like the blind girl, Pianist?"

"Was the victim a month ago a dance perforr?"

Neither responded to him, but at the sa mont, the writer cast a suspicious glance at the pianist and questioned him, while the pianist frowned at the newspaper he was holding.

After the words were spoken, silence fell in the study for a while.

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