CHAPTER 499: CHAPTER 296 TEAGUE, LIES_1

Dean accepted a commission case in a nearby small city. Early the next morning, he bid farewell to Niel and drove to the place they had agreed to meet yesterday.

They had agreed to meet at eight o’clock at this location. But for some reason, by 8:10, Dean still hadn’t seen Happy, and he couldn’t help but frown slightly. He didn’t like people who were not punctual. Just as he was about to take out his phone to call Happy, the honking of a black sedan interrupted him.

BEEP BEEP.

A familiar head poked out from the driver’s window. "Big Boss Dean, looks like you’ll have to go on this commission by yourself this time."

It was Harry—a bruised and swollen Harry, to be precise.

Dean realized something was wrong. "Did you guys get into a fight?"

Harry subconsciously touched his swollen cheek, a bit embarrassed. "Well, Happy, that guy... I don’t know what got into him yesterday. While we were drinking, he kept staring at a woman, and it turns out her boyfriend was a member of a small gang. In the end, we were forced into a fight. Happy got kicked in the groin and probably has to lie in the hospital for a few days."

Dean rolled his eyes. He had wanted to find someone to lend a hand, and then this happened.

Harry hesitated before asking, "By the way, Big Boss Dean, why did Happy say that his odd behavior yesterday was part of the necessary path to becoming an excellent detective?" He was curious what Dean had taught Happy yesterday that had turned him into a pervert.

Dean was speechless. Heaven bear witness, he had only suggested Happy try to develop a habit of observation and analysis, not told him to stare like an idiot at a woman in a bar.

Dean bid farewell to Harry, speechless. He could only set off on the journey alone.

He wasn’t planning on taking Happy on as his underling anymore. This kind of straightforward idiot could easily lower the team’s IQ.

The commission was in Carlo Town, not far from Los Angeles—only a little over twenty-five miles away. It was an independent small town, but its population was constantly being siphoned off by Los Angeles, leaving only two to three thousand people. Dean arrived in Carlo Town in the afternoon.

The saying, ’a sparrow may be small, but it has all its vital organs,’ aptly described Carlo Town. It had schools and hospitals, although they looked rudimentary. The houses were spaced far apart, and the streets were wide. Dean saw few pedestrians, mostly middle-aged and elderly people sitting in their yards, sunning themselves.

Following the address, Dean arrived at the home of the client he had contacted in advance. "Hello, I am Detective Dean, employed by the Smith Detective Agency, and I’m taking on the case regarding your son." Dean stated his identity to the tired-looking middle-aged man before him.

"Thank God, you’ve finally arrived." The man stepped aside, let Dean sit down, then hurried to the fridge to get water.

Watching the man’s back, Dean recalled the case information. The client was Fadili, a middle-aged white man who owned a fried chicken fast-food restaurant.

「A few days ago.」

Fadili’s son’s high school teacher had been murdered in her home. When the town police received the news and arrived at the scene, they happened to catch Fadili’s son apparently trying to escape. Although there was no evidence at the scene proving Fadili’s son’s involvement in the crime, the fact that he was at the teacher’s home at that time without any good reason was difficult to explain. So, the town police took Fadili’s son to the station.

It was worth noting that Fadili’s son, Teague, was only 15 years old, tall and skinny. From his photo, he gave off a silent, introverted impression, with a somewhat gloomy aura. Perhaps that was one of the reasons the town police considered him the prime suspect.

The victim, Teague’s high school teacher, was a woman named Tori, only 26 years old. From the photos in the case file, Tori was not only good-looking and curvy but also possessed the particular charm of a mature, voluptuous woman. Her full, luscious lips, in particular, exuded allure. Based on this information alone, the initial thought was that the 15-year-old Teague might have had some kind of illicit relationship with his teacher, Tori, which led to the murder.

As for the truth, he would need to see Teague to make a judgment.

"Mr. Dean, your water."

The client, Fadili, handed the iced water to Dean.

"Thank you." Dean took the water, placed it aside, and said earnestly, "Mr. Fadili, in cases like this, the more time passes since the incident, the fewer useful clues we’re likely to find. So, let’s get straight to the point. Could you tell me about your son’s case in detail, from your perspective?"

"I can." Fadili rubbed his swollen face with both hands, organized his thoughts, and then spoke, suppressing his anger. "It’s actually quite simple. Teacher Tori invited my son, Teague, over on the day she was murdered. By the time Teague arrived, Tori was already dead. He was terrified and called the police."

Dean interrupted him. "Are you saying your son was invited over by Tori, and he was the one who called the police?"

The case file was rather brief. This detail hadn’t been mentioned. But if that was true, without any other evidence, it seemed unlikely the town police would have immediately treated Teague as the prime suspect.