Chapter 4884

The night grew deeper. The sound of rain outside the window had not ceased in the slightest. The police had all left; the light filtering through that round window was like a sniper scope view from some old movie, as if an agent's silhouette were about to tumble in. The open fire in the fireplace had gone out, and those mysterious dark red veins on the charred charcoal resembled rivers of blood in hell.

After the power outage, these ancient estates always revealed a kind of natural, majestic profundity, like a gigantic cave inhabited by some monster. Those staircases, light wells, chandeliers — all shed the splendor and intricacy of daytime, becoming crude as stone carvings, yet possessing a kind of wild terror.

Victor gazed at all this, envisioning the crime scene in his mind. No physical evidence, no photographs — to achieve this based on mere verbal descriptions was difficult. Victor's spatial imagination wasn't bad. He understood what Xilei had said — sinking the corpse was so that certain things could be seen at a glance from a higher place. But why?

Facing Brainiac, hiding the corpse would have been the better choice. That would delay long enough for the killer to hide better. Otherwise, Brainiac would swiftly launch a murder investigation; even in this weather, the police would arrive as promised, leaving the killer very little time to escape.

In criminal investigation, deliberately reporting a crime scene to the police is usually to frame someone. The killer is confident that once the police discover the scene, they won't treat him as the prime suspect, so he reports it voluntarily, even using this method to gain the police's trust. Would this killer have the same thinking?

But as said before, if the goal was to frame someone, taking the corpse out and having Brainiac salvage and autopsy it would be the most direct and effective method. As long as something was placed on the corpse, or someone's DNA remained under his fingernails, the other party's suspicion would greatly increase.

"There's something wrong with the corpse," Victor spoke up. "There must be something on the corpse that can't let Brainiac discover, which is why he adopted this method. Afraid Brainiac would find it, yet letting him see it — I just can't figure out what's going on."

Victor took a sip of wine and immediately frowned at the sourness. He glanced at the wine glass. Red wine left too long, over-aerated, would have a very heavy sour taste, drinking it even felt like drinking vinegar straight. This was especially true for dry reds — already heavy in alcohol and bitterness, plus a sour note, simply undrinkable.

"I'll go pour some whiskey," Alberto said. "You guys wait a moment."

Alberto went to prepare the wine. Victor tossed the question to Ethan again. Ethan suddenly felt that not being able to drink was a good thing, like playing Russian roulette but his gun had no bullets.

"I think it might be like this." Ethan began expanding his brainstorm. "That corpse might have wounds that could help Brainiac lock onto the killer, so the killer wouldn't let Brainiac salvage it, but wanted Brainiac to know there was a murder here — this could divert Brainiac's attention, making it convenient for the killer to go kill others."

"You mean this is a serial murder case?" Victor's eyes brightened. "This corpse was just to attract attention; the killer's real target is someone else?"

Ethan wanted to nod, but he couldn't. He continued: "I think it's very possible. Otherwise there's no way to explain why he both wouldn't let Brainiac salvage it and wanted him to see it."

"What do you think?" Ethan then asked Cobblepot.

"You have this feeling probably because you don't know Brainiac well enough," Cobblepot said. "Brainiac is different from humans. His threads are infinite — meaning he can do thousands of things simultaneously. Investigating this murder doesn't mean he can't investigate another; they should be mutually non-interfering."

"I think attracting Brainiac's attention is real, but not necessarily to delay the investigation; more likely to use this to do something else." Cobblepot paused. "Brainiac is hard to stall with any single matter. No matter what one wants to delay him from doing with a murder case, it's unlikely to succeed. This means either the killer is comparatively stupid, just trying his luck; or he might be like Dr. Ethan, not knowing Brainiac well — he might be an outsider."

"Outsider?" Tim narrowed his eyes. He looked at Ethan and asked: "What's your alibi for last night?"

"I was alone at home, no alibi. But this outsider's hometown is too far, and I've been here too short a time — I have no enmity with anyone here, my motive is insufficient."

"Besides," Ethan said after a pause, "Arkham Asylum should be in a very remote place. How could an outsider like me precisely calculate the time to find it?"

"I can prove this," Xilei said. "Last night, Ethan's identification hadn't been processed yet; in this universe he still had no legal status — he only got his driver's license and property deed on the way here. And visiting Arkham Asylum requires showing ID. Last night, Ethan couldn't possibly have gotten in."

"I didn't want to say this originally." Tim sighed, shifting his gaze to Cobblepot. "Mr. Cobblepot, Brainiac mentioned you went to Arkham Asylum yesterday afternoon. Can you explain what that was about?"

Just then Alberto returned. He set the whiskey bottle heavily on the table, looking at Tim: "Don't use that tone for interrogating criminals, Mr. Drake. Old Mr. Drake wouldn't like you like this either."

Tim turned his head and stared hard at him. This was clearly a threat. But he also knew the remnants of the old era had just changed careers, not died. If someone truly provoked them, Brainiac might not be able to stop them from going crazy. He and his family still had to live in this city; no need to provoke Falcone.

"Sorry," Tim said. "Even if I have anger, it's directed at you, not at Cobblepot. I didn't say it at first because I felt his suspicion was low."

"I went to visit Edward," Cobblepot said. "He's my friend; we get along well. Recently his condition has worsened somewhat, so I've been running over there more frequently."

"Also..." Cobblepot suddenly glanced at Xilei, then said, "I did go to the first floor, but it was to see a doctor. I suspected my hereditary mental illness might flare up, so I went there to have a doctor take a look, but nothing was found, so I stayed there a while longer."

"Had the storm surge already arrived at that time?"

"Not at all. If I'd known the storm would strike then, I might have considered canceling the meeting with Professor Xilei, because it wouldn't be too safe. In fact, it was also because road conditions were poor during the storm that I arrived a bit late; the professor knows this."

Xilei nodded: "Indeed. Oswald also mentioned his mental issues. It's just that his family may suffer from pathological schizophrenia, which cannot be resolved through psychotherapy; I have no good solution either."

"Could it be he acted during an episode?" Ethan asked. "I know some schizophrenia patients become aggressive and also experience amnesia symptoms."

"But when he went to see the doctor, there were still many people in the hospital," Victor said. "And schizophrenia onset isn't instant madness — there are always warning signs. The doctors and nurses there are professionals. If they detected pre-onset signs, they'd restrain him immediately. It's very hard for him to hurt anyone in a professional mental hospital."

Ethan sized up Cobblepot, seemingly evaluating. But obviously Cobblepot was also the white-collar type. Tall and thin, pale-faced. Even if he had an episode, a few more people could definitely pin him down. Besides, he knew mental patients couldn't kill with precision — when they flare up they lose control, unable to so precisely strike fatal areas; they injure more often than kill.

"Not hiding it from you all — I went yesterday too," Victor continued. "In fact, I was the one who took Oswald to see the doctor; I was the first to discover his condition."

Everyone looked at him. Victor sighed: "In Gotham University's cryogenics lab, about two hundred tons of ice for cryogenic experiments are stored. One day, Oswald suddenly came to me, saying he wanted this ice to build an ice mountain."

"Although this hobby is a bit unique, it's not incomprehensible. Besides, I wouldn't need that much ice for a while, so I let him get people to haul it away."

"Not long after, I asked how the ice mountain was coming along, and he looked completely puzzled. I thought he wanted to keep it secret first, then take me to visit later. But after another while, Brainiac had me go move the ice back and reminded me to pay attention to Oswald's condition."

"I found him and questioned him in detail, only to learn he had absolutely no impression of asking me for ice. That pile of ice just sat in the underground warehouse, even affecting groundwater temperature; finally Brainiac discovered it and returned it to its rightful owner."

"I asked further about his recent life situation and found his mother's health was poor, and Edward had relapsed. He ran between two hospitals and a mall every day, the whole person extremely exhausted. He thought he was just too tired, but I felt it was very likely his hereditary mental illness had flared up."

"Although there are no hallucinations or delusions for now, it can't be taken lightly. I persuaded him for a long time before he agreed to go see a doctor with me. He worried his mother would find out, so the two of us went secretly, and didn't register for a consultation — we privately found a familiar doctor to take a look."

"What was the result?" Xilei asked.

"Still uncertain," Victor shook his head. "If no further symptoms appear, it's indeed possible it's just temporary memory impairment from overwork; further observation is needed."

"Did you discover anything abnormal at the hospital?" Tim asked.

"Actually I left later than Oswald." Victor provided another somewhat startling piece of information. "I not only saw the storm surge, but when the seawater backflow arrived, I opened a path for everyone in the hospital — I led their evacuation."

Tim couldn't help pressing a hand to his forehead. Brainiac had all sorts of flaws, but he truly understood Gothamites. This roomful of people really were the heavyweights. If this kept up, one would have to believe in artificial intelligence.