Bailonz Street 13

Chapter 187. Calamity (2)

Stepping into the house, Liam and I encountered a space full of signs of life.

‘Signs of life’ was a polite way of putting it—honestly, it was ‘messy.’ Piled-up dirty dishes, a laundry basket full of musty men’s clothes, and a dry cake that had been left out who knows how long.

“Damn it, Bradley.”

O’Brien muttered, trudging over to shove the cake straight into the trash. She explained with reddened ears:

“…It’s not usually this dirty. Today’s Bradley’s cleaning day, but that fellow must be passed out sleeping somewhere again.”

“Not sleeping. I was working.”

A heavily accented voice called from the bathroom.

A moment later, the door opened and a man wearing rubber gloves and holding a smiley-faced scouring pad peeked out. He had long hair falling past his shoulders, a thick beard, and impressive thick-rimmed glasses. He looked at Liam and me standing in the doorway, bobbing his head like a rooster jutting its chin.

“This is Mr. Liam and Ms. Jane.”

“Welcome. Have a seat, I’ll be right out after exterminating this bathroom’s small ecosystem.”

“Ugh,” O’Brien made a strange sound. She must have already seen the ‘small ecosystem’ in the bathroom. Turning toward the kitchen, she belatedly remembered to ask:

“Ah, Bradley! Did you fix the rusty water?”

Bradley answered with heavy breathing:

“Working on it! Damn! The rust water’s still spraying everywhere!”

Anyway, we couldn’t keep guests standing while chatting, so we headed to the sitting room that doubled as a living room.

The worn fabric sofa was sunken in the shape of people who’d sat there. The small tea table was piled with what looked like academic papers, and bookshelves filled an entire wall. The room was very dark with curtains drawn to protect the books from sunlight.

O’Brien turned on a lamp to brighten the room and offered us seats. As we sat waiting, she soon brought four steaming cups of tea. By then, Bradley, O’Brien’s fellow scholar, joined us on the sofa, bringing a slight chlorine smell.

“I’m Bradley. Bradley Miller. Archaeology PhD from Cardiff University.”

Bradley shook hands with Liam first, then me.

The dark circles under his eyes seemed to demonstrate his academic passion. Wearing his watch on the left suggested he was right-handed. He wore no other accessories, but a white band of skin on his left ring finger suggested a wedding ring. Perhaps married?

“William Osmond. So, you work as a detective?”

“Just offer some consultation now and then.”

“Please let me know if you need any help while you’re in the village. I’m quite confident in my manual labor.”

That’s fortunate. Our detective is quite soft and incompetent. It’s good to have someone who can help with the physical work.

After warming ourselves with hot tea, we decided to go see the village’s dead animals first.

Before leaving the house, Bradley asked for about ten minutes, during which he cleared the dishes from the kitchen sink into the dishwasher, neatly added detergent, then announced “Now I’m ready” and put on his coat. O’Brien also dressed warmly, did a final check of the locks, and we all left together.

We left our luggage at the hostel. Then we went around gathering villagers’ opinions about these strange occurrences.

According to people, it was just ordinary wild dogs. They said hungry beasts sometimes do such things. I carefully watched their expressions for any signs of deception, but the villagers all had calm, matter-of-fact faces. They didn’t seem to consider it a major problem.

“What trouble could there be in a rural village like this?”

Judging by such comments, they couldn’t even imagine someone harboring ill intentions.

Liam and I exchanged glances. He seemed full of energy since arriving in the village. Quite different from how he was in London. In London, he’d given off more of a tired, bored atmosphere, but now he seemed to be enjoying the work. Perhaps Liam Moore was someone who could only be happy living where no one knew him? I thought about that briefly.

We headed to what was barely enough to call a ranch. I say this because the ranch owner maintained something closer to open grazing. The middle-aged female owner said that “anyway, the fence is electrified, so even if wild dogs try to break in, they’ll be scared off by the current.”

“We’ve kept the dead animals separate. If we left them like this, it would stress the other animals.”

The woman explained from beside us. She seemed to become friendlier seeing an Asian woman, rare in this neighborhood. When we said we’d stay at least three more days, she smiled and said she’d send cheese to the hostel.

As our conversation wrapped up, we arrived near the pit where they’d gathered the dead animals.

“It’s here. Brace yourselves, it’s quite horrific.”

Unfortunately, we were people who had encountered various corpses in different states. The smell of blood and rotting meat had no effect on us. Besides, given the weather, the decomposition wasn’t as bad as expected.

Liam bent down to look at the dead sheep in the pit.

“…Claw marks?”

“That’s right. Just wild animals.”

The woman chimed in from the side. Saying O’Brien worried too much.

“How would you explain animals dying this frequently?” I asked first, keeping my voice careful not to offend the woman.

“Probably because they’ve gotten a taste for meat!”

“That could be it.”

O’Brien’s expression seemed to ask whose side we were on, but she didn’t speak.

Liam took off his coat and threw it over the fence. Then he started rolling up his sleeves. I could roughly guess what would happen next. Still, hoping to deny it, I asked:

“…You’re not going to…?”

“You stay outside. You know, since your sneakers are white.”

“Liam, you’re wearing dress shoes.”

“These fellows will gladly sacrifice themselves for the case.”

With a quick wink, he jumped into the pit. Though I cried “Eek!” he had already skillfully used the dirt wall to slow his descent, sliding to the bottom.

Pulling on nitrile gloves from who-knows-when from his pocket, Liam examined the sheep’s hide.

“Jane! Can you see this?”

His excited voice gave me a headache. Looking like a puppy with a new toy, Liam said to me:

“The way the hide is torn!”

“Hide is just hide.”

“Darling, deploy that amazing insight one more time!”

He would have said ‘darling.’ I finally leaned in closer to examine the dead sheep Liam was showing me.

The neck was barely attached, and the stomach showed what looked like sheep intestines. The blood-dried hide was torn in a large X pattern. The sheep’s white wool was completely matted.

“Hmm. Show me the neck.”

“As you command, madam.”

Yes, good boy. The obedient fellow showed me the sheep’s necks for easy viewing. Well, lamb was definitely off the menu for a while.

Then something suspicious caught my eye. I searched my pocket, unlocked my phone, and took pictures of the wounds. One zoomed in, one normal. When the distance proved too far, Liam took several photos for me and returned the phone.

“You can come up now.”

Liam skillfully stepped on the dirt wall and after a few movements climbed out of the pit. His perfect shirt was already dirty. Need to change that, I thought.

“Jane, did you find anything unusual?”

How annoying that he’d already found something and was just waiting for my answer. Not everyone was born with his keen instincts. I showed Liam one enlarged cross-section.

“Look at this. The belly hide.”

Several new marks were carved next to the original ones. Different from beast claws. Though the outside had several gashes splitting the hide like claw marks, the wounds carved into the inner muscles and organs told a different story. Wounds stabbed repeatedly, multiple times in small areas. You could see all the trial and error in creating the desired pattern. All made by something with a sharp edge.

They’d tried to make something like tooth marks on the neck, but close inspection revealed artificial elements. Should have been more thorough. Should have torn it in one go. Then they might have escaped our notice.

I showed my teeth in a smile.

“…A beast couldn’t make these. Right?”