Chapter 049: The Magician’s Performance

Holding the little demon in my arms, I ran swiftly. Chen Fan, too frightened to stay alone, shouted a few times and quickly followed. When we reached the edge of the residential area, we parted ways—Chen Fan headed for the police station, and I hailed a taxi bound for the pier. The driver sped along, and when I checked my watch, it was already nine o’clock in the evening.

At this hour, aside from the night-bound cargo ships, the pier was deserted. After getting out of the taxi, I quickly found Luo Feng and his men; he told me that Li Deshui had not yet arrived. At first, I was worried, but Luo Feng reassured me. He had already contacted the men shadowing Li Deshui, who reported that Li Deshui was indeed making his way to the pier. I glanced around—the ships docked at the wharf were all temporarily under the watch of Luo Feng’s men.

Luo Feng feared that Li Deshui might try to escape via one of the cargo ships, so he had taken control to prevent anyone from tipping Li Deshui off and scaring him away. Luo Feng had mobilized dozens of men, lying in wait across the wharf, giving the impression that something significant was about to unfold.

I breathed a sigh of relief and told Luo Feng not to be tense. As I had anticipated, my ambiguous intimidation earlier in the day had prompted Li Deshui to prepare for his departure from the port tonight. Still, he wouldn’t openly confront us yet; he was uncertain whether we had evidence sufficient to convict him.

The entire Ghost Banquet case, including Fei Ji’s death, had yielded no evidence for the police to charge Li Deshui—not even enough to label him a suspect. Li Deshui’s strategy seemed to be to leave the port area, lay low, and return once things quieted down, or flee altogether if trouble truly arose.

Luo Feng told me his men had just relayed that Li Deshui did have connections with the short-haired woman. Li Deshui had frequented certain entertainment venues, though those visits were long ago. Later, he met with the short-haired woman several times. Previously, we had investigated those who’d interacted with her, but the pool was vast, and without a clear suspect, our search was like fishing in the ocean. With Li Deshui as our focus, though, the investigation had changed.

We smoked a cigarette at the pier. Soon, a sedan pulled up beside it. The man who stepped out was Li Deshui, carrying a suitcase; he had driven himself. Upon seeing us, Li Deshui immediately got back into the car, attempting to drive away, but Luo Feng’s men, who’d been shadowing him, arrived in their own vehicle and blocked him in.

Li Deshui was now trapped between us. I approached, smiling, and tapped gently on his window. The night was dark, and Luo Feng’s men had turned on all their headlights, focusing their beams on us. Through the glass, I noticed cold sweat on Li Deshui’s brow.

I laughed coldly and tapped the window again.

Finally, Li Deshui rolled it down.

I mocked him, “The rich are different, aren’t they? You’re leaving by ship and not even worried someone will steal your car.”

There was no denying Li Deshui’s quick adaptability; within seconds, he regained his composure. He demanded to know what I wanted. Before I could answer, Luo Feng stepped forward, reached through the window, and grabbed Li Deshui’s collar as if to drag him out.

Luo Feng cursed, “Stop pretending. If you’re innocent, why try to run when you see us?”

I gave Luo Feng a subtle look, and he released his grip, still cursing and ordering Li Deshui out of the car. Li Deshui complied. The wind at the pier was fierce, slicing at the face like knives. He straightened his collar and replied, “Brother Feng, who in this port doesn’t know you? You corner me here—how could I not be afraid?”

Luo Feng spat, “Kid, keep pretending and I’ll smash your head right here.”

Li Deshui showed not a trace of fear—he was no fool. Seeing that it was Luo Feng, not the police, who had stopped him, he realized I didn’t have grounds to convict him. He looked at me and asked when the port police had begun cooperating with gangsters.

His tone was tinged with mockery.

“Mr. Li, stop the act. You know perfectly well I’m not a cop,” I sneered.

Still feigning ignorance, Li Deshui shook his head and asked who I was.

Leaning against the car, I spoke, “Tonight, no one can protect you—not Yungao, not Xuan Yi, not even the short-haired woman sitting in the police station.”

Li Deshui gritted his teeth and barked confidently, “I don’t believe you’d dare kill me here!”

He was sure of himself. As a prominent figure in the port, if Luo Feng killed him, it would be impossible to cover up, and Luo Feng would pay dearly. Watching his confidence, I laughed. Li Deshui asked what amused me, and I patted his cheek, telling him I had no intention of killing him, but rather planned to put him on trial.

Li Deshui demanded to know what crime he’d committed. Even now, he was careful not to leave any verbal evidence.

Narrowing my eyes, my voice grew colder, “I told you, you’re suspected of murder. Do you really think I have no way to bring you to justice?”

Li Deshui’s face darkened, but I paid it no mind. Lighting a cigarette, as if discussing something utterly ordinary, I began to reconstruct the case: “You understood Old Nine and his companions’ personalities well. Using the short-haired woman to lure them to that entertainment venue took almost no effort.”

The short-haired woman confessed she drugged Old Nine and the others, then led them one by one out the back door to a blue unregistered car. That venue was distinctive; she exploited its peculiarities to mask her actions, making it impossible for us to determine who greeted Old Nine and his group, and the hostesses had no recollection of whether they’d attended to them.

Her statement contained a major flaw. She claimed to have led the men out through a locked passage, but when I asked her to unlock it, she clearly had no idea how. Therefore, someone skilled in unlocking must have helped her open the iron door in advance.

Fei Ji’s house showed no signs of forced entry, indicating the killer used a key or lock-picking skills. Taken together, it was clear the culprit possessed expertise in lock-picking. I stared at Li Deshui—he was a magician, adept at all kinds of tricks, and picking locks was child’s play for him.

Li Deshui scoffed, “There are plenty of people who can pick locks. Why don’t you arrest all the locksmiths in town?”

Luo Feng barked at him, brandishing his knife, and ordered him to shut up. I continued.

“Lock-picking alone, of course, doesn’t prove you’re the murderer,” I smiled faintly. “The Ghost Banquet case—for you, was it just another magic show?”

Thinking back, the case truly was a magician’s feast.

The coroner’s estimate of time of death was accurate. Old Nine and his companions died on the fourth day after arriving at the port. The first three days, they were drugged and taken to a rural village. Li Deshui was a local there; when he brought them back, the village dogs—unfriendly to strangers—would not bark at him, not even collectively.

Thus, that night, the villagers heard nothing.

I had wondered why, of all places, Li Deshui chose his own village, risking exposure. But now it made sense. Old Nine and his group had barely disembarked when the short-haired woman found them, showing that Li Deshui had little time to prepare—he likely began his criminal plans on the very day they arrived.

With so little time, he had few options. His familiarity with the village made it the natural choice. According to his method, Old Nine and his companions were held captive for three days before their deaths.

Three days is a long time for an investigation. Li Deshui couldn’t risk detaining them just anywhere; if the police began searching, his chances of exposure were high. The city was unsuitable, but that old house in the village was remote, hidden, and out in the countryside—ideal for his purposes.

Considering all this, Li Deshui chose his own village.

But he never expected to be undone by a few dogs.

Had it not been for those dogs, I might not have pinpointed Li Deshui so easily.

A major mystery remained: Why did Old Nine and the others show no signs of being bound or struggling, yet all died from carbon monoxide poisoning in the rented flat? They were skilled enough, and four men should not succumb without notice, nor fail to escape or resist. This puzzled Luo Feng and me.

Now, it is clear. Old Nine and his group were confined for three days.

Starve a person for three days, and they will have no strength left. The autopsy showed they’d been dead for days; the coroner couldn’t determine when they’d last eaten fresh food, much less whether they’d been starved.

Moreover, their blood had been drawn. By the time they were in the rented flat, they likely lacked even the strength to crawl out.