novelhk Chapter 167 Poisoning
Chapter 167 Poisoning
Chapter 167 Poisoning
The next morning.
Kindeman arrived at the police station as usual.
Pushing open the door, a familiar mix of smells hit me: over-brewed coffee, old printer toner, and the musty smell emanating from the dying plant in the corner.
Several of his night shift colleagues were packing up to leave when they saw him come in. They nodded weakly, barely able to lift their eyelids.
Kindeman walked to her workstation, threw her briefcase on the table, and plopped down in her chair.
The chair creaked under the weight.
He had just put his feet up on the corner of the table and hadn't even had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Detective Kindeman."
A voice came from behind, neither warm nor cold, businesslike.
Kindeman turned her head.
The assistant director stood there, holding a blue folder in his hand, his face expressionless.
The man was in his forties, with his hair neatly combed and always wearing that drab gray suit, looking like someone who had stepped out of a photocopier.
Case type: Poisoning case (suspected)
Location of the incident: Washington Diocese Cathedral; Time of report: October 17, 19:36
The complainant, from the Bishop's Office, noted that Kindman's gaze lingered on the words "Convent" for a second.
He sat up straight, opened the folder, and began to read it carefully.
The case summary is very simple: Yesterday afternoon around 5 p.m., several clergy members inside the cathedral suddenly lost their voices and were unable to speak.
Preliminary statistics indicate that more than half of the population has been affected, including the bishop himself.
The person who reported the incident suspected poisoning and requested the police to investigate.
After reading the synopsis, Kindeman turned a few more pages.
The following are several photos from the scene, showing the exterior of the cathedral, the interior corridors, the dining hall, the water room, and a few blurry photos of people at the scene.
His brows furrowed more and more deeply.
After a while, he raised his head.
"I need to go there in person and ask about the situation."
Director:
66
'
He stared at Kindeman for three seconds, then sighed.
"She can't speak right now, so please be mindful of her emotions."
Washington Diocese Cathedral.
Jin Deman parked the car, got out, and looked up at the majestic building.
This is an ancient building, its gray-white stone walls gleaming faintly in the sunlight.
The spire soars into the clouds, topped with a golden cross that stands out against the blue sky and white clouds.
The stained glass windows depict biblical stories such as the birth of Jesus, the Last Supper, and his resurrection and ascension; each window is like a painting.
There are two rows of stone pillars at the entrance, each of which requires two people to hug.
The stone pillars are carved with intricate patterns. Over time, some parts have become blurred, but their original exquisite beauty can still be seen.
Kindeman stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up for a few seconds.
Then he took a deep breath and went inside.
The door was open.
As soon as you enter, you are greeted by the unique atmosphere of a church.
The lingering scent of a burning candle, the bitter aroma of incense, the sandalwood fragrance emanating from old wood, and an indescribable sense of solemnity.
Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting patches of red and green light on the floor, which slowly shifted with time.
But the atmosphere in the hall today is not quite right.
Several priests stood in the corridor, their faces looking rather grim.
When they saw Kindman enter, all eyes fell on him, scanning him from head to toe like searchlights.
But no one spoke.
No one greeted them.
Nobody asked, "Who are you?"
Just watching.
Kindeman knew in her heart that it wasn't that she didn't want to talk about it, but that she couldn't say it.
He walked in, meeting those gazes, his leather shoes clicking crisply on the stone floor, echoing in the empty corridor.
Soon someone came to greet them.
He was a middle-aged priest in his forties, dressed in a black suit and wearing gold-rimmed glasses, with a fairly calm expression. He nodded to Kinderman and then gestured for him to proceed.
He didn't speak.
Kindeman followed him inside.
After walking through a long corridor and passing by a series of closed doors, we finally stopped in front of a wooden door.
There was a Latin word engraved on the door that Kindeman didn't recognize.
The middle-aged priest pushed open the door and stepped aside.
Inside is a reception room.
It wasn't big, and it was simply furnished with a few sofas, a coffee table, and a picture of the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting warm patches of light on the floor.
A person was sitting on the sofa.
He wore a bishop's robe, a black robe with crimson buttons and a purple belt, which was the bishop's insignia.
A cross hung on his chest, gleaming in the sunlight.
He wore a ring on the ring finger of his right hand, with an emblem engraved on the ring face.
Bishop of the Diocese of Washington.
Kindeman had seen his photos in various news reports.
But this is the first time I've seen him in person.
The bishop looked to be in his sixties, with gray hair that was neatly combed.
He had a thin face and high cheekbones; he must have been a handsome man when he was young.
But at this moment, he looked very tired, with obvious dark circles under his eyes and puffy eye bags, clearly indicating that he hadn't slept well all night.
He saw Kindeman come in, nodded, and then pointed to the sofa next to him.
The movements were slow and steady, but they conveyed a sense of fatigue.
Kindeman sat down.
The middle-aged priest standing next to him, presumably the archdeacon, also sat down.
"Greetings, Bishop."
When Kindeman spoke, her voice was very businesslike.
When did this happen?