Not long after Dean had surveyed the scene, Holz finally arrived with a group of people. Dean was a bit surprised. "Buddy, weren’t you just celebrating my transfer to the precinct?" Los Angeles is a wealthy metropolis, and the precinct here actually had forensic staff on duty. How they were dispatched mainly depended on their schedules and proximity to the crime scene. Of course, if an employee wanted to earn extra money, they could choose to work overtime when not busy. Clearly, Holz had worked overtime. Faced with Dean’s curiosity, Holz wore a helpless expression. "I’d like to take it easy too, but as you know, I’ve been online dating recently, and the expenses have been kind of big." Dean was shocked. "You’re spending money on a woman you’ve never met?" "Dean, you don’t know how terrible her life is!" Holz’s face filled with compassion. "Her father is a gambling addict, her mother is seriously ill, she has two younger brothers in college, and the whole family relies on her to provide for them. She has no choice but to work several jobs and lives a very hard life. I really sympathize with her, so after confirming her identity, I transferred some money to her." Dean said nothing, just looked at Holz with an odd expression. "Before you transferred the money to her, did she by any chance tell you that, driven to desperation, she was planning to go on the streets after being introduced by a best friend or a mutual acquaintance?" Upon hearing this, Holz was astonished. "Dean, do you know her too?" Dean was at a loss for words. He definitely didn’t know the online woman Holz was talking to, but in his past life, he had encountered many escorts who used this kind of sob story. This type of tale was a legendary, universally effective tactic for snaring men. After all, men from any country harbor a bit of a base desire: the fantasy of corrupting a virtuous woman, and conversely, the urge to persuade a prostitute to reform. To put it simply, when a man encounters a virtuous woman who is out of his reach, he might wish she were a prostitute so he could have a chance to be intimate with her. Then, after sleeping with a prostitute and entering a state of self-righteousness, the man often starts to feel his actions were wrong. He develops a strong ’moral sense,’ urging the woman he just slept with to find a respectable job, thereby achieving a dual satisfaction while simultaneously alleviating the unease of having just paid for sex. At that moment, if the woman cuddles up and tells a tragic life story, tsk tsk, very few naive young men can escape her clutches; they’re highly likely to become human ATMs. Looking at the freshly converted ATM before him, Dean shook his head. At least johns usually get something for their money. Holz was just a pure, naive sucker. Holz felt uncomfortable under Dean’s probing gaze. "Dean, why do I feel like you’re looking at me the way I look at those cuckolds on those paternity test shows?" "No, you at least have more self-awareness and ambition than those guys. Your average cuckold couldn’t be milked for nearly as much as you," Dean replied. "Are you saying I’ve been scammed?" Holz wasn’t stupid. Dean chuckled. "Not entirely scammed. At least you exchanged money and feelings for valuable lessons and growth." Holz was dumbfounded. He might question Dean’s character, labeling him a scumbag, but he would never doubt Dean’s understanding of women. Since Dean put it that way, it was highly probable he had indeed been scammed. In that moment, Holz, the pure-hearted warrior for love from Los Angeles, United States, was downed. In his current disheartened state, Holz was obviously unfit for surveying the scene. However, his colleague, who had thoroughly enjoyed the juicy gossip, was in a great mood. He quickly took over from Daisy, who had been guarding the scene, and got busy in the kitchen. Though Dean had already made a preliminary inspection of the scene, certain traces still required specialized equipment and instruments to ensure no evidence was overlooked. Dean took the opportunity, while they were busy, to prepare to re-interview the individuals involved. "Mrs. Dennison, are you sober enough right now?" Dean asked politely, addressing the good-looking woman in the corner. Johnny Dennison’s wife rubbed her face and shook her head. "No problem, Detective. Please ask your questions quickly. I’d like to meet with my lawyer later to deal with Johnny’s estate." The source of thɪs content is novel※fire.net Dean found this strange. "As far as I know, didn’t you and your husband sign a prenuptial agreement?" Mrs. Dennison shook her head. "Teresa must have told you that, right? Johnny and I did have an agreement, but it only covered his assets before our marriage. As for his lace-themed literary works written after we married, I have inheritance rights! All of this was written into the agreement! If there weren’t enough benefits involved, I wouldn’t have persuaded my lover, Teresa, for me to be his nominal wife and for her to be his nanny, all while taking care of his son who resents us!" "Could you tell us about the content of your agreement?" Dean inquired tentatively. "There’s nothing that can’t be discussed." Mrs. Dennison took a cigarette from her purse, lit it, a melancholic expression on her beautiful face. "We met Johnny at a lesbian bar. He wanted to explore the world of lesbian relationships, and we needed money. So, after some discussion, we partnered up. To avoid affecting his reputation, Johnny wanted either me or Teresa to marry him, with the understanding that even if we divorced later, we couldn’t inherit his assets. As compensation, he gave us two high-limit credit cards. We felt that was a bit unfair. After further negotiations, Johnny agreed that if our arrangement could last ten years, then upon divorce, or in the event of his accidental death, we could inherit the rights to all his lace-themed books. Considering he was almost fifty and not in the best health, we agreed." This woman was quite frank and straightforward, Dean thought. However, her words also provided the police with a motive for murder. After all, inheritance through divorce would take ten years. But with Johnny Dennison dead, these two women stood to gain a large sum immediately. One could only say this agreement was inherently disadvantageous to Johnny Dennison himself, almost an invitation to crime. However, after a brief observation, Dean dismissed the woman, who was only in her twenties, as a suspect. Her displayed intelligence seemed insufficient to carry out such an ’artistic’ murder. After thinking it over, Dean continued, "Besides yourselves, in the last six months or year, has any other acquaintance of Johnny Dennison visited this place?" Mrs. Dennison exhaled a puff of smoke and hesitated. "Electricians, gardeners... oh, and Johnny’s ex-wife. She often comes here to see her son. There might have been others, but I only remember these three. I prefer going out, so I’m actually not very familiar with this house." "Going to nightclubs?" She winked at Dean and licked her red lips. "Not just nightclubs. There are some gigolo bars too. Let me tell you a secret: I enjoy the dual pleasure of being with both men and women." As she spoke, Mrs. Dennison looked at Dean with a smoldering intensity. WHOA! Her nominal husband was still lying dead in the kitchen! As an upright person, Dean naturally chose to refuse. He maintained a serious expression, as if he hadn’t understood her implications, and said solemnly, "Alright, ma’am, I have all the information I need for now. One last question!" Seeing Dean wasn’t taking the bait, Mrs. Dennison didn’t seem to mind. Flicking ash from her cigarette, she said casually, "Go ahead." "Who do you think is most likely to have killed Johnny Dennison?" "Me, Teresa, Johnny Dennison’s ex-wife, and his son—all four of us probably wished he were dead. With Johnny Dennison gone, his ex-wife and son could inherit all his book royalties and also be rid of him, a pervert who loved to pry into others’ privacy. Teresa wouldn’t have to endure having a third person in our relationship anymore. As for me~" Mrs. Dennison giggled with anticipation. "The rights to several of Johnny Dennison’s best-selling lace-themed books are mine. From now on, I’m a wealthy woman, not just a little goldfish kept in a bowl." It was apparent her previous life had been quite oppressive, Dean mused. So after Johnny Dennison’s death, this woman had completely let herself go. In any case, Dean couldn’t continue this line of questioning any further. "Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am. You may attend to your own affairs now." Mrs. Dennison tossed her cigarette butt and extended her hand towards Dean. "Detective, give me a business card. It’ll be convenient for me to follow up on the progress of my husband’s case!" Out of professional spirit, Dean gave her his business card. Afterwards, he separately questioned the nanny, Teresa, and Johnny Dennison’s son. The general information was much the same as what Carlo and the others had learned. However, from Teresa, the nanny, Dean received an unexpected piece of information. Half a year ago, due to a termite clearance issue, Johnny Dennison had a conflict and an argument with someone from the pest control company. During the altercation, Johnny Dennison pushed an elderly man, causing him to fracture his tailbone, which resulted in Johnny having to pay hefty compensation. Termites are rampant in California. Consequently, many buildings require professional companies to treat termite infestations and prevent structural damage. During this process, the pest control company’s personnel would gain access to detailed blueprints of the building and could freely inspect the interior. Half a year, Dean thought, would also be sufficient time to create a miniature model. Therefore, in addition to the electricians, gardeners, and ex-wife whom Johnny Dennison frequently contacted, the staff from the pest control company also presented a line of investigation. While Teresa, the nanny, spoke, her spirits were low. Her large, red-rimmed eyes invoked pity. Regarding Johnny Dennison’s death, she displayed more human emotion than Mrs. Dennison. Unfortunately, Mrs. Dennison had now "evolved" to swing both ways. Teresa, who resembled a real-life Barbie doll, would likely shed many tears on her romantic path ahead. Dean, having been celibate recently, felt an overflow of "sympathy." He wanted to offer a word of warning, and perhaps plant a seed. Then, when Teresa was inevitably dumped, he could conveniently help her "cure" her lesbianism and "return" to being a "normal" woman. Just then, Holz strode towards Dean, holding a piece of paper. "Dean," he said, "this note was found inside the miniature model’s gift box. Take a look, what do you think this means?"