Chapter 254: The Detective Underground
Ron wondered if showing off was a common trait among those who enjoyed deductive reasoning. Everyone he knew, including that foul-mouthed consultant in London, loved to publicly reconstruct their logic after giving an answer.
"You tricked me into coming here because you have a case?" Tommy persisted. "The first person at the door—all tech nerds—explains the unique nature of this place. My laptop there is running a mobile server that processes information dozens of times faster than a regular computer. Linux command interface to control the system. This reminds me of Kiko, the hacker ranked fifth on CrimeSolver.
She breaks into police databases to access vast amounts of information to improve her solve rate. She could drain every penny from your bank account."
"Ha! I don't have a penny in my account!" Tony remarked—a man with nothing to lose fearing no one.
"Not bad, what else?" Ron pulled out a small notebook and began taking notes.
Hacking into police systems to access information—that was definitely a federal crime, right? They could chat about it later and see if he could bring in some extra revenue.
"M4 carbine accessories, tactical belt, combat boots—standard US military gear. That should be Buffalo Bill, the ninth-ranked Special Forces detective."
Tommy focused on the muscular man using a chair for bicep curls. "He advocates solving all crimes through violence."
"Someone like that? I could take ten of them with my bare hands!" Tony waved dismissively, his voice a bit too loud, earning Buffalo Bill's furious glare. "What are you looking at? Keep staring and I'll drop you with a roundhouse kick!"
Buffalo Bill set down the chair he'd been using as a weight and approached with a menacing look. Tony quickly hid behind Ron, but as soon as Buffalo Bill's gaze shifted to Ron, the muscular man suddenly jumped back like a startled deer.
"Long time no see, Billy," Ron greeted him with a smile.
"Hey... long time no see," Billy waved awkwardly. "Well... I just remembered I have a case I haven't finished. Gotta get back to work. We'll catch up later."
Without waiting for Ron to respond, he scurried away.
Tony poked his head out from behind Ron. "You know him?"
"Of course. He's from my hometown. We used to train together as kids. His dad used to make us all do obstacle courses in his backyard."
Ron chuckled, as if remembering something amusing. "Come to think of it, I have to thank him for always pushing me to exercise. Otherwise, I might never have considered becoming a federal agent."
It was well known that the Cooper boys, on both sides of the family, weren't the brightest bulbs.
Okay, maybe "not bright" was harsh. Let's say they weren't blessed with exceptional intelligence. But being simple-minded had its advantages: they were persistent. Tell them something, explain the benefits, and if they trusted you enough, they'd stick with it.
Because they weren't overthinking everything, they didn't get distracted by doubt, making it easier to focus on one thing. For years, people in their small town would see the three boys, led by Ron, doing all kinds of military-style training from childhood.
As a result, all three had developed impressive physiques from an early age, but the difference was that Ron possessed superior intelligence, which explained his current position.
As for the other two: one had incredible luck—so lucky even Ron was jealous—and somehow owned nearly a hundred franchise restaurants, while the other became a private investigator after leaving the military.
"But if his IQ ranks ninth in your community, that doesn't seem very impressive."
"Uh, actually it's okay." Tommy was slightly embarrassed by Ron's assessment.
At that moment, another eccentric woman approached, staring intently at Tony's face and muttering like a fortune teller: "I see a man, a lying man."
"See? Even Luna, the psychic detective, can tell you're a fraud!"
"I think this is just a charlatan, maybe even less reliable than Tony here," Ron said dismissively. "What kind of community is your CrimeSolver? How can a mentally unstable fraud be a detective? Where does she rank?"
"Currently seventh." When he announced the ranking, Tommy himself seemed embarrassed. These people really didn't act like normal investigators, and he quickly tried to deflect.
Tommy pointed to the Asian man in the corner: "That guy's actually skilled. He's the Japanese detective who's been competing with me for second place—Noda Hiroshi."
Tony asked in confusion, "How did you recognize him?"
"Are you serious?" Ron took Tommy's phone, scrolling while rolling his eyes. "In this community, in the top 50 rankings, besides Tommy here, there's only one other Asian in the photo. Process of elimination."
Tony leaned over: "Then who is this 'Q' person?"
"That's Q! An anonymous Canadian user. Unknown whether they're among this group. Moreover, all these people keep glancing at the entrance every few minutes. Obviously everyone's waiting for someone important."
Tommy reclaimed his phone and immediately searched online: "The owner of this house isn't hard to identify. Vincent Morrison, head of the Morrison crime family, controls most organized crime on the East Coast—basically the godfather of Little Italy. His grandson Vincent Jr. died four days ago. It wasn't you who invited me here, but him, right?"
"I do know this guy. Saying he controls all East Coast crime is an exaggeration. That's just internet gossip. Don't believe everything you read online, kid."
Ron patted Tommy's shoulder, his gaze sharpening as he fixed on Tony. "So, my dear partner, aren't you going to give us an explanation?"
"Guys! Listen!"
Tony, exposed by Tommy's deduction, saw the situation was hopeless and quickly stepped between them. He grabbed Ron's arm and put on a dramatic performance. "Sarah got married, and the groom wasn't me!"
"It was this guy!" Tony pulled out Sarah's wedding photo. "He's not as handsome as me, not as charming as me, not as sophisticated as me. He looks like a trust fund brat, dresses like a slob, but he's richer than me."
"Besides the trust fund brat part, I disagree with everything else you just said," Ron commented, looking at the familiar face.
He started to walk away again, but Tony quickly blocked his path.
"Wait! Partner!"
Ron stopped.
"Five million! Five million dollars!" Tony exclaimed dramatically. "Morrison's grandson is dead, and if we solve the case—five million! How about we split it three ways?"
(End of this chapter)
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