North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 73 - 71: The Story from 9 Years Ago_1

He walked out of the passage.

Dean finished his cigarette, his mood gradually settling.

After seeing life and death, one appreciates the value of life. Only upon gazing into the abyss does one understand the unfathomable nature of the human heart. Marina found her release.

Now I just want to wrap up this case quickly, then call Laura for a marathon session of three hundred rounds to quell this slight ripple in my heart.

A hundred meters away, Harry looked towards the passage uneasily. Did I just hear a gunshot?

Malago, on the other hand, was much more composed. With whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, he puffed out smoke and scoffed, "Do you think Dean would be hurt by a kid?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Marina’s death isn’t good news either. Should I go in or not?

Dean’s figure had already appeared before the two men.

"Malago, Marina committed suicide. Help take care of the burial," Dean said without further explanation, turning to leave.

"Dead?" Malago was stunned. "That punk is even more ruthless than I thought."

He figured Dean must have shot Marina.

Harry hurried after him. "Buddy, don’t tell me you killed her?"

Dean summarized the situation briefly and countered, "Harry, what would you do if you were in my shoes?"

Harry’s lips twitched twice, then he fell silent.

"Death can also be a release; may her soul no longer suffer," Harry sighed. "So what do we do now?"

Dean looked puzzled. "What else is there to do? Malago has already sent people to find the remains of Marina’s brother and mother, and Marina has taken her own life. So, of course, we go back and write our closing report."

The sympathy on Harry’s face vanished, replaced by keen anticipation. "So... Dean, since the case is over, can we go cash in our reward tickets now?"

The weather was getting colder. Kind-hearted Harry was already eager to go to the city outskirts to aid those scantily clad young ladies.

「...」

After cashing in the reward tickets, Dean returned to Los Angeles alone with a check for five hundred thousand dollars.

As for Harry, he planned to exhaust the last drop of his charitable heart in Del Rio before taking the Del Rio Police Station’s report and heading back to Los Angeles.

「...」

「At the airport.」

"I understand, Daisy. Thank you for the information," Dean said as he hung up the phone. He then hailed a taxi and headed straight for the outskirts of Los Angeles.

He was going to see Hutt.

The receptionist at Hutt’s company remembered the handsome detective well. "Detective Dean, are you here to see the Boss again?"

Dean hadn’t expected her to remember him and nodded. "That’s right. I have a private appointment with him. Is Hutt in the company now?"

"He is, but..." The receptionist hesitated, meeting Dean’s deep blue eyes. "The Boss called earlier and said that no one should disturb him at this time."

"It’s fine. He reserved this time for me," Dean said, winking at the receptionist. "Don’t notify him, okay? I want to give Hutt a surprise."

The receptionist was slightly dazed by Dean’s charm.

By the time she came back to her senses, Dean had already disappeared from sight.

Such enchanting eyes...

「Meanwhile, in the office.」

With a loud BANG, the sturdy office door was kicked open.

The sudden noise startled the portly man inside, making him shudder.

TSK. Dean looked at Hutt with a mocking smile. "Mr. Hutt, it seems I’ve come at an inconvenient time."

"Dean!"

When Hutt saw who it was, he forced down his rising anger, grabbed a pair of nearby underpants, and said coldly, "I’ve already sent the thank-you letter to the detective bureau. Don’t push it!"

I’m wary of Dean’s connections, but if he really doesn’t know when to back off, I’m not without resources myself!

Dean chuckled lightly, sat down in Hutt’s executive chair, and propped up his feet. "I’ve come to ask you about something today, Mr. Hutt. I’m very curious. Nine years ago, you and Shane didn’t even know each other. So why were you willing to let such a worthless fellow serve as your company’s financial director?"

Hutt’s expression changed, his eyes showing surprise and suspicion.

Dean fiddled with a cigar on the table. "Shane’s wife. Need I remind you?"

"FK!" Hutt finally lost his cool.

He kicked his secretary. "Get out, and close the door!"

The secretary, not daring to let out a peep and unconcerned with any accidental exposure, scrambled out pathetically and slammed the office door shut.

No sooner had the secretary left than Hutt turned to Dean with a vicious look, his voice low and threatening. "Dean, I don’t care what you’ve heard or from where. Drop the investigation immediately! Otherwise, both you and I will meet a gruesome end!"

"But this only makes me more curious," Dean said, adopting an air of brazen defiance. "So, tell me the whole story. Otherwise, if I’m attacked, I’ll make sure to say before I die that you were the one who gave me the information!"

Hutt could thank his lucky stars he was a rich man. Otherwise, Dean would have already put a gun to his head and forced the answers out of him.

"FK!"

"FK!!"

"FK!!!"

Hutt was about to explode with anger. Ever since I met this Dean, not a single good thing has happened!

"Tell me, what will it take for you to pretend you don’t know anything about this?" Hutt cursed a few times before flopping onto the sofa, his bulk shaking with anger as he panted for breath.

If this were ten years ago, I would’ve blasted him with a shotgun without a second thought. But years of indulgence have corroded me, body and soul.

Dean stood up, pulled out a black-and-white photo faxed from the orphanage where Marcus resided, and tossed it onto Hutt. "Take a good look at this photo, then decide if you’re going to answer me."

Hutt looked at the blurry photo in his hands with confusion.

It was a group photo of children from an orphanage, the quality so poor the faces were indistinct. However, one could barely make out the name of the institution: Holy House.

Hutt’s pupils contracted. This is an exclusively Christian-operated orphanage!

Murky memories rushed into his mind.

Hutt covered his face with both hands, rubbing it hard a few times before speaking, "Detective Dean, do you know about Christianity?"

"Not really," Dean shook his head. I’m a man of no faith. I trust no one but the gun in my hand!

"What does this have to do with the Shane family?"

"The only reason I let Shane, that country bumpkin, hold a position in my company is because his wife rendered significant services to the Christian church in Arkansas."

Hutt’s face turned cold. "She’s an adherent of an extremely warped, primitive Christian sect, a believer in the original scriptures who thinks carnal pleasure is the Lord’s will... People like her aren’t uncommon in backward Arkansas. But she seized an opportunity."

From Hutt’s somewhat vague words, Dean pieced together the truth behind the Shane family’s rise from rags to riches.

「Nine years ago.」

In Arkansas, a young, naive priest accidentally discovered that high-ranking clergy members were selecting suitable ’toys’ from the various orphanages run by their sect, for the pleasure of influential figures.

The priest was smart. He didn’t react immediately. Instead, during an election, he exposed the scandal publicly.

The scandal was exposed in the morning; the priest was arrested that afternoon. Then, Shane’s wife, with her son in tow, turned around and falsely accused the young priest of ’molesting’ her son...

The next day, the priest was ’suicided’ in his cell, and the Shane family received their due reward.

As for why Hutt was so willing? One look at his skin color told the story. Without the backing of the church, a Black man with no connections trying to become a capitalist in Los Angeles was something you’d only see in future Hollywood movies.

"Quite a story," Dean said, not pressing Hutt further. "Tell me where the priest is buried."

"You planning to do something foolish?" Hutt looked tense.

"Of course not. I’m just satisfying my curiosity. Today, we just had a casual chat about postnatal care for sows, right?" Dean said with a smile.

Rolling his eyes, Hutt gave out the address.

Dean didn’t dawdle and left.

He hadn’t reported the Marcus affair; he didn’t want to cause trouble for himself. But I can’t miss out on the Experience Points I deserve!

Back in downtown Los Angeles, Dean used a payphone to contact a logistics company. He asked them to deliver a rope and a message to the cemetery address Hutt had provided. Afterward, he took a taxi to Ross’s gym.

Investigating cases is such hard work. I might as well go blow off some steam.