17. Ah... This is what they call science... (End)
There were three suspects in the case.
The homeowner, Vermin Viscount, the gardener Kill, and the pitiful servant Luke tied up with ropes over there.
Before starting the interrogation, I had Luke's restraints removed.
With a gag in his mouth too, it looked like some daytime SM play. Couldn't just leave him like that.
"Snh, thank you."
He wiped the drool from his mouth and kept thanking me profusely.
Why do I have to see a grown man like this...?
That just gave me more reason to think the viscount was the culprit.
"Where were you and what were you doing at the time of the incident?"
"The viscount told me to fetch some wine, so I was in the wine cellar. I spent a long time there because I couldn't find the one he specified."
"What nonsense is that! I never called for you separately yesterday!"
"Y-you definitely told me to bring the 15-year-old Rimillon! I swear on the heavens!"
"I took in a worthless stray, and it turns out to be a dog that bites its master!"
The viscount's desperate blocking attempt.
No wonder—he'd be eliminated as a suspect if Luke's alibi held up.
Next, the gardener Kill.
He gave off such obvious culprit vibes that it was almost reassuring.
"What were you doing at the time of the incident?"
"Tending the garden."
Yeah, figures for a gardener.
The problem was that none of these three had been seen by anyone else in the mansion.
Meaning, we couldn't confirm if he was really pruning the garden at the exact time. Put him on hold for now.
"That scar on your cheek looks fresh. How'd you get it?"
Kill briefly touched his cheek.
"Got scratched by a branch while trimming eggplants yesterday."
Makes sense for the job. No real way to dig deeper here.
Finally, my personal favorite culprit candidate.
"I was in the study at that time! I was handling paperwork when I heard a commotion outside the door. By the time I checked, the incident had already happened!"
"If you were working in the study, surely you had at least one servant nearby."
"Me! I was right there!"
"Shut your trap, Luke! What are you doing, Hercules? Perjury! That's perjury!"
The lying duo was still bickering on one side.
I turned to the other servants watching the interrogation like it was front-row seats.
Excluding the viscount and his linked alibi Luke, that left 20 other suspects cleared.
"Did anyone here happen to attend to the viscount yesterday?"
"……."
No one stepped forward. Perfect.
I'm no Holmes; I couldn't solve this by deduction anyway.
I'd rather not deal with more variables.
All I've played are courtroom games where you win by yelling loud enough and ones with super high school-level culprits.
"You don't believe me?! Even if you're here on the count's orders, how dare a commoner ignore a noble's word!"
The viscount was turning back into a decent human being. Rage all you want; it'll just raise your blood pressure.
"I've heard all three alibis. Now, as I mentioned earlier, we'll proceed with the investigation using the magic tool invented by Count Arno."
I ignored the viscount's tantrum and pulled out the fingerprint kit from my pocket.
The roller, the ink pad, and paper.
"One at a time, please place your fingers here and then press firmly on the paper."
I easily took Luke's and Kill's fingerprints.
And finally, the viscount's...
"Hm. So I just press my finger here and onto the paper, right?"
The viscount carelessly placed his finger on the paper and twisted it around like he was rubbing it in.
"Like this? Your instructions weren't specific, so I don't know if I did it right."
Instead of a print, the paper just had a smeared, circular smudge.
He might not know the principle, but he figured out the intent behind the process.
I looked up to see him smirking.
Even rotten fish has brains; he wasn't completely dumb.
But us modern folks know how to deal with assholes like this.
"Oh dear, now we've wasted a sheet of paper."
"Hmph! It's just one sheet, isn't it?"
"Unfortunately, even the paper is a magic tool made by the count. It goes through a special process."
"What?!"
I held up the ruined paper and turned to Hercules.
"Security chief. I understand you've already paid a deposit to use the count's magic tool for the investigation."
"Huwat hahaha! That's right! It was such a huge sum, the security team's budget couldn't cover it—I really struggled!"
Hercules jumped right into the fabrication without hesitation.
"How much exactly did the security team pay? I know the other tools minus the paper come to about 30 gold."
"Th... thirty gold?"
"Is that so? Subtract that, and it's 470 gold for the paper alone. Is paper really that expensive?"
"Four... 470!"
Dizzy yet? For a viscount, 50 gold is about a month's living expenses.
You smug bastard. Feel what it's like to scratch a luxury foreign car as a broke fool.
"Haa."
I deliberately lowered my voice and made a troubled face, furrowing my brow hard.
"Viscount. As you heard, this magic tool is extremely expensive."
I pulled out a fresh sheet and shoved it in front of his face.
"I might not have explained well enough before, so maybe that was a mistake on my part. But please focus carefully this time."
The viscount started sweating coldly, his fingers trembling.
"From the next sheet on, we'll have to bill you for the paper."
Unlike before, he carefully brought his hand to the paper.
Should go smoothly now.
But you went too far.
The moment he pressed his trembling finger down, steadying it...
"Gently... carefully lift it off. Viscount Vermin."
The viscount froze with his finger still on the paper.
"Any shaking at all, and it's a failed test. We'll have to charge the count about 40 gold."
His finger started shaking again at those words. But not enough to smear the print this time.
"Good? It's good, right?! I got the fingerprint exactly like you said!"
I checked the paper. The ink had captured a clear print.
Figured the noble pride would make him tough it out.
Should I just say it was good and move on?
"Oh dear."
"What?! I did it right! It's clear on the paper!"
Yeah, it's clear. But so what?
I'm the only one in this world who knows about fingerprints.
"Sadly, the middle finger print came out unstable. We'll have to do it again."
The viscount's face went pale. No wonder—a month's estate expenses just flew away.
"I won't! I can't! There's no law saying this! We should investigate by the book! This is abuse of power and overreach!"
Now that he's the victim, out come the righteous arguments.
He's right. Normally, introducing an unverified magic tool out of nowhere would be impossible. Clear overreach.
But ironically, the walls of status make such overreach possible—just like you did, viscount.
Leperi's dad. Let me milk your name a bit more.
Once or several times, it's all the same, right?
"If you don't cooperate, I'll have to report this to the count. Right, security chief?"
Hercules raised one eyebrow, crossed his arms, and struck a thoughtful pose.
"Yeah, probably. If the count finds out the magic tool test got canceled, he might come here himself!"
"No way! One more! I'll do one more!"
The viscount extended his finger, more afraid of the count's visit than 40 gold.
Sorry, but the fingerprint test isn't ending today.
"Ah, this time the ring finger's problematic."
Again.
"Your hand's sweaty, diluting the ink. Can't use this."
Again.
"Too bad. The thumb slipped a bit."
Again.
Hercules, who had been chuckling at first, started looking serious as the tests repeated. Even the viscount's servants' faces darkened.
By the seventh failure...
"Unfortunately, we can't continue the tests."
The kit's paper was out, leaving only a 280-gold debt.
"This can't be... 280 gold! I don't have that kind of money!"
The viscount collapsed, legs giving out, covering his face with ink-stained hands. Ink smeared on his face looked pathetic. He seemed five years older, drained.
Feels damn good.
"Can we proceed with the test?"
Hercules whispered behind me.
"Of course. I can get more paper."
"I see."
He called over a security officer guarding the door and gave orders.
Soon, the viscount was helped into the security team's carriage.
"We'll do the tests and interrogation tomorrow too! Security team, make sure no one leaves the mansion until then!"
"Yes, sir!"
With that, today's investigation wrapped up. Nothing more to do now.
Guess I'm clocking in at the viscount's place tomorrow whether I like it or not.
I rode the official carriage back to the inn.
They're picking me up tomorrow morning too. Feels like a call taxi.
It was just before dinner ended, so I called Silbi and ate together before heading to my room.
Told her I had to go out tomorrow too—she just nodded, as expected.
Tried to get the full story from Iris, but she's out on a business trip. Oh well.
Can't wrap up the case yet anyway, so no rush.
After showering and about to sleep, the fingerprint results popped into my head.
I pulled out the fingerprint sheets. One from the murder weapon, one each from Luke and Kill. And seven from the viscount.
Looking at it now, maybe I went too far.
"Self-inflicted."
Finish the analysis, and I can wrap this up early tomorrow, right?
I checked the prints on the murder weapon. Five clear fingers.
First, compared to Luke's.
Left hand, right hand—neither matched.
"As expected, points to the viscount being the culprit."
Denying he sent for wine. The servant's innocence in fetching it.
What other answer could there be?
Extort some cash, catch the killer, report to the boss, and score brownie points!
"Maybe use the leftover money to stock up on some self-defense stuff?"
Whistling a tune, thinking of the pouch on the bed and tomorrow's payout, I compared the prints.
Hm?
"Why doesn't this match?"
Left fingers: no match.
Right fingers: no match?
I hurriedly grabbed Kill's record and compared to the weapon.
Match.
"Damn, should I be happy or sad about this."
Looks like the gardener advertising his suspiciousness really was the shady one.