Chapter 2
Edward Quan ·
I pointed vaguely in another direction.
“Then... I'll have a look at the water over there.”
I hurried away from that place so heavy with intimacy.
Half an hour later, I returned.
The hardier drinkers were still going.
Vương Ngưng wasn't there.
Lưu Thời Vũ was back, holding his wife Mạnh Phàm's hand, looking utterly devoted.
He tensed the moment I sat down.
Of course I wasn't going to say anything.
Who knew what their marriage was like?
Being a good person didn't require that sort of interference.
The party continued until midnight.
Then a terrible scream tore through the darkness.
Even the cicadas seemed to fall silent at once.
Tôn Kiều was dead.
In that very cottage.
Something sharp had cut her throat.
Blood spattered the floor.
Cốc Cường found her first.
He couldn't be the killer.
He had been drinking with everyone the whole time. Having had a little too much, he went out for a walk and found her less than five minutes later.
“Quick... call an ambulance!”
Everyone grabbed a phone.
No signal.
My heart sank.
A bad feeling spread slowly through me like a virus.
“Vạn Phong, what is this place? No reception in the mountains?”
“What rubbish? I paid for a base station here.”
He angrily threw his phone down.
“I'll drive out for help. Wait here.”
Within minutes, he was back.
Sweat kept pouring from his forehead as fast as he wiped it away.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Fuck! It's like a haunting. The suspension bridge... it's down!”
“What?”
Panic grew.
“How could it break?”
“How should I know? It's inspected every week. This shouldn't happen!”
“Then call someone to fix it!”
“I sent all the workers home. They won't come back until they hear from me.”
“Then phone them!”
“There's no fucking signal!”
As everyone lost control, I tried to calm them and put an arm around his shoulders.
“Don't panic. Is there a landline or a radio?”
He slapped his thigh.
“Yes! There is!”
He dashed into the villa.
Meanwhile, Trịnh Văn Văn found a pair of plastic gloves in the kitchen.
Putting them on, she began examining Tôn Kiều.
“She's been dead a while. Almost no sign of a struggle. She was probably drugged first.”
Right.
Trịnh Văn Văn worked at a top-tier tertiary hospital.
Perhaps she could find something.
I went over.
“Anything else?”
“Not much. I'm a doctor, not a forensic pathologist.
“My preliminary opinion is that her throat was probably cut while she was unconscious.”
“Are you sure?”
“No. We'd need an autopsy. We can't do that here.”
Her hand stopped.
Her expression became complicated.
“Does this count as a clue?”
From Tôn Kiều's pocket, she took out a used condom.
Every face, male and female alike, changed in its own interesting way.
Before I could ask more, Vạn Phong ran back, swearing.
“Fuck! The phone line's cut. No reception anywhere. Someone must have planted a jammer.”
The noise brought the ten survivors together.
My gaze passed over each face.
Fear.
Irritation.
Guilt.
The killer was among us.
Who?
For anyone familiar with mystery novels or murder-mystery games, the setup was recognizable.
The isolated house in a snowstorm.
Usually, that scenario had three defining features.
First, the killer was one of those present.
Second, there would generally be more than one victim.
Third, the killer would ultimately escape in an unexpected way.
“Dương Dương, what do you think? You write novels.”
I shook my head with a bitter smile.
“My friend, you've misunderstood what a writer does.
“Yes, I write mysteries. Writing one and solving a murder are completely different.”
“Then... any suggestions? We can't just sit here.”
I thought, then decided to offer my opinion.
“Stay together as much as possible. Never be alone with anyone.
“Ideally, don't trust anyone completely.
“I suspect the killer may be one of us.”
The room erupted.
“What the hell are you saying? We're old classmates. Who would murder someone?”
“Right! Are you trying to turn us against each other?”
“We have no grudges. Who would come here to kill?”
I had expected that reaction.
On the surface, they were affirming their faith in our old friendship.
Inside, everyone was already on guard.
Lưu Thời Vũ stared silently at the body.
He moved to pick it up.
“What are you doing?”
I stopped him.
“She was our classmate. We should at least bring her inside.”
“Better not.
“The scene matters. We can't disturb it. Wait for the police.”
He nodded and quietly returned to his wife's side.
Vương Ngưng and I exchanged a look.
We understood each other.
At present, he was the most suspicious.
As far as we knew, she and I were the last to see Tôn Kiều alive.
And then, she had been with him.
Yet my instinct told me he wasn't the killer.
I didn't know why.
Just instinct.
I even felt his wife was more likely.
“Let's go back to the villa.
“Work out how to contact the outside.”
I couldn't tell what Vạn Phong was thinking.
He called us together, and we returned.
Inside, the men smoked one cigarette after another.
The more frightened women sobbed.
“Dương Dương, you're the only one here who's had anything to do with this sort of thing.
“You say the killer's among us.
“Do you suspect anyone?”
I shook my head.
To reason it out, I needed to investigate.
Ask everyone where they had been when it happened.
Who could confirm it.
But that would be deeply discourteous.
Ultimately, I only wrote novels.
I had no authority.
Playing detective would only worsen things.
I glanced at Lưu Thời Vũ.
He deliberately hid behind someone else, avoiding my eyes.
He definitely knew something.
If I had a chance, I needed to speak to him privately.
“It's late.
“Go back to your rooms.
“Lock your doors.
“Be careful.”