Chapter 302: Three Detectives (6)_1

"I called the police, controlled the key keeper who led the way, set up the traps in the room, placed the ghosts in the hallway, and even allowed Lauren to summon a demon. My intent was to kill you in this boarding school…"

Shiller, absorbed in his medical history book, casually remarked without even looking up, "It's flawed."

"There have been too many mistakes in your plan, starting from the part where you sacrificed Cooper to the demon. When I went to investigate the scene of Cooper's death, the first thing I saw was that Magic Array. Any normal person would associate this with certain occult elements."

"You have written the answer right on the question. Do you really expect others to be unprepared?"

"The traps you placed at the boarding school are a total mess. The key keeper has acted too hastily, his motives are too obvious. And the traps with the drawer and keys in that room... you deliberately hung a lock on the drawer and then placed a key conspicuously."

"If I am not wrong, there is no curse on that key, but the moment you open the drawer, the sheep skull inside would release a deadly curse."

"You really are no ordinary man." Constantine looked into Shiller's eyes and said, "You didn't open the drawer, yet you knew what's inside."

Shiller ignored him, continuing, "Do you think this is some sort of computer game? Each lock would come with a key, and once you have the key, you can unlock the door, find the clue, and proceed to the next level. Constantine, I've seen enough of these clichés..."

"Later, you lured us to the basement. Your excuses were not at all convincing, no self-righteous hero would do as you have done..."

Shiller sized up Constantine with his eyes, Constantine got the message. He turned his head aside and said, "Okay, I do look like a sexually indulgent, drug-addicted junkie. The overly righteous lines do clash with my appearance. But it doesn't matter much. Even if I cannot kill you, I can buy some time."

"Up to this point, my plan was going smoothly as you were indeed held back by me, but what puzzles me the most is…"

"What puzzles you the most is, why did you fail in the end?"

Shiller stood the pen upright on the table, smiled and said, "Actually, this is a very common mental blind spot. Can you tell me why you think 'Mad Liquor' is truly 'liquor'?"

The other three in the room were slightly taken aback. Without pondering, Gordon asked, "Why is Mad Liquor not liquor?"

Shiller raised the pen in his hand and said, "Know what? This is a carrot."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not saying this pen is a carrot. Rather, I call it 'a carrot'. The name of this pen is 'a carrot'."

"Your actions are akin to a silly rabbit hearing that I have 'a carrot' here, and it comes looking. But this isn't a carrot. It's just a pen called 'a carrot'. Hence when it bites, it finds no carrot, but instead breaks its teeth."

"I named this mysterious dream-inducing liquid 'Mad Liquor', and you take it as some kind of liquor, assuming it would tamely stay in the bottle until you uncork it and pour it into your mouth."

"Let me elaborate." Shiller tossed the pen onto the table. "Now, I name this mysterious liquid 'Hexafluoroantimony Acid', would you still rush to it without a second thought and try to pick up the bottle without gloves?"

Gordon shook his head and said, "Although I don't understand the long chemical terms you used, hearing this name, I know it must be something dangerous, and I would choose to avoid it."

"See, that's it. I named this liquid 'Mad Liquor', but it's just called 'liquor'. I didn't say it would work as ordinary liquor does, to be consumed orally. This liquid can be absorbed not only through the stomach lining but also via the respiratory tract and skin."

"Moreover, the bottle of concentrate I kept on the shelf needs to be diluted with ordinary liquor before consumption. A bit of contact with it would pull one into a dream."

"Let me guess, the smart Mr. Constantine, thinking it was real liquor, not only held the bottle without gloves but might have also touched the stopper that was wet with the liquor. He was pulled into a dream right away…"

Constantine turned his head to the other side. But Shiller went on, "It's as if you set up a series of earth-shattering grand plans, only to fail because you couldn't find a parking spot."

"I admit, I underestimated your cunning and psychosis, so what do you want?"

"Don't you want to meet the Sleep Demon, Morpheus? I can help. Here is a shortcut I dug up before that can save you a lot of effort, but you have to agree to one condition..."

"Go ahead, could things get any worse?"

"Since it was you who killed Lawrence, initiating the serial killings of the Twelve Disciples, you have to take responsibility of finding the murderer of Hawk and Richie."

Shiller looked at Batman, "Let him atone for his sins first, then judge all the murderers together. You shouldn't have any objections, right?"

"I can solve these two cases myself."

"Really? Seems like you don't have enough homework..."

Batman clammed up and Shiller again turned to Gordon, who waved a hand to signal: "As long as the murderer gets prosecuted, it's fine. If it wasn't for your help this time, we probably wouldn't have caught this magic-wielding guy. Do as you see fit, after all, you're the experienced one..."

"Excuse me, shouldn't you guys ask for my opinion?" Constantine swayed his head, "I'm a rock musician, secondly an exorcist, I don't know how to investigate."

"I heard you go by 'Hell Detective' in your circle. Great, here we have a 'Gotham Detective' and also a 'Chicago Detective'. Together, you three detectives shouldn't have a case you can't crack, right?"

"The emphasis of Hell Detective is on the hell... Alright, if that's your requirement, I'll do my best."

A day later, Batman looked at the dazed and slack-faced Constantine slumped in the corner. Then he glanced at the addicts in this drug den, who looked no different from Constantine. Suddenly, he understood the method Shiller had told him - no matter where you come across this man, one punch is sure to hit the mark.

"How much did you take?" Batman asked in a stern voice.

Constantine coughed up a single word from his throat: "Smoke..."

Batman grabbed his collar, landed a punch, and Constantine sobered up a bit. He shook his head and said: "Thanks, pack more of a punch than a smoke."

Batman released his grip, tossing him to the ground. Constantine's shoulder hit the wall, but he paid it no mind. He fumbled around, found a crumpled pack of cigarettes, pulled out a smoke, and asked Batman: "Got a light?"

"When are you planning to investigate the case?"

"Can't you handle it? He won't be watching me all the time. You said it yourself, you can figure it out on your own. So why don't you go investigate? I'll just wait here. Isn't this the perfect collaboration?"

"If I could avoid working with you, you would not have seen me here."

"Heh, heh," Constantine laughed a low, deep chuckle, his cigarette unlit but still dangling from his mouth. He lay against the wall and said to Batman, "That science homework, did the good professor assign it to you? Little boy..."

"I can tell, you are a very naive boy. Fresh out of the box, haven't been away from your parents for long. Your mind is filled with dreams of being a hero, punishing criminals, upholding justice..."

"But it won't be long before you understand there are more interesting things in the world than that..." Constantine, always raspy, untied his tie, his clothes disheveled.

The lingering sensation of the drugs' delusions and pleasure made Constantine seem somewhat unhinged. He tugged at his collar, staring at Batman: "You need to learn how to relax, just like me. Witness the few shards of beauty left in this godforsaken world..."

"My child, why so serious?"

Batman's biceps tightened in an instant. Constantine, seeing this, thought his provocation had succeeded. Just as he started to laugh, a fist the size of a sandbag appeared in his vision.

Ten minutes later, a beaten-up Constantine was trailing behind Batman, complaining, "What did I say wrong? Even if you're not interested in me, we could have found some fun together. You know me, I'm pretty open-minded..."

Another ten minutes later, Gordon looked at an even more bruised Constantine: "You didn't really listen to Shiller, did you, Batman? Even if he is a criminal, you can't... Isn't that a bit too much?"

"Thanks for sticking up for me, officer. Got a light?"

Gordon pulled out a lighter from his pocket and gave it to Constantine. As Constantine ignited his cigarette and exhaled, Gordon scrunched up his nose: "...God, what did you put in your cigarette? Fuck, put it out! Are you seriously smoking weed in front of a cop? Put it out!!"

Another ten minutes passed, and Gordon, hands on his hips, gazed at Constantine who was slumped in a corner, looking like a pile of mud. He rubbed his forehead: "I swear I didn't want to hit him, but he just pushed it too far..."

Gordon pinched the bag of cigarettes, pulling one out and peeling back the skin, "Others mix a bit of stuff into their tobacco, he has his stuff mixed with a bit of tobacco. You son of a bitch junkie, aren't you afraid of smoking yourself to death?"

A high Constantine laughed: "Do you think if a demon ate the soul of this junkie, it would end up like those stray dogs on the street, crying a river and scratching its own face?"

Gordon turned to Batman: "He's a goner. Even in Gotham, I rarely see someone this screwed up."

Afterward, he nodded and said, "Shiller was right. No matter where you see him, feel free to give him a punch. It's sure to be the right move."