11

Wishing you a prosperous new year!

The following morning, as Rick prepared for his usual 10-kilometer run, he encountered his neighbor Susan Meier walking her dog. They engaged in lively conversation about Rick's debut book, "Treasure Island." Susan mentioned how she and her children enjoyed the adventurous tale, which provided a much-needed escape for them amidst recent tragic events. She explained that the children had been affected, refusing to participate in Shakespearean rehearsals because one of Lillian's "children" died in the script. To reassure them, Susan narrated "Treasure Island," convincing some that no one would perish in the play.

Susan, a children's book illustrator, expressed interest in designing illustrations for "Treasure Island." Rick readily provided her with Stark Group's press department contact, although he had no plans for a second edition himself. He noted Stark Group's laissez-faire approach to his publishing, acknowledging that his literary agent business under an arms group's name was a running joke in the literary world. The Daily Bugle, effectively operating and publishing his books, garnered fame and fortune, but Rick remained indifferent to Susan's potential success with her illustration venture.

The chat with Susan shifted Rick's morning run plan to a brief two kilometers, conserving energy for probing Lillian's secrets later that morning. Officer George insisted that Rick, with his literary charm, was better suited to coax information from Lillian.

Under the morning sun, Lillian sat listlessly in her living room, dressed in loose pajamas and appearing weary.

"Ma'am, you don't want this, do you?"

Seated back on the sofa, Rick decided to address her directly amidst the empty tea table.

"All the evidence the police have now contradicts your confession. Many investigators are considering formally arresting and interrogating you. You can't be charged with killing your own 'child.'"

Rick adopted the role of a caring elder brother, offering earnest advice for half an hour.

"For God's sake, yes, God will forgive my children. They'll all go to heaven, right? Father Martin has agreed to conduct their funeral himself. He said they'll go to heaven."

"This is all I can do for my children—to ensure they're buried properly and go to heaven."

Lillian seemed bewildered, muttering to herself.

"Don't worry about heaven. The kids will definitely be there. Why wouldn't they be?"

"Alright, let's talk about what the children have been up to lately. Who do they usually play with? Any unusual activities?"

Rick pulled out a small notebook and a fine pen, aiming for a formal and imposing air.

"Why ask about the children? Little Jimmy's a good little angel. He's scared. It's got nothing to do with him."

Lillian asked with some dissatisfaction, crossing her arms. Suddenly, her eyes sharpened, no longer dazed.

"Relax, Ms. Lillian. This is just standard questioning. Captain Stacy noticed the case file omitted details about little Jimmy, so I've come for a casual chat. It helps wrap up the case faster. Does little Jimmy have any interesting stories to share lately?"

Rick gently reassured the initially resistant neighbor.

"Little Jimmy, little Jimmy. He started first grade recently and practices 'Romeo and Juliet' with other neighborhood kids. They're quite serious, rehearsing every afternoon in the park. He's my pride."

Lillian's eyes sparkled.

"Could you tell me about the other children? Who are they? What roles do they play?"

Rick meticulously sketched a tiny turtle in the notebook.

"They're all neighborhood kids, attending the same school and playing together. Oh, and the new Thompson family moved in. Their son was quite headstrong, insisting on being director. He was a funny kid. On the day of the incident, little Jimmy said they were short of people, so he brought his dog to fill in. Haha, such a dedicated kid."

Lillian drifted into memories.

Rick continued chatting with Lillian, ensuring no detail was missed, then bid her farewell politely. On his way out, he casually inquired about the whereabouts of Dick, learning he was away on business.

That afternoon:

Rick paid an unexpected visit to neighbor and illustrator Susan Mayer. After brief pleasantries, Susan agreed to discuss the park rehearsal with a little boy involved in the incident.

"So, Julie, can you tell me about that afternoon's rehearsal?"

Rick tried to appear friendly, his face exaggeratedly smiling. Between them sat two large glasses of fresh orange juice.

"Don't worry, Mr. Smith. We were relaxed during rehearsal, just like usual. Except for little Kevin. He was unbearable."

Julie wrinkled her nose.

"Hey, kiddo. That's not polite," Susan admonished.

"No, really. Kevin was unbearable. He kept bossing us around, insisting we follow the script. He made little Jimmy play Juliet and Tybalt, scolding him so harshly that Jimmy cried. Kevin insisted we all wear purple costumes, saying purple symbolizes nobility. His purple hat was ugly, but no one dared complain for his sake. Eventually, we removed Kevin as director and made him stage manager if he admitted fault. Sadly, the family moved the next day, so we never voted."

Julie earnestly detailed the young generation's love-hate dynamics to the adults.

"Kevin's family moved the day after the incident? Susan, do you know them?"

Rick stowed his notebook and pen, turning to Susan.

"They found the house through Lillian, our realtor. Bree mentioned Kevin's parents, Albert and Louise Thompson, were medical researchers. When they moved, I don't know."

Susan hesitated.

"Alright, I'll check with Bree for more on the Thompson family. Thank you both for your cooperation."

Rick nodded to little Julie, who reciprocated politely, while Susan chuckled.

Ten minutes later, in the living room of Bree Van der Kamp, community leader:

Rick awkwardly sat on the sofa as Bree meticulously arranged delicate porcelain tea sets and assorted desserts. She had changed upstairs into a more formal attire.

"Mr. Rick Smith is our esteemed guest. We mustn't be uncouth at afternoon tea."

Bree, smiling perfectly, sat opposite Rick.

"Forgive the intrusion. I'm here mainly to inquire about the Thompson family who recently moved nearby. Do you know their son, Kevin Jr.?"

Rick shifted, facing Bree, feeling scrutinized for etiquette.

"The Thompsons arrived just over a month ago. Albert and Louise are shy, studious types who keep to themselves, immersed in research. Kevin rarely attended school; he always accompanied them. I sense they're good people. On the day of the incident, Albert drove them to the city, and they never returned. Lillian claims they moved away. No one was home that day."

Bree poured Rick a cup of warm, fragrant black tea.

Rick sipped the tea, letting its rich aroma swirl in his thoughts. Among those he had encountered in this case, the Thompson family seemed the most suspicious and enigmatic. As he sipped the black tea, Rick found no more suspicious targets than this family. Despite recalling events from his past life, no characters matched the name.

"Bree, if I wish to visit the Thompsons' vacant home now, whom should I contact legally?"

Rick set down his tea, eyeing Bree.

"We should consult Lillian first, if the house is for sale. She can legally guide us. Alternatively, if it's still under the Thompsons' ownership, Little Bob can assist. He's keen to meet you but shy after his behavior that night."

Bree covered her mouth gently, smiling.

"Who's Bob?"

Rick was perplexed.