Chapter 39: The 1924 Train Murder Case (12)

“Of course it has nothing to do with me,” Bartholomew insisted, “If you can find a single bullet on me, I’ll take my head off right now and let you kick it around like a ball.”

Everyone: “…”

No one actually needed him to take off his head for a kick.

But their suspicion toward Bartholomew was real.

“Why don’t we just vote?” suggested Lady Ottilia, “I have serious doubts about Mr. Bartholomew. His refusal to cooperate has seriously hindered the progress of this case. Therefore, I believe he is highly suspicious.”

Since a vote was in order...

The ballot box was already prepared, placed in one of the private compartments of the VIP carriage.

Elijah brought over the box.

“Have you all made your decision? You only get three chances, you know.”

“We’re ready,” Ottilia was the first to cast her vote. “I suspect Bartholomew, because he cannot explain the bullet wound in the victim’s chest.”

Clearly, Ottilia was an NPC!

Only an NPC would so eagerly waste a voting opportunity and muddy the waters.

“If you’ve decided, write the name on your slip. The box will be opened tomorrow morning. The person with the most votes will be dealt with.”

“Dealt with?” Adele covered her mouth, exclaiming in confusion, “What does that mean?”

“It means they’ll be killed. Until the surveillance footage returns in three days. If, among the three executed, one is confirmed as the murderer, everyone else will survive. If none of them are the culprit, everyone will be blown to pieces by a timed bomb.”

Though the logic behind this threat was riddled with holes,

The players all knew that in “Extreme Escape,” logic was never the point. What mattered was staying alive.

“So I’ll ask you again: are you certain Bartholomew is the murderer?”

“Isn’t it a bit hasty to start voting now?” Since Bartholomew was likely a player, Tang Mu was obviously unwilling to let a player be eliminated so soon.

This would be disastrous for controlling the votes later on.

“We’ve clarified the victim’s identity, but we have no clues about his relationship with the suspects. Since so many have had contact with the deceased, surely some among us knew him. But everyone’s pretending otherwise. I suggest we first investigate the connections between the suspects and the victim. Otherwise, there’s no way to vote sensibly.”

“I agree.” Jill raised his hand. “This is excellent material for a novel—please, investigate every detail thoroughly. When my book becomes a hit, I’ll treat you all to afternoon tea.”

The crowd: “…”

“You should focus on getting off this train alive first,” Hunter retorted impatiently, shooting Jill a glare. “Compared to your loss, mine would be much greater.”

Jill snorted and ignored him.

Tang Mu watched as the conversation veered off track, unable to stifle a sigh.

With teammates this clueless, could they really survive the journey?

“Let’s all state our identities and our relationship to the deceased,” Tang Mu said. “If you truly want to catch the killer, it’s best not to lie, or it’ll mess up the deduction. And for those who don’t want the killer found, you’d better not get caught lying—otherwise, you’ll be revealed as a non-player, and that could be very awkward.”

“I’ll start,” Bartholomew declared.

“My name is Bartholomew, an illegal arms dealer. I’m on this train to London to meet my contact and transport a batch of incomplete firearms. But I’m not carrying any ammunition—none at all. As for that toy gun earlier, it can’t be fired. It’s missing a crucial part. Only Mackey, who boarded the train with me, knows where it is.”

Bartholomew was clearly trying to deflect suspicion.

But then, self-preservation was understandable.

Mackey, thrown under the bus by his “good friend,” was clearly annoyed.

“Bartholomew, how could you?” Mackey snapped. “Why would I steal a part from your precious gun?”

“Oh, Mackey, you may be my best friend, but you can’t deny your background as a pickpocket. It’s all too easy for you to steal anything you want.”

Seeing Bartholomew about to take the argument off course, Tang Mu couldn’t help but interrupt before a full-blown quarrel could erupt.

“So, what’s your relationship with the victim?”

Tang Mu’s tone was edged with impatience.

“I only met this unfortunate fellow on the train. What was his name again?”

“Augustine.”

“Right. Augustine,” Bartholomew replied indifferently. “What connection could an arms dealer possibly have with a biochemical expert? I’m only on this train to earn a living.”

Tang Mu sighed. “Let’s set aside your identity as an arms dealer for now. There’s a logical flaw in your story.”

Bartholomew frowned, looking both nervous and puzzled. “What flaw?”

“You said your gun was missing a part. But when you first boarded the train and threatened Lady Ottilia, your gun could be loaded and fired. That means it was intact at that time. Yet now you claim it’s missing a part…”

“Mr. Bartholomew, if you started out lying, it will seriously interfere with our deductions. Don’t you want to leave this damned train alive?”

Perhaps the word “alive” struck a chord with Bartholomew.

He pursed his lips, fell silent for a moment, and finally, with obvious reluctance, began to reveal the truth, bit by bit.

“All right, I admit it. I boarded this train for Augustine.”

He surrendered, albeit grudgingly. “But I didn’t get the chance to act—and I wouldn’t have killed him with a gun. Who would be so stupid as to use their most identifying feature to commit murder?”

“Very well, Mr. Bartholomew. Let’s assume you’re telling the truth. So what exactly was your relationship with the victim?” Tang Mu pressed.

But now Bartholomew seemed agitated,

As if there truly were some deep-seated grudge between him and the late Augustine.

“The organization gave me an assignment. They said Augustine would board the Hale Express to London around two this afternoon. My mission was to kill him on the train. As for why…”

He pointed at the dangerous case clutched in Augustine’s arms. “That—anthrax. We need to seize it from the British.”