Chương 3473: Chapter 2607: Descending Gently (56)

Gordon's expression suddenly became unpredictable, and he sat down again, looking at Shearer. "Professor Shearer, since Officer Clay has accused you of assaulting him, I think you might need to cooperate with the investigation," he said.

"I am more than willing," Shearer nodded and said, "However, I have classes tomorrow, and you cannot occupy my working hours; otherwise, I cannot explain to the academic office why I would be absent from work."

Gordon nodded, and Shearer stood up first, glanced down at Clay who was lying on the hospital bed, and said, "It seems that this officer has a deep misunderstanding of me, and I hope the Gotham Police Department can clear up the misunderstanding between us."

"You don't need to worry too much, Mr. Police Chief," Shearer said calmly, looking at Gordon, "I am a psychology professor, and I have seen many victims of such major crimes experience post-traumatic stress disorder. I am very happy to offer them help."

Gordon extended his hand and shook hands with Shearer, saying, "Thank you for your generosity, Professor, and sorry for the trouble."

After Shearer and the other two left, Gordon sat down with an indescribable expression. Clay was extremely agitated, even trembling, and he said to Gordon, "The criminal is right in front of you, why don't you arrest him?! I know who assaulted me; I'm not lying."

"Perhaps it was Shearer who assaulted you." Unexpectedly, Gordon did not continue to argue, but said, "Based on my understanding of him, it is also very likely that he assaulted you."

"Then why don't you arrest him?"

Gordon put down his cup and looked at Clay, saying, "Do you think I have the ability to arrest him?"

"Why not? You all have guns, and he's even here right now."

Gordon shook his head and said, "Indeed, we could put a gun to his head and arrest Schiller Rodriguez, but how do we arrest a professor from Gotham University, a world-renowned psychologist?"

Clay stared at Gordon dumbfounded, thinking he was talking nonsense.

"I'll emphasize it one last time, Mr. Clay, being a police officer is not as simple as you think. The weight of the evidence determines how high a person's social standing we can arrest."

"Your testimony may allow us to arrest a petty criminal but not a scholar, let alone a well-known scholar. You need more evidence to convince me and to convince the media and public opinion."

"But the truth is right in front of us, why can't we..."

"Because your suspicion is just that, suspicion," Gordon said. "In the absence of any substantial evidence to support this suspicion, it doesn't affect his status at all."

"We're not even talking about arrest; unless there is surveillance footage of him committing murder, it would be very difficult to get a search warrant for him."

"So why not look for evidence first..."

"Haven't you been looking? Did you find anything?"

Clay was speechless.

This was a vicious cycle; everyone present understood that if you wanted to investigate such a big shot, you needed evidence. But without evidence, they wouldn't accept your investigation.

But Clay didn't believe it. He thought that if Gordon could rise to the rank of chief in such a city, he must have dealt with numerous big shots, and his career surely included taking down many people just like Shearer.

If he could do it then, why not now? Isn't this favoritism?

Clay angrily pointed this out, but Gordon looked at him with a slightly scornful gaze and said, "The effort and even the risk to my life to take down those big shots was for justice."

"Isn't it still for justice now? Isn't his wanton killing evil?"

"If you were walking on the street, suddenly knocked unconscious by him, and sewn into human skin, then thrown into the middle of the police station lobby, I wouldn't waste my time here talking to you. I would immediately choose to arrest him. But when I asked you at the scene of the crime, what was your response?"

Clay opened his mouth to speak but soon choked. He remembered what he had said. He said the crime scene was at Rodrix Manor.

It was at Rodrix Manor where Shearer had knocked him unconscious.

So why would he appear at Rodrix Manor?

"It's you who have made it impossible for me to uphold justice," Gordon said. "Its one thing for an officer to drive a police car to someone's house, rummaging through their property. It's lucky for you he didn't shoot you dead on the spot."

"If now I make a big fuss about arresting him for the injuries you've suffered, given his status and position, the case will definitely hit the news. When the media follows up, once he talks about your behavior, the entire Gotham Police Department will be mired in accusations of violent law enforcement because of you."

Gordon averted his eyes, his expression dark, "I don't care about your impulsiveness; there are plenty of impulsive people here. Without them, I wouldn't be able to take down so many big shots. The only thing you did wrong was that you were too foolish, you barged in, but found no evidence."

Having said that, he got up and left the room, while the other officers staggered out as well. However, Brock calmly sat down beside the bed and lit a cigarette for himself.

"Justice and fairness can sometimes mean the same thing, and sometimes they conflict with each other; it's strange, isn't it?"

"It's clear that Shearer killed a person, sewed you into human skin, and even hung you in the police station. From the perspective of justice, he is utterly evil."

Clay's face turned ashen, but Brock's words slightly soothed his emotions.

"But from the standpoint of fairness, you are a cop who enforces the law illegally and breaks into people's homes, while he is a diligent and celebrated psychology expert, the public would not stand on your side."

"That's because the public doesn't know what he's done!"

Brock laughed and said, "James is absolutely right. As long as you have evidence to prove what he's done, Gordon dares to arrest anyone."

"But since you don't, both parties are talking without proof, and it comes down to who has more authority. Do you think you can win against Professor Rodriguez?"

"…Yes, I have to leave before five o'clock this afternoon. I still need to tidy up the house to hold the housewarming party I couldn't have before. Thank you for your concern, madam. I anticipated getting into all sorts of trouble as soon as I started this line of work."

"Hello? Hilde? I've read your draft, but let's change the face-to-face meeting to the day after tomorrow. I have to go to the police station tomorrow for an investigation… It's not really a big deal. A cop who broke into my manor got hurt…"

"…Yes, the group meeting is canceled. We'll hold it this Saturday instead. Remind them to free up an afternoon, and don't forget to bring their results. Don't try to fool me with last week's work."

"Hello? Victor? Has the principal gone back yet? How's the repair on the new school building going? ...I won't come for a visit; I'm really too busy lately. Yes, I'll go to the police station tomorrow afternoon…"

Shiller made several phone calls in a row. He put down his phone and shook his somewhat stiff neck, only to see a dark figure skulking in the backyard.

Shiller opened the back door and found it was Martin. He waved at Martin, who agilely climbed over the backyard fence and into the yard.

He pulled out a feathered party mask from behind him, placed it on his own face, making a silly expression, and then handed it to Shiller, saying, "Consider it an early housewarming gift from me."

"I thought the crystal ball was the gift."

Martin chuckled and said, "Of course not, that was a curse."

"Where did you get it from?"

"It's a family legacy, cough cough, my mom is a witch, and our whole family worships the Ancestral God, so I know a thing or two about this stuff."

Shiller took him into the house, opened the drawer of the broken freezer's frozen compartment, and handed the top two drawers to Martin while he himself took the bottom one.

The two of them went through the back garden gate to the pit nearby, and Shiller threw the drawer and the red contents inside into the pit.

"It's a shame about that good fridge," Martin said after tossing both drawers in. The drawers overturned, and out fell the red contents—human limbs stripped of their skin.

"I'll buy a new one tomorrow," Shiller said. "Actually, I wanted to move the one from the manor, but it's too big, and also the decoration style doesn't match."

"You do have impeccable taste, sir," Martin earnestly exclaimed. "I never imagined the final product would look like that. I believe the Ancestral God will be very pleased."

He took out the crystal ball, which had once again become energized. Holding it in front of his eyes, he gently tapped it, and Shiller heard a sound like the wind.

"Don't actually summon some god over here," Shiller said. "The fridge is broken now, and there's no place to put it."

Martin put away the crystal ball and said, "I really can't thank you enough. That drug cartel has been watching me for a long time now. Living in the city center, it was really impossible to dedicate them all to the Ancestral God. It's different with you here."

Shiller washed his hands in the sink and, drying them with a towel beside him, said, "Let's get back to your history with the Penitent Cartel—or I mean, the Revolutionary Army."

Martin showed a sarcastic smile and said, "That would be the old Revolutionary Army; I have nothing to do with the bunch of idiots running it now."

The two men moved to the sofa and sat down. Martin collapsed comfortably into the chair and said, "Money is nice. When I have money, I'm also going to buy a big villa like this."

Shiller kept silent as he let Martin express his admiration. Afterward, yawning, Martin said, "It's not that complicated, really. My dad used to be a fisherman who knew how to repair boats and cars. After coming to Guazhou, he was pretty capable. Our family owned a particularly large piece of land in the village, where we grew poppies for those drug traffickers."

"At first, it was a local boss who hired us. He was rather stingy, but he treated our family fairly well, as my dad did technically skilled work. Maintaining good relations with us meant good relations with the villagers."

"The share of the poppy harvest wasn't much, but this stuff was indeed more profitable than grain, and our family used to live quite well."

"But one day, out of nowhere, this cartel called the Penitent Cartel, maybe to expand their turf or to grab the plantations, killed our original boss."

"At that time my father was very ill and couldn't stop them. Not long after, he passed away. My mom, the villagers, and I started working for the Penitent Cartel."

"These guys weren't just stingy; they were also very cruel and treated everyone badly. The villagers all detested them, as we were not the meek farmers willing to submit to their bullying."

"The villagers got some guns and took out the old boss's hidden cars and munitions, and we fought with them. I was old enough by then to help out too. Finally, we drove them away and started working for ourselves."

"Business went quite well, and my mom took me to the city where I got some education, planning to use my father's friend's connection to come to America for work when I got a bit older."

"Who knew we would run into that damn Penitent Cartel again in the city? With no villagers to back us up, my mom and I, weak on our own, were chased all the way home by them."

"My mom was shot dead by them, and I ran away, but I knew she wouldn't let them off that easily; she was endowed with the power of the Ancestral God."

"Sure enough, when I came back home, I found a mummified body—it was my mom. All her blood had been drained, and the statue of the Ancestral God she always worshiped had been shattered."

Martin raised an eyebrow, showing little sign of sadness, filled mostly with anger and mockery. He said, "She cursed everyone in that organization with her own life. The tattoos on the members of the Penitent Cartel are literally death marks from the Ancestral God."

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