103. Deduction, Profiling

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In the dimly lit hotel room, Holdenford stood against the wall, his hands placed in front of him, his right hand grasping his left elbow. He began to carefully recount his deductions.

“According to Jane Harden’s description just now, he was strangled and struggling, still alive when he heard the door opening and closing. This indicates the killer hurriedly left the room without confirming his death.”

“Given Jane’s weight of two hundred pounds, it’s very likely that during the struggle, the strangulation device broke, allowing him to escape with his life.”

“This was a failed assassination attempt. The killer is definitely not a professional; his actions were probably impulsive, driven by intense emotions.”

Holden paused, then precisely described, “The idea to commit the crime suddenly sprang up, like an uncontrollable sneeze—without any warning, it had to be released.”

Dean pondered, placing the divination board and incense burner into his cowboy backpack.

“Another detail confirms my inference—Jane heard a man laughing.”

Holden shook his head.

“Laughing during the act is highly unprofessional, but it also suggests the killer derived some pleasure from this heinous deed.”

Suddenly, Holden turned to Dean and asked, “Imagine if you were the killer—under what circumstances would you laugh joyfully while watching someone struggle, hanging by a rope, about to suffocate?”

“I deeply despise Jane Harden; I wish him dead,” Dean said solemnly. “I’ve killed many before, but rarely smiled while doing so.”

The killer’s mind was likely disturbed.

“And Jane’s action of placing his head into the noose, almost inviting death, was the trigger for the crime.”

“He posed like a lamb to the slaughter, as if deliberately tempting the killer hiding in the shadows to say—” The flickering candlelight cast a strange glow on Holden’s face as his tone unexpectedly grew excited, “Come kill me!”

His reddened eyes turned to Dean.

“If it were you, could you resist?”

...

“So, the killer hated Jane Harden, but overturning his saving stool to kill him was a spontaneous decision.”

Holden concluded, “But that’s not all. According to Jane’s testimony, he never noticed anyone entering the room during the entire incident.”

“And Joan Cartwright’s testimony mentioned the door was locked from the inside after entering.”

“This proves the killer could not have entered during the crime, but was already hiding inside before the two people came in. Yes, that louvered-door wardrobe you just hid in is the perfect hiding spot—good visibility and hard to detect from the outside.”

“This also means the real culprit had the key to room 2-21 in advance!”

...

Dean nodded; this aligned with his own deductions.

Holden stared into the dark void, pacing slowly around the double bed, speeding up his speech.

“Jane Harden also mentioned he and Joan often played games in this house and never checked that louvered-door wardrobe, which was practically their ‘safe house’.”

“The killer, who entered beforehand, chose to hide inside. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

Dean stood up, slung his backpack, nodded then shook his head. “Many seemingly coincidental experiences are deliberate repetitions by others. In a murder case, coincidences are even rarer.”

Holden laughed with satisfaction.

“Exactly. I believe before the day of the incident, the killer had hidden in that wardrobe multiple times as an ‘audience,’ never being discovered.”

Holden paused, his dark eyes slowly turning. “Who can easily access hotel keys and secretly come and go from the room repeatedly?”

Before Dean could answer, Holden launched into an uninterrupted analysis.

“If the killer were a professional assassin, he would have many ways to do these things without a trace.”

“But we’ve concluded he’s not professional; his actions were likely impulsive.”

“That he could get the key, know the times and locations of Jane and Joan playing games, and repeatedly spy secretly is not because he is clever or highly skilled.”

“But because his identity and job provided great convenience!”

Holden’s eyes gleamed as he declared decisively,

“He is an employee of the Gough Hotel!”

...

His steady, powerful voice echoed in the room.

Dean nodded; Holden’s deduction matched his own. Yet he still harbored some doubts.

“The killer is a hotel employee, who hates Jane Harden.”

“Jane claims he hasn’t wronged anyone in the hotel.”

“Then what was the motive?”

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...

“Dean, imagine if it were you,” Holden smiled, “hiding in a wardrobe, watching the annual blockbuster drama. The actors: a piggish, bald, overweight man and a hot, sexy beauty.”

“You watch again and again.”

“What would you think?”

“I’m not interested in such perverse games,” Dean said with a serious face. “Watching repeatedly is just inviting misery.”

Holden gave him a contemptuous look. “Normal men can’t help but watch repeatedly, feeling jealousy and fantasies over why it’s not them dating Joan.”

Suddenly immersed in the killer’s persona, Holden’s gaze became fierce; his tone was jealous and angry.

“What right does that fat pig have to date my dream girl multiple times, while I’m pitifully just an audience? Just because he has some filthy money? And I’m a poor wretch?”

...

“Jealousy is the original sin, the motive, the uncontrollable sneeze.”

“It’s like a fire in the fireplace growing stronger and stronger. Two days ago, it erupted violently, destroying everything and producing bitter fruit!”

Dean opened his mouth in astonishment. This deduction was so smooth, yet so subjective that it unsettled him.

Before he could speak, Holden spoke with the confidence of one who sees all:

“Regarding the killer, I have made the most basic profile—”

“A male, no older than forty.”

He slightly raised his chin, instantaneously transforming into a master painter, his left index finger becoming his brush as he sketched in the air to his unique rhythm.

“A hotel employee, with a position not too high.”

“How can you tell?” Dean asked untimely.

“He earns enough not to have to secretly watch performances; he could afford to ask Joan out.”

A glint flashed in Holden’s eyes as he continued the portrait.

“Also, he is introverted, poor at communication, stubborn, and likely has occasional emotional outbursts at work.”

“He is jealous of Jane and harbors some affection for Joan Cartwright.”

“Affection for Joan?” Dean interrupted, “Where did you get that from?”

“Have you never watched an ‘action movie’?” Holden cast a pitiful glance. “If you’re a normal man, frequently following an actress’s works, you’ll uncontrollably develop feelings for her.”

Dean suddenly understood.

Holden continued, “When the woman you adore, whom you’ve seen dozens of times inside and out, appears next to you, even the most introverted man can’t help but approach her, try to impress her, and even attempt a confession.”

Holden took a deep breath and smiled broadly.

“The killer may have harassed Joan, and Joan remembers him.”

...

“What a fascinating hypothesis.”

Following Holden’s reasoning, Dean suddenly saw clarity in parts that had confused him, the fog lifting before his eyes.

He glanced at the system.

After Holden’s analysis, the investigation progress jumped from 45% to 60%.

Although the opponent’s description of the criminal’s psychology and identity was full of reasoning and deduction,

the system recognized these inferences as if supported by some invisible evidence.

Dean was amazed.

Could this be the power of psychological profiling?

While others remained impressed yet clueless, he had already pierced through the haze, striking at the core!

...

“So shall we go see Joan in the detention center next?” Dean muttered, then shook his head. “Oh no, we should find Grace first and try to get all the hotel staff’s information.”

“Good idea!” Holden shone his flashlight on Dean’s face, his thin lips curling into a triumphant smile.

“Let’s catch the real culprit!”

...

Near the sofa in the first-floor lobby, the two found Grace, who had just seen off a guest and was rubbing her sore calf. They explained their purpose.

“Hotel staff information? What do you need that for?”

“We want to check if anyone had contact with the clues on the day of the incident. Perhaps they didn’t realize it themselves.”

Grace thought for a moment, then led them toward the office near the left entrance on the first floor, casually asking, “I’m curious—how far has the investigation into Joan Cartwright’s case gone? Did this girl really kill Jane Harden? If it’s inconvenient to say, just forget I asked.”

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“Joan and Jane are regulars at the hotel. You must know something,” Dean stared into the woman’s eyes and replied with a question, “Do you think Joan is the killer?”

“I don’t decide that,” Grace smoothed her red hair under her hat. “But from my personal impression, Joan is warm, honest, gentle—nothing like the others who’ve fallen into gold-digging.”

“Yeah, she’s straightforward, well-reputed, efficient, and never makes mistakes. How could she kill Jane and destroy her bright future?”

“We strongly agree,” Holden echoed her attitude. “We’re looking for clues to clear her name and hope to have your help.”

“I’ll do my best.”

...

In the office, with Grace’s assistance, they successfully obtained the hotel staff roster, covering departments like the restaurant and housekeeping, totaling seventy-three people.

According to Holden’s previous analysis, they excluded forty-three females, leaving thirty males. After removing those over forty years old, twenty-five remained.

Dean circled the twenty-five and laid the list before Grace.

“Who was on duty at the hotel the day before yesterday when the incident happened?”

“Wait, let me check the schedule.” Grace found a spreadsheet and after reviewing it, crossed out nearly half, leaving twelve men.

“Are any of them introverted or unsociable?” Holden asked, suppressing excitement.

“Why ask? Are they related to the case?” Grace scrutinized the data, puzzled.

“Introverts tend to be more meticulous,” Holden replied casually, “Maybe they noticed some important detail.”

“As far as I know, the introverts are Kenny, Hale, Barrett, Otte, and Jack Lee.” Grace pointed out five names: one Black, one Asian, one Latino, and two white men.

They all looked ordinary in appearance and build.

“These five are quiet, hardworking, rarely socializing or joining hotel events.”

Dean considered carefully. “Among these five, who likes Joan, even obsessively? Who has sent her flowers, gifts, or confessed?”

Grace shook her head with a knowing smile. “Dean, that’s a silly question. Any normal man likes a kind, gentle, beautiful, and sexy woman like Joan.”

“Most men working at Gough Hotel have some feelings for her since she comes often.”

“According to gossip, at least a third tried to date her, with no harm in being rejected.”

“But whether these five are among them, I’m not sure… They don’t like to show off.”

“Alright, are they on duty today?”

“Yes, they’re still in the hotel and won’t finish until night. Should I call them?”

“No. Don’t disturb them yet.”

Dean and Holden exchanged looks, knowing they wouldn’t get more information for now.

“Let’s pause the investigation here, Grace.” Dean spoke gratefully while folding the seventy-some staff files and stuffing them into his backpack. “I’ll notify you when there’s progress, but please keep this confidential. Don’t tell anyone, especially those five, that we’re investigating the case from two days ago.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a big mouth.” Grace nodded, though a flicker of hesitation appeared in her eyes. “Dean, please keep something confidential for me too. Don’t tell Rast about a man bothering me outside the hotel today. He’s waiting for his university interview result and can’t be distracted.”

“What are you talking about? I barely remember. Bye, Grace.”

Dean smiled and waved, leaving the hotel with his companion.

“What’s next?” Sitting in the car, Holden joked while looking out at the hotel, “Medium Master?”

Dean glanced at him. Since witnessing the supernatural ritual, this guy had been like he was on adrenaline, constantly excited.

“A profiling expert,” Dean corrected. “To be safe, we need Lawyer Lucville to help meet Joan Cartwright, the party involved, and have her identify the ‘suspect.’”

“As for the hotel, don’t stir the pot yet.”

The car headed toward the Fran Law Firm.

Dean felt uneasy; Holden’s profiling was too smooth, almost unreal.

“Buddy, what if our conclusion turns out wrong?”

Holden gave an encouraging look.

“Be confident. Even Sherlock Holmes makes mistakes. Besides, there’s still plenty of time. If the medium’s shortcut fails, we’ll take the old-fashioned cop route.”

Thank you, Quantum Haoshen, for your generous support! Thanks everyone for your monthly and recommendation votes!

(The end of this chapter)