Arc IV: Part V

Sirius was completely immersed in the concert, the crowded and hot venue fading away as he surrendered to the sheer energy and speed of the music. It was an experience unlike anything he had ever known, leaving him spellbound. The band's passion and fervor poured into their performance and surpassed his wildest past experiences. Beside him, Emma shared in the excitement, jumping, dancing, and cheering wildly. Her infectious enthusiasm swept over Sirius, and together, they swayed in the midst of the pulsating crowd. At that moment, he felt connected to something greater than himself. Amidst the exhilaration, Emma pulled Sirius close, and they shared a passionate kiss, a moment of pure abandon where the world ceased to matter. But as the drummer's solo began, a jarring bang on his door jolted Sirius awake.

Seated on the edge of his bed, the dream had felt so real that he momentarily forgot his actual surroundings. Sirius looked around, realizing with a start that he had fallen asleep fully clothed the night before. He let out a deep, tired yawn, casting a dark glance toward the source of the unwelcome noise that disturbed his slumber, and disappointment washed over him as he stumbled out of bed.

With a lazy gait, Sirius made his way to the noisy door, his hand reaching for the handle. As he pulled the door open, his eyes met the sight of Red, already dressed and seemingly prepared to face the day.

"Hey, you're all dressed up!" Red exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Huh? No, I haven't changed yet... Isn't it too early?" Sirius responded, a puzzled look on his face.

"Nah, man, it's half past eight! The innkeeper told me Dragan dropped this off for you earlier this morning." Red handed Sirius a scroll, his grin still reaching from ear to ear.

Sirius snatched the scroll from Red's outstretched hand and unfurled it.


Dear Sirius,

Upon my return home, it occurred to me that I may not have provided you with a clear understanding of your responsibilities during your stay with us. I want to assure you that I have already instructed my most trusted aide to assist you and provide guidance on everything you need to know. To ensure a smooth transition, please be ready at the Inn's reception by 9 am, where you will be escorted to your intended destination.

Furthermore, I would like to assure you that I have addressed the regrettable incident you brought to my attention. It has been taken care of appropriately.

Best regards,

Dragan.


"What does it say?" Red inquired, peering over Sirius' shoulder with curiosity.

"It says I have to wait for Dragan's McGonagall to come and get me," Sirius replied, releasing a big yawn, clearly feeling the effects of tiredness.

"Gotcha. So, are you hungry? Let's grab some breakfast," Red suggested, offering a solution to their empty stomachs.

Sirius glanced back at his bed before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, sure. Hey, where's Mikhail?"

"I don't know, probably still in bed. Go ahead and shower if you need to, I'll go find him," Red said, taking on the responsibility of locating their missing companion.

"Alright, cool. I'll meet you downstairs in a sec," Sirius responded, already gathering his belongings.

"No worries, take your time," Red reassured him before disappearing down the hallway in search of Mikhail.

As Sirius leaned his back against the door, worry creased his forehead. His gaze caught sight of a cheerful bird perched on the windowsill, chirping a delightful tune. Stripping off his clothes, he tossed them carelessly onto a nearby chair before making his way to the shower.


Twenty minutes later, refreshed and dressed, he descended the stairs and entered the dining area. A house elf had already prepared an enticing spread, and Sirius eagerly sat down to savor the meal. With a respectful bow, the elf vanished from sight.

"Where's Mikhail?" Sirius inquired, unfolding today's newspaper.

"The librarian was here when we came down earlier. The innkeeper introduced them, and they left together for the hall," Red answered, observing a house elf reappear to attend to another table. "By the way, don't you have a family house elf?"

"What's your point?" Sirius asked, his attention focused on the contents of the newspaper.

"Well, if that's the case, shouldn't your elf be following you around and assisting you with everything?" Red proposed, spreading butter on a piece of toast.

"I do have an elf, but I've decided not to rely on that anymore. Slavery isn't my thing. I plan to free him as soon as I return to London," Sirius replied, turning the page of the newspaper. He muttered a curse as he read the column detailing recent quidditch hooligan incidents.

"Why not free him now?" Red inquired, taking a bite of his toast.

"Because if I say his name, he'll know where I am and immediately appear. I'd rather not deal with him at the moment. Trust me, if I were to dismiss him suddenly, he would cause a scene that I don't want to witness," Sirius explained, folding the day's paper, and placing it on the table.

As the meal wound down, a sense of tranquility settled upon the cozy tavern. The clinking of silverware against plates ceased, and the hum of voices gradually faded into a comfortable hush. Lost in thought, Sirius pushed aside his empty plate and glanced at the time.

Red, still lingering over his food, looked up from his own plate and met Sirius's gaze. Sensing the tension in the air, he offered to keep Sirius company while he waited for his appointment. Sirius accepted, and the two fell into an uneasy silence. Red observed Sirius drumming his fingers nervously on the table, his eyes fixed on the clock above the bar. The minutes dragged by agonizingly slow, and Red could sense Sirius growing more anxious with each passing second. Finally, unable to bear the waiting any longer, Sirius stood up abruptly, unintentionally knocking over his chair in the process.

"I can't just sit here and wait," he muttered as he strode purposefully towards the reception desk. Red trailed behind him, curious about Sirius's growing irritation.

The elderly woman behind the desk was petite, standing on the shorter side, and appeared to be in her seventies. Her hair, mostly white, had a few loose strands escaping from her neat bun, and her face bore the wrinkles and creases of a life well-lived. Despite her age, she moved with grace and energy, her cane more of an accessory than a necessity.

As they approached the reception desk, the old woman welcomed them with a soft and welcoming voice. "Good evening, gentlemen. How may I be of service?"

Sirius took a deep breath, attempting to steady his nerves before speaking. "Sorry to bother you, but Dragan informed me that someone was supposed to meet me half an hour ago. Would you happen to know anything about it?"

The woman's expression fell slightly, and she looked sternly at the clock. "Oh, I am sorry for this," she said, clearly disappointed by the situation.

Sirius was quick to reassure her. "Don't worry, it's not your fault. But could you please contact him or guide me in the right direction?"

The old woman sprang into action, grabbing her cane and announcing that she would personally walk them to the intended location. Sirius protested, but she insisted, explaining that she never missed an opportunity to take a walk in the village.

As they strolled along, the old woman shared captivating stories from her youth, pausing to pet a cat sunbathing on a fence and pointing out noteworthy sights along the way. Eventually, they arrived at a modest two-story house with a tiny, neglected front yard. The old woman stopped and smiled, pointing her cane towards the house before parting ways with them.


Sirius motioned for Red to follow him as they navigated through the overgrown front garden, carefully avoiding an old, rusty bicycle strewn on the ground. Arriving at the door, Sirius gently rapped his knuckles against it, and they stood there, filled with anticipation for a response. When no answer came, Sirius knocked once more, and to their surprise, the door creaked open on its own. Exchanging a curious glance with Red, Sirius cleared his throat and leaned slightly forward, peering into the dimly lit interior of the house.

"Good morning! Is anyone home? May we enter?" he called out tentatively, his voice resonating through the empty space.

As they lingered on the doorstep, their ears strained for any signs of life, but there was only silence. After a few moments, Sirius grew impatient and stepped forward into the house, despite Red's protests. Worriedly, Red followed Sirius inside, taking in the dilapidated state of the interior with a furrowed brow.

In the neglected living room, a dormant fireplace stood, its cleaning neglected since the end of winter. Empty liquor bottles and cans were scattered around, some carelessly tossed into the hearth, while others rolled across the wooden floor. Sirius surveyed the disarray with a critical eye before detecting a peculiar odor that led him to the kitchen.

Moving through the cluttered room, Sirius cringed at the sight of a sink overflowing with dirty dishes. Opening the fridge, he found it nearly empty, save for a half-eaten batch of lasagna, haphazardly covered with plastic film, and a bottle of sour, expired milk. Suddenly, he heard Red cry out in pain and promptly shut the fridge door.

Hurrying back to the living room, Sirius discovered Red hopping on one foot, his face contorted in agony. "What happened?" Sirius asked with concern, assisting Red in sitting on the arm of the couch.

"I hit my foot! I didn't see that stuff on the floor and kicked it," Red replied, removing his shoe to rub his throbbing foot.

Following Red's pointing finger, Sirius's gaze fell upon a rolling dumbbell partially obscured by a damp, gray t-shirt. He cursed under his breath and turned to face Red. "It's not your fault at all! Look at this place. What kind of animal lives here? Even a troll would keep it cleaner!" he exclaimed in frustration.

"Sirius..." Red whispered, placing a hand on his arm.

"I mean it. I've shared a dorm with a stag, lived in the forest with boars, and I've never seen a pigsty like this!" Sirius ranted on, his frustration mounting.

"Sirius, for Merlin's sake, shut the fuck up!" Red hissed, tugging at his shirt anxiously as someone cleared their throat loudly behind Sirius.

Sirius spun on his heels and found himself face-to-face with the mysterious woman they had encountered the previous night. Bathed in a bright light, she stood before them wearing a skimpy top and dolphin shorts, her athletic figure captivating their attention. Her high cheekbones, chiseled jawline, and piercing blue eyes seemed to penetrate his soul. With her long platinum blonde hair, styled in a daring side-shaved fashion, she exuded an air of otherworldly beauty.

For a brief moment, they locked eyes, seemingly caught in an awkward trance. But then, with a jolt, she demanded, "What are you doing in my house?" Sirius was taken aback by the abruptness of her question, but he swiftly composed himself, while Red rushed to offer a polite explanation.

"We're sorry! We knocked, waited, and then the door opened by itself... Upon seeing the mess around…" Red spoke softly.

"The mess around?" She raised an eyebrow. "THE MESS AROUND? What mess?... Hold on! You break into MY home and insult me above that?"

"Not to be impolite, but if you're fine living this way, then you're disrespecting yourself... and humanity. Considering you're a part of it, of course…" Sirius said, using the end of a pen to lift a black bra.

Blushing, the woman quickly snatched it, concealing it behind her back while glaring at Sirius. "You pervert! Is that your stuff? Panties?"

"Depends on to whom they belong..." Sirius shrugged. "Anyway, we came looking for..."

"I've been busy with work lately and didn't have the time to clean..." she interrupted.

"I neither care nor asked... I came for...Blimey, this place smells like sewage!" Sirius sighed, walking disgustedly through the dirty clothes and clutter on the floor.

"Guess what! We, the people who have to work to make a living, don't have an army of house-elves at our service," she retorted fiercely.

"I wager they would prefer raiding a wardrobe than working a day here," Sirius replied, nonchalantly waving his hand. He then turned to Red and said, "Let's go, Red... The lady must have mistaken our guy's house for this one."

Red quickly put on his shoe and apologized to the woman, "I apologize for all this once again and please don't mind him. He's an asshole... However, Dragan's right hand was supposed to meet Sirius at the Inn, but he didn't show up... Do you happen to know where we could locate him? Sirius is supposed to work for him."

"It's not a 'he'! It's a 'she' - me, in fact!" She exclaimed. She then turned to Sirius, an evil grin on her face, "And so you know..."


Sirius raised his hand slightly and said, "Spare me, I don't care! We're already running late, so go take a shower and get ready... I'll be waiting outside." He left the house, leaving Red to fight the woman from throwing the dumbbell at him.

Sirius stepped out of the house and made his way to the front steps, stretching his legs as he settled down. He took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air, amused by the sight of a cat chasing after an exotic bird fluttering from a nearby tree. The cat's collar jingled as the little ball attached to it bounced and chimed with every move he made.

After Red emerged from the house, he kicked Sirius in the head, leaving him puzzled. "What was that for?" Sirius asked as he rubbed his head.

"Why were you so rude? How did you expect her to react when we broke into her house?" Red scolded Sirius as he poked his shoulder.

Sirius shrugged, "She started it, and I only spoke the truth. Besides, did you hear how she spoke to us?"

"Regardless, we can't behave like that. It's disrespectful and uncalled for," Red replied sternly.

"All right. I apologize", Sirius said.

"Why does it even matter to you how she chooses to live her life?" Red asked, genuinely curious.

Sirius shrugged again, "I don't know. I guess I just got caught up in the moment."

Red paused for a moment, looking intently at Sirius's face. "Is this personal? Did something more happen between you two?"

Sirius shook his head, "No, it's not personal. Dragan took care of my complaint, and it's water under the bridge now."

Red nodded, seemingly unsatisfied with the response. "Well, if you fancy her, there are better ways to go about it than being rude," Red advised.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

Red leaned in and whispered, "I know what you're doing! It's a classic move. You're humbling her to hurt her ego and create an unconfident feeling, so she wants to prove you wrong. But that's not the way to win someone over."

Sirius chuckled, "Are you stupid? Why would I want to hit on her?"

Red rolled his eyes, "Come on, Sirius. She's fucking gorgeous. I bet you one hundred galleons she's a veela. After all, aren't they from this part of the world?"

Sirius scoffed, "Red, if your life's ambition is to keep losing bets to me, I'll gladly strip you out of your gold. But I strongly advise you to remember picking up your brain from your bedside table, before leaving your room every morning."

Red ignored Sirius's comment and continued, "If you want her to fall for you, try being more subtle. She works with dragons and other beasts, which means she likes animals and the wild. So, if I were you, I would innocently let slip that I saved a unicorn from poachers or hiked all the way here."

Sirius chuckled, "I'll keep that in mind, Red. Thanks for the advice."

The woman emerged from the front door after a few minutes, dressed in her work uniform and sporting a long braid. Without a glance at them, she walked past Sirius and Red, until Sirius called her out.

"What's the matter?" she asked, turning to face them.

Sirius gestured towards her open door. "You left your door open."

The woman stared at him for a moment before replying, "It's fine. We all trust each other in this village. Nobody is going to break in or steal from me except you."

Sirius didn't give up. "Sure…What if a stray animal gets in and hurts itself on something?"

"He's got a point," Red chimed in. "I got hurt on your dumbbell, after all."

The woman rolled her eyes and aimed her wand at the door, shutting it before muttering a spell that locked. She then looked back at them. "Are we done here? Can we move on?"

Sirius nodded and stood up. "Lead the way!" he said.

Red extended his hand to her. "Nice to meet you...uh..."

"Xenia," she replied, shaking his hand.

"It's not how I usually meet people," Red said, "but it's nice to meet you, Xenia. I should get going now. Have a good day and try being nice to each other!"

As Red walked away, Sirius introduced himself. "I'm Sirius Black," he said, extending his hand.

Xenia's expression turned cold. "I know who you are," she said, "Dragan made it very clear after you went snitching last night."

Sirius didn't let her cool demeanor faze him. "You did need to get your socks knocked off, but today is a new day! " he said with a grin. "Anyways, I expected someone much older when Dragan said I'd be working with his right hand. You don't seem much older than me. How long have you been doing this job?"

Xenia sighed. "All right…I graduated from Koldovstoretz and completed a year at the Naaszcademy of Magizoology before applying for this job," she explained. "Unless you also wish to see tax returns, I suggest we get going. We've got a busy day ahead, and I need to grab some food from the inn first," before walking away.

Sirius pointed his finger in the opposite direction. "Isn't the inn that way?"

Xenia paused for a moment, scanning the empty street that Sirius pointed to. After a beat, she turned her gaze at the opposite direction and pointed at a long stairway going up.

"This way is a shortcut," she said with a curt nod. "Let's go, Lord Black."

"Lead the way, then," he said, falling into step beside her. A playful glint sparkled in his eyes. "Wouldn't want to presume I know your village better than you do."


As midnight approached, Kingsley sat in his hotel room, one elbow resting on the small desk, stirring his coffee while glancing at the television. He had chosen a room on the outskirts of town, mainly used by truckers. From his window, he had observed them maneuvering their cargo trucks in the gas station's parking lot for the night, piquing his curiosity.

The day had been long and arduous, but unfortunately, it had yielded no significant results for Kingsley. No one had seen or heard anything relevant to the case at hand. After studying the case file for a while, he let out a long sigh, massaged his temples, and closed the file. He knew that St Mungo's would need to complete their work and provide their conclusions before he could meet with Scrimgeour to determine if the case had any wizarding connections. However, the initial evidence suggested otherwise.

Kingsley was eager to conclude the investigation before the Daily Prophet discovered his involvement and turned it into a panic bomb. The British wizarding community had not fully recovered from the traumas of the recent war, and news of a dark magic-related crime targeting muggles could cause a great deal of disturbance. It could potentially surpass all the events of the past five years combined.

Feeling sorry for Patil, who would have to solve the case alone, Kingsley also acknowledged the local police's cluelessness and inexperience. He feared that as anxiety grew and misinformation spread, the situation could spiral into a chaotic panic.

After closing the file, he leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms above his head, and let out a yawn. Realizing he had emptied his coffee cup while poring over the files, he crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, grabbed his wallet, and left the room.

Descending the stairs, he sighed in exasperation upon seeing the sign 'kitchen closed' on the restaurant's door. The sleepy receptionist suggested trying his luck at the gas station on the other side of the motorway.

Outside, Kingsley apparated to the other side and hastened towards the gas station's double doors, pulling them open. Inside, he briefly scanned the shelves before grabbing a ham and cheese sandwich and a soda from the fridge. Making his way to the counter, he found the gas station employee engaged in conversation with a delivery man.

"The truth is they'll never admit it's entirely their fault. Those politicians are all Freemasons and Illuminati! Look it up, Marty! How else would you explain how this country is going downhill?" the delivery man exclaimed, banging his fist on the counter.

Marty, the gas station employee, nodded as he cleaned a glass. "I wonder how we got into this mess. A woman Prime Minister of England. What does a woman know about politics? Why not elect a beagle next time? Or an apple?" he snorted.

"It's the EU, old chap. It's a Soviet Trojan horse. They want to place female heads of state all around Europe to weaken us, so they can wreak havoc," the delivery man elaborated, leaning forward. "Talking about women… Do you know what the perfect woman is like?"

Marty shrugged; his curiosity piqued. "How?" he asked.

The delivery man placed his hand near his waist, grinning mischievously. "She's this tall and has a flat head so you can rest a pint on it!" he exclaimed, and both men burst into laughter.

Shaking his head, Kingsley placed the items on the counter, startling the two men. "Good evening. How much would you charge for these?" he asked.

Marty stared at him curiously before exclaiming, "Good evening, sir! Aren't you the inspector who arrived from London?"

Kingsley nodded. "Yes, that's me. So, how much then?" he inquired, gesturing at the counter.

Marty picked up the sandwich and soda can, checked the labels, and replied, "Fifteen quid."

Kingsley's eyebrow arched in surprise. "That much for these? Did I sleepwalk to Norway?" he quipped.

Marty shrugged and explained, "Haven't you watched the news? Taxes, inflation...we do what we can to keep the business afloat."

Giving Marty a long, dark look, Kingsley pulled out a twenty-pound note and placed it on the counter. "Of course," he said.

Marty smiled, cashed the bill, and asked, "Anything else?"

Kingsley nodded. "Yes, my change," he replied.

"Right away! Make yourself at home!" Marty cheerfully responded, handing Kingsley his change and gesturing towards the tables lined up near the large windows overlooking the petrol pumps.

"Not Africa, mind you, but London home," the delivery man chimed in, chuckling in his beard before growling when Marty poked his head.

Ignoring the delivery man's comment, Kingsley walked to the farthest table, laid some paper tissues as a makeshift plate for his sandwich, and was about to take his first bite when the delivery man suddenly appeared in the chair across from him, placing two beers on the table and uncapping them.

Kingsley glanced at him and sternly said, "Go away."

"I want to apologize for my joke... I'm not a racist, nor did I want to offend you," the delivery man quickly explained.

Kingsley frowned and asked, "Are you daft?"

"Andy is more stupid than you could imagine, inspector!" Marty interjected, walking around his counter to join them at the table, which annoyed Kingsley even more.

Shrugging, Kingsley replied, "Alright," before finally taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Brilliant... So, I have a request for the Queen," Andy said.

"Ring Buckingham Palace," Kingsley suggested, uncapping his can.

"I did! But they refuse to put her on the telephone... Nor did they reply to me mail," Andy lamented. "Anyway, the next time you see her... As our government is obviously shit... make sure you let her know that less than five thousand people live in this town."

"What do I care?" Kingsley asked, nonchalantly continuing to chew his sandwich.

Andy and Marty exchanged a confused glance. Then Andy said, "Is it fair that twenty-five speed cameras have been installed? They even put one on me street, and I live in a dead end!" he said, outraged.

Kingsley shrugged, "slow down, then," he said.

Andy appeared incensed. "How much slower? The speed limit was set at a paltry twenty miles per hour! They even captured me on camera, riding me bicycle! I'm not fibbing, I assure you! The police arrived one morning, armed with a photograph of me pedaling away. Can you believe how absurd this sounds?" he ranted.

"A photograph?" Kingsley asked, perplexed.

Andy didn't stop his tirade and continued to grumble, "They've been pestering me relentlessly! Meanwhile, Kian was brutally murdered and left in the woods like a slaughtered lamb! Is that where my tax money goes?" he asked emphatically.

Kingsley put down his sandwich and interjected, "Kian? Were you acquainted with the victim?"

Andy and Marty nodded solemnly. "We're acquainted with just about everyone in town, but we were particularly close to Kian," Andy said with a sorrowful tone. "In fact, we gathered here tonight to drink to his memory."

"He was a town boy... He even worked at this station while attending the university," Marty said mournfully, gazing at the counter. "After he graduated, he moved to London for his first job, but he always came back to visit and stayed in touch. I can't believe I saw him just three days ago."

Kingsley looked at them pensively, and his intuition urged him to ask, "Could you tell me more about him?"

Andy nodded, "He was a fine lad... my favorite youngster in town, a rebel just like me," he said with a smile.

"I was thrilled for him when he left this shit place... He was never happy growing up here, and later on, he hated that university. He would always complain about it," Andy said.

"Why is that?" Kingsley inquired.

"That university is cut off from the rest of the world... They've acquired countless acres of land over the years, and now it's like another town itself. Once the academic year starts, the students don't even need to venture outside the campus. And all the students are wealthy kids from all over the United Kingdom..." Marty trailed off.

"Kian never felt at ease there. He never fit in, or more precisely, they never allowed him in. Kian grew up on his parents' farm, which was the polar opposite of the other students who hailed from affluent families," Andy said.

Kingsley nodded, biting his lower lip. "As far as you know... Has Kian ever been subjected to any violence in that university?"

Marty pondered for a moment before responding, "He never mentioned anything of the sort, despite frequently reminding us that he was putting all his energy into graduating and leaving town for good. I was overjoyed for him on the day he finally packed his bags... So much so that I didn't even charge him for the gas or supplies for his journey south."

Andy smiled wistfully. "I never got past high school, so I took his success personally. I made some calls to my mechanic buddies in the region, and we found him a fine secondhand car for quite nothing. Then, ten years later, he came back in a fancy car... He even let me use it the entire time he was here!"

"What makes that university so special that Kian wouldn't consider transferring and leaving sooner?" Kingsley inquired.

Marty took a sip from his beer before responding, "In my view, you can acquire a top-notch education anywhere in the United Kingdom. However, Kian told us that this university is renowned for producing successful entrepreneurs, scientists, government officials, and even Olympic champions. Although he didn't enjoy his time there, Kian believed that admission to this university was arduous and reserved only for the most meritorious students. He was certain that it would eventually open doors for him, and he was not mistaken, given how quickly he found a highly lucrative job after graduating."

"That's all for show!" Andy interjected, taking a long gulp as Marty rolled his eyes.

Kingsley waited for Andy to finish his drink before asking, "What do you mean by 'show'?"

"Once accepted, Kian revealed to us that the students and university staff were all somehow interconnected. They were either the offspring of current or former professors, chancellors, or alumni. In fact, only two outsiders were admitted in Kian's year," Andy said.

"Kian likened the university to a human livestock farm, and at times he felt like a guinea pig. They regarded him with disdain as if he carried some sort of illness," Marty added, then turned to Andy with an inquisitive expression. "What was it that they called themselves again?"

Andy gave a sardonic chuckle. "The pureblood society... Those assholes! What does that make the rest of us? The dirty blood society? Fucking Nazis!" he exclaimed, irate.

Kingsley gazed at them as their conversation shifted to a person named Roswell, prompting him to raise doubts he had previously kept to himself. Could this be just a coincidence? Should he reassess his earlier conclusions and involve the Auror office? Kingsley remained silent until he noticed the other men staring at him.

"You're going to catch whoever killed Kian and put him behind bars for good, right?" Marty asked.

Kingsley nodded and replied, "We will."

Andy grinned and warmly tapped Kingsley's shoulder. "I told you, Marty! They're not all the same!" Then, in response to Kingsley's raised eyebrow, he added, "I meant the police! Not all cops are the same!"

Kingsley shook his head. "Okay... If you knew Mr. Andrews so well, can you direct me to other people who knew him as well?"

They both shook their heads. "He was a loner, even as a child…No friends I'm afraid" Marty said.

"How about his relatives?" Kingsley inquired.

"His parents divorced years ago, and his mother left him behind with his father," Andy replied.

"Did Kian ever mention his relationship with his father?" Kingsley asked.

"The man didn't beat him or anything like that, if that's what you're thinking... They just never got along. To be honest, the man was quite eccentric. He believed in the paranormal, aliens, and other things... The kids in town continuously made fun of him…Always embarrassing Kian," Andy explained.

"Until, a doctor saw the man and it was discovered that he was not crazy at all, but rather ill. The poor guy had been afflicted with schizophrenia, and years of alcohol abuse had taken a significant toll on him. It was truly remarkable that he was able to single-handedly raise a brilliant child like Kian, given his circumstances," Marty said.

"Does he still reside in the village?" Kingsley inquired.

"No, he required specialized care and was initially placed in a psychiatric ward. Later on, Kian relocated him to an upper facility in Liverpool," Marty responded.

Kingsley nodded in understanding. "Do you happen to know if he's involved with anyone romantically?" he queried.

"As far as I'm aware, he had no bird in town. Although, it wouldn't surprise me if he had someone in London…Handsome as he was" Marty replied.

Kingsley nodded once more. "I'll investigate further. One other thing piques my curiosity. You mentioned earlier that Kian was eager to depart this town and never look back, yet he kept returning. Did he explain why he decided to spend his days off here, particularly since he no longer has any relatives in the area?" he questioned.

"Kian's father still possesses the farm. Kian leases the land to the university for its veterinary and agronomy programs. Students use it for their projects, and the profits are used to cover his father's medical, housing, and all other expenses," Marty clarified.

Kingsley leaned back in his chair, pondering for a moment by tucking his bottom lip under his teeth before saying, "Thank you for your help. I'll delve further into this."