The B package, on the other hand, was the most expensive among the family's main services.

It was for normal clients who wanted a lavish funeral, which meant substantial profit.

“B package, Karen! Don’t mention letting your uncle accompany her for shopping; even lending her my place for two nights wouldn’t bother me.”

Karen turned his head toward Aunt Mary, and upon seeing Grandpa sitting on the sofa, Aunt Mary immediately covered her mouth in surprise.

Dis simply shook his head slightly and said, “Old Darcy has died.”

“Who is Old Darcy?” Aunt Mary asked, puzzled, then added, “Oh, the old cremator from Hughes Funeral Home. Poor Old Darcy, may God receive his soul.”

After speaking, Aunt Mary made a gesture of prayer, seemingly trying to atone for her earlier remark.

Dis went straight upstairs.

Karen said, “Mrs. Hughes wants to entrust Old Darcy’s funeral to us.”

Upon hearing this, Aunt Mary did not react with excitement over landing another case; instead, she rolled her eyes: “I dislike doing business with acquaintances the most; not only is there no profit margin, but sometimes it results in losses.”

Karen couldn’t help but chuckle to himself: this was a true friend.

After hesitating, knowing Grandpa had not directly told Aunt Mary about Mrs. Hughes’ plan to sell the funeral home, Karen didn’t mention that Old Darcy was now in several pieces.

“Oh, by the way, Karen, this afternoon while you and Grandpa were out, a gentleman came to visit you. Knowing you weren’t home, he left, but he left you a letter saying you could visit him for coffee whenever you have time.”

Karen took the letter, which was from “Piaget,” the psychologist who had come with his wife to have the cremation at Hughes Funeral Home.

The letter was very brief; it essentially stated that the visit had regrettably not occurred, and invited Karen to his home for a visit, leaving his phone number and address: 45 Rhine Street.

If King Street was considered part of the second ring, then Rhine Street belonged to the first ring downtown, where the city hall was located.

“Okay, Aunt, I got it. I think I’ll go wash up first.”

“Mm, you should rest early.”

Just then, the sound of a car came from outside, it was Uncle Mason returning with Mrs. Seymour.

Mrs. Seymour was probably in her thirties and was dressed very simply.

Following her, Uncle Mason was carrying a bunch of shopping bags, having bought quite a lot of shoes, clothes, and bags.

“Mason, why didn’t you take Mrs. Seymour home?” Aunt Mary asked.

After shopping, shouldn’t he have taken her home first? Why bring her back so late?

Mrs. Seymour answered first: “I heard from Mason that your family provides psychological counseling services, and I need that right now.”

Standing behind Mrs. Seymour, Uncle Mason raised his eyebrows at Karen and made a gesture to Aunt Mary.

Aunt Mary understood immediately and said, “Yes, yes, we’ll arrange that for you right away.”

Providing psychological counseling requires a closed and comfortable space.

However, Karen didn’t have a studio of his own, and Aunt Mary didn’t dare to ask Dis to clear out the office right now, nor could they possibly send Mrs. Seymour to the basement.

In the end, Aunt Mary gave up her and Uncle Mason’s bedroom so that Karen could conduct the counseling session with Mrs. Seymour.

“Please.”

“Alright.”

Mrs. Seymour walked in and began to observe the decor of the cozy bedroom, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

Karen pulled a chair over, facing Mrs. Seymour, who was sitting on the bed.

He knew that this lady was currently in a “rage” phase, not just because of her husband’s death but also due to the betrayal she suffered from him.

“Mrs. Seymour, could you please tell me about your relationship with Mr. Seymour?”

Karen quickly got into work mode, and for a moment, he felt a bit dazed.

It was as if he had returned to the person he once was in his past life.

After this brief moment of daze, when Karen focused back on Mrs. Seymour, he found that she had already taken off her coat and was in the process of removing her inner clothes.

“Mrs. Seymour, what are you doing...?”

“You’re quite handsome, young man.”

“Thank you, but you...”

“Let’s do it once, right now, immediately.”

“Mrs. Seymour, we’re here for psychological counseling.”

“I know, after we finish, I will pay you for the consultation.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I’ll give you double the consultation fee!”

Now in just her underwear, Mrs. Seymour approached Karen, starting to pull at his clothes.

“Right now, immediately, just on this bed, let’s do it. I’ll satisfy you; you can have any position you like. If you’ve never done it before, I can teach you.”

Karen didn’t resist violently but rather opened his hands, allowing Mrs. Seymour to take off his outer clothing.

Just then, Karen calmly asked, “Anything goes?”

“Of course, yes.”

“Then let’s go to the basement; I’d like to do it in front of Mr. Seymour.”

In the next moment, it was as if cold water had been poured over her; Mrs. Seymour’s actions came to a halt.

Karen changed to a gentle tone and asked, “Is it worth it?”

Slowly, Mrs. Seymour crouched down, wrapping her arms around herself and beginning to cry:

“Why, why? I gave up my career, my family, and was always the good wife at home for him. Why could he treat me this way? Why could he do this to me!”

Karen picked up Mrs. Seymour’s clothes and draped them over her shoulders, then sat on the floor quietly, watching her cry without saying a word.

Crying it out would be fine.

Mrs. Seymour reached out, hugging Karen’s arm and resting her face on his shoulder, sobbing continuously, asking “Why, why?”

Karen knew she didn’t really need an answer.

“How much did you charge?” Outside at the dining table, Aunt Mary quietly asked.

“Two thousand rubles.” Uncle Mason replied.

“Are you crazy? That’s so expensive!”

“The last one paid twenty thousand rubles.” Uncle Mason corrected, “I checked; this is just expensive.”

“Do you think Karen can handle this job?”

Uncle Mason pondered for a moment before answering, “He should… be able to. Ever since my nephew woke up from his last illness, he really feels like a different person.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Like I want to call him uncle.”

“Click.”

The door opened, and Karen stood at the door as Mrs. Seymour walked out.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, it’s what I should do.”

Mrs. Seymour then bowed to Aunt Mary and Uncle Mason, saying, “I’ll leave my husband’s afterlife to you.”

“Of course, it’s our duty.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Today was really a disturbance; I’ll head back now.”

“It’s too late to get a cab. Let me take you home.” Uncle Mason said.

“Then I’ll trouble you; my home is at 46 Rhine Street.”

“Alright, no problem. It’s not too far.” Uncle Mason replied.

When hearing this address, Karen, who had been politely smiling while sending off the client, spoke up, “Mrs. Seymour, do you know Mr. Piaget?”

Piaget had left his address as 45 Rhine Street, and it should be Mrs. Seymour's neighbor.

“Mr. Piaget? Yes, of course, I know him. He is my neighbor and has a good relationship with my husband. Mr. Piaget often arranged fishing trips with my husband.

His wife, Linda, is also wonderful and a great cook; she often invites us to their home for dinner.”

“Oh, I see.” Karen noticed that when Mrs. Seymour mentioned Mr. Piaget’s wife, a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.

This smile seemed a bit strange, and logically, there should have been an additional statement: unfortunately, his wife passed away last week; that would make sense.

Next, Mrs. Seymour continued:

“This morning, Linda even brought me a pie made of apples. It was absolutely delicious. I even saved half of it for my husband in the fridge, but unfortunately, he won’t be able to eat it.”

“D-d-d…”

“Come in.”

Karen pushed open the door to Dis's study and walked in.

Dis closed the folder that had been spread out in front of him and looked at Karen as she walked over and sat down in front of him.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just provided psychological counseling for Mrs. Seymour.”

“How did it go?”

“Not bad. She was able to express her emotions. Next, it’s just a matter of time for her to gradually heal her pain and adapt to her new life.”

“Mm.”

“However, I learned something from Mrs. Seymour.”

“Go on.”

“Mrs. Seymour lives at 46 Rhine Street.”

“Good location.”

“The Mr. Piaget I met at the Hughes Funeral Home, who paid me the first consultation fee of 20,000 rubles, is Mrs. Seymour's neighbor; he lives at 45.”

“Mm.”

“Grandpa, I feel this is a bit too coincidental. Mr. Seymour died in the ballroom, and it is said that he had a very good relationship with Mr. Piaget, often going fishing together.

As for old Darcy, he personally cremated Mr. Piaget's wife, Linda, not long ago.”

“Mm, that is a bit coincidental.”

“More importantly, I personally handed Linda's ashes to Mr. Piaget, yet Mrs. Seymour said that this morning Linda brought her a delicious apple pie.”

His wife, who had turned to ashes, suddenly “revived” and was even cooking.

“Are you implying that Mr. Piaget is the murderer?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? I saw you chatting quite well with that Sheriff Duke.”

“Grandpa, it’s like some religious texts; we could sit and talk all day about theories, from the truths of the universe and the mysteries of the gods to the workings of human society and the goodness, truth, and beauty of humanity.

But when the conversation is over, we can’t even catch a cab to go home.”

Criminal psychology seems like a grand pursuit, but it’s actually not a universal remedy. Sometimes, after a long discussion, one realizes it’s like talking past each other. Even if the analysis is excellent and correct, it can only provide a rough direction.

It’s not like nudging the frame of a ring finger: the truth is one and only one, and that is…

In terms of investigating cases, Karen believed that Sheriff Duke would be more proficient than herself; after all, one should never compare one’s hobbies with someone else’s livelihood.

Perhaps Sheriff Duke could gain significant insights here, but what she could provide would be limited to inspiration.

In her past life, a friend had sent her a video of a case, hoping she would analyze it—a case of a husband murdering his wife and hiding the body.

After watching, Karen said there was no need for analysis.

When the old detective went to question the husband, he had likely already determined that the husband was the murderer in his mind; the next step was just the tedious process of finding the body to confirm the evidence.

And that seemingly “calm” and “stable” husband, who appeared so in control to ordinary people, found all his disguises worthless in front of the old detective.

“I think I roughly understand what you mean,” Dis nodded.

Karen smiled.

“You mean to say that I’ve been doing things that are quite meaningless all this time.”

“……….” Karen.

Dis picked up his teacup.

Karen took the initiative to reach for the kettle.

Dis said, “It’s full.”

Karen awkwardly set the kettle back down.

“So, what did you come to do?”

“Well, Grandpa, this afternoon, Mr. Piaget came to our home after we left and wanted to visit me. He left me an invitation to come over to his house.”

“You want to go?”

“Yes.”

“Then go.”

“But I… am afraid.”

Karen sat there, speaking very matter-of-factly.

“I’ll be quite busy for the next few days; I have some matters to attend to.” Dis set down his teacup. “I don’t have time to accompany you out like this afternoon.”

“Then I… won’t go.”

“Mm.” Dis nodded.

“Grandpa, you should rest early. I’ll go to bed too.”

“Okay.”

Karen stood up, and as she walked to the door of the study, Dis’s voice came from behind:

“If you really want to go visit…”

Karen turned around, smiling: “Are you willing to make time to accompany me, Grandpa?”

Dis shook his head and said, “You can take it with you.”

“Who?”

“Meow…”

Pu’er jumped down from some corner of the bookshelf and walked up to Karen. The black cat wore a distinct look of reluctance on its face.

Karen had already noticed that their black cat was quite talented in expressing emotions; while other pets often could only express a single emotion through snarls or growls, Pu’er was very nuanced, or one might say, anthropomorphized.

“Grandpa, are you sure?”

Karen asked.

“Sure.”

After receiving a positive response, Karen said earnestly, “I understand, Grandpa.”

With that, Karen left the study, helping her grandpa close the door behind her.

Standing at the door,

Karen blinked,

He believed that Dis could bring him enough security;

Even if he excluded the bizarre things he had experienced before,

Just the fact that Dis had asked him to skin his arm in the spirit car, without a furrow on his brow, plus that time when he clearly expressed his desire to kill him at the door;

Even if you imagine Dis as a thug, he is still a strong security guarantee.

Being ruthless to himself,

Daring to kill,

Even if he is a bit older... well, age isn't really an issue; Karen believed that if it came to physical strength, he would definitely not be Dis's match;

So, Grandpa's presence had already surpassed the gangsters outside.

But,

That cat...

"Perhaps, this is a cat with a story."

Karen looked down and noticed that Puer hadn’t followed him out;

"Go take a shower and then sleep."

...

"You are insane, insane! How could you let a noble being like me accompany a child to play detective games? Dis, what on earth are you thinking, what are you thinking!"

Puer, strutting like a cat, did not appear on the desk this time but kept a considerable distance, pressed against the wall.

"I'm asking you to watch over him, just as you said, he is an aberration."

Upon hearing this, Puer tilted his cat face,

And retorted:

"Then why not just kill him?"

Dis's gaze turned towards Puer, who was in the corner.

"Hiss..."

Puer's tail immediately perked up, his four limbs tensed, and he quickly said:

"I understand, I will accompany him, I will keep an eye on this aberration."

...

Daylight broke,

Karen slept until ten in the morning, probably because yesterday was too much for him, leaving him overly fatigued.

Moreover, his sleep quality wasn’t good last night; he had several dreams;

In his dreams:

He was dancing with a dancer in a ballroom one moment and shoveling ashes by an incinerator the next;

Then lying in a coffin in the first-floor parlor of his home, listening to prayers,

And another moment lying in the arms of Mrs. Shus, nearly suffocating.

After washing up,

Karen felt he had regained his spirits.

He went upstairs, and Aunt Winnie smiled at him when she saw him come down: “I’ve prepared lunch.”

“Thank you, Aunt.”

Lunch was noodles;

Ever since she saw Karen preparing the broth, Aunt Winnie and Aunt Mary had taken to it with enthusiasm.

The broth for the noodles was quite good, topped with chopped green onions.

Additionally, there was a jar of spicy oil that Karen had made earlier, which was also placed on the table.

The only pity was that the noodles weren’t very chewy, but the flavor was already acceptable.

He really didn’t want to wake up to a combination of bread, fried eggs, and sausages for breakfast; there was no joy in that.

Aunt Mary was in the basement preparing the remains for two “guests”;