Bailonz Street 13

This time, both Liam Moore and I were utterly shocked. Everyone here knew that digging up a person’s grave was an unforgivable act, morally and ethically.

“Wait. A coffin? Not just buried in a common graveyard?”

“Yes. The atmosphere in the prison was so bad that we decided to bury him separately. Most of the inmates had begun to revere him as a martyr. Who knows what would have happened if we’d kept him there and he became some sort of deity to the criminals!”

Liam Moore rested his chin on his hand.

“…So, what happened after you dug it up?”

“The coffin was filled with nothing but soil. There was no trace of a body at all.”

How long would it take for a human body to decompose into soil? I didn’t know for sure, but I doubted that even bones would disappear in just five years.

Liam’s expression grew stern.

“Let’s visit Philip Peterson’s family.”

As we set out for Philip Peterson’s house, we encountered a new visitor about to knock on the door of number 13, Bailonz Street.

“Oh, sorry. Did you get hurt—”

The visitor, who had nearly fallen, lifted his hat. The face beneath it was very familiar.

Brown hair, green eyes. A face very similar to mine, soft and gentle.

“…Jonathan?”

My mouth moved on its own. My body reacted automatically. I knew this person. It seemed he recognized me too. The man, Jonathan, smiled brightly.

“Good heavens, sister!”

“John! When did you… you grew a beard?”

Jonathan shyly laughed, brushing back his neatly combed hair. The young man I remembered was now sporting a slight beard, giving him a mature, distinguished look—like a proper British gentleman.

Yet, when he smiled, he still looked so young. I ruffled Jonathan’s hair, messing up his neat style. Now, he looked more like the Jonathan I knew.

“I grew it to look a bit older.”

“Shave it off immediately. It looks terrible.”

“I’m twenty-nine, sister! I can’t look like a kid forever!”

You’re still in your prime. He spoke as if he was already an old man.

Turning away from our emotional reunion, I noticed Inspector Jefferson and Liam standing awkwardly.

“…This is the first time you two are meeting.”

I gestured to Jonathan.

“This is my brother, Jonathan Osmond. Jonathan, this is Inspector Jefferson. And this is…”

“Yes, the infamous Liam Moore.”

Jonathan’s sudden, cold remark surprised me. His voice was sharp and frigid. Liam flinched.

My brother had never spoken like this to anyone before. I hadn’t raised him to be this way.

“Mr. Moore, you’ve been quite a nuisance.”

“Jonathan!”

“How dare you drag my sister’s name through the mud with those filthy tabloids.”

Oh dear. I hastily covered Jonathan’s mouth. He seemed ready to unleash a torrent of insults, so I dragged him inside.

Jonathan allowed himself to be pulled inside, but his glare remained fixed on Liam. Liam was frozen in mid-handshake.

Inspector Jefferson, oblivious, spoke up.

“So, that case will be tomorrow?”

Jonathan, struggling free from my grip, shouted.

“If you make my sister look at corpses on Christmas, I’ll—”

Would those two end up as bodies themselves by tomorrow? Jonathan seemed capable of it. I quickly interjected.

“Let’s have dinner, Jonathan!”

“What?”

Jonathan’s eyes softened instantly. He blinked at me, looking like a lamb.

“Dress up nicely! Let’s have Christmas dinner!”

“Really? With me? Is that okay?”

“Of course!”

Jonathan shyly smiled. My dear, sweet brother. Why couldn’t he control his temper? He asked,

“How about the Langham Hotel at eight tomorrow?”

“Splendid!”

After giving me a tight hug, Jonathan put on his hat and stepped back out. I patted the still-stunned Liam Moore on the back a few times. Jonathan, watching us, tipped his hat slightly and added,

“By the way, sister.”

“Yes?”

“I already know Inspector Jefferson.”

Oh. Jonathan was a police officer, after all. How could I have forgotten?

Before I could respond, Jonathan started talking rapidly.

“And I got a new job. They provide room and board. If you need to send any messages, send them to 278 Minette Avenue in Haledon. That’s what I came to tell you.”

“Haledon, Minette Avenue.”

Wait.

Something was wrong. Haledon. Minette Avenue. It sounded familiar. No way… Liam and I exchanged looks. We were thinking the same thing. I gasped and shouted,

“Is your employer’s name Plurititas?!”

“…How did you know? Do you know them?”

I didn’t know what to say.

Well, yes, I knew him, but Plurititas was insane. Yet, I couldn’t say I didn’t know him either, because he knew my name. Did he hire Jonathan because of me?

‘I can’t just say ‘he’s a lunatic, stay away from him,’ can I?’

I held my head in my hands.

“Uh, yeah. I know him. He’s not a bad person, so don’t worry too much. Just work hard and drain his wealth.”

“Okay.”

Watching my sweet, compliant brother, I began to worry a bit. Frankly, think about the butlers and maids there—they’re all automatons! My brother, the only human among those eerie machines… could he handle it? Maybe it’s better if he never finds out.

“Damn…”

Now I understood why Liam had been so secretive. It’s quite something to put yourself in someone else’s shoes.

How will my gentle, kind brother cope with the wild Plurititas?

After sending Jonathan off and closing the door, I collapsed.

“What do we do…”

Liam Moore, having been hit with shocking news, remained silent. Only Jefferson seemed puzzled, looking between us. I sniffled, clutching the doorknob.

“How will my delicate brother survive in that hellish place…”

Delicate? Liam Moore’s expression seemed to question. Delicate? That guy?

Honestly, yes. Seeing him with a beard made him look like some wild bandit. A bit creepy. But when he smiled, he looked just like me, and I felt a pang of affection.

“What. What is it?”

I glared at Liam, daring him to disagree.

“My brother is kind and delicate.”

“Pfft.”

A laugh came from somewhere. Clenching my fists, I turned to see Jefferson holding his belly, laughing. His moustache quivered.

“Haha! That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard! Jonathan Osmond, delicate!”

“…”

“He once subdued a suspect with his bare hands! Knocked him out with one punch!”

One punch.

“He’s known as ‘Scotland Yard’s police dog,’ but you say he’s delicate!”

Maybe I was being a bit of a doting sister. I blushed and rubbed my face, avoiding eye contact. Jefferson continued,

“He’s a hard worker, known for being stoic. Today, I saw a different side of him! I was surprised when he suddenly resigned.”

“Do you know why he quit?”

“Well, he’s not my subordinate, so I don’t know. But if you ask him, I’m sure he’ll tell you everything. Like you said, a ‘delicate and kind’ brother.”

Perhaps. The Jonathan I remembered was a sweet, talkative boy who shared every detail of his day with me. That was ten years ago, though.

Langham, eight o’clock. We’ll catch up then.

“But before that.”

I raised a finger.

“We have work to do. Let’s go, gentlemen. Tomorrow will be busy, so let’s hustle today!”

Even though it was Christmas Eve, crime doesn’t take a holiday. And we had a duty to track down the criminal who had emerged from the grave.