Chapter 178 A Detective's Dinner

At that moment, the expressions of the three men changed drastically. Feng Bujue caught every nuance of their faces, and the subtle, fleeting information hidden in their eyes.

"Heh..." Two seconds later, Feng Bujue chuckled. "Alright, I'm done talking. You may leave now."

"What?" Apart from Brother Jue, the other four people in the room simultaneously and instinctively asked this question.

"Wait... what do you mean?" Powell said. "What do you mean, 'You may leave now'? You called us here, told us that one of us is the murderer, and now you're telling us to leave?"

"Yes," Feng Bujue replied. "I will reveal the real killer in about eight chapters... oh, no, I mean, around eight o'clock."

"Uh... Mr. Feng," Schofield interjected, "May I ask... why do we have to wait until eight o'clock?"

"Ah~ As the saying goes, reasoning should be done after dinner," Feng Bujue replied.

"What kind of saying is that... I've never heard of it before... You just made it up, didn't you..." Schofield thought to himself, but he still didn't dare to show it on the surface, because he still couldn't determine the murderer himself, and he had no evidence. Right now, he could only rely on this strange detective to help him.

"Ha... haha... good... alright..." Schofield continued to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "Then we'll do as you say..."

"This is too strange!" Powell said, "If you know who the real killer is, you should bring them to justice immediately! Letting a murderer stay in the same house as us is dangerous for everyone, right?"

"With four police officers stationed here, where does the danger come from?" Feng Bujue replied in a relaxed tone, "Besides, you should also be very clear... before I said the words 'the murderer is among the three of you,' you were already under the same roof as the murderer, weren't you?"

"But now that you've said it, the situation is..." Powell said nervously, his eyes constantly glancing in Barton's direction.

Feng Bujue interrupted him, "You don't need to say any more, I've seen plenty of this kind of clumsy denial." He paused, "Doctor Powell, you're reacting so strongly, acting so scared, are you trying to pretend to be innocent to avoid suspicion?"

"This..." Powell was speechless in the face of this accusation.

Henderson and Barton also cast suspicious glances at him, and the atmosphere became very strange.

Feng Bujue responded to these guys' actions with a cold smile. He turned to Schofield and said, "Detective, in the time before dinner, please gather these three, as well as Carol, Kolston, Jack, and Nancy, whom I questioned earlier, in the dining room. This will make it easier to monitor them." As he spoke, he walked past the three men in front of him and headed toward the door.

"Where are you going? Mr. Feng," Schofield asked.

"The kitchen," Feng Bujue replied, and then he opened the door and left.

Leaving the four people in the study, looking at each other, extremely embarrassed.

............

The kitchen in this villa was quite good, almost on par with the configuration of some small Western restaurants.

The kitchen door was naturally a double-leafed sliding door that could be pushed or pulled. It could be opened with a light touch of the hand, foot, or trolley, making it easy to carry food in and out. After Feng Bujue pushed the door open, he was greeted by a spacious, clean, and beautiful environment.

For a home kitchen, the equipment in this place was surprisingly complete... cabinets, grills, stoves, ovens, barbecues, deep fryers, stovetops, shelves, worktops, refrigerators, freezers, mixers, meat grinders, slicers, egg beaters, etc., etc... Apart from the extreme configuration of a stone-built wall oven, this place basically had everything, enough to hold a cooking competition.

"Ah, Mr. Feng, why have you come to the kitchen?" At this time, Mrs. Odetta had changed into a long-sleeved, knee-length plain dress, and was wearing an apron, working busily at the stove with Aunt Oliver.

"To prevent you from poisoning everyone's dinner," Feng Bujue replied.

Odetta and Oliver both stopped what they were doing, widened their eyes, and looked at Brother Jue in shock and suspicion.

"Hahaha... I'm kidding, ladies," Feng Bujue said with a smile. "As a guest, it's only right to lend a hand in the kitchen."

"Oh, sir, your joke is not funny at all," Aunt Oliver was undoubtedly a straightforward person. She quickly went back to work at the counter, "We're already too busy to handle it, but you're still saying such scary things."

Odetta smiled politely, "Mr. Feng, are you sure you can help? Don't force yourself..."

"Afraid I'll cause trouble? Humph..." Feng Bujue's eyes were obscured by the hair in front of his forehead. In the shadows, a fierce light flashed from his eyes. "Naive... too naive... You won't understand unless I show you my skills..." After his chuunibyou (delusions of grandeur) lines came out, he was stunned for a moment. "Wait, these lines seem more suitable for Jin Fugui to say... Never mind! Anyway..." He grabbed a kitchen knife and quickly chopped up a piece of red meat. His hand speed was so fast that it produced layers of afterimages, and the sound of the knife falling on the cutting board was as dense as a typewriter, "Hoho hahaha... Let me taste this magnificent slaughter!"

The two ladies in the kitchen had never seen such a scene before. For a moment, they stood there in a daze, watching Brother Jue's performance in confusion.

Another characteristic of Feng Bujue, this weirdo, was that... when he was making food, he would become unusually chuunibyou. If his usual chuunibyou value (don't ask me what this concept is, I don't know either, but it just appeared in my brain) was around 250, then his chuunibyou value would explode to between 9527 and 10086 when he was cooking.

Habit... is indeed a terrible thing...

After his parents died, Feng Bujue, who lived alone, naturally cooked often. He was not a person who pursued luxury goods and vanity, but when conditions allowed (depending on how much money he had in his pocket), he would try to ensure the quality of his life as much as possible. Therefore, this guy's cooking skills unknowingly became better and better... And in this process, he developed the habit of talking to himself and making various exaggerated gestures when cooking.

"First, spread a layer of oil and heat the pan," Feng Bujue said as he worked. "Cut the beef into thin slices and put them in a bowl, add salt, pepper, soy sauce, and mustard seeds, and rub them in carefully..." As he spoke, he picked up a celery stalk and chopped it up like lightning. "Put the beef, liver, and celery together in the heated pan and stir-fry over high heat..." He spent a few minutes completing a small dish with a good color, aroma, and taste.

"Humph... The strength shown by this mustard beef liver stir-fried celery is enough to convince you, right..." Feng Bujue wiped his hands with a rag and recited smugly.

Mrs. Odetta and Aunt Oliver each hesitantly took a piece of beef liver and tasted it. It was so delicious that it was unbelievable...

"Mr. Feng... Were you a chef before you became a detective?" Odetta exclaimed.

Feng Bujue slowly walked to the side, took an apron from the wall and tied it on. He smiled smugly and continued, "So... please leave the dinner preparations to me. You two can just give me a little help." He paused, "By the way... please answer a few questions for me during this time."