Zack Wallaceâs eyes were cold and mocking as he watched the person, âIâve said it before, the murdererâs shoe sole would have picked up more honey water than an ordinary person. Besides, even if we canât figure out who it is, at least we can narrow down the range of suspects, canât we?â
No one spoke again.
At this time, Alexander Summers said, âSince this incident happened on my turf, I will see it through to the end. Now that everything is ready, everyone just needs to leave their shoeprints. Anyone who doesnât step in the honey water can leave right now. I will not trouble those unrelated to the matter.â
The crowd whispered among themselves in low voices.
In truth, using honey water to identify the murderer, while seemingly clever, was still somewhat crude.
For one, the honey water was indeed sprinkled on the carpet, but it was not certain that the murderer would have stepped exactly in that wet area.
Secondly, so much time had passed, how much honey water could still be on the shoes? Would it leave sufficient traces?
Thirdly, as someone had just mentioned, other people might have walked over the same spot as the murderer and gotten honey water on their shoes as well.
There were too many uncertainties, making this method unreliable.
But for now, there seemed to be no other option.
Just walking a few steps could clear one of suspicion, so why not do it? Plus, Roy Howard had said that anyone who didnât step in the honey water could leave now.
Some were eager to try, others stood by and watched, and some of the more suspicious began to wonder if this was a trap within a trap?
Could it be that Roy Howard was the actual killer? Was this just another one of his schemes to eliminate opposing forces?
âIâll go first.â An elderly uncle stood up, walking over with his cane.
Zack Wallaceâs face immediately lit up with smiles, âThird Uncle, why trouble you, sir? You and the elder master are brothers, and besides, with your health⦠you couldnât possibly be the murderer.
âWhether I am the murderer or not will be clear once I walk.â Third Uncle smiled and took two to three steps into the dance floor.
Because of his cane, small, faint black dots accompanied his shoe prints, which looked somewhat comical.
But in this situation, no one dared to laugh.
Ants crawled over them without a single one stopping.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om
âLook, the ants arenât reacting!â someone said, âThis method really works!â
Third Uncleâs shoeprint, compared with the maidâs not far away, formed a stark contrast.
The murderer must be feeling very nervous now, afraid that they had gotten honey water on themselves and would be exposed in front of everyone.
Purple Summers curiously watched the various expressions of the guests around her, trying to see who would reveal a flaw.
Although she didnât catch sight of the murderer, she did see Alexander from afar, looking at her with deep affection.
Purple Summers: ââ¦â
In such a serious moment, why send loving looks her way? He would have been a foolish ruler in ancient times!
Purple Summers glared fiercely at him.
Alexanderâs lips slightly curved up, and he indifferently withdrew his gaze.
Zack Wallace had people help Third Uncle back to his seat to rest.
After the first person, there was a second, and then a third, and so the guests took turns leaving their shoeprints on the dance floor.
Naturally, they couldnât all crowd in at once; that would make it impossible to distinguish whose shoeprints were whose, so only two or three people went at a time.
Nearing a hundred guests, it would take quite some time if each person walked once; everyone waited beside the dining tables.
At this moment, Zack Wallace suddenly said in a mocking tone: ââ¦tsk tsk tsk, Young Master Flynn Howard, those shoes of yours seem a bit ill-fitting, donât they?â
Flynn Howard looked down at his feet, his expression stiffening slightly.
Others also looked over, their gazes falling on Flynn Howardâs shoes.
They were a pair of very ordinary menâs leather shoes.
Disgusted, Flynn Howard glared at Zack Wallace and came back from the dance floor, saying, âThe shoes are on my feet, if Iâm comfortable, thatâs all that matters. Why do you care if they fit or not? Go on and play your ant game, see if you can find the honey water youâre looking for! â¦â
As soon as his words fell, Zack Wallace gave a signal with his eyes, and then, those guarding near the doors and windows, all raised their guns!