At Deputy Inspector Zhe Rong's request, Bellham and his assistant interrogated Tai Yu again and again, while the person on the other side gave his account over and over. The general meaning was roughly the same each time, but the details differed somewhat.
But what did it matter? Tai Yu was always like this, telling stories that were more or less coherent but absurd in the details.
Even when someone pointed out the holes in his story, he could casually offer excuses like poor memory, a terrible mental state, or permission shackles being too tight, then produce an entirely new statement.
Bellham was exhausted.
This was not a matter of details, but attitude. In theory, with these riddled-with-holes testimonies, they could have sought out the relevant people for a thorough investigation, cross-checked the information, then come back and properly slap this guy around. But neither the precinct nor Deputy Inspector Zhe Rong beside him showed any such intention.
When Bellham turned his gaze over, Zhe Rong smiled with narrowed eyes. "Ask him again."
No matter how much Bellham cursed inside, he and his assistant could only begin anew. By rights, someone should have relieved them...
Bellham gradually became dazed. The light in the detention room seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer, as though that highly dangerous fellow had hidden himself in the darkness, answering them halfheartedly. The interrogators, on the other hand, had been placed in an awkwardly conspicuous position, even though a thick protective wall separated the two sides and they had never truly met face-to-face.
His assistant yawned, without bothering to hide it at all.
Bellham felt this could not continue. He temporarily shut off the communicator and softly asked Zhe Rong, this time even more frankly, "Can we use measures?"
"Measures?" Zhe Rong still wore that narrow-eyed