Chapter 58

Mr. Thomas continued to eat, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of the situation. "How would I know?" he replied casually, his attention focused on his meal rather than the interrogation at hand. Detective John's patience wore thin as he pressed on. "Who else would know? You were the only one at the scene," he reasoned, desperation creeping into his voice.

In an attempt to provoke a response, Detective John produced a photograph and slid it across the table. The image depicted the vampire in question, his menacing visage staring back at Mr. Thomas. "Who is it? Who killed him?" Detective John demanded, his voice rising with urgency.

Mr. Thomas paused mid-bite, his expression betraying a hint of surprise. "Gosh, this... this doesn't taste like it did back then," he muttered, seemingly unfazed by the photograph before him. Detective John's frustration reached its peak as he implored Mr. Thomas to focus. "Can you please stop eating? Are you shooting an eating show?" he exclaimed, exasperation evident in his voice.

Mr. Thomas glanced up from his meal, a defiant glint in his eyes. "To hell with that, why am I in an interrogation room? Am I a suspect?" he retorted, his tone laced with defiance.

Detective John's voice echoed through the interrogation room, sharp and commanding. "You're a witness! A serial killer has died," he declared, his eyes fixed on Mr. Thomas. Mr. Thomas shifted uncomfortably under the detective's gaze, his expression unreadable.

"Who killed him? You know who did it, don't you?" Detective John pressed, leaning forward in his chair. Mr. Thomas glanced down, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features.

"You see..." Mr. Thomas began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "I brushed past someone on my way to the pool, but I couldn't see clearly. I don't remember... at this age, my vision has become blurry, and I've become more forgetful."

Detective John leaned back in his chair, skepticism evident in his demeanor. "I definitely smell something fishy here," he remarked, his brow furrowing in suspicion.

"That's your mouth, gosh, you reek of cigarette," Mr. Thomas retorted, wrinkling his nose and blocking the offensive odor with his hand. "Are you not going to quit?"

Detective John took a deep breath, attempting to mask the scent of smoke as he refocused on the interrogation. "More importantly, have you identified the fingerprints?" Mr. Thomas inquired, his tone tinged with urgency.

"Right, whose fingerprints are they?" Detective John mused, resting his arm on the desk. "They couldn't be identified," he admitted, his expression betraying a hint of frustration.

Mr. Thomas's eyes widened in shock. "What?" he exclaimed, disbelief coloring his voice. Detective John's phone interrupted the tense exchange, and he quickly answered it, excusing himself from the room.

"Yes, chief?" Detective John spoke into the phone, his attention momentarily diverted. Mr. Thomas watched him intently, his curiosity piqued by the sudden interruption.

As Detective John listened to the voice on the other end of the line, his expression shifted, his features tightening with concern. "Yes, sir," he responded curtly before ending the call. Turning his gaze back to Mr. Thomas, he delivered the unexpected news.

"Thomas, you should go if you're done eating," Detective John instructed, his tone clipped. Mr. Thomas regarded him with confusion, rising from his seat.

"All of a sudden? What's going on? No more questions?" Mr. Thomas queried, his brow furrowing in confusion as he reached for his jacket.

"I've been ordered to wrap it up," Detective John explained cryptically, his eyes betraying a sense of unease. "The culprit committed suicide."

Mr. Thomas's jaw dropped in disbelief. "What did you just say? Suicide?" he repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity. Detective John nodded solemnly.

"Yes, they just received his autopsy report. It was suicide," he confirmed, his tone somber. Mr. Thomas narrowed his eyes, struggling to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

In the imposing mansion of Black Soul, tension crackled in the air as Chief P awaited his superior's response. "Hey, chief P, how did it go?" he inquired, his tone laced with anticipation.

The man slammed his fist against the table, frustration evident in his voice. "Damn it! I don't care if it was suicide or homicide! Who cares how a serial killer died? Look, just wrap it up. This is just going to taint our city's reputation, got it?" he barked before abruptly ending the call with a muttered curse.

Fuming with anger, the man seethed, "That son of a bitch. I ought to teach him a lesson." His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Black Soul's personal assistant, bearing a tray of coffee. Startled, the man demanded, "Where is the chairman?"

The PA lowered her gaze, her voice respectful. "He's running a bit late, sir. Please be patient; he's in a meeting," she explained before retreating from the room.

Meanwhile, within the confines of Black Soul's mansion, the enigmatic figure sat in quiet contemplation, his piercing gaze fixed upon his errand man. "Why did you fail?" he questioned, his voice soft yet laden with authority.

The errand man trembled in fear under Black Soul's intense scrutiny. "Was bringing Annabelle Keys such a hard task?" Black Soul inquired further, his tone betraying a hint of disappointment.

"When I arrived, they had already left. The vampire man was dead, and the police were there. I'm sorry," the errand man stammered, his words tinged with remorse.

Black Soul's response was measured, his voice calm yet tinged with a sense of regret. "I see. None of us imagined that Morgan Vale's would find that place so quickly," he acknowledged.

The errand man nodded fervently, acknowledging his fault. "You're right. I was careless," Black Soul continued, leaning in closer. "But why couldn't you have driven faster?" he questioned, his tone betraying a hint of frustration.

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again," the errand man vowed, his voice trembling with fear.

Black Soul chuckled softly, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "All right. Do as you please," he conceded, allowing the errand man to leave.

As the errand man hastily exited the room, relief flooding his senses, he froze in terror upon discovering that the door was locked. Panic surged through him as he desperately attempted to force it open, his frantic efforts proving futile.

Turning back to Black Soul, the errand man's heart pounded with dread as he witnessed the transformation unfolding before him. Black Soul's form contorted and shifted, his features morphing into that of a vampire. Terror gripped the errand man as he realized his impending fate.

With a guttural scream, the errand man fell victim to Black Soul's insatiable hunger, his lifeblood drained until he lay lifeless at his master's feet. Black Soul, now fully satiated, donned his attire once more, his demeanor unchanged as he left the room.

Passing by his concerned PA without a word, Black Soul made his way to the visitor room, his senses still ablaze with the taste of fresh blood on his lips. "Get rid of that garbage in the basement," he instructed coldly, his voice devoid of remorse.

Opening the door to the visitor room, Black Soul greeted the waiting figure with a smile. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mayor," he said smoothly, his voice carrying an air of authority.

The mayor startled at the sudden appearance of Black Soul, quickly rising from his seat and bowing in deference. "Did you put an end to it?" Black Soul inquired, his gaze piercing as he took his own seat.

"Yes, sir. I did what you asked me to do. You don't need to worry," the mayor reassured, taking his place opposite Black Soul.

"Don't be so arrogant, and keep an eye on them," Black Soul cautioned, his tone firm yet measured. The mayor nodded obediently. "Yes, sir," he replied earnestly.

"No, wait. You did a great job fifteen years ago. That's how you became the mayor, right? You should run for a higher position next," Black Soul remarked, his eyes glinting with ambition.

The mayor bowed his head humbly. "Thank you, sir. You've helped me so much from the beginning," he acknowledged gratefully.

Black Soul chuckled softly, his laughter echoing in the room. "By the way--- you haven't changed one bit since I first saw you fifteen years ago. Is there a secret to your youth? May I ask how old you are?" the mayor inquired tentatively.

Black Soul's expression darkened, a furrow forming on his brow. The mayor recoiled, sensing his mistake. However, Black Soul's stern facade melted away as he burst into laughter. "You're asking me questions?" he teased, his amusement evident.

The mayor bowed his head in apology. "I'm sorry, sir," he murmured, chastened by Black Soul's response.

"Why would a dog be interested in its owner's age?" Black Soul mused, his tone teasing yet tinged with a hint of menace. The mayor fell silent, unable to offer a response.

"Stand up and get out of my house before I lose my mind," Black Soul commanded, his voice cold and commanding.

The mayor hurriedly complied, fleeing the room with a sense of relief. Turning to his PA, Black Soul offered a cryptic observation. "Doting on your dog will only spoil him," he remarked, his tone enigmatic.

"At times, you need to tighten its collar to make it respect you, right?" he continued, his words laden with meaning. The PA nodded, understanding the implicit message.

"Was it necessary for him to wrap up the case?" she ventured, her curiosity piqued by the mayor's abrupt departure.

Black Soul's gaze lingered thoughtfully on the closed door. "In this game, my dear, necessity is a matter of perspective," he replied cryptically, his expression inscrutable. With a final exhale, he turned his attention elsewhere, leaving the question unanswered.