Chapter 508 - 299: Accident_2 - North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws - NovelsTime

North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws

Chapter 508 - 299: Accident_2

Author: A treacherous dog
updatedAt: 2026-01-20

CHAPTER 508: CHAPTER 299: ACCIDENT_2

So, Dean didn’t gain any further insights. The questioning was over.

Dean softened his oppressive demeanor, adopting a kind expression as he said comfortingly, "Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am. I have some ideas about the case. All you need to do now is take care of yourself. If Teague and your husband are released without charges and you fall ill, they’ll definitely be heartbroken."

Fadili’s wife reminded Dean of his own mother, which sparked an uncharacteristic bit of kindness in him.

His consolation was far more effective than all of young Officer Nellie’s babbling.

Fadili’s wife nodded vigorously. "Thank you, Detective. While Fadili and Teague are away, I’ll take good care of our home."

「...」

After bidding farewell to Fadili’s wife, Nellie eagerly turned to Dean. "Detective Dean, do you really have a lead?"

Dean shot her a look. "A lead, my ass!"

"The situation is quite clear now. Teague lied during the interrogation because he didn’t want outsiders to know about his secret crush on Toddy, or that he stalked and secretly photographed her, even if it meant being treated as a murder suspect. I even suspect that Teague was the first to discover Miss Toddy’s murder because he was habitually going over to peep at her."

Such embarrassing feelings were all too common for an adolescent like Teague. It was similar to the sentiment in a common Chinese saying: "Better to be smashed to pieces than to lose one’s honor." Under the threat of social ruin, some people, even if thrown over ten meters by a car, would muster their last ounce of strength to wipe their phones before passing out or dying. Teague’s situation was hardly different.

Nellie was startled. "Then why did Mr. Fadili, who clearly knew what was going on, also hide it and even want to destroy those photos?"

As a morally upright small-town policewoman, she simply couldn’t fathom such bizarre thinking.

Dean shrugged. "Firstly, those photos wouldn’t help; they’d only strengthen the suspicion against his son, Teague. Secondly, as Fadili’s wife just mentioned, Fadili is a man who cares a lot about his reputation. I guess he also doesn’t want outsiders to know his son is a stalker and a voyeur."

Nellie shook her head in disappointment. "Alright, so what do we do next?"

Dean gave her an odd look. "It’s so late. Obviously, we sleep!"

"Sleep!"

At these words, Nellie felt a mix of shock and excitement. Her cheeks flushed red as she stood there, fidgeting slightly, biting her lip, and whispered, "Isn’t that a bit too fast?"

The only response she got was the sound of a car engine starting.

Dean rolled down the window and waved at Nellie. "Pick me up at the XX Motel tomorrow morning."

Watching the car’s taillights disappear, Nellie was left speechless.

「...」

The next day, early in the morning, Nellie drove her police car to the small-town motel to pick up Dean.

She seemed to have slept poorly; her usually capable face showed faint dark circles under her eyes.

"Morning," Dean said, munching on a sandwich as he got into the car.

"Hmm."

Nellie surreptitiously glanced at Dean in the passenger seat via the rearview mirror. Her eyes betrayed a hint of guilt.

She had dreamt all night. When she woke up, her pajamas were damp.

Dean shot a keen glance back at Nellie.

But she had already averted her gaze, her hands gripping the steering wheel, sitting bolt upright and staring straight ahead.

He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but Dean sensed that Officer Nellie was acting a bit strange today.

Perhaps sensing Dean’s scrutinizing gaze, Nellie said a little guiltily, "Detective Dean, are we heading to the school now?"

Dean looked away and nodded. "Yeah, we’ll talk to Teague’s classmates to find out more."

After speaking, he wiped his mouth and pulled out the photos Teague had taken from his pocket, examining them once again. He had already looked through most of the additional photos he had received yesterday. The ones in his hand were the remaining few dozen.

The photos all had dates on them. Based on these dates, Dean could piece together the rough itinerary of the victim, Miss Toddy, which was a significant help.

In fact, Miss Toddy’s daily life after work was very simple: going to the supermarket, eating at home, walking the dog, showering, sleeping... Occasionally, she would chat with acquaintances she met, but no overly familiar men ever appeared.

Teague had taken a vast number of photos, at least a thousand. But the content was monotonous—all of the same ilk. This left Dean feeling a bit disappointed.

He roused himself and continued to flip through the remaining photographs, hoping to find even the faintest clue.

For convenience, Dean had arranged the photographs in reverse chronological order, from latest to earliest. This meant the photographs still in his hand were from a time closer to Toddy’s murder.

He set the photos aside one by one. As the pile dwindled, he quickly reached the second-to-last one.

Suddenly, Dean’s pupils constricted.

His gaze locked onto an apparently unremarkable photograph: In it, Toddy, the teacher, stood on the street, leaning on the driver’s side window of a gray car. Her mouth was open, as if she were speaking to the driver.

Dean had actually seen similar photos more than once in Teague’s secret collection; after all, in a small town, running into acquaintances was common.

But this photograph was different!

In the photograph, Toddy had her left hand resting on the gray sedan’s window, but her right hand, hanging by her side, was clenched into a fist.

A fist represented strong emotions, like agitation or anger. What could have caused the always amiable Toddy to become so agitated during a conversation that she clenched her fist?

Dean glanced again at the time stamp on the photo: the afternoon of August 2nd. That was a Friday! And Toddy had been murdered on August 4th, a Sunday, when school was out.

Dean shook the photograph in his hand. He seemed to have found the key to cracking the case!

「...」

Officer Nellie had been surreptitiously glancing towards Dean. When she saw him focusing on one photograph for a long time, a smile even appearing on his face, she couldn’t help but slow the car and ask curiously, "Detective Dean, did you find something new in the photo?"

Dean nodded. "I discovered that Toddy had an argument with the driver of a gray sedan on August 2nd. The timing is crucial!"

Nellie muttered, "August 2nd..." Then, as if a thought struck her, she slammed on the brakes and looked at Dean excitedly. "That’s two days before Toddy was murdered!"

"Exactly!" Dean nodded. "The driver of that sedan is highly suspicious!"

"Then I’ll go to the station for help right now! As long as that car isn’t from out of town, we can find the suspicious vehicle quickly!" Nellie said excitedly.

Although the photograph only showed half the car, it was enough to determine its color and model. There weren’t that many cars in town. Even checking them one by one wouldn’t take too long.

Dean, however, shook his head. "The clue is already in hand; there’s no rush. Let’s go to the school first. After we question Teague’s classmates, we’ll investigate the gray sedan ourselves."

People are unpredictable, Dean thought. He worried that if he reported this lead, the town’s police chief might do something foolish to save face. It wasn’t impossible.

Although somewhat disappointed, Nellie composed herself, restarted the car, and headed toward the school.

In the United States, you can get your driver’s license at sixteen and hit the road. It wasn’t uncommon here for parents to buy their children a secondhand car for school and leisure once they got their license. Consequently, students in cars frequently overtook them on the way. Some of the bolder ones even deliberately drove parallel to Nellie’s patrol car and whistled at her.

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