Chapter 4: A Case Casually Solved
Joseph casually drew open the curtains, and when he saw the surrounding scene, his brow furrowed instantly.
Since arriving in this world, he had been confined to examinations at the Palace of Versailles, making this his first true glimpse of Paris.
It was completely different from the bustling European metropolis he had imagined. Buildings were dirty and old, streets were choked with mud, sewage, and even excrement, which accounted for the pervasive stench. Dead animal carcasses occasionally floated down the Seine River, while workshops along its banks discharged strangely colored wastewater, staining the river brown.
Vendors haphazardly arranged their stalls on both sides of the road, turning what would have been a relatively wide street into an impassable bottleneck. Children happily chased each other, flinging mud, as curses of unknown origin erupted constantly.
Fights and brawls were a common sight everywhere, with passersby completely ignoring the screams of those being beaten.
There were even robberies in broad daylight. Only when Joseph ordered his guards to intervene did the robbers scramble into an alley and flee. And this was the Louvre District, known for having the best public order in all of Paris...
In short, the entire city lacked any romantic charm influenced by Enlightenment ideals, nor did it show the vibrant dynamism of the Industrial Revolution.
Though the magnificent Palace of Versailles lay just a stone's throw away from Paris, they seemed worlds apart.
The carriage drove past the north bank of the Seine River. The coachman let out a soft "Whoa," and the vehicle gradually came to a halt.
Joseph rubbed his backside, which felt nearly shattered from the bumpy ride. Descending the steps laid out by his attendants, he looked up to see a magnificent building directly ahead and to the side. Nearly a hundred meters wide, its outer walls were carved with statues, and it was composed of numerous columns and arched floor-to-ceiling windows. It resembled a colossal castle presiding over the heart of Paris, proclaiming the feudal class's supreme power.
The City Hall had already received word of the Crown Prince's arrival, and at this moment, officials of all ranks were gathered in formation on the plaza outside the main entrance, ready to welcome His Highness.
However, the silver royal carriage they had eagerly anticipated never appeared.
It wasn't until three dark gray carriages pulled up before the main entrance of City Hall and Eman emerged from one of them that Le Verber, the Municipal Commissioner of Paris, twitched an eyelid and hastily called out to those beside him:
"Quick! It's His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince!"
Le Verber pressed his hand to his black tricorn hat, his inverted-trapezoid legs propelling his nearly 200-pound frame. He led the others in rushing towards Joseph, where they respectfully bowed one after another. "Your Royal Highness."
The musicians nearby also reacted, frantically scrambling to play their instruments.
Le Verber first introduced himself, then gestured to the middle-aged man beside him, who had grayish-blue eyes and cheekbones so sharp they seemed almost to pierce his skin. "Your Highness, allow me to introduce you to Viscount Flesselles, President of the Paris Chamber of Commerce."
Joseph took a second look at the man upon hearing this. He had learned from the briefing earlier that while Le Verber was the Municipal Commissioner of Paris, essentially its mayor, the true power in Paris lay with Flesselles. There was no other way; the government lacked funds and relied on the Chamber of Commerce's investments to operate. Moreover, the Chamber's connections could resolve many issues, granting its president immense authority.
Flesselles stepped forward again and bowed. "Your Highness, we have prepared an afternoon banquet. We would be honored by your presence."
Although Joseph deeply disliked the banquets and balls of this era, finding the various elaborate etiquette and rules absolute torture, he knew that social niceties were unavoidable. So, he nodded in response:
"My sincere thanks to you all, then."
In the spacious and luxurious City Hall banquet hall, servants bustled back and forth. Tables were laden with a variety of expensive dishes; any that grew cold were immediately replaced with fresh ones.
Amidst clinking glasses and continuous laughter, Joseph endured the officials' unending flattery, but his mind remained focused on reforming the police department.
"Your Highness means... you wish to be involved in police administration?" The stout mayor exchanged a surprised glance with the President of the Chamber of Commerce, then hastily chuckled to Joseph, "Your Highness, you are so distinguished; how could you possibly deal with petty thieves and murderers?"
The President of the Chamber of Commerce quickly nodded in agreement. "Precisely. Furthermore, the police department involves countless trivial and extremely tedious matters."
'Oh, Your Highness, you're only here to gain some experience; please don't take it too seriously,' he wailed internally. 'If you disrupt the police system, wouldn't Paris be ripe for riots?'
Joseph felt a touch of helplessness. Just as he was in the midst of this back-and-forth with the two men, a woman's shrill voice suddenly echoed from outside City Hall:
"No! Le Noire could never have committed suicide! You must catch the murderer!"
Her voice, at times sharp, at others like an operatic aria, continued: "Le Noire was so cheerful! We were supposed to be married next month! How could he possibly kill himself? You can't close this case! The murderer is still at large..."
The stout mayor's face immediately darkened. He snapped, "Why is she here again?"
Flesselles immediately waved vigorously at the guards. "Get her out of here! Can't you see who's here today?!"
He then turned back to Joseph, forcing a smile. "Ah, Your Highness, it's just a madwoman. Don't let her spoil your mood."
Joseph looked towards the window and inquired, "I heard her mention a murderer. What exactly is the situation?"
Mayor Le Verber hastily explained, "About a month ago, her fiancé, Viscount Le Noire, committed suicide by swallowing his sword. Oh, the details of the case are clear, absolutely no question about it. But this woman seems to have gone mad; she insists it was murder."
"She's caused such a commotion that we've had to ban her from entering City Hall, but every few days, she'll start shouting outside again."
Joseph remarked, a little puzzled, "Suicide by swallowing a sword?"
The gaunt man seated to Le Verber's right touched his chest, indicating:
"Your Highness, it involves bracing the hilt against the ground, placing the tip of the blade in one's mouth, and then pressing down firmly until the sword pierces through the back of the neck. It's a common method of suicide."
Joseph recalled that the stout mayor had just introduced him: Viscount Guizot, the Commissioner of Police for Paris, and thus the highest authority in Parisian law enforcement.
Noticing the Crown Prince's apparent interest, Guizot eagerly began to elaborate:
"One afternoon, over a month ago, Viscount Le Noire's servant reported that his master had died in his bedroom. I dispatched men to investigate, and they found he had committed suicide by swallowing his sword."
Joseph frowned. "How did you determine it was suicide? Was there a suicide note, or had he previously shown signs of being weary of life?"
"No, neither of those," Guizot replied. "However, Le Noire used his own sword, there were no missing valuables, no signs of a struggle in the room, and not a single other injury on his body.
"You must understand, Your Highness, Le Noire fought in America. He was fully six feet tall and skilled in combat. If anyone could force a sword into his mouth in broad daylight without harming him in the slightest, it could only have been himself."
'Over six feet is indeed a big man,' Joseph mused.
Joseph narrowed his eyes slightly. He had encountered similar murder methods in numerous detective novels. Without any signs of suicidal intent or a note, only eighteenth-century police—unversed in modern forensics and isolated by limited information—would so crudely label it a suicide.
He turned to Guizot. "No, besides himself, there's one other type of person who could have done it."
"Your Highness must be joking," the stout mayor said, waving a dismissive hand with a laugh. "Would that person have magic?"
Joseph replied unhurriedly, "No, he would simply be a dentist."
"Treating teeth... You mean a dentist?!"
"Yes, a dentist."
The surrounding individuals were momentarily stunned, a vivid image forming in their minds: Le Noire, obediently opening his mouth at the dentist's command, followed by the dentist covering his eyes with a surgical cloth, then turning, drawing the sword from where it hung on the wall, and effortlessly thrusting it into his mouth. Blood immediately gushed out...
In 18th-century Europe, "fast and flexible" sword fighting was highly valued, which meant noblemen's ceremonial swords were thin and light, making them difficult to use for slitting one's throat. Therefore, they often resorted to suicide by swallowing the sword. This method also left the body in a kneeling, prayer-like posture, further increasing its appeal among the aristocracy.
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