The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1772

"Here's the place. I've been pressing him for the rent, but he never pays them on time. I only rented the place to him because I felt bad for him.

"But Bowie's an honest guy, and I don't see any issues with him. He hardly raises his voice," commented the landlord, Travis Zielinski. He wore flip-flops and had a cigarette between his teeth.

The keys around his waist suggested that he was a relocated resident, though he seemed laidback while explaining to Dalton. He couldn't help but ask with a frown, "Does Bowie really owe you money?"

Dalton, rarely finding himself in such a filthy environment, had a pale expression since he stepped foot into the area, as though the foul stench gripped him. However, raised with manners, he remained every bit of a gentleman, offering no complaints but a soft hum in reply.

"You don't seem like the kind of person who's here to collect a debt," Travis muttered.

Wynter knew that Dalton had been disturbed by the squalid surroundings. She took out a mask and beckoned to him.

Confused, Dalton leaned in only for Wynter to slip the mask over his face. The unpleasant stench was now masked by her soft fragrance. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on her as he stood perfectly still.

After Wynter adjusted the mask on Dalton, she turned to Travis and continued, "Open the door, please."

Though Travis was stunned by the couple's interaction, he still took out the keys. The door unlocked with a soft click, confirming that no one was at home.

Inside, the space felt cramped and disorganized. An old laptop sat on the table with empty takeout boxes beside it, and dirty clothes were tossed randomly across the couch. The disarray living space seemed to mirror the tenant's habits.

Just as Travis was about to speak, he saw Wynter slip on a pair of disposable gloves.

"Stay here. We'll have questions for you later," Wynter instructed before heading into the house.

Travis was taken aback. Weren't they supposed to be Bowie's old acquaintances? They certainly didn't seem like it now.

One's living space was a true reflection of their inner world. Wynter glanced at the scattered trash on the floor before turning her gaze to the laptop. It was powered down, but there were traces of carbonated drinks near the mousepad.

Wynter could almost picture the way the tenant must have sat as they gamed. Though his habits resembled those of a middle-aged man, he was still in his mid-20s.

Instead of touching anything in the room, Wynter merely observed the scene. While Dalton knew that she was searching for subtle details, Travis was visibly flustered.

"Should I try calling Bowie again?" Travis suggested.

Instead of answering directly, Wynter posed a question. "You mentioned he's honest and doesn't interact much with others?"

When Travis nodded, she continued asking, "Does he have a girlfriend?"

Travis choked on his cigarette smoke. "N-No, he doesn't."

Wynter chuckled at his response. "What's with that reaction? Did I ask something funny?"

The way she framed her question was a strategic probe for vital information, but Travis wasn't aware of that. He replied, "Not everyone can land a girl like your boyfriend, young lady."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Wynter probed further.

Travis clearly had a keen understanding of the younger crowd as he explained, "Bowie's got no charm, education, or money, and he's not even from around here. Even if he sees a pretty lady, he won't dare to talk to her. There's no way he'd have a girlfriend."

"Then I'll have to ask him about the woman's underwear and stockings under his bed." Wynter smirked, and her gaze turned cold. Travis was utterly stunned and wondered if he had misheard her.

To avoid causing any alarm, Wynter chose not to issue an arrest warrant. Instead, she decided to wait for Bowie to finish his shift.

Bowie Ennis wasn't exactly a diligent worker. As soon as it was time to clock out, he was quick to leave. As usual, he bought a bottle of water and some bread from the convenience store downstairs. A strange surge of excitement bubbled up inside him, and he couldn't wait to get home and power on his laptop.

When Bowie lifted his head, he noticed Travis standing at the staircase. He instinctively stopped in his tracks and attempted to leave, but Travis had spotted him. Upon noting Travis' expression, he couldn't help feeling a sense of unease.

Before Bowie could make a move, Wynter called out, "Is that Bowie out there, Travis?"

Startled by Wynter's calling, Travis broke into a cold sweat as he stammered, "H-He's right here."

Panicked, Bowie tossed his things aside and attempted to flee. The door suddenly slammed open with a loud bang, and he soon found himself tumbling to the ground.

Wynter walked over and gazed down at him. "Why are you running? Did you commit a crime?"

When Bowie saw a beautiful woman instead of the police, his murky eyes lit up with disdain. Little did he know that this glance would soon bring him more pain than he could imagine.

Just as Wynter was about to say something, Dalton stood in front of her and gazed at Bowie condescendingly. "You won't need those eyes anymore."

Bowie quickly feigned ignorance, huddling and covering his head. "Please don't hit me! I didn't do anything! Don't hurt me, please!"

Humans tended to sympathize with the weak. Clearly, Bowie's timidity and meekness were a protective guise. His frantic screams drew the nearby residents' attention, especially those from the same building.

However, Wynter flung a needle at Bowie and silenced him. Given that the case was involved with cybercrime, any pictures taken might alert online criminals.

Bowie stiffened into silence, leading everyone to think that they had misheard—all except Travis and the young woman living next door, Rania Melton.

Wynter turned to the two witnesses and said, "For confidentiality reasons, we must ask you to come with us for questioning."

Rania lamented her bad luck and regretted peeking out of curiosity. But soon, she was relieved she had, or else she never would've learned that Bowie, who had seemed so harmless, was actually a pervert!

"These lingerie are mine," Rania admitted, and her flushed face turned pale.

She could hardly imagine what might have happened if Bowie hadn't been caught. If he was bold enough to steal her lingerie, who knew what he might try in the future? Rania clenched her fists as she trembled.

Wynter gently patted her back and poured her a glass of water. "Has Bowie Ennis always seemed this meek to you?"

"You couldn't land a decent job because you sucked at everything. And with your looks, many girls think you're trying to bag a trophy and refuse to turn your way."

As Dalton slowed his speech, Bowie listened more attentively. He couldn't help but clench his fists, trying to suppress his anger. After all, Dalton was speaking facts.

Behind the window, Wynter watched the interrogation as she unwrapped a lollipop. She finally realized Dalton's position in the Top Unit. Such an interrogation style was a form of torture, especially when Bowie attempted to cling to his false persona.

"I know they don't like me because I'm poor. It's normal." Bowie sighed.

Dalton couldn't care less about his pitiful act and pressed on, "At that moment, someone online told you about a set of techniques to get back at the women.

"As long as you hide your face and use a voice-changer, you can make them a fool. They're even willing to spend money on you when they've fallen hard.

"You bought into it. You joined the group and felt a new sense of satisfaction. And then you thought to yourself, 'I can really dominate others, just like he said.'"

As Bowie listened on, his eyes flickered with excitement. If he weren't being interrogated, he would've bragged about his achievements on dating apps. Instead, he suppressed the emotion and muttered, "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just chatting online."

He knew that the data in his laptop would be recovered, so denying it would be pointless.

At that moment, Dalton let out a soft chuckle. "Do you really think you can dominate anyone? Do you think that just because you put on a nice disguise online, you're a charmer?

"In that case, why are you still a dismissive nobody in real life? Why are the beautiful students you're so obsessed with laughing at your looks?"

Bowie's expression turned sour instantly. There was nothing he despised more than being looked down upon.

"Stacey Perez left you a bad review as well. Half a month ago, she was so disgusted by you that she refused to eat the delivery you brought her. You believed she deserved death, didn't you?

"Otherwise, why would you show up outside the girl's dormitory the day she ended her life? You knew she was going to die," Dalton continued with a dark gaze. His heavy words seemed to have pinned Bowie to his seat.

"You always refer to women as bitches. Even if you deleted the chat logs, the word still pops up on your search history. You believe the woman—the bitch—has earned your recognition, and that she should be grateful for your attention.

"But when you warned her about her death, she thought you were insane and gave you a bad review," Dalton added.

Bowie's hands trembled, though it was neither a deliberate act nor out of instinct. He couldn't fathom how Dalton made such accurate speculations. It was almost like Dalton had been at the scene.

The truth was, what Dalton had narrated only existed in Bowie's mind. They were thoughts that even Royston wasn't aware of.

To Bowie, Stacey was exactly his type. He had planned to strike up a conversation when he delivered her food. If he could gain control over her, he thought he could make her his girlfriend. But instead of appreciating his warning, Stacey ignored him and left a bad review.

How had Dalton possibly known all of that?

Bowie shook in horror as Dalton pressed on, "Other than Stacey herself, the only one who knew she would die was the murderer. What about you?"