It's worth noting that George had come with another wealthy older woman. This meant that George had known Moress even before this!

There were seven male models in total at the debauched party on the Silver cruise ship. One of them, George, was dead. After they finished questioning Beck, five men remained.

These individuals were not as cooperative as Beck. No one likes to reveal their shameful secrets to outsiders. Besides, they weren't criminals. Even if they stayed silent, these detectives wouldn't dare do anything to them at the police station. Conversely, if they spouted nonsense, they would only bring trouble upon themselves. This was the case for several of the men. Three of them simply went outside for a smoke.

"Dean, should we..." Harry clenched his fists. "When I was drinking with Lawrence before, he taught me a lot of unconventional methods."

Having followed Dean for a while, Harry's courage had grown considerably.

Dean shook his head and looked at Carlo. "Pal, you should remember the information on those male models, right?"

Carlo nodded. "I remember most of it!"

"Good." Dean patted Carlo's shoulder. "You go handle them!"

As soon as Dean said this, both Carlo and Harry looked at him in surprise. Before becoming a detective, Carlo had no experience with interrogation or questioning techniques. How could he possibly handle this?

"Questioning is the method when the subject cooperates. If they don't, and without breaking any rules, you have to learn to turn questioning into an interrogation!"

"But the permissible extent is vastly different!" Harry still didn't understand.

"Physical injuries can be identified, but psychological pressure is different," Dean exhaled a puff of smoke. "For those who care about their reputation, use that to pressure them. For those who care about money, well..."

Carlo listened intently, and Harry also grew pensive.

After finishing their cigarettes, Carlo took a deep breath and called the first stubborn young male model back into the room.

He recalled the model's basic information and Dean's words:

Qiao Fus: 22 years old, a junior at the University of California. His family was working class with moderate means, and he had taken on considerable student debt to attend college.

At the same time, Qiao Fus's public records showed hundreds of hours of hospital volunteer work.

Dean had said that this was someone with excellent academic performance and clear career plans. He was often the pride of his family and relatives, a frequent topic of their conversations, and had received much praise.

Living in such an environment, Qiao Fus would subconsciously develop a sense of mission. He hoped to become a professional, like a doctor, through his own efforts, thereby changing his family's circumstances and social standing.

This was his vulnerability, what he cared about most.

Thinking of this, a hint of awkwardness flickered across Carlo's stern face. Then, under Qiao Fus's composed gaze, he said somewhat stiffly, "Qiao Fus, you wouldn't want your family to know..."

COUGH, COUGH.

Harry choked on his own saliva.

Dean looked up at the ceiling, speechless. I asked you to threaten his weak spot, but damn, you're way too blunt!

Although Carlo, the greenhorn, was doing this for the first time and was still clumsy, the effect was excellent.

Initially, Qiao Fus had been quite relaxed. Even facing the scrutiny of the three detectives, he hadn't been intimidated; it was as if he were the one questioning them.

But with Carlo's blunt threat, Qiao Fus's previously calm and clear mind seemed to reel as if from a heavy blow, his expression changing drastically.

True, he wasn't a criminal, and Carlo's words could easily lead to a formal complaint. But while Carlo's words were crude, they hit home.

Deep down, he was indeed terrified of his part-time job being exposed, of his classmates and family finding out...

Compared to his future, divulging some secrets about the wealthy women wasn't such a big deal anymore.

Having grasped this, Qiao Fus sighed. "Alright, I'll cooperate and tell you everything I know. But once I walk out this door, I won't admit to saying any of it. Even if you have a recording, it won't stand. After all, he threatened me verbally, and such evidence is inadmissible."

"We just want to know the direction for our efforts in solving the case. We'll also keep what you say today confidential," Dean interjected reassuringly.

Qiao Fus nodded and began to recount everything he knew.

He was with an Asian fu'erdai—a rich second-generation kid—who was his classmate. The woman was rather unattractive but very wealthy. Under the influence of that woman's US dollars, Qiao Fus, a popular and high-achieving student at his school, had compromised.

Because of this, his relationship with the rich heiress who was his patron was much closer than that of the others with their sponsors. So, Qiao Fus knew a bit more.

According to him, among these male models, apart from himself and another big guy who had joined temporarily, the other five were essentially all former companions of Moress.

Moress, on the surface, never had relations with those "ducks." She might engage in sensual dances with them, even allow them to kiss her feet, but she would never permit any man to touch her proactively. In Moress's mind, these male model "ducks" were merely contemptible playthings.

"There was nothing inherently wrong with that. But Moress had a sharp eye. The temporary companions she chose always had unique qualities and were relatively dependable, rarely causing any trouble that would spoil the mood. Consequently, the other women eventually just started vying for the men Lady Moress discarded."

Qiao Fus paused, then added, "As for the rich women themselves, their relationships weren't as harmonious as they appeared. They implicitly categorized themselves by wealth and ethnicity, forming cliques. It was all very complicated.

"This was also a major headache for us. Although they brought us to these parties to be shared, if we were chosen by someone who had a conflict with our original sponsor, we'd then be used as tools to deliberately provoke that sponsor.

"The women themselves might not argue directly, but we, the men, would often face 'punishment' afterward."

"As for George... That guy was very popular. Aside from Lady Moress, after the initial party, all the other women wanted to sleep with him. So, frankly, there were far too many people who might have wanted him dead."

With that, Qiao Fus sighed. "Alright, that's all I know."

Carlo looked at Dean.

Dean nodded. Although Qiao Fus was astute, he probably wasn't lying.

Harry proactively got up, escorted Qiao Fus out, and called the next person in.

When Harry went out, he was still curious. When he returned, he was completely deflated.

"What's wrong?" Dean looked at the spiritless Harry.

"I just asked Qiao Fus for his thoughts on this line of work. He said he feels rather disgusted by women now and mentioned some things I didn't understand, like 'steel wool' and 'seafood training.' But it was clear he now harbored a strong aversion to women. Sigh, every profession has its difficulties."

Dean was speechless. It looks like Harry's plan to change professions was over before it even started.

「Next.」

Under Dean's guidance, Carlo's questioning techniques gradually became more subtle and smoother. The effect was good. The men who were initially uncooperative all became compliant.

However, they didn't gain much new information. The wealthy women involved changed each time, as did the male companions they brought. So, strictly speaking, these men knew about as much as Beck. At most, they could only add a few trivial details.

Qiao Fus was indeed the one among these companions who knew the most.

Through these men's accounts, Dean and his team gained some understanding of George and the other wealthy women, especially Moress, the de facto leader of the Rich Ladies Group. Everyone described her similarly: aloof, dignified, wealthy, and fond of peculiar flora and fauna.

This piqued Dean's curiosity about this wealthy socialite in her forties.

「The next day.」

Elden, the veteran forensic examiner from the coroner's office, called Dean early. The comparison results of the genetic material—the hair and sexual fluids Dean had discovered at the crime scene—were ready!

This meant the case now had a clear direction for investigation. Since George's death had been sudden and swift, the last person to have intimate contact with him was very likely the suspect.

Dean immediately rushed to the precinct's morgue.

Old Elden, the forensic examiner, looked as though he hadn't slept all night. He yawned, his face expressionless. Seeing Dean arrive, he carelessly tossed a file over. "Here are the comparison results. To be honest, I don't think you'll be able to continue investigating this case."

Dean was bewildered.

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