The Entomologist's Perfect Crime Chapter 11

I watched for a while before going to the master bedroom.

I gently opened the door. The person on the bed was sleeping deeply.

I walked to the bedside and dripped extract from a Texas horned lizard (blood sprayed from its eyes) that I'd previously extracted in experiments onto his shoes.

As I stood up, the person on the bed suddenly spoke.

I was so startled I quickly crouched down.

Fortunately, it was a false alarm.

He just muttered in his sleep.

I took out a cloth I'd prepared and retreated step by step, cleaning up traces.

I went to the window and retrieved the bug.

Then I carefully cleaned traces from the reptile room, stairs, living room, and front door.

I meticulously cleaned everywhere I'd been, making sure nothing was amiss.

Finally, I gently closed the door from outside and came to a tent in the garden.

Inside were beehives, quite a number of them.

The neighbor had set them up after moving in.

This must have been my wife's idea too, because she once said most honey on the market was fake.

She wanted to experience raising bees and extracting honey herself.

Not long after she mentioned it, I saw the neighbor's house setting up a yurt.

My wife said the neighbor was keeping bees, so we'd have fresh, pure honey.

She remarked on the coincidence.

The neighbor even invited her to come experience it.

Our son was excited and went with my wife to visit and experience it.

That's when Ryan accidentally got stung by a bee.

I took out a small box I'd prepared from my backpack.

Inside were several death's-head hawkmoths I'd brought from my lab.

I placed the hawkmoths outside the beehive and pulled the tent zipper from outside.

Then step by step I walked toward the darkness, disappearing into the night.

The next morning, my wife eagerly began preparing.

She made a sumptuous breakfast and thoughtfully selected appropriate sportswear for me.

At the venue, just as I was racking my brains about how to switch my backpack with my wife's,

My wife went to the restroom and left me to watch her backpack.

I was stunned for a moment.

So my wife had always firmly believed I was an "honest man."

So even when preparing to kill me, she didn't guard against me.

But this time she would be disappointed.

I switched our parachute equipment.

When I pulled my parachute, I did indeed clearly see my wife's stunned expression.

My wife never imagined I'd known all along.

When my wife died, scenes were also unfolding at home.

I concluded that after my wife and I left, our son would definitely go find his biological father.

When suggesting we go skydiving, I casually mentioned bringing our son along.

My wife and son refused in unison.

After we left, Ryan came to the neighbor's house.

Based on how much I'd observed our son's curiosity about bees during this time, he would definitely go see the bees first.

After breakfast, the neighbor would feed his pets.

This was a task my wife had assigned him.

The ants were in the last row of the room. No matter which end he started feeding from, the ants would be last.

Although he'd been feeding them for a while, he didn't understand how formidable these little creatures were.

When he discovered the ant box wouldn't open, he'd definitely try other methods. The most direct would be to break the box.

The moment the box was damaged, the Maricopa harvester ants would detect their natural enemy's scent.

Unease would make them agitated, frantically searching for an exit.

They would slowly emerge through the broken opening.

Then follow the scent to find the neighbor.

Finally, the neighbor would be poisoned to death.

But I didn't expect him to fall in panic and hit his head just right.

When our son opened the beehive, he would also provoke the swarm.

Being stung again would cause him to die from the poison.

The ending of this story is:

The villains got their just desserts, and I was left with immense wealth.

The classroom was completely silent.

The students looked at me with blazing eyes, unlike their listless state at the beginning.

I asked the students:

"Students, what do you think of this story?"

Some students' eyes flickered, some showed frightened expressions, and some frowned tightly, clenching their fists.

A male student said:

"I feel this is real. I recommend reporting it to the police."

I picked up my thermos and took a big sip:

"This is a story. Don't worry about whether it's true or false. First tell me your thoughts."

"Do you have any questions?"

Student A: "Yes, why would the ants go find the neighbor?"

Student B: "Why did you put the lizard on the floor?"

Student C: "Why would your son die from being stung by bees when he was fine the first time?"

Student D: "Professor, this... is your real story, isn't it? I heard that five years ago your wife and son really did die. Your wife also died in a skydiving accident, and the details of the parachute match your story. Your son also died on the same day from bee venom poisoning. It scared me so much I never do those extreme sports."

It seemed someone had specifically looked into my background.

The students chattered away, discussing whether the story was true or false.

Zhou looked at me thoughtfully.

I smacked my lips and stood up from the stool.

As I walked down from the podium step by step, students turned their heads.

"I told you this is a story. I just replaced the story's protagonist and some necessary supporting characters with real names."

"Let's return to the story itself and explore things that can teach us knowledge."

Student: "Okay then, we'll treat it as a story. Please tell us the answers to the questions we asked."

I looked at the students' curious gazes, feeling deeply gratified.

"Good, listen carefully now."