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As the waiter placed the appetizer in front of her, Anna noticed the rich, aromatic steam rising from the bowl. It was a hearty garlic soup — a detail that made her hesitate for a moment. She glanced over at Russo’s bowl, which had almost the same steaming soup.

She took a cautious sip, then nodded appreciatively. “It’s really good.”

Anna looked up at Charles with a sharper gaze. “Are you sure you don’t know anything about the case that happened here ten years ago?”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask again?”

Anna leaned forward slightly, voice low but firm. “Everything today seems too perfectly arranged. You expected us to come here, you offered to take care of us right when we arrived — that’s not an usual way for an owner to treat every guest, is it? And the rooms you assigned us are right next to where the murder happened. Also, you showed us the lift when we first checked into our rooms, but later, while giving us the tour of the floors, you took us to the stairs instead, even though it’s less convenient. It feels like you’re deliberately directing our attention to certain details."

She paused, then added, “Most importantly — how did you know I’m allergic to garlic? My soup has none, but Officer Russo’s, who has the same soup, does. And he is actually allergic to peanuts, which this soup contains. He only mentioned it to me jokingly before dinner.”

Charles smiled and said, “That’s some sharp reasoning.”

Anna met his gaze steadily. “You must know Mr. Lay, right? He knows about my garlic allergy, but he doesn’t know about Officer Russo’s peanut allergy.”

Charles laughed softly. “You’re smart. Yes, I know Mr. Lay quite well. We were business partners for years.” He paused, his expression darkening slightly. “In fact, I was here the day when the murder happened. It was... a day no one around here likes to remember.”