Chapter 106: Stolen Clothes

"Apologies, man," Jude said. "Stomach took a turn right as I hit the hall. Mind if I use the restroom for a minute?"

"Not a good time," the man said, pulling the door shut.

"Fair enough," Jude said as the gap narrowed. "By the way... noticed a trace of dried blood on the bottom edge of the exterior handle earlier. Caught on something? Looks recent."

Behind the gap, the man’s gaze tightened.

He paused for half a second before loosening his grip on the frame.

"Minor cut," the man replied, unlatching the chain and pulling the door open. "Restroom is down the hall on the left. Go ahead."

"Appreciate it, Mr. Lee," Jude said, stepping into the foyer. "Shipping label said Calvin Lee, right?"

"Right," the man said, closing the door and turning the deadbolt.

Jude walked past the entryway.

"Quiet building," Jude remarked. "Living solo?"

The man stood in the hall, his posture rigid. "Didn’t you need the restroom? I have to head out shortly."

"Right," Jude said, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

He turned on the faucet, letting the water run for a few seconds while his gaze checked the sink drain and the fixtures.

A faint residue remained around the base of the drain flange, consistent with an incomplete wash down after heavy contact.

Jude turned off the tap and walked back into the living area.

"Quick," the man noted from the hallway arch.

"Passed as soon as I sat down," Jude said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Though there’s a strong metallic smell near the plumbing. Combined with the handle outside, looked like someone took a deep cut recently. Sure you’re all right?"

The man’s lips tightened into a thin line.

"Older plumbing. Take a seat on the sofa. I’ll grab you a glass of water before you head down."

"Sounds good," Jude said, walking over to the couch and sitting down.

The man turned into the kitchen.

30 seconds later, he walked back out into the living room with empty hands.

He stopped 6 feet in front of the coffee table, his expression completely flat.

"Cut the routine," the man said quietly. "Who are you?"

Jude looked up, unbothered. "Not sure what you mean, Mr. Lee."

"The label on that box wasn’t Calvin Lee," the man said. "It was Calvin Wang."

"Right," Jude said, leaning back into the cushions. "Which means you aren’t the tenant. You broke in, cleared the valuables, and dealt with the real Calvin Wang."

The man’s eyes narrowed. "How did you work that out?"

"Straightforward details," Jude said evenly, resting his hands on his lap. "The ledges along Tower B offer easy access, and this 10th-floor balcony is one of the few without a screen. When you cleared the railing, your boot tipped the planter behind the curtains."

The man glanced toward the balcony window, where the overturned clay pot rested against the sliding glass.

"What else?" the man asked.

"The clothes," Jude continued. "The polo is broad at the shoulders, and the cuffs fall short at the ankles. Your original clothes were bloodstained, so you changed from his closet, disposed of the first set outside, and came back up to wipe down the entry points. That’s how the handle got marked."

The man shifted his weight, his right hand moving behind his hip. "And the rest?"

"Light scuffs around the drawer pulls," Jude added. "You searched the unit for cash and small electronics, then aligned the furniture back to avoid immediate suspicion. You’re staging a suicide. There are 2 bedrooms down the hall. He’s in one of them."

The man’s jaw set hard. "Too observant for your own good."

He pulled his right hand forward, revealing a kitchen knife.

"Bad call," Jude said. "I called the precinct before I knocked the second time. Units are already on site. Put the knife on the table."

"Then you’re not walking out," the man snapped, stepping forward and driving the blade down toward Jude’s collar.

Without shifting his posture on the sofa, Jude brought his right hand up, catching the man’s wrist mid-swing.

He closed his fingers, applying steady torque to the joint.

The man gasped as the pressure locked his radius against the tendon.

His fingers opened, and the knife dropped to the hardwood floor.

"Sit in the armchair," Jude said calmly. "Wait for the detectives."

"All right... let go," the man wheezed, the tension draining from his shoulder.

Jude opened his hand, releasing the wrist.

The man scrambled up, pulled himself into the chair across the table, and cradled his bruised arm, keeping his hands in plain view.

2 minutes later, the front door opened hard as Lieutenant Lola Grant and Detective Chen entered the foyer, service weapons drawn.

They stopped at the threshold.

Jude sat on the sofa with a delivery manifest on his knee, while a pale man sat across from him with a bruised wrist, a kitchen knife lying on the floor between them.

Lola lowered her weapon slightly, looking between the knife and Jude.

"Jude," Lola said, letting out a breath. "What happened here?"

Jude tapped the digital scanner at his belt, keeping his posture relaxed. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Lieutenant. Dropped off a scheduled parcel for the tenant, noticed a few things felt completely off with the door lock and the guy opening it, and figured someone just got murdered inside. Came back to check... and he was just about to tell me the rest."

Jude outlined the primary markers step-by-step: the trace blood residue trapped in the knurling of the brushed-steel exterior handle, the faint chemical smell in the foyer, the oversized slippers, the dark dried crescents under the suspect’s cuticles, and the displaced dust patterns along the study drawers.

Detective Chen stared from the handle to the man in the armchair, then back to Jude, shaking his head.

"You pulled all of that together in under 30 seconds while delivering a box?"

Lola pulled a pair of handcuffs from her belt, stepped over to the armchair, and cuffed the suspect behind his back. "Chen, keep an eye on him."