Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 849

"I didn't." Owen said lightly, "But I remember your jacket. You were wearing that the last time I saw you. Ms. Spencer, if I remember it correctly, your jacket is the only one in this whole university and even the whole city, right?"

"You know me well." Helen didn't deny it.

All her outfits were her own designs and were one of a kind; no one could imitate them.

But she remembered very well that the jacket she wore at the office was left at the dormitory. She didn't take it with her.

If Owen had seen the jacket, then the person he ran into might be Michelle or Callie. Only they had access to her clothes and had similar body types.

"Not really." Owen acted like a gentleman and said arrogantly, "I just have a good memory. Having a photographic memory is a basic skill for geniuses like us, isn't it?"

Helen didn't answer him. She had clearly underestimated Owen.

At this moment, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure among the onlookers standing around the cordons in the distance.

Callie was wearing the jacket mentioned by Owen, holding books in her arms, and standing on tiptoe to look inside.

Helen's face darkened as she clenched her fists at the side. If Callie showed up in this outfit at this moment, she would definitely be taken to the police station.

Callie had always helped her take notes. Just by asking anyone in the faculty, Callie would soon be confirmed as the suspect.

Noticing the subtle change in Helen's expression, Chandler looked in the direction of her gaze just now and immediately understood what was going on.

He pretended to look around for evidence and slowly disappeared from the sight of the crowd.

He walked to stand before Larry, took off his mask, and said calmly, "It is initially suspected to be a suicide caused by drug overdose. The suspicion of homicide is ruled out."

"Suicide?" Larry doubted. "Did you make a mistake? Why would the three professors with a bright future be tired of life?"

"Captain Whitmore, please believe in my professionalism. Or else, you can conduct the autopsy by yourself." The forensic pathologist was short-tempered. He took off his gloves and handed them to Larry.

Larry shied away in disgust and frowned. The gloves had been used to touch the dead bodies. How could the forensic pathologist throw them over to him?

"There's no need." Larry said, "This is your job. You only have to write a detailed autopsy report, and I'll investigate the rest."

"Whatever." The forensic pathologist took the plastic bag handed over by his assistant and threw the gloves into it. Then, he walked out of the cordons.