Stupid Enough

"Can we please get a copy of Edgar Allan Poe's books or poems here?" Qing Chen said, looking over at their clues. It had been thirty minutes and they haven't figured out a new clue. "Possibly, some study guides too. I need theories drawn up by tomorrow morning."

"Mother's copy probably got burned in the old house," said Qing Lok.

"Of course," Wuming said. "How convenient. Send her sons on a wild goose chase." Wuming dropped down on a chair. "So we got a bunch of symbolisms but we do not know what it means."

Qing Chen took a deep breath. "Let's call it a night. We've got more than I thought we could." He tapped Feng Xuan's thigh. "Let's all get some rest."

Qing Lok turned to him. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I don't think we're in a rush of some sort. After all, we might be looking for someone who's already dead."