Wine and Gun

Albarino raised his eyebrows exaggeratedly at him, obviously looking at gossip: "Do you think Bart really doesn't want to? He may be the one person in the police station who wants to solve the case the most, but his boss refuses to ——Anyway, the pianist and gardener cases are piled up in Bart’s hands for a few more years, and he will have to be transferred or demoted because of his unfavorable work, so why should he kick this ball to the FBI now?”

"According to what you said, there seem to be many people in the bureau who don't like Officer Hardy," Herstal said slowly.

He watched as Albarino grabbed the remote control on the cabinet and turned down the volume of the TV. The deputy chief of the police station was looking straight at the camera, making some serious speeches. As soon as Albarino stretched out his hand, the cuff of the hospital gown slipped down a few inches, and on his wrist was a horrific bruise left after the piano strings had sunk deep into his skin.

"Very, very much. Bart doesn't take bribes at all, and he can't buy it; do you know how much money a sheriff in charge of homicides can make in a city with so many gangsters?" Albarino said from There was a snort in his nose, "—Ah, sorry, I'm sure you definitely know."

He could speak sarcasm so sweetly that Herstal wanted to hit him on the head with the bouquet again. However, since the head of this unfortunate was shaved off a small piece because of the need for stitches, and the hair on the back of the head seemed to be missing a corner no matter how much he pressed down, Herstal could still reluctantly forgive him with this funny scene. One life.

Herstal put the bouquet on the cabinet, stood beside the cabinet and looked down at the forensic doctor, then suddenly asked, "So do you take a bribe, Doctor Bacchus?"

Albarino looked up as if unsuspecting, and made a nasal "Huh?"

"Doing a fake forensic certificate for someone? Lying on the witness stand as an expert witness?" Herstal's voice was as dark and soft as running water, "Hiding a small death or two during the autopsy process. Factors? It's not difficult for you, isn't it, the chief forensic doctor is very authoritative in the Forensic Medicine Bureau after all."

"It's not nice to confess something like this in front of a dodgy lawyer, is it? But I figured if... I could do it easily and get away with it, why not do it?" Albarino He replied with a smile, and gave each other a knowing wink, "Will you be disappointed by my answer? - Seriously, Herstal, when some things happen, you have Have you ever longed for justice?"

Yes, of course they will discuss this topic again, and when Albarino Bacchus can hold other people's handles in his hands, he is certainly happy to open up other people's scars. The dark places under his eyelids and lips, of course, still hide some memories of the rose window of the church, the confessional room, and the smell of rǔ incense, about the old piano that was out of tune, the childhood in the small town time.

"I suggest we'd better not talk about it," whispered Herstal, his threat silent and clear.

"Okay, okay," said Albarino graciously, leaning relaxedly into the pillows stacked behind him, "we can talk about something else, a light, everyday topic: Bart is on this case. Totally committed, even though we all knew it might end in the same failure as before, anyway, he wanted me to move out of the house temporarily."

"Because he's worried you're still being targeted?" Herstal asked.

"No one has ever survived from a pianist, and I'm afraid we don't have any precedents to learn from." Albarino said, sinking a little deeper into the pile of pillows, because his movements were wider under the neckline. Mottled pinch marks, and a few exposed knife wounds, all scabbed into crimson lines, "I don't think it's too much to worry about, the Sunday gardener and the Westland pianist never return to the crime scene. , which is rare among serial killers."

Yes, most serial killers have a hard time refraining from returning to a crime scene, attending a victim's funeral, or trying to join an investigation in some way. Hestal had learned how to restrain his desires carefully, and he didn't need to stand at the first scene of a crime and reminisce about his desire to do bào.

Seriously, how vulgar. Death is human beings and inanimate objects that gradually rot. Everything they once carried—the vitality and the crimes they actually committed—has been released from this empty shell, so of course the pianist will not appear at the funeral of the deceased. , nor take things from them as souvenirs.

And the Sunday gardener is clearly at the other extreme: look at Albarino Bacchus, who worked with Sergeant Hardy on serial murders for many years, decorated the scene with his own hands and then stood at the police a few hours later. In front of them, he disassembled his work again by hand. Whether or not the gardener himself has deliberately pursued this feeling, it must have been an extreme thrill.

"They are indeed a special case of serial killers, so you're going to move out temporarily?" Herstal said slowly, looking at the smug smile on the other side's face, no one believed that the victim's face could showing this expression.

"A friend of Bethesto found me an apartment in the city, where I can rent for a while, close to the police station and the forensic office: let's say I can go back to work soon." Albarino Blinking his eyes and smiling very happily, "Besides, I don't think I really want to go home right away, Bates told me that the pianist had set up my living room as an evil altar... plastered with luǒ photos. kind of."

Search [Book Reading Assistant] official address: www.kanshuzhushou.com Millions of popular books are free to read for life without advertisements!