Wine and Gun

He mixed some just the right amount of sarcasm in his voice, especially when he mentioned the word "blame". Herstal didn't know if he was really still brooding about the Langdon case, or if he just wanted to see others slumped.

Herstal asked sullenly, "Then what advice do you have, genius?"

"It's very simple," Albarino gave a low laugh, and Herstal could feel the pleasant tremor in his chest. "Besides the pianist, Westland has other serial killers."

Herstal moved, and the water made a low splashing sound. He was caught in the opponent's arm and couldn't turn back, so he could only use the warning tone that he had probably used to Albarino a thousand times. : "Albarino!"

"The last time the Sunday gardener committed a crime was September 25th," Albarino pointed out, as if to make sense. "November 27th is next weekend."

Herstal retorted rather disapprovingly: "Two months—"

"I understand, of course. But that's better than a pianist who has committed three crimes since mid-September?" Albarino said with reason, "If this goes on, poor Bart will doubt the piano. The reason why the teacher is so excited is because someone has offered him a salary."

Even Herstal could not refute this reasoning. He was silent for a while, then added: "But it's easy to get burned. The identity of the deceased can easily be suspected to Anonymous Mutual Aid—"

Albarino laughed softly, and suddenly leaned in and sucked his earlobe.

The wet touch made Herstal tremble. He gave the opponent an elbow without hesitation, and heard Albarino groan behind him.

"Okay, okay, erectile dysfunction patients," Albarino said through gritted teeth after a moment, though he didn't sound like he was really angry, "Just think about it, what if they made them suspect Anonymous Mutual Aid? ?—Bart and Olga think the Sunday gardener has your eye on you, and put a skull with flowers on your table for that."

He paused meaningfully and lowered his voice when he spoke, deliberately creating an ambiguous and mysterious atmosphere.

"This might be a gift for you, Herstal," he said softly, licking the hard knuckles at the back of his neck and running his teeth against the thin, warm skin. Lamenting the misfortune that happened in the case of Killer Qiángni, and presenting it to you in a twisted way - to tell you that the gardener understands your pain and expresses deep condolences for your loss."

Herstal was silent for two seconds, then said sharply: "—feeling sorry? By presenting the corpse of a criminal and his victim in front of me?"

"In this way," agreed Albarino, who gave a frivolous laugh, "even if it was all just to tell you: 'I now understand how much you hate what the killer Qiángni does, if I stop Given a chance, I'd like to cut Elliot Evans to pieces with my own hands'. And so what? You know a gardener can do anything, right?"

Albarino stood in front of the two corpses laid side by side on the ground, gazing with disgust at the network of putrid veins that stretched across their skin, and the belly skin that had first begun to rot, now a greasy green. The death knight described in the Book of Revelations, his green horse is said to be this color.

"Okay," he stretched his arms lazily, like a big cat, "we're going to start."

"We?" Herstal added an exasperated accent to the word.

"Okay, you can just sit and watch, Your Majesty." Albarino groaned, and he pointed at a chair in the corner of the room, "Sit on your throne, I mean it. I want to live."

Herstal looked down at his watch: "It's ten o'clock in the evening... it's thirty-seven, are you really going to put them out on Sunday night? Then you have to finish tomorrow night, and more Not to mention the workload of setting up the second site."

Albarino glanced at him, some chestnut-colored hair fluffy on his forehead, making him look unusually young.

"So I'll have to drive at night too, and it's going to be a very, very tiring twenty-four hours," he announced cheerfully, "but that's the fun part, isn't it? Herstal, as we said, ' Beauty is hard'."

Note:

[1] The title is a particularly circuitous stalk:

Andersen has a fairy tale called "Su Qi", which is about a young artist who created a marble Su Qi sculpture in the image of a woman he loves, but was heartbroken because the woman rejected his courtship, and finally put Su Qi. The Qi sculpture was buried in the garden and chose to become a monk. But after many years, the monk finally realized that "Suqi in my heart will never die" and died.

When Andersen was in Rome from 1833 to 1834, he heard a story: a young man died, and when people were digging his grave, a sculpture of the god of wine in Greek mythology was excavated. Inspired by this, Andersen created Su Qi in 1861.

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