Wine and Gun

"Sorry?" Hardy asked, frowning, obviously not understanding.

"The pictures in Dr. Bacchus' living room, the words carved into his abdomen, are all very insulting; the pianist harboring some more pertinent grievances against him is not the same as killing the pianist. The victims are different — those victims died because they were guilty, and Dr. Backus was killed because the pianist had a personal... resentment toward him," McCard said slowly.

Olga interjected: "He left an apple in Al's blood."

"Yes," McCard nodded, "if I remember correctly—Officer Hardy, what was the last pianist case that Dr. Bucks was involved in?"

"It's Richard Norman's case, the murder of the mob boss dressed as a scarecrow. Because when Bob Langdon was killed, Al was on vacation because of his prison... oh!" Hardy With an exclamation, his eyes widened, "In that case, Richard Norman's heart was replaced by an apple!"

A glimmer of light flashed in McArd's eyes: "That's right. Dr. Bucks has always been the forensic doctor in charge of the autopsy of the victims of the pianist case, right?"

"Do you think the pianist abused him and shamed him because he dissected those corpses?" Olga asked.

"Because he's destroying that—that art, which in the pianist's crazy mind is the work of art that he's desperately trying, I can't understand how someone like that thinks, but I'm afraid it does." McCard His voice was low and full of disapproval. "So he has to live, because he has to remember his mistakes and learn from them. He is put in the pose of Michelangelo's Creation of Adam, and here Bacchus The doctor is Adam, the creature, and the Westland pianist is the God who holds it all."

The others remained silent, and Olga gave McCard a strange expression that almost looked like a smile.

"It's his provocation of law enforcement," McCard concluded.

Hardy, looking tired and exasperated, showed up in Albarino's ward just before lunchtime. This is not surprising, the strangest thing is that he held a newspaper tightly in his hand, and when he stood in front of the sick bed, he looked almost restless.

"What's the matter?" Albarino was a little ecstatic at this time. The doctor came an hour ago and told him that there was no particularly deep wound on his body, but that he had lost too much blood because he had not received treatment for a long time. The doctor promised that as long as the wound did not fester, Albarino would only need to stay in the hospital for three or four days, and then come back when the stitches were removed.

——That is, the words that were engraved on his abdomen. He and Olga did not discuss this very carefully. Obviously, Olga did not like to tell him that there would be some offensive words on his stomach. scarring.

"You know... what happened," Hardy asked hesitantly.

Albarino smiled gently: "Olga basically told me."

"That's it," Hardy said, apparently racking his brains, "this case must be a sensation because it's so special, and it certainly caught the attention of reporters—"

As soon as Hardy returned to the police station, he was surrounded by a group of reporters with long guns and short pào.

He had to reach out to block the light of the flash, but he couldn't stop the reporters who were pushing frantically. The one standing at the front shouted in English with a slight accent: "I'm Leohard Schreiber, a special correspondent for the Westland Daily News! May I ask if this case is the work of a pianist? For, is there a staff member of the Forensic Medicine Bureau who was injured——?"

In Westland, news always travels like the wind. Hardy is a good cop, but there are really a lot of gangsters in the bureau - there are too many gangsters in this city, especially the police officers in charge of anti-drugs, to the point where they can't live well without reaching some agreements with the gangsters . For some police officers, as long as they are given enough money, they can say anything.

Hardy can only be thankful that he is very strict with his subordinates, at least until now Albarino's name has not been spread out.

He could only shout "No Comments", squeezing out the sea of ​​flashes all the way.

Olga stared at Hardy, obviously understanding, and said, "Oh no, don't."

Albarino was silent for a moment, and he must have understood what Hardy meant. He glanced at the newspaper in Hardy's hand and asked, "How much was leaked?"

Hardy gān swallowed hard.

"They still don't know who the victim is, but anyway, there's clearly someone in the police or forensic department..." He stretched out his hand weakly, handing the newspaper forward. Let Albarino take the newspaper from his fingers and unfold it.

So in his hand lay a copy of the "Westland Daily News" newspaper, exuding the same ink smell just after it was printed.

The headline on the front page was printed with a huge color picture: it was a photo of evidence that should have been circulated within the police station. Inside the frame was a man's chest and abdomen, and the skin was full of slender cuts. These filament-like cuts set off the capital letters deeply engraved on the man's belly.

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