Wine and Gun

Herstal looked around with evaluation: the ordinary autopsy room is full of mobile autopsy cars, shadowless lamps and various equipment, and the exhaust system is working vigorously. Although the smell in the room is not heavy, He really didn't find a place for him to "just sit down".

Tommy hurried to get those autopsy reports, and Herstal looked at Albarino's profile and asked, "You think this is...?"

"If only one minor died after being sexually assaulted, I'd say Westland has a pedophile bastard who played too much SM," Albarino whispered, watching Tommy's back as he left, " But if six children die in more than three years? There are two possibilities."

Hestal looked at the subtle curvature of the corner of Albarino's mouth and whispered, "Westland has a mad killer."

"Or there's a group of guys with peculiar fetishes holding small parties." Albarino said slowly, shaking his fingers, "Neither of these are particularly wonderful guesses."

Bart Hardy never understood why the bar was called Lao Tzu Resign.

Olga probably knew the truth, because Olga probably knew the bartender well—when Hardy and Betts walked through the looming layer of marijuana smoke, through the many shiny skins tattooed, dyed their hair Colorful young people, the eagle-like eyes of the bar owner selected them from this circle of people.

"Hi! Are you Molozer's friend?" the bar owner said loudly, with a beaming smile on his lips, "Why hasn't Molozer been here recently?"

Hardy really felt the feeling of something thorny stuck in his throat, he gave him a pale smile, and then mumbled something—probably "she can't come lately," which was a mouth-to-mouth approach. lies in truth. Then he let the empathetic Betts drag him into a booth away from the bar, where the soaring leather back of the loveseat blocked the flickering light from the inquiring eyes of the boss.

Bates left briefly, returning with two beers. The heavy glass fell on the wooden table with a clang, leaving behind a circle of damp water vapor, and Bates himself took the seat with the sound.

"Don't mention the pianist," he said, frowning. "Bart, how long has it been since you slept well?"

Hardy knew that the huge dark circles under his eyes could not hide the eyes of anyone who was not blind. He rubbed his gān astringent eyes, not knowing how to explain it to the other party.

Bart Hardy's father was a soldier and served in the Marine Corps, so it's not hard to imagine what kind of tutoring he grew up in - boys shouldn't cry, and boys certainly shouldn't show vulnerability, that is, old age. Hardy's usual position -- so he didn't know how to tell Bates the nightmares he'd had since his wife and daughter were rescued, nor the parts about Lavasa McCard.

Olga lay silent in the hospital, and when Hardy looked at her, she often thought of the doctor's terrifying words and the butcher himself, until McCard showed up for no reason one weekend, Again his attention was drawn back to the Sunday gardener and Westland pianist.

——And the other party is thinking that those killers are the saviors of his daughter.

They have long had some particularly absurd speculations about pianists and gardeners, and what McCard said was undoubtedly the most absurd he had ever heard. He said: "I think Doctor Bacchus is the Sunday gardener and Amarette is the pianist.

They had just finished a breathless, inexplicable race in the hospital corridors when they were all back in front of the windows of Olga's ward. "This is the revelation that Molozer said to me." Agent McCard said coldly, and Olga was particularly not in line with the impression she left on ordinary people. Lying quietly, not speaking or not. language.

This conclusion is too inexplicable, he should not believe it, but...

"I was worried, so I just... insomnia." Now, he finally told the truth to one of the leaders of Westland's forensic laboratory, Bates Schwandner.

"Because if those two were criminals, you'd have to arrest them yourself?" Bates asked, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back relaxed in the soft chair. "Let me put it this way, Bart: Although I don't deny the role of profiling in case detection, I believe in science more than criminal psychology - many of the conclusions of criminal psychology are summaries of countless previous cases, even if No matter how broad the scope of application is, there are always exceptions. This is not the case with science, which is irrefutable."

"And there is no suspicious evidence in Al's house. CSI has searched his house twice in two different cases. I know that." Hardy said while propping his forehead, maybe they should not be in a complicated mood about Olga. When he came to this bar, the harsh music made him even more headache, "I know you are comforting me, thank you."

"Why on earth do you care so much about what McArd said this time? I guess it's not just because McArd said he was inspired by Olga this time, I really haven't seen Olga make a mistake, but Olga Jia is not a god - so, why?" Bates asked a rather sharp question, as if to ease his slightly sharp words, he picked up the beer mug and brought it to his lips.

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