Wine and Gun

No one (including McCard) who would come into this ward had a history of anti-drugs, and couldn't tell the difference between an opium poppy and a poppy, so Albarino brought in the real poppy—for It is very important for the Sunday gardener that the image and the object are consistent.

Also: Don't ask me where Al got the poppies.

Chapter 77 Blood Spring 11

Albarino went home even later than Herstal that day.

The WLPD guys followed him to the forensic bureau to see the only remaining corpse. The other corpses had been buried a long time ago, and if Tommy wasn't careful, they would have been forgotten forever. The police officers in charge of this case asked the doctor who was in charge of the autopsy one by one, and saw a lot of shocking pictures.

"...I agree with you a little bit now," Bates said hesitantly at last, his eyes wandering between Albarino and McCard, "although the victims died very differently, these cases may It's true that they can be combined - age, signs of sexual assault, the way the body was dumped ... and the victims are beautiful."

Indeed, even if the corpses in the photos are swollen and decomposed beyond recognition, the reconstructed images made by the laboratory can still see their vague appearances when they were alive. Young, fair-skinned children with big eyes and soft hair like golden roses.

McArd looked at the photos and mused, "...if these kids were purposely brought together by someone, all I can say is that the guy who picked the kids seems to have a preference for blond hair."

——And now, Albarino Bacchus walked into the living room of Herstal's house. The room was dark, only the floor lamp in the corner was lit. They reflected each other, casting a veil-like warm orange glow on the interior.

Herstal sat in the armchair in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, and on the table in front of him was an open bottle of Chivas Regal. The heavy glass bottle seemed to contain half a bottle of bright outdoor lights; He was holding a glass with a finger-deep liquor in it.

Damn it - that's the only thought of Albarino: probably because of his father's alcoholism, Herstal doesn't actually drink much, and he's really capable of going to the bar with Olga and only drinking soft drinks people who do this kind of thing. They had several "weekend bar nights" with Olga, and Albarino had only seen him drink twice, and it was only because he had a bad headache that he compromised with alcohol.

This means that Herstal must be in a pretty, pretty bad mood right now. Unsurprisingly, if Slade was arrested and rotted away in jail with ample evidence, it would not have been a sight for the Westland pianist. And that's why he's not a vigilante: he doesn't want to ensure that criminals are punished by the law, he wants to punish them brutally with his own hands.

Albarino spent half a second thinking about whether to run, but his own house may have been flooded with dust, and even if the refrigerator drawer was not moldy before, it is now hairy, so he quickly gave up this idea.

In the end, he chose to sit directly opposite Herstal, with another empty glass on the table, apparently Herstal was waiting for him to come back. Herstal raised his eyelids and glanced at him lightly as he sat down, without saying a word.

The halo of the night and the smell of wine more or less made Albarino think of another summer evening. That bottle of noble rot wine. that gun. A summer night in which a secret has died down.

Albarino silently poured himself the wine, the bottle clacked back on the table, and then he heard Herstal say, "Show me your hand."

——Albarino's hands were wrapped with a thin layer of gauze to cover the tooth marks on his hands that night when he went to Sequoia Manor. He had previously decided that if Herstal asked about the gauze, he would reply that he had been injured by a falling box while in the archives, but Herstal did not ask later.

Albarino now leaned forward slightly, handing his hand straight out; Herstal's fingers brushed against his wrist and the beating pulse, loosening the bandage, unraveling it slowly. Two days later, the tooth mark still showed a slight black-purple color, and the skin was slightly red and swollen, which was the strength left by a person when he was struggling.

Herstal looked at it for a long time, then pressed it lightly with his fingertips, and then heard Albarino hiss lowly. He slowly touched the bruise with his fingers and asked in a low voice, "Did you hide anything from me?"

Albarino gave a wry smile, his voice even honest: "I really want to say I don't."

Orion Hunter sat in his gray but easy-to-use automatic, cursing and trying to put his aching legs into a more comfortable position, even though it turned out to be nowhere in the world. Really save: His legs are more accurate than the weather forecast, and now such pain is a sign of rain, and rain this season is bound to cool down, damn it.

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