Wine and Gun

Hardy swallowed bitterly, feeling that he couldn't think any more. He heard his wife, Wallis, recount the accidental encounter between her and Herstal in the corridor of the police station. At that time, his wife said some sharp things, but at the time none of them knew that this person had ever met What, I don't know what he really thinks in his heart.

Of course, they shouldn't sympathize with murderers, right? But yard by yard, Hardy still felt something like cotton wool stuffed in his chest. For a second he thought, this time, when Clara asked Uncle Amarette again, he really didn't know how to explain it.

Why did things turn out this way?

He kept staring at Armalite's back until he was roughly pushed into a police car by an FBI agent. Hardy's attention was somewhat distracted by a police officer who hurried to his side. He reluctantly came back to his senses and found that Alexander was holding up his mobile phone and looking at him anxiously.

"Mr. Schwandner and the others have arrived at the suspect's residence," Alexander said.

"Did Bates discover anything?" Hardy couldn't help frowning and asked. For such a small matter, he shouldn't know that Bates made a special call.

Alexander took a deep breath and said in one breath: "They found that Amarette's apartment was full of bloodstains, some of which have been cleaned up, but looking at the range of Luminol reagent... The blood volume seems to be very large, and the indoor There are traces of fighting."

Hardy froze: if he remembered correctly, Albarino lived with Herstal?

"The bloodstain hasn't been taken to the forensic laboratory for DNA testing, but," Alexander swallowed, his voice trembling a little, "the Forensic Bureau also called to say that they can't reach Dr. Bacchus."

——And at this moment, neither Alexander nor Bart Hardy noticed that at the far end of the blockade, behind the noisy reporters, at the corner of the street stood a man in a jumper and a hat. , He stood in the gradually sinking gray-blue twilight, like an ordinary person waiting to return home, not attracted by the noise across the street.

His hat was held down so low that only a chin and a chestnut-colored tip could be seen peeking out from under the baseball cap; the man had one hand in his trouser pocket, the other hanging naturally, at the thumb joint. It was terrifyingly red and swollen, with a tinge of blood bruised.

It was completely dark, and Anne Brook was standing in the hallway of the one-room ward, her date—who could now be called a “boyfriend”—Fista standing across from her.

This time Pfister was not the same as what she saw on the last date, at least, Pfister was not so well-dressed this time. He was indeed still wearing a suit jacket and shirt, but without a tie, and the collar of the shirt had been undone; his Apollo-like blond hair didn't seem to take care of him either, some dry and fluffy stacked on top of his forehead. .

He put his hand on Annie's shoulder and said in a painful voice: "...withdrawal of funds suddenly, if this gap cannot be filled, there will be a big problem immediately. The risk of software development is here, if the final product is If I don't make it, the cost I invested in the past will be wasted, if I stop here now, I won't get anything back, how can I make friends with the few friends who started the business with me?"

"Oh my God, Pfister, my God." Annie stroked Pfister's shoulder at a loss, but she didn't know what to say to comfort him-she was born in an ordinary working family, and she read Ordinary nursing school, it can be said that she has never been able to imagine what it is like to start a company for half her life, and what words of comfort can she say?

She bit her lip tightly and asked uneasily, "Fister, how much more do you need?"

"Hundreds of thousands?" Pfister smiled bleakly, "In the morning of tomorrow, I'll go see if I can mortgage my car to the bank, and after a sum of money is loaned, the house will be sold before a round of investment. It has already been used for the mortgage loan, so the remaining part has to go to my friends to put it together, I think it can almost be put together..."

"Don't worry," Annie's voice suddenly increased a little, she grabbed Feister's sleeve tightly, and rubbed her fingertips on the inside of his wrist comfortingly, "I still have a deposit, which was I'm going to buy a house, I've always wanted to have a small apartment by the river... But if you're in a hurry, you can put it aside for a while, I'll be able to come up with about 30,000—"

That is, when she said this, they were suddenly interrupted: the alarm sounded suddenly and overwhelmingly in the room of the patient she was caring for.

Annie suddenly let go of Pfister's hand and turned her head to look in that direction: the Sleeping Beauty, Ms. Olga Molozze, whom WLPD hired for her round-the-clock care, had opened her eyes and pressed her fingers weakly. On the button above the bill to call the paramedics.

Annie was stunned for a moment, and within a few seconds, the two doctors rushed into Ms. Molozer's ward, professionally and orderly checking the various machines attached to her and her own state. Then Annie took a step forward and walked into the ward. Pfister took two steps behind her and looked inside curiously over her shoulder.

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