Wine and Gun

Hestal didn't intend to take a second look at the pile of letters sent this time, but one of them caught his attention - it was a violet-colored letter envelope, exuding a scent of perfume, obviously The sender carefully sprayed the envelope with perfume.

This letter looked like a love letter from a pregnant girl to someone else, and it seemed out of place to appear on a table that looked like a murderer. The address on the envelope reads: Mailed by Mary Talos, 45 Gummel Street, White Oaks, Kentucky.

It was this particular place name that caught Herstal's attention, so he reached out to pick up the envelope and opened it - the moment he opened it, he realized that his earlier deduction had been wrong. The scent of perfume was not a gift from the girl to her imaginary lover, but to cover up the strong smell of blood inside the envelope.

The envelope contained many pages, and on top of it was a scrambled letter, apparently written by a man in extreme panic. The letter briefly outlines how Slade molested the choir children at St. Anthony's Church and used money to gag the priest and several of the church's acquaintances.

The letter mentions several extremely valuable names, and it will be very beneficial to him if he can appear as a witness at the trial - of course, the nominal sender also needs to be investigated, and Herstal knows that this letter is definitely not. It was sent by Mary from White Oak Town, but since the name and address were written on the envelope, it should be a hint that he needs to pay more attention.

At the end of those trembling narrations and upside-down confessions in my heart, I signed a name with a fingerprint on it. The wound from which the blood flowed might be a little big, and the last page of the stationery was full of bloodstains.

The last inscription reads: David Anderson.

Herstal silently closed the bloody page.

"...Albarino," he murmured.

Chapter 99 Secret Rose 03

Olga was pushed onto the witness stand by a bailiff.

After training for so long, the plaster on her leg has been removed, and the fracture has healed well, but it will take a lot of time to complete a complete set of rehabilitation training and customize a suitable prosthesis for herself. At this time Of course, it is more convenient to sit in a wheelchair.

This pre-witness episode brought many pitying eyes to her in the gallery: Olga guessed that she was a utterly miserable bastard in the eyes of the onlookers and reporters in the gallery, for the sake of He sacrificed one of his legs to save people, and then opened his eyes to find that one of his good friends was alive and dead (with a high probability of being dead) and the other was on trial for murder.

—and she herself had to testify for this gentleman in court.

It's the first day of Herstal Armalite's trial, and the gallery is packed with jurists, criminal psychologists, and newspaper reporters; it's likely that no one really sympathizes with dying or seriously injured in the case. of people, and no one is really fighting for a suspect who tried to murder a scum and then went to jail.

The starting point of most people who pay attention to the court trial is the desire for curiosity, prying, and judgment. There is no essential difference between watching the court trial and watching Eskimos eat seals. The word "Westland pianist" is enough for them to be passionate and desperate. squeezed into the scene of the trial.

Then, press releases written from their fingertips stream to the Internet after every witness statement, and every word that comes out of everyone's mouth is brought to the banquet table, discreetly served, and actually People who don't care about the truth of the matter are judged by the news people themselves as clowns dancing to the rhythm on the stage, and bystanders are just clapping and laughing audiences.

The bailiff parked the wheelchair in front of the Bible so she could put her hand on the cover of the book and swear, saying the oath she had said hundreds of times in different courts. Although in all fairness, Olga herself would rather swear by Russell's Principles of Mathematics than by the Bible. After all, math and logic wouldn't deceive her, but theology would.

"I swear to God," she held up a hand, her voice still languid, as there were probably hundreds of people in the crowd staring at her, "everything I say is true."

Herstal Amalet, of course, was watching her too, standing in the dock, looking as calm as he usually does in the defense attorney's position. Everyone knows what it takes to make a good impression on juries and judges, but Herstal himself is one of them, wearing a three-piece charcoal-grey suit that looks better than a lawyer. Men's business wear on the runway. When Olga's gaze fell on him briefly, Herstal nodded, as if he didn't mind that Olga was present as a witness for the prosecution.

The prosecutor in this case was named Ingrid Musk, a black female prosecutor with a rather eloquent face, and she started the first part of the interrogation: "What is your name and occupation? "

"My name is Olga Molozze," Olga replied, "a visiting professor at Westland State University and an advisor to WLPD on profiling."

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