Wine and Gun

"What, are you unwilling to pay?" The mafia raised his voice suddenly. It's tasteless: they think their voices are loud enough and their fists hard enough to intimidate people.

Albarino answered truthfully: "1500 euros is really too much, I have only opened a shop here for a week."

That's the truth - and while it might be hard for the average person to imagine that a Sunday gardener would be embarrassed about money, it is. Although Albarino had seven different exit plans at the beginning, he is indeed not as rich as Herstal, and it is not particularly easy to transfer assets abroad while serving as a forensic doctor.

All in all, the conclusion is this: he opened the shop with his own money, and besides that, he lived in the house that Herstal paid for, and drove the car that Herstal bought him for a day. Going to the supermarket to buy ingredients for three meals is a card of Herstal, living like a little lover who is supported by a rich man.

But obviously the gang member standing opposite doesn't care if he can come up with 1,500 euros at once.

Bell frowned, then stretched out his hand rudely and pushed the person in front of him away, striding towards the end of the store: the cash register was there, and it was impossible for the machine to have nothing in it.

Albarino was pushed back a step, his legs hit the wooden shelf beside him, making a dull sound, and the buckets of flowers on the shelf rustled because of the shaking of the shelf. He frowned at the gangster, who was clearly ready to pry open the cashier drawer to find out.

Albarino couldn't help sighing, and a strange feeling came into his heart: How could it be so difficult to be an ordinary flower shop owner?

He actually did take the time - less than two seconds - to think about whether he was paying honestly or trying to get help from the police like a foreign immigrant who didn't understand the customs. They all come to collect money, the latter may be of no use at all, and will only lead to angry gangsters bringing a group of thugs to smash the store.

If it were another murderer who was guilty of absconding and incognito and encountered such a multiple-choice question, he would probably choose to swallow it up and not cause trouble, and if the Westland pianist was present, he might have another set (or dozens of set) a way to make life worse for the guy trying to trouble him.

But now the Sunday gardener who is going through all this, Albarino only thinks for less than two seconds.

Then he stepped forward nimbly, walked around the cashier counter, patted the bastard's shoulder lightly, and punched him in the face when the other party turned around in confusion.

He heard the other person's jaw clack, maybe one or two teeth fell off, Albarino didn't give the other side time to react, and the next punch had already hit the other side's abdomen neatly.

The bastard curled up slightly from the pain, but those muscles on his body weren't for display after all. The figure rushed forward like an angry bull, grabbing Albarino by the collar and slamming him hard against the wall, the siding creaking and the racks nailed to the wall vibrating.

The other party roared loudly: "You bastard—"

Albarino raised his head slightly and looked at each other. The expression in those green eyes was a little too indifferent. In autumn, when some people use leather shoes to crush a leaf, they will show such a miracle. You don't know exactly where they are. think, but you know they don't care.

Then, Albarino suddenly showed a strange smile. He fumbled with one hand to the side and grabbed a heavy paperweight on the cashier's counter. Most people wouldn't put this kind of thing in their store. Yes, but Albarino really likes the feel of it, and sometimes you never know when you need a weapon - and slammed it on the head of the bastard trying to get his hands on his turnover.

Many criminals accidentally beat their victims to death when they reached this stage. When you plan to do something to other people's heads, you can't be too careful, otherwise it may cause irreversible consequences. .

But Albarino...suffice to say, practice makes perfect. The unknown bastard swayed to release Albarino with a look of consternation on his face, and then he fell without saying a word, hitting the floor with a thud. When Albarino looked down, he saw blood slowly flowing from his forehead, but his chest was still heaving.

And Albarino didn't care whether he would have a concussion or not. He wiped the blood off the paperweight in his hand, put it back on the cashier, and then looked out: the street outside was silent. , the old lady on the opposite side closed the shop. There is a high probability that no one noticed the commotion just now (based on what Albarino knew about the simple citizens of Flora this week, even if they noticed these strange noises, they would not have the courage to go out and take a look), it is estimated that it will be a half hour Will anyone find a mafia lying on his floor.

So Albarino flipped the big man on the ground with the tip of his toes, took out his phone, and snapped a photo of his unconscious face.

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