Wine and Gun

Albarino gave McCard a pure smile.

"Okay. In short, I hope we can test the DNA of the murderer from these blood pools, which can save a lot of trouble." McCard said firmly, "I don't think there is anything else worth recording here - Hardy. Officer, please continue to visit the witnesses and the victim's friends with your officers, maybe the people around Mr. Amalette can notice when he was targeted by Qiáng Ni."

Hardy nodded and quickly whispered something to a police officer beside him.

"Schwandner should soon be able to give us an update on the trace examination section from the CSI forensics lab, and we'll be able to reconstruct what happened at the scene," McCard continued, before he consulted. Looking at Albarino: "Doctor Bacchus, I have brought autopsy reports from Quantico of the other deceased in this series of serial murders, if you want, you can help us look at those reports, maybe there will be something new discovery?"

"Very happy." Albarino replied with a smile.

"—Molozer." Finally, McCard said this, sounding a little uncertain.

"No." Olga replied without looking up. She lowered her head and stared at the ground, as if the ants crawling on the ground were the source of her inspiration.

There was an awkward pause, and then McCard's voice softened a little: "You're an advisor to the WLPD, and we need you; you know for yourself that you were once the best among us... not to mention, Herstal. Amarette is your friend, isn't it?"

"They're glass in front of my eyes, McArd," Olga replied, frowning, "so my gut tells me that you probably won't like this case and everything that follows— —You never liked lunatics, did you? I don't think Westland is for you."

"We need to solve this case." McArd replied with a tight face, he nodded to Olga, and then strode in the direction of the survey vehicle.

There were still CSIs in blue hazmat suits at work, Bates standing in the middle of them, frowning tightly; Albarino and Olga stood in the busy crowd, looking like they were standing in blue. reefs between fast-colored rivers. Albarino glanced at the busy crowd, and then asked Olga: "Actually, you won't really care about the progress of the case, you will come back to the police station with us, will you?"

"I guess I can't stay out of this case because I hate McCard, right? And it involves Herstal." Olga shrugged, sounding almost like a sigh.

Albarino laughed: "I guess it has nothing to do with Herstal itself - for you, what you can't miss is the opportunity to find out the truth."

"'Truth is rarely pure, and never simple,'" Olga replied. "You know that, don't you, Al?"

"—Wilde." Albarino replied with a smile, the expression solidified on his face like a mask.

"Let's go." Olga finally showed her first smile in a day, "In this case, we have to speed up: Given the peculiar obsession of that serial killer, as long as there is another rain, He Starr could be killed at any time."

Herstal's hands were getting numb from being tied behind him for so long, but he didn't expect his situation to get better: getting a serial killer to trust you on day one enough to untie your hands, obviously Unlikely. And "Killer Qiángni" — who insists Herstal call him "Elliot" — apparently enjoys caring for someone who's tied up.

There was a warm, tender look in the young man's eyes: what one would call love, Herstal would rather call it madness. Elliot is now sitting by the side of the church, holding a stupid Chinese takeaway carton in his hand, and said in a cheerful and soft voice, "It's time to eat."

—Looking at the spoon in the other's hand, Herstal knew that the man was going to feed him.

Everything Herstal knew about the "killer qiángni" was learned from the newspapers, and apparently, at a time when the Westland pianist and Sunday gardener weren't committing crimes, the local media were smitten with this in several nearby states. The killer who frequently commits crimes is very interested.

From the newspapers, the killer does not deliberately torture his victims, nor does he treat, beat, or starve them, provided, of course, that sexual assault is not included in the category of "nüè treatment" If you cut it out.

According to this, Herstal had a vague understanding of this murderer, and the appearance of the other party now confirmed his conjecture.

He didn't know how long he would be imprisoned in this place. At this time, it was better not to go on a hunger strike; he accepted the spoonful of food from Elliot, and slowly chewed the greasy rice grains. Obediently looked at him with a smile.

At this moment, Herstal was distracted and thought: If such a person is unfortunately arrested and imprisoned, and he is the defense lawyer of the other party, he will definitely use spiritual illness as a defense method.

Yep, that's easy to see. After spending less than four hours with Elliot, Herstal and Elliot determined that the other was a real psychopath, perhaps a paranoid or something—the killer was a completely different serial from the Sunday gardener. The killer, Albarino Bacchus may indeed be a psychopath, and it is doubtful whether he can empathize with others, or even see himself and other humans as the same kind, but at least he has a perfect grasp of the ability to integrate into the crowd. Skill.

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