Wine and Gun

He let his fingers stay on the other side's neck for a few seconds, enriching the fantasy of strangling him like this in his mind. The desire to create tickles his fingers, but now is not the time.

"He strangled the dead with the strings of the piano, as he always does; then buried his hand in the still warm breast of your client, and tore his heart out." Albarino ends the story with this .

And Herstal turned deftly, withdrawing from between his arms, the man looking calm, as if neither frightened nor offended. But when he looked up at Albarino, Albarino saw a very bright flash of light in his blue eyes.

"It's an impressive commentary," he said gān stubbornly, and once again went to tidy up his shirt cufflinks, although the shirt was completely submerged under the coat and suit, and not even the edge of the fabric could be seen. "Actually, it's too detailed, don't you just need to say 'no comment' for forensic doctors?"

"But you wouldn't sell this kind of information to journalists, would you?" Albarino replied happily, his green eyes as sharp as láng locked on him, "That doesn't sound unprofessional, and besides , if you do give the news to reporters - I'll know."

The last words he said seemed to mean a lot, and Herstal raised an eyebrow in fake surprise. "I hope it's not a threat."

"But you don't look worried." Albarino shrugged lightly, "Actually, for someone who just looked at the corpse made by a perverted murderer, you looked so calm. ."

"As I said before, the meaning of the living and the dead are not the same. This one in front of me doesn't mean anything to me." Herstal nodded calmly, and didn't seem to care what he said now. How inappropriate is the moral concept of ordinary people.

After saying this, he probably thought that the distance between himself and Albarino was still too close, so he took a step back fluently, further widening the distance between them, and pointed out: "No one pointed out that Does distance seem to be a problem when you get along with others?"

"Most people don't care." Albarino replied with a smile, and blinked his eyes suggestively and happily. "To be honest, they can't ask for it."

Herstal frowned at last, with a look that seemed delightful: "Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm doing something as indispensable to me as salt and bread," Albarino continued to smile, hiding the bloodthirsty mask under it, still flawless. "As for flirting - at least not today, and preferably not here. Mortuary doesn't smell very good."

Chapter 6 The Seal of Cain 05

After the Westland pianist committed the crime again, various media were really lively for a while.

Although Westland is a city with at least two perverted murderers—at least two, after all, the law and order here is so poor, who knows if there is still a serial killer who insists on smashing his victims to ashes, causing Has no one ever found him? — but the public is clearly a little more interested in pianists.

Albarino is well aware of this tendency of the media, and if asked to comment, he can only say: "I know why you think so, but it is really tasteless."

The reason why these people are so interested in the Westland pianist is mainly because the victims he chooses are not good people. As long as people who think they are innocent, feel that this terrible experience will not happen to them, would be interested in such things.

If faced with a Sunday gardener, they would still worry about being suddenly cut in the throat and planted with dahlias in their eyes, but they would have no such concern with a pianist. The murder happened for several days, the pianist occupied the front page of the newspaper for three days, and now there is a group of people arguing on the social media whether the pianist is a vigilante or not - please, how could there be a vigilante who will live People hang on wooden stakes and open their stomachs?

On Sunday, Albarino was working overtime at the forensic department. He had accumulated several corpses of abnormal deaths to deal with, most of which were suicides, car accidents or overdose. When he was opening the skull in the autopsy room, the trainee forensic doctor who was helping him talked enthusiastically about the Westland pianist: Obviously, even forensic doctors are not immune to things like gossip.

"He must be a total lunatic, that's horrible," said Tommy, a trainee medical examiner at the Bureau of Forensics, and the freckled, red-haired young man shuddered exaggeratedly. "We've all heard the FBI lectures, haven't we? The kind of lunatic who can only get an erection by ripping the organ out of the victim—"

"I'm pretty sure that's not what the FBI lecture said at the time, Tommy." Albarino said with tears in his eyes, handing Tommy the bone saw in his hand and motioning for him to open the skull of the corpse lying on the autopsy cart. . Tommy was very familiar with the operation, and the air was filled with the strange smell of bone foam flying when he saw bones. "The Westland pianist is complicated, they just speculate that he is a nüè savage killer, and everything is inconclusive until he is arrested and undergoes detailed psychological testing."

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