Wine and Gun

He snorted out of his nose and put the newspaper back on his lap. Doctors always say that saying something to patients who are in a vegetative state is good for their recovery, but whether the other party can hear it, I am afraid no one can be sure. McCard had just finished reading the latest report on the Westland Daily News, and the man lying on the bed didn't even condescend to turn his eyes, and he looked like he was dead.

With his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on the back of his hands, McCard sat in a weary silence for a moment, before continuing with the kind of "treatment" that would probably be of no use at all. He thoughtfully said: "Tomorrow is the official trial day of the Slade case, and I will attend as a technical witness."

The person lying on the bed responded with a deadly air.

McCard continued in a flat voice: "I don't actually think Wallis Hardy is going to win this case, Slade pleaded not guilty during the previous pre-trial hearing and pushed all the issues to the On his deputy Rowan... Of course, it's not surprising that Rowan did everything about the children at Sequoia Manor, and none of the children could testify that Slade sexually assaulted them. But they Among the 'guests' received were many guys who concealed their appearance, and it was not surprising that Stryder would be among them. He was so cautious about the affairs of Sequoia Manor, and it was not unexpected to take such precautionary measures. ."

McArd paused for a moment, then reached out and rubbed his eyebrows. When the case had progressed to this level, his role was not really that big anymore. Of course, the forensic lab scientists were still studying the physical evidence, hoping to find out what would be used against Slade, but McArd had little hope.

"I found that things are still very strange. If you are awake, you will find out." McCard suddenly gave a low laugh, not hiding the exhaustion in his voice. There was no one to pick up his stubble in the empty room, and the people lying down were no better than the gradually withering flowers. "Why did Herstal Armalite take this case? Forget about the rest... I investigated him, and he has not taken any cases involving children in the A\u0026H law firm for all these years, which is also in line with the profile, Westland pianists have always hated qiángjian criminals, and the previous autopsy reports have undoubtedly proved this."

He paused again, and the doubt in his voice grew stronger, and it came out from between his lips in a low voice.

"Why the exception this time?"

"Why the exception for Slade?"

Lavasa McCard's gut told himself that he was missing something—something very, very important. But at this moment, he still doesn't know where the right direction is.

It’s still raining on this day, and people living in Westland have long been accustomed to taking an umbrella out of the house this season, and so is Herstal Armalite.

Umbrellas are a good cover, covering your face and making your face invisible in heavy rain. It was a rainy morning. He was standing in front of the street with a black umbrella. The dirty sewage wetted his trousers. Not long ago, a man named Aurelie Delphine Women die here.

The news has attracted a lot of attention in the city because it is closely related to the case of Sequoia Manor and the old news of newspaper tycoon Thompson. According to the trend of incoming media interviews, most people believe this poor The girl died in a purposeful, brutal assassination.

That's why this small, sour-smelling street full of rubbish was spontaneously set up by the citizens as a place of mourning: just as people would do after those shootings, those terrorist attacks, People put pictures of the girl smiling, fading flowers and white candles on the cold corner of the girl's death.

And in the current rain, the photo is covered with a mist of water vapor, the broken petals of the flower fall in the puddles, the candles are doused, the plush of a child on the fragile altar The teddy bear's fur was soaked in wisps. In the heavy rain, human life is always so fragile, the rain that held up the prophet's ark was like that, the rain that belonged to the killer was like that, and the rain in front of him was like that.

Holding a black umbrella, Herstal stood in front of Aurelie's photos and the damp flowers. This will be the last impression people will have of her in the city, because people are very forgetful, and they will soon forget about Slade when his case is over.

Silently, Herstal stooped and dropped the bouquet he had brought—a white iris—in front of a photo framed in ivory.

Then Herstal heard footsteps, and a man stopped somewhere beside him. Herstal looked up and saw Albarino Bacchus standing beside him, without an umbrella, letting the soft raindrops fall on his hair and shoulders. This person has a smile on the corner of his mouth, always with a smile, this is the only thing that will not change in the treacherous and changeable world.

"You shouldn't be here." Albarino said with a smile.

"How do you say it?" Herstal raised his eyebrows and asked back.

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