Wine and Gun

Some people think the Westland pianist is a more dangerous criminal than the Sunday gardener, I don't think so. The starting point of the Sunday gardener is more bizarre, dreamy, and elusive than that of the Westland pianist.

What I'm more curious about is what do these two serial killers think of each other after living in the same city for so long? If there is such a chance, will they become the opponent's chosen prey?

I sincerely hope to see such a scene one day, it must be very interesting.

Chapter 2 The Seal of Cain 01

As we all know, Westland city is very poor security.

Just over three-quarters of the way through 2016, the crime rate in Westland this year has not decreased but increased, maintaining an impressive record of ten shootings per day on average; ninety people were killed in August alone, and in the summer Before it was over, there had been more than five hundred murders across the city.

Anyone in Westland who often talks about homicides has long been accustomed to being on call day and night in three shifts a day, and being called to the crime scene by a phone call in the middle of the night is simply impossible in their boring daily life. part of the division. This could explain why when Albarino Bacchus got off his Chevrolet smelling of perfume, it was just an ordinary field trip.

At this time, it was after three o'clock in the morning, and a cordon was pulled outside a desolate and dark grove. The sparse branches were reflected in various strange colors by the lights on the top of the police car. Officer Bart Hardy of the Westland City Police Department was staring at the cordon, like a láng dog with blown-up fur: his appearance was enough to show that things were unusual.

As soon as Officer Hardy looked up, he saw the most experienced and skilled forensic doctor of the Forensic Medicine Bureau walking towards the scene of the crime with a big smile on his face, carrying a forensic exploration box in his hand, and behind him was the car with "the crime scene". "The word out of place in the red sports car. Albarino's hair was messy and looked like it had been messed up by someone's fingers repeatedly, and even his belt buckle looked like it had been hastily fastened.

He had been standing outside the cordon at Hardy Station for a while, and now the crime scene was busy with a group of scientists from the crime scene investigation team like worker bees. Before they finished taking pictures and fixing the evidence, they were not busy letting the forensic doctor in immediately. As soon as Albarino came over, Hardy could smell the aftershave, perfume, and wine on him, which made the officer frown. "You didn't drink a bar, Al?"

"What? Absolutely not." The young forensic doctor opened his eyes exaggeratedly, as if trying to show that he was really a man of professional ethics, "but you did interrupt my wonderful night with two beautiful girls: A very, very wonderful night."

This is half true: Albarino did have a great night, but he didn't flirt with the girls, he watched them from a distance: only when you're out of the way can you tell the whole story There was a general understanding; he spent hours watching girls with heavy makeup, he didn't like the smell of powder and perfume, but he believed they could be more beautiful if that layer of skin was removed.

Hardy, of course, didn't know what was on his mind, but raised his eyebrows: apparently the conscientious officer didn't want to know at all who Albarino had spent the night with, and that was all he had in mind. Unreliable people can go out and flirt with girls the next day while still having an early shift. But Albarino certainly couldn't hear his slander, they all had the experience of this forensic doctor who didn't want to repent.

Albarino looked behind Hardy curiously, his tone still heartless and happy: "Can I go in?"

. . . Hardy spent two seconds wondering if it was an obscure joke, and he hoped it wasn't.

"Wait for the CSI people to come out. The crime scene is a bit complicated. Don't go in and step on them until they're finished taking pictures." Hardy automatically ignored the confusion in his heart. "And we have to wait for Olga to come."

"Olga?" Albarino couldn't help but ask: Olga Molozze is a professor of criminal psychology at Westland State University and a consultant to WLPD. She is not involved in ordinary cases. , "You called her too?"

Obviously, things may be bigger than Albarino thought. When Hardy called him before to get him to the scene of the crime, he didn't elaborate on what was going on. He thought it was just an ordinary man. What about murders -- of course, "ordinary" murders are super bloody super brutal murders, and that's the life of a chief forensic officer.

Now, the officer with the big dark circles under his eyes sighed wearily and said simply, in a tone that everyone knew, "Westland pianist."

——Albarino really understands.

"Westland Pianist" is a serial killer, more precisely, there are only two serial killers who have been committing crimes in Westland City but have never been caught, one is the pianist in Hardy's mouth, Another is a "Sunday Gardener" who likes to arrange flowers on dead bodies.

Because the pianist's crime was cruel and the dead were still criminals, the media liked the pianist. In their favorite incendiary way of saying, he was "the leading serial killer in the entire city of Westland."

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