Wine and Gun

Herstal hummed coldly, as if he had understood something; Albarino lowered his eyes to look at the pomegranates falling on the table, suppressing the smile at the corner of his mouth.

"It's not love, and he didn't give you roses. If we didn't know why the Sunday gardener contacted you when Thomas Norman died, we can probably see the clue now: he was teasing you. ."

Olga ended this bizarre conversation like this.

"Herstal, just pretend you've been patted on the ass by the Sunday gardener."

Chapter 12 Olga's Diary: September 25, 2016

Today, I finally got an email from Quantico.

If I remember correctly, I emailed them at least a month ago to ask if I could include a few cases I worked on while still at BAU into my new book.

From what I know about this group of busy people, I don't really expect any of them to take the time to reply. I told Al about this last pub night, and he replied, "But why can't you just call them directly? They used to be your colleagues, weren't they?"

This is a typical Albarino-esque answer, because he has a good relationship with everyone (maybe except Herstal), and even most ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends are willing to be friends with him and kindly— This person has a beautiful face that makes people lose temper.

So, I guess he simply can't imagine the terrible situation in which a lot of unhappy people are now at the time of leaving.

The person who answered the email was Lavasa McCard, who apparently I left for three years, and who was still the head of BAU. And he, as always, was unpleasant, and the unpleasant feeling was not even explained by the few squabbles before my resignation and the punch I punched him in the face.

As soon as I saw that the sender was him, I could probably guess what bad luck would befall me, and sure enough, not only did he not agree with any of my suggestions in the email - and I just wanted to add something else in my new book. Add two cases, without even citing the victim's name—and with an emotive sermon.

This scene is exactly the same as the fight we had before I left. He started with the lectures given to him by social influence, warning me that if some of these cases were announced, it would cause social panic, just like what he said in his mouth. Law-abiding citizens didn't read the bizarre murders in the newspapers with relish; then he suggested that I should be wary of copycats, and if those cases were made public, copycats would inevitably show up; and finally, he would return to the part we hate the most.

"Olga," he'll say, even if it's just an email, I can imagine his eloquent tone, "I'm worried to learn that you've moved to Westland. I'll talk to you before you leave. You said the worst option out of all the options was Westland. I had suggested you move to the West Coast, where your income was affordable and the climate was better for your health. "

That's it, McCard has a peculiar licking feeling for everything-everything and everything he sees, and that's why we end up bickering because not everyone needs it An old-fashioned, caring (and you don't need) caring guy.

In McCard's world, human beings are divided into two distinct parts: the innocent and the innocent, and the mentally unhealthy ones who can and will sin, with absolutely no buffer between them. Therefore, this respectable head of BAU cares for all pure and innocent good people, and holds a natural contempt for all possible bad people.

We don't need to discuss the downside of this religious dualism, anyway, when he inevitably suspects that I'm slipping from the good to the bad - and he tries to stop it, even though I didn't know it existed. - when our conflict broke out.

To tell the truth, he didn't understand why I wrote those books, maybe just seeing these books with murderer stories and psychoanalysis sitting on the shelf of popular books would have made his heart sick. Maybe go back to the Middle Ages and McCard would be the old priest who clings to the Latin interpretation of the Bible, a voice that reassures him, because he is always worried about those" Cruel" things are used by the wicked to tempt his innocent lamb.

I want to show these stories, this knowledge, and the world I see to others, not that I want to go down in history (though the royalties from these stories do make me live a comfortable life). And now Lavasa, obviously, imagines me being technically in cahoots with those tabloid reporters.

So, when he said "good for your health," I'm sure he was referring to my mental health. I remember the conversation he had with the then-administrator before I resigned, when he accused me of "indifference to the victim and even an appreciative attitude toward the murderer's behavior."

I don't think I "admired" them, although I didn't mean to hide my interest in them - they were as fascinating as puzzles. And most importantly, if you want to judge the world of these serial killers completely and objectively, how can you take a preconceived and critical attitude?

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