Wine and Gun

According to Alexander's information, in fact, even a considerable number of people in the university believe that this project is used to defraud funds.

And Griffin is continuing: "But actually Duden had to take a vacation due to a car accident some time ago, I really can't get away in the laboratory, so I can only let the intern we hired be in charge of Armalite's work. Daily check, his name is William Quinn."

Hardy turned around and gave Alexander a wink, and the young man understood it and got up and went out to make a phone call—now Hardy doubted that if Armalette really contacted the Westland pianist, it was through this particular experiment He brought news, but it's hard to say how Armalite bought the researchers who went to the prison for daily inspections... All kinds of thoughts raced in his mind, and then Griffin suddenly spoke again.

"I've got William's resume here," she said, obviously nervous at Hardy's increasingly serious expression. "Would you like to see it?"

"Please," Hardy nodded briefly, "thank you."

In fact, he was mainly waiting for the results of the call from Alexander to the police station. He needed to know what kind of person this "William Quinn" was, and it was best to visit him at the address today. Hardy thinks that the intern is more likely to have been bribed by Armalite than Duden Koos. After all, Koos has been on vacation for a long time, and the time line is somewhat inconsistent.

But in the end it was Griffin who came faster, and remembered with a tinkling of sugar palms, Griffin pulled a few sheets of paper from a large drawer in the living room that seemed to be stuffed with papers—why? Someone stuffed work papers in their living room drawer? —then she walked quickly back to Hardy and handed over the resume in her hand: "This is it."

That resume was a lot of pages, and with Hardy's understanding of this kind of university lab, it might take some pretty decent degrees to join them, and maybe some awards he'd never heard of. But when Hardy finished the resume, his eyes didn't stop for a second on the glamorous graduate schools and personal experiences.

He stared intently at the photo on the resume.

The picture shows a young man with dark hair, perhaps a little longer, and the ends of his hair have scratched the collar of his clothes; his skin is a healthy wheat color, and he wears a pair of black-rimmed glasses of that kind of unremarkable style. With a big smile on his face.

Bart Hardy saw a face he never expected to see—though by now he had made wild guesses in these cases: for example, Amalette was a Westland piano. Teacher, not only did Albarino not die, he might have been a Sunday gardener or something, but he never expected to see such a crazy scene.

He saw familiar, sharp green eyes in that picture.

The atmosphere in the East End canteen was very strange at dinner.

Pfister sat beside Hestal Amalet, scooping a spoonful of boiled beans in his hand, wondering if he should put it in his mouth. It shouldn't be his hallucination, the eyes of those sitting in other positions swept meaningfully over them from time to time, and those eyes were like a sticky swamp, cool and slimy, the time it stayed on Amarette. Grows creepy.

In a place like a prison, any gossip grows like wild grass. A WLPD car drove into a federal prison this morning, and several people were called in for questioning. At noon, "Big" Balmond was disemboweled and hung in a lumber shed. It took one afternoon to spread the word.

Obviously, anyone with a discerning eye can see that the police suspect that the incident is of Amalette's gān, and Pfister is willing to bet that half of the people in the Eastern District may also think so.

There wasn't any special expression on Amalette's face, and Pfister finally chose to put the spoonful of beans in his mouth, and sighed silently.

In all fairness, Isaac's plan to join Amarette and the Titus Brotherhood is still a bit desperate, but he only helped Amarette to steal a few prison uniforms from the laundry room. Who can tell him clearly? What role did it play in the whole incident?

Pfister was very frank about this in his heart. If he asked him to say, it was a Westland pianist. If he didn't agree to cooperate, God knows who was hanging under the ceiling in the end.

From the end of the morning's labor to the present, it was the first time that Pfister saw Amarette. He probably knew what happened to the other party: it was mainly because the police officers from WLPD consumed a lot of time, it took him almost the whole afternoon, and then he went to the infirmary to do some examination, and he caught up when he came back. Point for dinner.

This man was sitting next to him, attentive and slow, breaking the bread in his hands, and Jesus may have been in his earnest manner when he performed miracles, when half of the cafeteria people swept him secretly with all kinds of eyes. At the time, the picture looked really weird.

Pfister could think of what those people who sneaked to this side were thinking: the people of the Titus Brotherhood may be complacent with a little fear, and those of the Latin King Gang may be more complicated. After all, during this period of time, the people from the Latin King Gang have troubled Amalette a lot less than before. Perhaps in Jerome's eyes, this is considered a kind of mercy, but the other party not only did not appreciate it, but also made such a move. This is clearly a threat from Chiluǒluǒ.

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