Wine and Gun

Hardy's lips moved twice, but he didn't say anything.

He was now caught up in extremely conflicting feelings: on the one hand he knew that the gardener and pianist should really be brought to justice, on the other hand he did sympathize with Herstal's experience. As for Albariño... Albariño's image was always in his eyes the strange young man crouching and muttering beside a carrion, and he couldn't combine that image with the Sunday gardener.

He took a deep breath and rephrased: "...I mean, this is not supposed to be the work of a Sunday gardener, it doesn't fit his usual criminal signature."

"How do you say it?" Olga didn't delve into his previous silence, but asked directly.

"First of all, of course, the element of flowers is missing; the second is that today is Monday, and he never shows his works on Monday; moreover, he does not put his works in public, and he never sends these things directly to the police station before. ' Hardy said quickly, and he was all too familiar with Sunday gardeners.

"That's right, but there is actually one more point." Olga commented, and she suddenly turned to ask, "Midaren, do you know what the last point is?"

"Huh?!" Midaren suddenly stood up like a child who was called in class. Obviously, he didn't know the answer to the question.

Olga looked at the eye in the apple and said, "In the past, the gardener used only part of the dead body in his works. But he likes the parts with metaphors such as the heart and the head, so when When his work came out, we could basically tell the dead man was dead - but this time it was different, the killer only sent us one of the victim's eyes."

She paused, and Hardy knew what she was going to say.

"But with just one eye, can we really be sure that the victim is dead?"

Before the trial, the suspect was placed in a separate compartment at the back of the courtroom, with prison guards nearby to prevent the suspect from escaping before the trial.

Hestal sat behind the desk, getting used to the feel of the handcuffs around his wrists these days. Today is a pre-trial hearing where the judge will ask him if he has pleaded guilty to the crime he committed, and based on what he knows about the prosecutor's office, the prosecutor will charge two first-degree murder charges, one of which is attempted .

Everything will end soon.

The door to the small room was pushed open, and Herstal raised his head in surprise and saw the unexpected visitor-he saw Olga Molozze struggling to shake his wheelchair, turning his wheelchair little by little. Rocked in from outside.

"They didn't allow anyone to push me in a wheelchair, saying that if I wanted to see you, I had to roll in myself," Olga complained while shaking. "Are the guards at the New Tarkel Federal Prison so inflexible?"

Herstal glanced at Olga, then said calmly, "I'm glad to see you're safe and sound."

"I don't think this can be called 'safe and sound', you know, after I woke up this time, my weight has reached the lowest level in adulthood." Olga pouted nonchalantly, "Okay, Herstal, Let's get to the point, after all I shouldn't be here for too long before the court session - this: on a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to die now?"

Herstal said cautiously, "What?"

But despite this, his voice remained calm, as if he didn't realize what a strange question Olga had asked.

"Let me take a wild guess, in a moment the judge will ask you in court how you want to defend against two counts of first-degree murder, blah blah blah, and you'll answer 'guilty', won't you?" Olga Staring straight at him sharply, until the knife-like gaze of his eyes made Herstal feel a little uncomfortable.

"You think I'll plead guilty in court at the pretrial hearing?" Herstal replaced the answer he should have said with a rhetorical question, really cunning.

"Why not, just plead guilty and it's over; Slade is still alive, but I believe he's in a state of death: Will's mission is over, so is the pianist's mission. Yes." Olga replied, leaning back comfortably in her wheelchair, "'Guilty'—what an easy word, Westland has the death penalty, and we don't even use electric chairs for death row prisoners anymore. already."

"Are you accusing me of escaping?" Herstal asked sharply. "As you said, Will's mission is over."

Olga snorted: "I don't, I won't accuse others of choosing to die, especially when they end up spending their own lives - besides, I guess you've made up your mind on this for a long time. When you were determined to murder Slade knowing it was a trap, or when you faked the scene of Al's death?"

Herstal looked at her carefully: "I now suspect that you have some wiretapping equipment on your body, and I am preparing to illegally obtain the suspect's testimony."

"You and I both know that the testimony you really want to say will only benefit the charge of completed first-degree murder, and the defense doesn't have a lawyer now, since you've made up your mind not to hire another lawyer and defend yourself ..." Olga paused, "and I'm not a witness for the defense, in case you don't know: I'm a witness for the prosecution."

Search [Book Reading Assistant] official address: www.kanshuzhushou.com Millions of popular books are free to read for life without advertisements!