The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 35

Marie Etta was silent.

The last time she was put on so easily was when she was 16 years old.

She is the daughter of a knight, and she cannot be weak.

But the man in front of him is very familiar with his fighting style, and his physical fitness and reaction ability are far superior to his own.

There is simply no way to beat it.

Although not restrained, she has no desire to fight again.

After a long silence, she asked Clayton:

"Can I leave a suicide note?"

By dragging people to the abandoned warehouse, she has already sealed her own fate.

As a magistrate, Mary had seen many cases of throwing corpses, she had rich experience, and had fantasized about her own death many times.

Clayton was very pleased with her pragmatism, but there was a difficulty: "I didn't pick up your pen, I'm afraid you won't be able to write a suicide note."

"That's it."

Mary stopped talking, sat down, and then lay down.

It seemed that she decided that other actions were futile, so she simply chose the most comfortable posture to maintain.

"You should learn how to listen to people." Clayton put on his coat again: "Actually, there are only a few questions, and you can leave after answering. Don't be so desperate, and there is no need to write a suicide note."

"Oh, but I don't believe it."

Mary was heartbroken, and Clayton had no choice but to comfort her: "To be honest, with your eyes, I don't have the need to kill you."

The female sheriff sat up suddenly: "Do you recognize me?"

"of course."

Marie Etta stared intently at Clayton's face, trying to make sure he was someone she had met.

Clayton let her observe. He changed his clothes when he went home and never wore them again, so he didn't worry about being recognized later.

"First question, what are you doing at the Broken Wing Angel Club?"

"Work."

This is not something to hide.

Mary believed that if Clayton was interested, he would be able to find out.

"Do you work there?"

"My job is to write letters for the illiterate."

Mary's tone didn't change, making it difficult to tell what her opinion of the strippers was.

Clayton pointed out the unreasonable place: "I haven't heard that letter writers in the post office need to 'go on business trips'. You should be in office positions all the time."

Mary told him: "Someone will pay for privacy."

Clayton picked up her bag from the floor and found the brand new letters, seven of them.

"Who entrusted you to help write the letter?"

"Those dancing girls. Don't open it. It's a personal letter."

Clayton didn't care about her.

He briefly read one of the letters and found that it was a home letter to his mother.

The "I" in the letter is a waiter in a restaurant.She complained to her mother that the work during this period was very hard, and she did not earn much money. Fortunately, life was very promising. Recently, she found an opportunity to work in a repertory theater troupe, and her salary was much higher than before.

A £[-] note was also enclosed with the letter.

"Dancing girl?" Clayton pointed the letter at Mary.

Without looking at the letter, Mary asked him, "Who would tell their family that they are doing this kind of work?"

Clubs that perform striptease must also offer some name calling.

And no matter where it is, this is a shameful thing for the server himself.

It was an irrefutable thing, and Clayton opened the second letter under her accusing gaze.

The second letter was to my sister. The owner of the letter was weak and was taking medicine to adjust her health recently. I thanked my sister for her kindness, but refused her to come to the city to see me.

The target of the third letter was the lover who believed in the master. She advised him to practice craftsmanship again in the village, so that she could collect the dowry and marry him in two years.

The fourth letter is for mother again. The fifth and sixth letters
Clayton stuffed the letter back into his bag, not knowing what to say for a while.

His understanding of the Holy Grail Society has not increased at all, but he has received information that cannot be said to be useless from other fields.

"Why didn't you write a letter to your father?"

He noticed that in these letters, the believers, that is, these dancers, seemed to be the important source of income in the family and the group.

This is a very unreasonable phenomenon.

It is common sense that men should be the pillars of the family.

"Of course a man without a father needn't write to his father," said Mary.

In fact, she lied to Clayton. The owner of these letters was known to her and she was also a playmate since she was a child.

Their fathers were both soldiers of the same formation.

They died at the time of the war, but not all victims in the army were killed by others.

Poisonous insects and beasts, strange weather, and sudden diseases, many things do not contain subjective malice, but they all really threaten the safety of the colonial garrison.

There is no pension without an honorable death in battle.

This rule has put many families in trouble, including the girls Mary knows, but she is not one of them.

Being able to allow Mary, who has no worries about food and clothing, to continue to appear in his life already shows that they are friends, not to mention that they asked her to write letters.

Clayton also faintly noticed something.

People always like to gather around their kind.

And what kind of job would make people easy to lose their father, he is very familiar with it.

He changed the subject.

"Then do you know who the owner of this club is?"

"I don't know, and neither do they."

"Don't answer for them." Clayton looked at her coldly.

Stared at by those yellow-green wolf eyes, Mary realized that she had said too much, so she pursed her lips.

"This kind of place involves tax evasion, and an agent is usually in charge, but the property rights are often passed around in the hands of several people, and no one knows who is now in whose hands."

"Is Rosa still performing at the club now?"

"She's been there."

Clayton was a little surprised by this answer.

"How is your relationship with her? Are there any of these envelopes from her?"

His problem is not superfluous. Girls in these places often don't use their real names, and the inscription on the letter paper will be completely different from what others call them. You can't recognize people just by looking at the letter.

"Generally, no." Mary answered him briefly, while wondering about the purpose of these questions.

"When did she come to work there?"

"I have been working for several years, but I am not familiar with her."

It has been stated that the spider priest is replacing a real identity, and "Rosa" is not a temporarily fabricated identity.

This difference shows that no matter what goal she wants to achieve, the means must be sufficiently concealed, and her character and behavior need to imitate the owner of the original identity, otherwise her identity will be easily suspected.

But Clayton felt that his first experience at the Broken Wing Angel Club was very unnatural. If he had been working for many years, he should be able to see the abnormality of the audience at that time.

She should be suspected.

"Where does she live?"

"I do not know."

"Has anything unusual happened in the club recently?"

Mary replied more and more frankly: "I haven't heard of it."

"Did the girls complain about anything?"

"I'm just a letter writer."

"."

Although disappointed, Clayton also knew that he would not be able to get any useful information from Mary, so he threw the bag back to her.

"But you are also a sheriff, so watch them carefully and don't let them get hurt."

He took his shotgun, pushed open the green-painted iron door and walked away.

Mary looked at his back, still not understanding his purpose.

But she knew that besides Clayton Bello, there was another person she needed to investigate.

Sanders is an artilleryman.

Or that he used to be an artilleryman.

While transporting a mortar, one of its anchors came loose, and the barrel fell from the wagon and fell on his right hand, crushing two fingers as it happened.

Although he didn't think it would affect his handling of shells and operating the cannon, his superiors didn't think so and found an excuse to kick him out.

Because the culprit who injured Sanders was at least a military weapon, he received a small medical fee.

But really just a little bit.

That little money, he went out to drink for three days after leaving the army and it was gone.

But it was precisely because of this that Sanders went to work in Bruno's office in a daze, and he didn't even remember how he knew him.

Persuaded by Bruno, he began to use his physical talent to track work.

The job pays no more, no less.

No more, no less means that when the end of the month comes, the money he earns this month will be spent on time.

This used to be no big deal, but god damn it!The guest introduced by Bruno paid an extra £5 to fish him out, making him owe a favor!

After parting with Clayton, Sanders walked all the way in distress.

Although they reached an equal agreement that he would help Clayton pay a fine of 5 pounds in the future, it also meant that he had to prepare a deposit of 5 pounds at any time for emergencies, so as not to face the situation that Clayton was suddenly imprisoned but had no money. situation.

In other words, he has to learn to save money.

How can he have such ability? !

Sanders was thinking painfully all the way, and his legs subconsciously walked in the direction of home.

It wasn't until he entered the door, sat down on his most comfortable little sofa as usual, and looked around at leisure, that he realized that the surroundings were different from what he remembered.

An old dressing table, cracked floor tiles underfoot, flickering electric lights on the walls
This is not his room at all, let alone his home.

He doesn't even sit on his couch, he sits in front of a dressing table with a stool under him.

This is a completely unfamiliar environment, but Sanders instinctively feels at ease, and the familiarity feels like home.Sensibility is distinctly abrupt and terrifying.

This is where he walked with his own legs following the idea of ​​"returning to a place of peace".

When he was terrified, a pair of hands suddenly pressed the sides of Sanders' head.

He reflected his back through the mirror of the dressing table, and there was a woman standing behind him that didn't reflect the part above the chest.

The feeling of strangeness and familiarity intertwined in the bottom of my heart, and it seemed that something was forgotten. Sanders tried to recall, but there was a wave of nausea in his heart.

A woman's voice rang in my ears: "My dear, please tell me what you have experienced?"

The dwarf wanted to resist, but even the thought felt strangely familiar.

Under the attack of the sound, he quickly lost consciousness.

(End of this chapter)