Wine and Gun

McCard said slowly, "Then we should be looking for suspects in the police department's long-timers—"

"No," interrupted Olga neatly, "I have to find it from the people who came here after the Robb case ended three years ago."

"I know what you're thinking. If the murderer really came here to avenge Robo, your idea is indeed very reliable. But how do you explain it, a person who has been in this police station for less than three years How do you know this much about the interior structure and the location of the surveillance cameras? Did you know the direction of every corridor in the Chicago Police Department when you spent three years in it? I don't think..." McCard began to wonder. say yes.

Olga snorted coldly: "But you don't like this idea, because if the murderer is to avenge McCard, combined with the declaration left by the first deceased, you can hardly stop me from taking the seventh Procedural inaccuracies in the case - I think you don't particularly like that topic, do you?"

McCard sighed heavily.

"Okay, okay," Hardy said calmly, "perhaps it's just because you two made an important contribution to the arrest of Rob, and the murderer came to avenge you just for this? Don't think about that, okay?"

"When will 'just to avenge you guys for this' be a comforting word?" Albarino stabbed Herstal with his elbow again and whispered - Herstal felt that he looked Like a pupil talking quietly in class.

"Don't make a mess!" Hardy yelled helplessly.

McArd took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, as if he had finally calmed down. Then he said with a headache: "Well, at least let's delineate the suspects."

"Come on," Olga gān said, "I don't work after drinking. I have professional ethics."

——More or less, apart from the substantial conflict between Olga and Lavasa McCard, Herstal seems to understand why she left BAU: because as long as Olga wants, she It can totally get very, very annoying.

McArd couldn't help but glared at her before continuing:

"I think the killer is a white male, about the same age as George Robb, so he can't be over forty now. He's either not confident in his own strength, or extremely cautious, and most likely not in shape. The sturdy type is between 1.65 and 1.85 meters tall.

"This person is very familiar with the inside of the police station and is likely to appear frequently between floors, so the high probability we are looking for is someone who is often running errands in the police station - either for work, or with everyone. The relationship is very good, so he is often in and out of other departments. He has worked in the police station a lot..."

He looked at Olga, and Olga stared back unwaveringly, like a demonstration.

"Three years," McCard spits out the word quickly, awkwardly compromising, as if the word would bite his tongue, "he came to work here about three years ago."

"I see, I'll let my men screen it." Hardy nodded and turned to Olga: "Is there anything else to add?"

Olga shrugged: "The murderer is from Pennsylvania. Although the murderer may not admit it when you ask about this person, I hope that if I'm lucky enough, I can get a clue from the accent or work history."

"Understood, then I'll arrange it." Hardy sighed, then turned to Albarino and Herstal, he thought about it, and said, "You two can go back to the hall below temporarily, there is nothing to do. The people who did it are staying there right now - please act together, I don't want anyone else getting killed for being singled out."

Albarino nodded, put his hand on Herstal's arm, and folded his fingers slightly.

"Don't worry, Bart," he said, with a hint of laughter gushing out of his voice, although he pretended to be serious. "We promise to be as good as conjoined twins."

Herstal didn't bother to stare at him.

Herstal Armalette didn't really like Christmas, because when it came to Christmas, he couldn't help but think of the days when he was a kid who went to church mass - his father was an alcoholic, but that didn't mean he didn't want to be nice take care of children. In other words, he was trying to take good care of the child until he lost consciousness every day.

That's why he sends his kids to the church choir, his kids aren't particularly talented in singing, but learned to play the piano in that church. The seasoned electrician replaced all the dying wiring in that church in exchange for the opportunity for a choir member to teach his son the piano.

When Herstal's father wasn't drunk—very few times, honestly—he had gone to choir rehearsals, and he'd seen his son play the piano to accompany the choir. The nave of the church was brightly lit, and the children of the choir were dressed in pure white like angels following the Queen of Kings.

For a family who has no money to buy a piano or to sign up for piano lessons, this is what he can do his best to bring to his children.

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