Wine and Gun

Chapter 464

If Amalette is really a pianist, Dr. Bacchus is completely deceived by him, and the aggressor opens his net, waiting for the victim to come to him, and finally pays a heavy price for it.

"I noticed that on these issues you are distancing yourself from the pianist," Schubert continued, "but Ms. Olga Molozze said in court that she thought you were the pianist. , what do you think about this?"

Herstal frowned, and Shi Haibo thought he was about to sneer.

"What does she think it matters to me? With all due respect, the Sunday gardener has been in the city for ten years, and neither she nor the WLPD have caught anyone," Herstal remarked bitterly. , "Is she the one who can know everything?"

"Mccard is not dead." Olga said suddenly.

—She said this while sitting on the sofa in the living room, covered with a fluffy tan blanket, with a textbook on her lap for her next lecture at Westland State University. For the previous hour, she had been taking notes in the margins of the lesson plan, so the sentence was completely unfinished.

In response to this sentence, Hunter, who was fiddling with his laptop, choked on the air while breathing and began to cough for his life.

It was a weekday, Midalen went to school, Annie went shopping, and the two of them were the only ones in the house. Hunter raised his head and looked around to make sure that Olga was indeed speaking to him, and then replied, "What?!"

His tone revealed that his voice was not as calm as his movements.

"It's nothing, I can see your computer screen from this angle." Olga pointed at Hunter's computer, "Are you looking at the water system map of Fort Lauderdale? It seems that you haven't dealt with the gardener. lay down?"

"How does this make me let go?" Hunter sighed and couldn't help complaining.

He is indeed the type of person who has a hard time letting go of one thing, not to mention the gardener thing that left a big suspense at the end of the first season, but never made a second season TV series again. : It has been more than a month since Lavasa McCard fell into the river and disappeared. The missing FBI has never appeared again, and the murderer has never been brought to justice.

At first, Hunter thought that McCard was being attacked by some gangster or an enemy, but Olga later said that the Sunday gardener should have committed the crime.

Hunter and the gardener had just had a close encounter with the gardener not long ago. Although the police blocked the news about the gardener-in addition, the style of his recent crimes was different from the past, and it was difficult to be recognized-but Hunter still Knowing what Albarino Bacchus was doing, he quickly accepted Olga's statement.

So things went something like this in Hunter's eyes: The Sunday Gardener and McCard fell into the river together, and in the month between then and now, neither has been seen again. So the question is, what happened to them afterward? !

"Why didn't you tell me earlier, I didn't even know you were still paying attention to this case, so I didn't want to mention it to you at all." Olga couldn't help but complain about him, "You can ask me if you don't know, I know. !"

Hunter: "...the non-disclosure agreements you signed with WLPD are actually decorations, right?"

"I know you won't talk nonsense anyway." Olga waved his hand indifferently, "Anyway, this matter is over: the police received a report a month ago, and they found it at the door of the Westland State Court. One severed hand, that severed hand belonged to McCard, and from the degree to which it was decorated with flowers, the gardener was clearly alive and well."

From Olga's point of view, of course, this conclusion can easily be drawn, but the actual official side has not yet combined this series of cases with the gardener's previous case. After all, gardeners didn't often make a fuss about such small human tissues before, and many of the recent series of cases did not show floral elements. In fact, WLPD is not quite sure that these cases are entirely the gardener's gān.

In fact, just looking at the inextricable relationship between the victims of these cases and Herstal, they would rather believe that the suspect was an avid fan of the Westland pianist.

"So the Sunday Gardener won?" Hunter asked. "Then why do you say McCard isn't dead?"

He recalled for a moment that he had never heard of any cases near the court because of his contacts. Obviously, the police suppressed the matter so as not to cause panic. But if the gardeners had laid out their trophies, how could McCard not be dead? Could it be—

"Because apparently no one died." Olga lazily put aside the handout in her hand, and looked at Hunter in a more comfortable position, "Although most of the cases have not been reported, but look for the most recent Sunday. The gardener's track--a human eyeball embedded in an apple, a tongue cut to pieces, blood, ashes from bones, a human hand, etc. You tell me that man loses these parts, Can you survive?"

Hunter completely cleared his mind at this moment, and a creepy feeling rose along his back.

"You mean they're all still alive?!" Hunter couldn't help raising his voice, finding his tone a little hoarse, "The Sunday gardener took part of their body, but they're all still alive?!"

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