"What?" Charlie couldn't believe his ears.
Lumian was equally surprised and cast a sympathetic look at Charlie.
He felt that Charlie had no motive to murder Mrs. Alice. After all, as long as the other party was alive, Charlie would be able to receive 500 Firkin every month for the next six months. According to some magazines and newspapers, this was close to that of doctors, lawyers, and mid-level civil servants. The monthly salary of (section chief level), senior middle school teacher, senior engineer, and deputy police inspector is a very considerable amount of wealth for a person who almost starved to death before and now can only work as a trainee waiter.
Seeing the two companions walking upstairs, the police officer who handcuffed Charlie simply explained:
"This morning, Mrs. Alice was found dead in her room at the White Swan Hotel. According to many witnesses, you slept there last night and didn't leave until nearly midnight."
Charlie was scared and confused: "How could it be, how could she die..."
After muttering to himself, he suddenly looked at the police officer and said urgently: "She was still alive when I left, really! I swear to Saint-Vieve!"
The police officer said solemnly: "According to the preliminary autopsy report, Mrs. Alice's death time was between 11 o'clock last night and 1 o'clock in the morning, and except for you and Mrs. Alice, there were no traces left by anyone else. .”
Maybe the others are not human? Lumian thought of the ghost of Montsuri and couldn't help but cursed.
If he didn't have enough disguise now and didn't want to attract the attention of the police detectives, he would definitely say it directly.
"Impossible, damn, this is impossible!" Charlie's eyes widened and he shouted.
At this moment, a policeman who had quietly left just now came down from the fifth floor, holding a shining diamond necklace with his left palm wearing white gloves.
"I found this!" he said to the leading police officer.
The police officer nodded, looked at him and said seriously:
"I didn't! Did you hear that? I didn't!" Charlie shouted miserably, struggling with all his strength.
This had no effect and he was carried away from the Golden Rooster Hotel by two policemen.
At this time, several tenants had heard the sound and came to the stairs and saw this scene.
This includes Gabriel, who seems to have just stayed up late to finish a manuscript.
"Do you think it was Charlie who did it?" Lumian asked the playwright standing next to him thoughtfully, looking at the corridor where there was no one left.
Gabriel came out early and roughly understood what happened to Charlie.
He shook his head and said: "I don't believe it was Charlie. He is not a good person, but he is not a bad person either."
"Why do you say that?" Lumian asked, turning his head.
Gabriel pushed up the black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose: “He was defrauded of money before and almost starved to death, but he never thought of stealing the belongings of our neighbors.
"This shows that he either has his own principles and bottom line, or he is very afraid of the law. Whichever possibility is enough to prove that he will not murder the wife."
Lumian nodded first, then chuckled: "But people are impulsive and can change."
After saying that, he climbed up the stairs step by step and reached the fifth floor.
This is the top floor of the "Golden Rooster Hotel". The ceiling above has large areas of marks that have been wetted and dried by water. It seems that water will seep in when it rains heavily.
Lumian walked to the door of Room 504 where Charlie lived, took out the small piece of wire he carried with him, and opened the wooden door.
Charlie's suitcase, bed, and wooden table had all been turned over by the two policemen. Various items were placed in a mess, but their number was quite limited.
——When Charlie and Charlie were drinking and chatting in the basement bar before, Lumian heard him mention that when he was unemployed, he went to a pawn shop to mortgage his only formal suit, and mortgaged a lot of things, but he still has no ability to redeem it.
Stepping inside, Lumian suddenly saw a portrait as his eyes moved slowly.
It is attached to the wall opposite the bed and depicts a woman in a green dress.
The woman was in her mid-twenties, with reddish-brown hair, green eyes, red lips, delicate face, and elegant temperament.
Lumian was stunned for a moment, feeling that the woman in the painting looked very familiar.
He knew that this should be Susanna Matisse, a famous prostitute who was mistaken for Saint-Vieve by Charles.
But he had never seen this woman before, so there was no reason for him to think she looked familiar.
After pondering for a while, Lumian suddenly remembered something.
When he was doing the beckoning dance in Room 207 some time ago, he attracted a translucent figure that was obviously stronger than other creatures.
The figure is also female, like Susanna in the portrait. Matisse is very similar, except that one has green hair and the other has reddish brown hair, one is long enough to cover his naked body, and the other can only be styled in a normal bun.
Also, that figure is even more charming, as if it can directly arouse the hidden desires in everyone's heart, and Susanna. Matisse's portrait did not excite Lumian.
"Has random prayer caused problems?" Lumian nodded invisibly.
In the past, he would not have thought there was anything wrong with what Charlie did at that time - if he really could avoid the fate of starving to death, let alone thinking that he was the patron angel of Trier, even if he knew she was a prostitute, he would Will pray sincerely.
And now, through Aurore's witchcraft notes, and having a certain understanding of the introductory sequence of the twenty-two paths to the gods, sacrificial taboos and related occult knowledge, Lumian knows that sometimes, random prayers are wrong. A very dangerous thing.
After checking for a while, he left room 504, took the carbide lamp, went to Market Avenue and took a public carriage to the observatory area.
Go underground and make your way to Aosta. On the way to Trull's usual haunts, Lumian looked at the darkness behind the stone pillars from time to time.
In response, he laughed to himself and said: "You won't encounter the ghost of Montsuri again, will you?"
If this is really the case, he has to consider whether there is a special connection between the Monsuli ghost and something in him, or whether that person's pollution has been sealed, but it has indirectly changed his "zodiac sign" and changed his luck. Become extremely bad.
Fortunately, Lumian's worries did not come true. He successfully saw the bonfire and Austa Trull sitting under the stone pillar.
The man wearing a hood and a black robe glanced at Lumian and smiled from the bottom of his heart: "Mr. K allows you to attend our occult party every other Wednesday at nine o'clock in the evening."
Aosta's eyes were extremely sincere, as if he was saying it was time to give him money.
At nine o'clock in the evening the day after tomorrow... Lumian smiled and nodded:
"Where is the party?"
"You come to my place to find me an hour early and I will take you there." Aosta replied without hesitation.
Lumian said "hmm" and said, "I will pay you the balance then."
"Okay." Although Aosta was a little disappointed, he could still accept it.
Lumian asked instead: "What should I pay attention to when attending that party?"
"Cover your face and conceal your identity." Aosta said experiencedly, "You don't want other participants to be caught by the authorities and give you evidence, right? Except Mr. K, who can control everything, no one else can ."
Lumian smiled: "You have seen my face and know my identity. After the first party, should I consider burying you in some corner of Trier underground?"
Aosta shuddered instinctively, forced a smile and said: "You are so funny.
"But I don't know who you are, where you live, or what you do. Besides, your current appearance shouldn't be the most realistic."
After frightening the other party and having fun, Lumian found a rock to sit down, enjoying the warmth brought by the campfire, and asked casually: "Have you heard of Susanna Matisse?"
"I know." Aosta replied excitedly, "For a while, she was my dream girl. I bought a lot of posters and star films with her photos on them. In the past few years, she was Terry The most famous prostitute in Seoul, the kind who can attend high-society dinners, has had scandals with many congressmen, executives, and wealthy people. It is said that she can earn hundreds of thousands of ferkin every year. However, in the past two or three years, she has not Why did it happen that "Nana" took away the status of a famous courtesan in Trier? Hey, she may have become someone's regular mistress."
Hundreds of thousands of Firkin? Lumian was a little surprised: "A high-end socialite earns more than most best-selling authors?"
"Isn't this normal?" Aosta said with a strange expression on his face, "High-end socialites can sleep on the beds of congressmen, bankers, and senior officials, but best-selling authors cannot."
Lumian said amusingly and self-deprecatingly: "That's right. The poet Borel once said that there is no difference between a writer and a prostitute. The only difference is that one sells his mind and the other sells his body." (Note 1)
"I prefer the body." Aosta is quite honest.
Lumian asked again: "Then have you heard of the legend of a female ghost? Her hair is green and long enough to wrap around her body. Her facial features are very delicate, and she can charm most men and arouse their desires. .”
No. ” Aosta shook his head.
He then said with a longing look on his face: "If there is such a female ghost, I would really like to meet it once."
Lumian stood up and laughed softly: "Then be prepared to come dozens of times a night and eventually die suddenly."
"..." Aosta's expression instantly froze on his face.
...
Three o'clock in the afternoon, No. 27 Market Avenue, Candide Market District Police Headquarters.
Lumian, who spent nearly 300 Firkin to buy three sets of clothing of different grades, affordable cosmetics, and other disguise props, appeared in the extremely noisy hall with people coming and going.
Some people were brought in, some were lucky enough to leave, some were arguing loudly, swearing, some were slamming the table, knocking on the stools...
Lumian, with his blond hair neatly combed back, black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, two mustaches on his lips, and obviously white cheeks, was wearing a black formal suit, carrying a brown briefcase, and walked towards a male police officer in charge of reception. member.
He stopped in front of the other party, raised his head slightly, and said very confidently: "I am Charlie Current's public interest lawyer, and I want to see my client."
Note 1: I have the impression that Baudelaire said it, but I can’t find the source for the moment. It may be said by someone else.
