Second floor corridor.
The pianist chased after the female writer who turned around and left, asking: "Where are you going?"
The female writer said without looking back: "Go and ask my husband what he found."
The pianist suddenly stopped and the corners of his mouth twitched.
Did the collaboration die so soon?
But after a while, the female writer also stopped, turned around and said helplessly: "The reason you just speculated for me is indeed not unreasonable, but now we still lack key evidence."
"If we have instruments to use, we can actually test the blood directly." The pianist said regretfully.
"Don't think about it. It's better to start reviewing what happened that night." I don't know if what happened in front of the blind girl's room just now affected her, but the female writer seemed a little impatient.
"Got to figure out where we were?"
"right."
The female writer responded and turned to another corridor. The pianist saw this and continued to follow.
Just as they were turning away, the dancer led Xu Shuo up the spiral staircase and turned towards the piano room.
The piano room was built at the corner of the villa. It was probably originally built to be used as another bedroom, so it was very spacious. The attic was the space separated by the distance between its ceiling and the sloped roof.
…
The balcony on the second floor of the villa is open-air. After opening the door, you will see a dark sky without any stars or moonlight.
The only light was the electric light in the villa. The warm yellow light shone on the balcony. The potted plants placed on the ground showed no signs of vitality, and seemed to be shrouded in a layer of black mist.
There is a swing chair on the left side of the balcony, and a small white round table and high stool in the center. The decoration is more casual.
"The last thing recorded in your diary is having a candlelight dinner here?" the pianist said thoughtfully.
"We ate dinner, listened to music, and took photos." The female writer said, "The distance from here to the piano room takes about two minutes by normal walking."
"If the candlelight dinner really happened last night, then I was playing the piano?"
"Well, because I haven't been able to figure it out. If you were all here at the time, you wouldn't have let me and the lawyer quarrel to the point of fighting, right?" the female writer frowned.
"What if I want you to die too?" the pianist boldly guessed.
But it's not so much a guess as it is an out-of-the-box thinking.
The female writer ignored him, walked to the edge of the balcony and looked at the abyss of darkness below, and then said: "I have time to take photos and write accounts, so it should be after dinner. At this time, the servant may come to the second floor. Clear the table.”
The pianist remembered the rag the manservant had in his hand when they woke up earlier.
In fact, at that time, after the pianist reached out and turned on the light, he discovered that the red cufflinks on his sleeves were as eye-catching as the note brooch on the female writer's chest.
So he took it.
In addition to the cufflinks, he actually also had an unfinished sheet of music. He was probably playing the piano when the accident happened?
"At this time, there may be me and the lawyer after dinner, you in the piano room, and the cleaning servants on the second floor." The female writer continued.
"Choose one of three classics?" the pianist said with a twitch in his mind.
"It's not clear what the blind girl, dancer, and chef were doing at that time." The female writer frowned.
"The only places where blood stains remain on the second floor are the smashed vases in the corridor and the handrails of the stairs." The pianist regained his serious expression and looked at her.
"Yes, then, according to your previous guess, was I crushed to death or fell to death?"
It’s not that the female writer doesn’t want to find out the cause of her death quickly, but too many people have died in this villa. Among the many causes of death, what if you are the most unlikely cause of death?
You thought you were beaten to death, but in fact you were shot.
You thought you were thrown to death, but in fact you were cut into pieces.
The pianist suddenly said: "Did you bring a pen?"
The female writer glanced at him, took out her notebook, took out the pen stuck in the loose-leaf binding ring, and handed him the notebook and pen.
The pianist took it, opened the last page, wrote and drew for a while, and finally showed the page to her.
[On the various ways of human death:
【1 His head was smashed by a vase.
【2 His head hit the stair handrail and he fell to death.
【3 Cut the carotid artery.
[4 shots.
[5 quarters. 】
The name of the female writer is recorded below 1 and 2.
The pianist said: "This is the murder scene we have discovered so far, so let's just use the elimination method to find out the cause of death of other people, and then we can probably deduce our own."
The female writer looked closely at the records on the page and narrowed her eyes slightly: "Why do you think you are number three?"
This guy wrote his name under the 3.
The pianist's expression remained unchanged: "The lawyer's previous speculation also makes sense, but in fact, you, I, and the lawyer himself may all be No. 3."
Among all the people, the blind girl who is 1.6 meters tall is the shortest, followed by the dancer; the tallest is the male servant who is about 1.85 meters, followed by the tall and strong chef.
The pianist and the female writer are in the middle, and they are indeed the most likely to be the deceased in the blood-spattered pose, but the lawyer's height is actually not much different.
But when speculating before, the lawyer automatically excluded himself.
Either he deliberately ignored his own death and shifted the focus of the blame, or the other party already had other effective clues.
Pianists prefer the latter.
The female writer heard this and nodded: "Okay, I think so for the time being. Now, shall we go find other people to communicate? But because of the speculation about the 'murderer' just now, it is estimated that no one will be willing to tell the truth now .”
What she didn't say was that she felt everyone was a suspect.
The pianist shrugged: "This is inevitable. Let's go and find your husband first. He seems to have been staying on the second floor."
The two turned and left the balcony. The female writer looked at the darkness outside that had spread to the balcony railings, and frowned in discomfort.
…
Walking in the dimly lit corridor, the female writer suddenly remembered something and said, "By the way, why didn't you write down the blind girl?"
No one recorded the manner of death of No. 4.
The pianist looked at the ledger and thought, and said casually: "You don't really think that a blind girl will sit there and be shot, do you?"
The female writer said nothing.
"Even people with limited mobility will do something when their lives are threatened, unless that person wants to die." The pianist said slowly: "What's more, blind people have very good hearing. She doesn’t necessarily know that someone is targeting her.”
"..."
The female writer was noncommittal, but she heard another meaning - suicide.
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