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"How is it, do you know me?" Franka looked sideways at the silent Lumian.
Lumian withdrew his gaze from the mirror that was gradually melting into the lake, and replied in a low voice: "Hugues, people from Artois, I have seen him in his campaign team."
Franka frowned, put away the makeup mirror and said, "What happened?"
Lumian gave a general account of what happened to Ruhr and the Michelle couple, and finally said: "This person is very problematic."
Franka said with a sigh: "It's so miserable that you become a waste picker, why do you still encounter such a thing." She then laughed and said: "Hug. Artois can be evaluated by Ms. Yue as a person who is enlightened enough. I won’t be surprised if there are any weird guys around me.” Having said that, Franca paused for a moment, looked at Lumian and said, “Hugue Artois is now a member of Congress. There will be a lack of protection. If we do something against him or the people around him, it will be easy to be traced, and the consequences will be very serious.
"Let's leave this matter to the official Extraordinary for follow-up investigation. I can't guarantee anything else. At least the Purifiers of the Tribunal and the members of the Mechanical Heart will not turn a blind eye to similar things, and will definitely find a way to find out the truth of the matter. and the target situation."
Lumian nodded slowly, and then asked, "Which pathway and sequence would it be? A mouthful of phlegm can make people infected with such a deadly disease."
On the way from Golden Rooster Hotel to White Coat Street, he carefully recalled the low-sequence information of the 22 paths of God recorded in Aurora's witchcraft notes, and found that none of them matched the current situation.
Franka thought about it seriously and said, "My understanding of the twenty-two pathways to God is similar to that of your sister. It's just that I have a deeper understanding of certain aspects. The only sequence that meets the requirements I can think of is One, but it has a higher status and is limited to women, which is inconsistent with the target's situation." Since we have all encountered the great mother and the conjurer of the Mother Tree of Desire, why can't the target be someone who has obtained another evil god's gift?
"Hehe, if it really involves the belief of evil gods, the Extraordinary from the two churches will definitely work harder.
"Well, Ruhr's death is very characteristic. As long as the police who come to investigate the scene are not blind, they will report it to the higher authorities and let someone who can handle it."
Lumian let out a "hmm", and his expression softened a little.
After bidding farewell to Franke, he returned to the Golden Rooster Hotel.
When passing by the front desk, Mrs. Firth stood up, and said a little timidly and obsequiously: "Good morning, Mr. Shire."
A few days ago, the police informed her that Mr. Eve believed in a cult and became a wanted criminal. They asked her to use the rental income during this period to pay for various expenses, maintain the normal operation of the hotel, and keep accounts. When the election is over, they will Handle the issue of where to stay at the Golden Rooster Hotel as soon as possible.
This made Mrs. Firth uneasy, afraid that a new boss would fire her. Therefore, she subconsciously flattered Charles, and hoped that the leader of the Savoyard Party could say a few words for herself—no matter who took over the Golden Rooster Hotel, she would not offend the corresponding gang too much. except.
"Good morning." Lumian responded briefly, and walked up to the third floor along the stairs with a lot of newspapers and pink paper pasted on the walls to cover up stains, cracks, and bedbugs.
He closed the door of Room 302 before the tenants on the third floor got up, so until now, no one has discovered that Ruhr and Michelle are dead.
- Mrs. Michelle's singing before she hanged herself did not disturb the neighbors around. For the tenants living in the street, there will be any noise at night, singing, shooting, fighting, shouting, Athletic, of all sorts, not worth caring about.
Lumian first put the silk handkerchief back to the hidden place in the bathroom, then stopped in front of Room 302, stretched out his left palm wearing a black glove, twisted the handle, and opened the wooden door.
In the room, Mrs. Michelle's body hung quietly. The smell of the food beside Ruhr was mixed with the smell of the surrounding garbage, permeating the brighter light.
Lumian stared at it for more than ten seconds, then turned around and left here slowly.
It was almost eight o'clock. The last time the two policemen were notified, they arrived at the Golden Rooster Hotel and saw Lumian who had been disguised by using "secret-peeping glasses".
"Why did someone die again?" The policeman who had questioned Lumian before asked unhappily.
His face has deep lines, but his facial features are not good, and he looks a bit old.
Lumian calmly replied, "One died of illness. I'm not a doctor, so I can't save him."
"Is there another one?" the policeman asked.
Lumian said frankly: "I was hit and hanged myself."
The old-looking policeman frowned, and turned into room 302 with his companions.
The first thing he saw was Mrs. Michel's body hanging from the window frame, and he instinctively covered his nose.
It's so dirty and smelly here!
Immediately afterwards, his eyes swept over Ruhr's body, and saw the festering and pus-filled skin and flesh.
"Son of a bitch, is this called sickness?" He couldn't help turning his head and looking at Lumian, his eyes were both startled and terrified.
Lumian briefly described what happened last night, but he didn't mention that when Ruhr was in the Roeblin Clinic, the situation had already deteriorated, and he was saved only by filling half a bottle of "healing potion", and he gave the credit to the fool Antipyretics from drug companies.
He also talked about his suspicion that there was an infection source in the pile of garbage that the Ruhrs and his wife collected last night, and he asked them to sleep in room 307, etc., and Mrs. Michel mentioned that there was a silk handkerchief in the bathroom.
After Lumian finished speaking, they quickly went to the bathroom to confirm the existence of the silk handkerchief.
The old-looking policeman glanced at Charles outside, and said to his companion in a low voice: "It's another occult incident, you stay here to watch the scene, and I will report the matter."
The other policeman nodded: "No problem." Lumian watched the division of labor between them, and waited patiently for the arrival of the official Extraordinary.
In less than a quarter of an hour, the old-looking policeman returned to the Golden Rooster Hotel.
Only him.
What about the official Extraordinary? Lumian's eyes widened slightly.
The old-looking policeman avoided Lumian, pulled his companion to the end of the corridor, and started communicating in whispers.
Lumian was far away, and tried to listen, but still couldn't hear what was being said.
After a while, the old-looking policeman walked up to Lumian and said with a serious face, "It's initially confirmed that he died of illness and committed suicide."
Stop doing research? Lumian's eyebrows moved slightly.
The policeman repeated what he said when he took away Flemish's body, put on his gloves, put the silk handkerchief into a cloth bag, and fastened it tightly.
Lumian watched in silence as they put down the corpse, wrapped Ruhr, and put it in a body bag, with various thoughts in his mind: "The official Extraordinary thinks there is no problem with such a death, so there is no need to investigate?" Or, the policeman didn't report the incident, and the official Extraordinary didn't know about it?
"Someone stopped him and asked him to treat this as an ordinary death that did not involve a criminal offense?
After each thought settled down, Lumian quietly followed the policeman who carried the two corpses into the wagon.
He walked farther away, sniffing the lingering smell of Ruhr and Michelle, and followed them all the way to the gate of the Police Headquarters in the market area.
Lumian frowned slightly as he saw the gates where uniformed police officers came in and out from time to time.
He preliminarily suspected that some officer in the police headquarters stopped the two policemen just now, but he couldn't further confirm who it was.
Even if he followed up with the Police Headquarters, given the environment there and his identity, it was impossible for him to trace all the way to the corresponding office, and if he observed outside, he would have no way of knowing who had problems walking out of the gate.
Lumian thought about the direction of the investigation again: "Ask Franka to use divination?
"But there is no intermediary at all." Another way of thinking, why did the police officer stop the investigation? Did he know someone would be involved, or had someone already brought him to the attention of something like this in advance?
"If it's the latter, there's a high probability that it's someone with real power in the congressman's office."
With a thought in his heart, Lumian left the gate of the Police Headquarters and walked quickly to the outside of the khaki four-story building where the congressman's office was located in the market area.
He squatted down at the entrance of the alley across the street, with a group of homeless people.
Not long after, he saw a police officer.
The police officer was round, in his early forties, with brown hair and blue eyes, and on his shoulder straps on a black background were three-petaled silvery-white vetiver irises.
This stands for Chief Inspector, one step below Superintendent.
Watching the chief inspector turn into the congressman's office, Lumian raised the corners of his mouth and showed a slight smile.
The second floor of the khaki four-story building.
Tybalt, with a pale face and curly yellow hair, entered the secretary's office.
The secretary was in his thirties, with black hair combed back neatly, blue eyes blocked by gold-rimmed glasses, regular features, and a gentle demeanor.
Looking at Tybalt, who was coughing intermittently, he threw out a cloth bag and said with a cold expression, "Your handkerchief is back."
Tybalt, with deep yellow curly hair, was dressed in a black formal suit, smiled and said, "It will be soon."
"Asshole." The congressman's secretary scolded, "Don't you know that your phlegm can infect others? Are you not afraid that people from the two churches will find out?"
Tybalt's brown eyes were indifferent, and he said indifferently: "At most two or three untouchables will die, no one will care about them.
"I've been sick for a long time, and I haven't received a new gift, which makes me very irritable and want to kill." The secretary of the congressman looked at him for a few seconds, and reprimanded in a deep voice: "If I hadn't taken precautions in advance, the purifier would have been killed." I'm here to find you." It doesn't matter if you die, don't affect us.
"Tibet, there will be no next time."
Tybalt shrugged his shoulders and accepted the criticism.