In the afternoon, the detectives gathered in the living room of Detective Issinger to continue discussing the case.

Knowing the identity of the killer, Klein didn't figure out how to guide him.

After everyone discussed for a while, Detective Issinger suddenly spoke:

"Yesterday's discussion gave me a lot of inspiration, and I did more research into the victims' family life and their relationship with their husbands, and found something interesting."

Whispering in the living room stopped, and all eyes turned to Isenger, who was sitting in an easy chair.

"I found out that the victims had betrayed their marriages, they all had secret lovers, some had long since broken off their relationship, and some kept in touch until they were killed."

Hearing this, a detective said:

"This must be a breaking point, the murderer must be someone the victims know, otherwise how could they know something that even their husbands don't know."

This is not necessarily, the extraordinary of the demonic path can directly see the uncleanness and depravity, perhaps just by taking one more look at the crowd, they are singled out and planted with a curse.

Klein thought to himself.

Do you want the magic lamp to report it again tonight?

Why don't you go to St. Shelland's Church of the God of Steam and Machines?

Anyway, Klein didn't want the magic lamp to report to St. Samuel's Church of the Goddess of the Night.

"You can start with their friends or servants......"

The discussion continued, and Crane maintained a solemn expression, as if he was listening carefully and thinking carefully, but in fact, he had begun to wander his mind and began to think about what to do if the magic lamp made a big fuss at St. Shelland's church again.

You still have to rely on yourself, the magic lamp is always so unreliable.

Is there any other way to alert the police of the identity of the murderer than to report it directly?

At the end of the discussion, Klein followed Stuart out of Issinger's house, and along the way, Stuart was very active.

He said with a little excitement:

"I prefer this kind of pure homicide to the previous commission with ghost elements, uncovering the truth from complex clues little by little, which excites me, and I feel like my mind is colliding and jumping."

No, it's not pure, the serial killer of the demonic path is much scarier than the Wraith Ghost.

Klein smiled expectantly, echoing the other.

"If we can sift through the points of contact with the victims, we might be able to identify the killer directly, and although it's a big project, I think it's worth the effort."

"Or we can first make a psychological close-up of the murderer, narrow down the screening range, he should be a man, the body is a manual work, and then there may also be a wife who has betrayed him, so he hates women so much, and finally his appearance ...... It should be gloomy, and people with dark psychology are often reflected in their faces and temperament, and they may also look more ordinary or ugly, and have been discriminated against by women......"

On the contrary, he is quite handsome.

Klein retorted inwardly.

When he was about to walk to the subway entrance, Klein suddenly thought that he didn't need to be obsessed with a direct report, just attract the attention of the official extraordinary person and investigate this person, if he could confirm the identity of the murderer, as long as it was appropriate, he could act for the sky as a "grand thief".

After all, with Rosago's extraordinary traits, I'm half a Sequence Five, Crane thought to himself.

……

Stuart had a busy day, investigating the victims' relatives and friends. In the evening, Detective Sherlock, who has always been stingy and never entertains himself with good tea, actually asks to invite himself to dinner to thank him for introducing him to the case of solving serial killers, expanding his network in the detective circle.

Stuart was so happy that he even ordered a lot of drinks at the table, and Detective Sherlock kept a sincere smile all the time.

In order to show off his drinking, Stuart voluntarily rejected Sherlock's offer to hire a horse-drawn carriage, saying that he was not drunk at all, and that he could ride in a public carriage, and that his home was only a short street away from the public carriage stop.

Stepping off the carriage smoothly, Stuart swerved into a sparsely lit street, through which he reached his residence in St. George's quarter, closer to the factory district to the southeast.

The dim streetlights lit up weakly, and the streets were filled with large shadows, and although the alcohol paralyzed Stuart's nerves, he couldn't help but think that ghosts would pop up in the shadows at any moment, so he quickened his pace.

Stuart suddenly noticed that a section of street lamp in front of him was broken, and only one remained, flickering and flickering with difficulty, and it seemed that it would not last long, and it would go out at any moment, and it would make a crackling murmur, which was especially clear in the empty streets of the late winter night.

In the vague darkness, Stuart faintly saw a crouching silhouette, who seemed to be wearing a hood and a robe, and his arms were waving rhythmically up and down, making an untidy dull sound.

Stuart took a few steps forward, trying to see what the man was doing.

At this time, the red moon swam through the gaps of several thick clouds, and sprinkled a faint crimson on the earth.

I saw that the thing in the man's hand flashed with cold light, reflecting a blood-red light, and I could vaguely see drops of bright red falling, and then I looked at the ground, pieces of unknown objects were scattered irregularly, and there was a pile of crimson around that I couldn't see what it was, and there was a liquid bubbling and spreading.

Stuart's wine woke up in one fell swoop.

The hooded man immediately stood up and turned around, raising his sharp dagger in front of Stuart.

At this time, the street lamp that still had one breath left just returned to its light, and the orange light shone on the man's face, and a handsome face was clearly reflected in Stuart's eyes, with a thick malice.

"Kill...... Kill...... Kill! ”

"Help!"

"Murder!"

"Help!"

Stuart turned and ran, oblivious to the liquid running down his trousers.

He shouted as he ran, his feet stomping on the ground, and he ran desperately towards St. Sylland's church, which was much closer than the police station.

Stuart had never run so fast in his life, and he didn't bother to see if anyone was chasing behind him, he just ran forward desperately.

He felt like his lungs were going to explode, and he was soaking wet, and the little wine he had drunk at night had already evaporated.

Finally, he saw the spire of the triangular emblem with gears and levers, and he slammed into it like a runaway carriage.

This action immediately alarmed the worshippers who had not yet left the church, as well as the bishops and priests who presided over the confession and confession.

Seeing his embarrassed appearance, a priest immediately came up to inquire about the situation, and Stuart gasped so hard that he could not even speak.

The priest waited patiently in place, and after a long time Stuart spoke hoarsely:

"I've hit the scene of the killing, it's the one, the serial killer."