"What?" Charlie couldn't believe his ears.

Lumian was equally surprised, and cast a sympathetic glance at Charlie.

He felt that Charlie had no motive to murder Mrs. Alice, after all, as long as the other party lived, Charlie would receive 500 filkins every month for the next six months, and according to some magazines and newspapers, this was close to the monthly salary of a doctor, a lawyer, a middle-level civil servant (section chief level), a senior high school teacher, a senior engineer, and a deputy police inspector, which was a very considerable wealth for a man who had almost starved to death before and was now only a trainee waiter.

Seeing the two companions walking upstairs, the police officer who handcuffed Charlie explained briefly:

"Mrs. Alice was found dead this morning in her room at the White Swan Hotel, and according to many witnesses, you slept there last night and did not leave until close to midnight."

Charlie was frightened and confused: "How could it be, how could she die......"

Muttering to himself, he looked at the officer sharply and said urgently, "She was still alive when I left, really!" I swear to Saint-Viève! ”

"According to the preliminary autopsy report, Mrs. Alice died between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m. last night, and there are no traces of anyone else except you and Mrs. Alice," the officer said in a deep voice. ”

Maybe the others aren't people? Lumian thought of the ghost of Montsouris and couldn't help but sneer.

If it weren't for the fact that he lacked enough camouflage to attract the attention of the detectives, he would have said it directly.

"Impossible, damn it, this can't be!" Charlie's eyes widened and he shouted.

At this moment, a policeman who had quietly left just now came down from the fifth floor, wearing white gloves and clutching a diamond necklace with radiance on his left palm.

"I found this!" He said to the police officer he was leading with.

The officer nodded, no longer explained, looked at him, and said solemnly:

"I didn't! Did you hear that? I didn't! Charlie shouted bitterly, struggling as hard as he could.

This did not work, and he was carried out of the "Golden Rooster Hotel" by two policemen.

By this time, several tenants had heard the sound and came to the staircase and saw the scene.

That includes Gabriel, who seems to have just stayed up late to finish the manuscript.

"Do you think Charlie did it?" Lumian looked at the empty hallway, and asked thoughtfully about the playwright standing beside him.

Gabriel came out early and roughly understood what had happened to Charlie.

He shook his head and said, "I don't believe Charlie did it, he's not a good person, but he's not a bad person either." ”

"Why do you say that?" Lumian asked, tilting his head.

Gabriel pushed the black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose: "He was cheated out of money and almost starved to death, but he never thought of stealing from our neighbors.

"This shows that he either has his own principles and bottom line, or he is very afraid of the law, and either possibility is enough to prove that he will not murder the wife."

Lumian nodded first, then chuckled: "But people are impulsive and changeable. ”

With that, he went up the stairs to the fifth floor.

This is the top floor of the "Golden Rooster Hotel", and the ceiling above has a large area of traces of being wet and dried up by water, and it seems that some water will seep into it when it rains heavily.

Lumian walked to the door of room 504, where Charlie lived, pulled out a small piece of wire that he had with him, and opened the wooden door.

Charlie's suitcase, bed, and wooden table had all been rummaged through by the two officers before him, and various items were arranged in a disorderly manner, but their number was quite limited.

- When he was drinking and chatting with Charlie in the basement bar, Lumian heard him mention that when he was unemployed, he went to the pawnshop to mortgage the only formal suit, and mortgaged a lot of things, and he has not been able to redeem it until now.

Step inside, his gaze moving slowly, and Lumian Huoran saw a portrait.

It is plastered on the wall opposite the bed and depicts a woman in a long green dress.

The woman looked like she was twenty-seven or eighteen years old, with brown hair, green eyes, ruddy lips, a delicate countenance, and an elegant temperament.

Lumian was stunned for a moment, and felt that the woman in the painting was very familiar.

He knew that it was supposed to be Susanna, a famous prostitute mistaken for Sainteve-Viève by Charlie. Matisse.

But he had never seen this woman before, and there was no reason to think that the other party's face was familiar.

After pondering for a while, Lumian suddenly remembered something for a while.

Some time ago, when he was dancing in Room 207, he attracted a translucent figure that was significantly stronger than the other creatures.

The figure is also a woman, and Suzanne in the portrait. Matisse is very similar, except that his hair is turquoise and brownish-red, one long enough to wrap around his naked body, and the other can only be curled up in a normal bun.

Also, the figure is even more charming, as if it can directly trigger the hidden desires in everyone's heart, and Susanna. Matisse's portrait did not make Lumien excited.

"Asking for a problem?" Lumian nodded invisibly.

In the past, he would not have thought that there was anything wrong with Charlie's actions at that time - if he could really avoid starvation, let alone think that he was the patron angel of Trier, even if he knew that he was a prostitute, he would pray.

And now, after having a certain understanding of the introductory sequence of the twenty-two divine paths, the sacrificial taboos, and the related occult knowledge through Aurore's witchcraft notes, Lumian knows that sometimes, it is very dangerous to pray indiscriminately.

After checking for a while, he left room 504, grabbed the calcium carbide lamp, and went to Market Avenue to take a public carriage to the observatory area.

Go underground and head to Aosta. As Trull frequented the area, Lumian occasionally surveyed the darkness behind the stone pillars.

In response, he laughed to himself: "You won't meet the ghost of Montsouris again, will you?" ”

If this is the case, he has to consider whether the ghost of Montsouris has a special connection with something in him, or if the pollution of that person, although sealed, has indirectly changed his "constellation", making his luck extremely bad.

Fortunately, Lumian's fears did not materialize, and he was able to see the campfire and Aosta sitting under the stone pillar. Trull.

The hooded man in the black robe smiled heartily when he caught eye on Lumian, "Mr. K has allowed you to attend our occult gathering at nine o'clock on Wednesday evenings every two weeks. ”

Aosta's eyes were unusually sincere, as if it was time to give money.

9 p.m. the day after tomorrow...... Lumian smiled and nodded:

"Where is the meeting?"

"You come to my place an hour early to find me, and I'll take you there." Aosta replied without hesitation.

Lumian said "um": "I'll pay you the balance then." ”

"Okay." Aosta was a little disappointed, but acceptable.

Lumian instead asked, "What should I be aware of when attending that party?" ”

"Cover your face, hide your identity." Aosta said experiencedly, "You don't want other participants to confess to you after being caught by the authorities, right?" Except for Mr. K, who can control everything, no one else can. “

Lumian smiled: "You've seen my face, you know who I am, after the first meeting, should I consider burying you in a corner of Trier underground?" ”

Aosta instinctively shuddered, forced a smile and said, "You have such a good sense of humor.

"But I don't know who you are, I don't know where you live, what you do, and besides, your current appearance should not be the most real."

After scaring the other party into a pleasant harvest, Lumian found a stone and sat down, enjoying the warmth of the campfire, and asked casually, "Have you heard of Susanna. Matisse? “

"Yes." Aosta replied a little excitedly, "For a while, she was the girl of my dreams, and I bought a lot of posters and celebrity films with her pictures on them. In the past few years, she was Trier's most famous prostitute, the kind that could attend high-society dinners, and had scandals with many parliamentarians, executives, and wealthy people, and it was said that she could earn hundreds of thousands of Filkins every year, but in the past two or three years, she has not appeared much, and was robbed of Trier's famous courtesan status by "Nana", hey, she may have become a fixed mistress of anyone. “

Hundreds of thousands of Filkin? Lumian was a little surprised: "A high-class courtesan earns more than most best-selling authors?" ”

"Isn't that normal?" Aosta had a strange expression on his face, "High-class courtesans can sleep in the beds of parliamentarians, bankers, and high-ranking officials, but best-selling authors cannot." ”

Lumian said amusementively and self-deprecatingly: "Yes, the poet Bolaire 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 candid.

Lumien asked again, "Then have you heard of the legend of a female ghost, her hair is blue-green, long enough to wrap around her body, and her facial features are very delicate, which can charm most men and arouse their desires." ”

No. Aosta shook her head.

He then said with a look of longing: "If there really is such a female ghost, I would love to meet it once." ”

Lumian stood up and laughed in a low voice, "Then you are prepared to come dozens of times a night and eventually die suddenly." ”

"......" Aosta's expression instantly froze on her face.

......

Three p.m., 27 Market Avenue, Candid's Market District Police Headquarters.

Lumian, who spent nearly 300 Felkin to buy three sets of clothes of different grades, cheap cosmetics, and other camouflage props, appeared in the hall where people came and went unusually noisy.

Someone was brought in, someone was lucky to leave, someone was arguing loudly and swearing, someone slapped the table and banged on the stool......

With neatly combed blonde hair, black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, two whiskers on his mouth, and visibly pale cheeks, Lumian, dressed in a black suit and carrying a brown briefcase, walked towards a male police officer in charge of reception.

He stopped in front of the other party, raised his head slightly, and said very confidently, "I'm Charlie. A pro bono lawyer at Corrente, I want to see my client. ”

Note 1: I have the impression that Baudelaire said it, but I didn't find the source for a while, and it may be someone else's statement.