Procott stared viciously at the few people standing in front of him, his gaze scanning back and forth.

He lifted his handkerchief to him, and the security guards shuddered.

"You're doing a good job."

Proctor reached into his coat and took out a wad of money, probably more than a thousand dollars, from his pocket.

He slapped the money on one of them. "It's a reward for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Procout."

The man hurriedly took the money and said thank you vaguely, his chin bruised and swollen.

Proctor looked around, and everyone in the club was looking at him.

"I will never treat those who do things for me."

"The premise is that he does things for me."

"Someone like that." Proctor waved his arm and shouted at Simos, who had fainted on the ground:

"Those who take my money but don't do anything for me have only one end."

At that moment, Borden picked up half a bottle of whiskey from the table next to him and walked up to Simus and swung it at his head.

"Bang."

The bottle exploded.

The smell of alcohol in the club instantly became a little stronger, and Borden smiled and casually threw the bottle neck aside.

"Throw this person out, clean up the club, and tomorrow at noon, I want this place to resume business normally."

Proctor gave Borden an explanation, then buttoned up his suit and strode toward the office.

At this time, the Banshee Town Police Station was as lively as a vegetable market.

To be precise, it should be as lively as a strip club.

The room was full of warblers and swallows, and the smell of cheap perfume was filled with the smell of cheap perfume, and there was a lot of noise and shouting, and Ethan felt his head swell for a while.

He walked over to the makeshift cell and pulled the barred door open.

Inside stood a dozen strippers, scantily clad and impatient.

Ethan looked at one of the women, chewing gum in her mouth, denim shorts, and a sleeveless floral shirt.

None of the buttons of the shirt were buttoned, revealing the green bra and most of the white rabbit inside.

Ethan pointed to the pen and said very simply:

"You, come out."

When she came out, Ethan closed the door and led her back to her seat.

He pulled out his chair and sat down, picked up the notebook and said:

"I'll ask you a few questions, and it won't take much of your time if you cooperate."

The green-covered woman rolled her eyes, "I don't know anything, I'm just working there." ”

Ethan tapped the notebook with his pen and asked:

"What's your name?"

"Marilyn Monroe."

Ethan stopped with his pen and stared at her with a cold look in his eyes.

The green-covered woman was startled by his gaze and slowed down her chewing gum.

She glanced left and right at the people around her, and said with fearlessness:

"Did you see me doing anything illegal on the spot?"

"If not, I won't tell you anything."

Ethan suddenly felt speechless, asked a few words, and pushed her into the temporary detention room.

He looked at the noisy office area, where they were all seated and now interrogated together.

Seven or eight people were talking at the same time, buzzing like a bunch of flies.

Four or five meters away from the office area is the temporary detention room, in which all the strippers brought back to the police station are located.

The temporary detention chamber is two large iron cages separated by an iron fence, and the people inside can clearly see and hear what they are talking to or asking.

Ethan closed the door, returned to his desk, and knocked on it.

Brock, Emmett, and Siobhan all stopped what they were doing and looked up.

"Go in and say."

Ethan shook his head at the sheriff's office and walked in first.

Hood was looking inside at the transcript of the questioning, and there was no clue, and he smoked impatiently.

Seeing several subordinates hula walking in, he hurriedly sat up straight.

"Any clues?"

Ethan waited for Siobhan to close the door, patted the transcript in his hand, and said:

"If you ask that, they won't give away the slightest bit of information."

"They are afraid of Procott's revenge, so I suggest that this be the case, and then the trial will be separated."

"The equipment room, the reception desk at the front door, the offices here, the locker rooms, and the mini shooting range at the back all come in handy, all talking individually."

"While creating psychological stress, it also gives them a safe space to talk."

There are too many people arrested this time, and the Banshee Town Police Station is a small police station, so it can only be operated like this now.

Hearing Ethan's words, several other people hurriedly nodded.

Leaving the office, they quickly changed the location of the interrogation and sat up from a long distance.

Ethan then came to the cell and looked inside.

One of them, a black woman in a floral dress and a denim jacket, stood quietly in the corner of the cell with a blue satchel.

He pulled the iron fence open and beckoned to the black woman.

She followed Ethan all the way inside, pushing open the partition door, and at the innermost point was the police station's fitness area and a simple shooting range.

The two sat down at the round table in the middle, and Ethan pulled out his chair and pulled out a cigarette.

"Do you want one?"

"Thank you."

The black woman took the cigarette and leaned over to the flame to light it.

Ethan lit another one for himself and covered it with a lighter.

When she got inside, it was much cleaner, and Ethan went to the water dispenser next to her to get her a glass of water, and then took the ashtray and flicked the ash on it.

The black woman looked left and right and took a deep puff on her cigarette.

"I remember you."

Ethan looked up, "Is there such a thing?" ”

The black woman nodded, "Some time ago, you came to the club with a strangely dressed man, and you gave me a lot of tips at that time. ”

Ethan scratched his face with his fingers and thought about it carefully.

"Electric buttocks?"

"That's right." She smiled slightly, "I am very impressed with you, you are one of the few customers in our club who is generous and clean." ”

"That's a shame."

Ethan shook his head, "I thought it was my handsome looks that caught your attention. ”

She chuckled a few times, and her body relaxed.

"My name is Ethan."

The black woman looked at the palm placed in front of her, thought for a moment, and shook Ethan's hand.

"Miranda."

"I guess you know what we're doing, right?" Ethan asked, turning his pen.

"Of course, no one is stupid, and you want to get Proctor in trouble."

Miranda took a deep puff of her cigarette and raised her eyebrows and said, "But I think your efforts have been in vain." ”

Ethan's pen turned to a halt: "Why do you say that?" ”

She leaned back in her chair, looked at the water glass in front of her and said:

"Trust me, Procott is more terrifying to those girls than you, and they won't say anything to you."

"If I offend you, it's a big deal to pay a fine and squat for a few days."

"Offending Procott, you don't need me to say, you know what the consequences are."

(End of chapter)