Lumian was equally surprised and cast a sympathetic look at Charlie.
Seeing the two companions walking upstairs, the police officer who handcuffed Charlie simply explained: Charlie was scared and confused: "How could it be, how could she die..."
"She was still alive when I left, really! I swear to Saint-Vieve!"
"According to the preliminary autopsy report, Mrs. Alice's death time was between 11 o'clock last night and 1 o'clock in the morning, and except for you and Mrs. Alice, there were no traces left by anyone else there."
Maybe the others are not human? Lumian thought of the ghost of Montsuri and couldn't help but sneered.
At this moment, a policeman who had quietly left just now came down from the fifth floor, holding a shining diamond necklace with his left palm wearing white gloves.
"I didn't! Did you hear that? I didn't!" Charlie shouted miserably, struggling with all his strength.
This had no effect, and he was carried away from the "Golden Rooster Hotel" by two policemen.
At this time, several tenants had heard the sound and came to the stairs and saw this scene.
This includes Gabriel, who seems to have just stayed up late to finish his manuscript.
"Do you think it was Charlie who did it?" Lumian looked at the corridor where there was no one left, and asked the playwright standing beside him thoughtfully.
Gabriel came out early and roughly understood what happened to Charlie.
He shook his head and said: "I don't believe it was Charlie who did it. He is not a good person, but he is not a bad person either."
Gabriel pushed up the black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose: "He was defrauded of money before and almost starved to death, but he never thought of stealing the belongings of our neighbors.
"This shows that he either has his own principles and bottom line, or is very afraid of the law, and no matter which possibility is enough, it is enough to prove that he will not murder the wife."
Lumian nodded first, then chuckled: "But people are impulsive and can change."
After saying that, he went up the stairs step by step and reached the fifth floor.
This is the top floor of the "Golden Rooster Hotel". The ceiling above has large areas of marks that have been wetted and dried by water. It seems that water will seep in when it rains heavily.
Lumian walked to the door of Room 504 where Charlie lived, took out the small piece of wire he carried with him, and opened the wooden door. Charlie's suitcase, bed, and wooden table had all been turned over by the two policemen, and all kinds of items were in a mess.
They are on display, but their number is quite limited.
——When Charlie and Charlie were drinking and chatting in the basement bar before, Lumian heard him mention that when he was unemployed, he went to a pawn shop to mortgage his only formal suit and mortgaged a lot of things, but he has not been able to redeem it until now. Stepping inside, Lumian suddenly saw a portrait as his eyes moved slowly.
It is posted on the wall opposite the bed and depicts a woman wearing a green dress.
The woman was in her mid-twenties, with reddish-brown hair, green eyes, red lips, delicate face, and elegant temperament.
Lumian was stunned for a moment, feeling that the woman in the painting looked very familiar.
He knew that this should be Susanna Matisse, a famous prostitute who was mistaken for Saint-Vieve by Charles.
But he has never seen this woman before, so there is no reason why he would think she looks familiar.
After pondering for a while, Lumian suddenly remembered something.
When he was doing the beckoning dance in Room 207 some time ago, he attracted a translucent figure that was obviously stronger than other creatures.
The figure is also female, very similar to Susanna Matisse in the portrait, except that one has green hair and the other has brown hair, one is long enough to cover her naked body, and the other can only be styled in a normal bun.
Also, that figure is even more charming, as if it can directly arouse the hidden desires in everyone's heart, and Susanna Matisse's portrait does not make Lumian excited.
"Has random prayer caused problems?" Lumian nodded invisibly.
After checking for a while, he left room 504, took the carbide lamp, went to Market Avenue and took a public carriage to the observatory area.
Entering the underground and heading to the area where Austa Trull usually hangs out, Lumian looked at the darkness behind the stone pillars from time to time.
In this regard, he laughed at himself and said: "You won't meet the ghost of Montsuri again, will you?"
If this was really the case, he would have to consider whether there was a special connection between the Montsuri ghost and something in him, or whether that person's pollution had been sealed, but it had indirectly changed his "zodiac sign" and changed his luck.
It became extremely bad.
Fortunately, Lumian's worries did not come true. He successfully saw the bonfire and Aosta Trull sitting under the stone pillar.
The man wearing a hood and a black robe glanced at Lumian and smiled from the bottom of his heart: "Mr. K allows you to attend our occult party every other Wednesday at nine o'clock in the evening." At nine o'clock in the evening the day after tomorrow, Lumian smiled and nodded: "Where is the party?"
"You come to my place to find me an hour in advance, and I will take you there." Aosta replied without hesitation. Lumian said "hmm": "I will pay you the balance then."
"Okay." Although Aosta was a little disappointed, he could still accept it.
Lumian asked instead: "What should I pay attention to when attending that party?"
Lumian smiled: "You have seen my face and know my identity. After the first party, should I consider burying you in some corner of Trier underground?"
Aosta shuddered instinctively, forced a smile and said: "You are so funny.
"But I don't know who you are, where you live, and what you do. Besides, your current appearance shouldn't be the most realistic."
After scaring the other party and enjoying the harvest, Lumian found a rock to sit down, enjoying the warmth brought by the campfire, and asked casually: Hundreds of thousands of Filkin? Lumian was a little surprised: "A high-end socialite
Earn more than most best-selling authors?"
"Isn't this normal?" Aosta said with a weird expression on his face, "High-end socialites can sleep in the beds of congressmen, bankers, and senior officials, but best-selling authors can't."
"I prefer the body." Aosta is quite honest.
Lumian asked again: "No." Aosta shook his head.
"If there is such a female ghost, I would like to meet it once."
Lumian stood up and laughed softly: "Then be prepared to come dozens of times a night and eventually die suddenly."
""Aosta's expression instantly froze on his face.
Three o'clock in the afternoon, No. 27 Market Avenue, Candide Market District Police Headquarters.
After spending nearly 300 Firkin on three sets of clothes of different grades, affordable cosmetics, and other disguise props, Lumian appeared in the extremely noisy hall with people coming and going.
Some people were brought in, some were lucky enough to leave, some were arguing loudly, swearing, some were slamming the table and banging the stools, "I am Charlie Corrente's public interest lawyer, and I want to see my client."