Thinking of this, Vodka carefully evaluated the painter's physique and felt that he didn't look like a practicing artist.
He then looked at the painter's body where a gun could be hidden, and found that the man did not carry such a dangerous weapon.
Vodka then spoke, pretending to be curious: "What are you drawing?"
The painter was obsessed with the world in his painting and ignored him.
The "new doctor" happened to be not far from the painter. Hearing this, he came closer and took a curious look.
After seeing the scene on the sketch clearly, she raised her eyebrows and almost smiled at the corners of her eyes. Fortunately, as a professional movie queen, Belmode quickly controlled her expression, and she looked shocked and unbelievable.
: "Mr. Yamada just sprained his foot, but he's not dead. Why did you draw him like this?"
Vodka: "?"
He just randomly found a guy who didn't look like a good guy to cause trouble, but now, this guy is actually painting him?
And judging from what Belmod said, this is definitely not a good painting!
The curiosity that Vodka had pretended just now suddenly became more real. He couldn't help but stride...pretending to be limping as he approached, looking down at the artist's painting.
On the pale paper, lead-gray lines are roughly arranged, outlining an extremely bloody scene - in the picture, "Mr. Yamada" is lying crooked in a bush, his right leg is bent backward unnaturally, and his neck is strangled.
There were several fishing lines attached, and a sharpened arrow was stuck deep in his back.
He seemed to have stepped into many traps at the same time. There was fear and confusion on his angular face, and his sunglasses fell off, revealing a pair of slightly bulging eyes. Staring at those unbending eyes, Vodka inexplicably felt like he was already dead.
The illusion.
"This, this..." Vodka never expected to see such a ghost thing, and he was shocked. "What kind of hatred does this sinister and terrifying painter have against me? I didn't provoke him before!"
Just as this thought flashed across his mind, Vodka thought of the painter he had "randomly" chosen to ward off the disaster, and then thought of himself being targeted by the painter for some reason, and he suddenly felt a chill as he was dominated by fate.
"Just now...did I really choose the painter of my own free will?" Vodka was surprised, "Which one wants the painter to help me ward off disasters, is it me or Uzo? I have always felt that I am sober, but why?
…”
"What kind of painting can actually scare you like this?" A black hand stretched out from the side, interrupting Vodka's thoughts.
Hattori Heiji grabbed the artist's painting and glanced at it curiously. When he saw the image clearly, he also fell into silence.
"Uh..." Hattori Heiji chose his words and said dryly, "Very creative."
This image of death is very realistic, which shows the artist's skill. However...
Hattori Heiji glanced at Vodka in confusion: Isn't it just a painting? Why does this guy look so frightened? Could it be that the members of this organization are very superstitious and care about such unlucky things?
Thinking of this, Hattori Heiji touched his chin thoughtfully: "..." This is something that can be used. If the wronged soul of "Kudo Shinichi" comes to shout his grievances in the future, he might be able to scare him into surrendering.
.
He couldn't help but feel happy imagining that scene. At the same time, he gave Conan the drawing in his hand, wanting to share the joy with this unlucky high school client.
However, as soon as the picture book was handed out, it was "accidentally" bumped into by a passing doctor. The picture book flew out of Hattori Heiji's hand and fell to the ground with a crash.
"I'm sorry, I tripped over the carpet just now and didn't see you stretching out your arms." "Doctor Shinde" flattened the carpet that had been lifted up at some point under his feet, and bent down to pick up the scattered paintings.
Hattori Heiji thought to himself that it was bad luck and bent down to pick it up.
At this moment, Suzuki Sonoko discovered something. She leaned over and picked up a scattered piece of drawing paper: "What is drawn on it... seems to be a boat?"
In addition to various death sketches, there are also a few normal pictures in Kobayashi Seiji's picture album.
One of them depicts a lakeshore with dense trees and a small boat in the water.
Hearing this, Jiang Xia walked to Suzuki's garden, took the painting in her hand and looked at it: "The types of trees are the same as those on the lakeside, and the density of vegetation is similar, but the location is not on the side where we fish."
"So this is really a portrait?" Hattori Heiji's eyes lit up and he asked the artist, "Is there really a boat by the lake? Where is it? Take me there and have a look!"
Kobayashi Seiji took back his album and held it without saying a word.
"..."
The painter didn't seem to be easy to communicate with, but artists had some quirks, and Hattori Heiji didn't bother with him.
He turned to look at another person: "Mr. Kujo, you are the tour guide here, so you should have some knowledge of these facilities."
The tour guide's eyes averted and he was stared at by a group of Tokyo high school students for a few seconds before reluctantly nodding.
He said with a dry endorsement: "In order to facilitate tourists to experience the water scenery, there is indeed a small boat set up by the lake..."
"Why didn't you tell us about such a big thing earlier?" Hattori Heiji looked at the painter Kobayashi and then at the tour guide, and couldn't help but raise his voice, "If we could row away from here, or find someone to row out and call the police, we would have been saved long ago.
——Did you two discuss it in advance? You knew there was a boat in the water, but you didn't say a word!"
The two men lowered their heads silently.
Jiang Xia looked at the album, raised his hand and patted the distracted Vodka next to him: "Anyway, let's go to the lake first."
Vodka: "?!"
…
The group left the villa and, under the reluctant guidance of the tour guide, avoided possible traps and came all the way to the lake.
Passing through the thickets, they saw the vast and clear Lake of Sorrow and a narrow bay.
A four- to five-meter-long trestle was built in the inlet. At the end of the trestle, a small boat with a motor parked there quietly, shining like a savior against the light of the water.
"There really is a boat!" Mao Lilan patted her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. But soon, she looked at the vast mountain forest on the other side of the lake and became worried again, "It doesn't look like there are residents on the other side, even if
Success passed..."
"……makes sense."
Suzuki Sonoko was also excited to leave, but when she came to the lake, her enthusiasm was extinguished.
——Because the ship looked really small, and the bilge was in tatters and had not been repaired for an unknown period of time. It was hard not to think of the suspension bridge trampled on by vodka.
"Is this boat really usable?" Suzuki Sonoko stepped on the creaking old trestle and walked all the way to the edge of the boat. She stretched out her toes and stepped on the bottom of the bilge in disdain, and carefully evaluated, "Is it just right?