Several policemen in black and white checkered uniforms followed the landlord who opened the door and entered, covering their mouths with their hands.

There was a strong smell of blood inside!

"Officer, I don't know what happened. The other tenants said that there seems to be a lot of blood here, and they can smell it through the walls and the door." The landlord wearing a silk top hat looked around timidly, I don't want to stay in the room for a second.

The black-haired and blue-eyed police officer with the inspector's epaulettes waved his hand and said, "You wait at the door first, I have something to ask you."

As he spoke, he put on his white gloves and turned his gaze to the wooden door of the bedroom.

However, he was not in a hurry to go in, and looked around slowly, taking all the surrounding situations into his eyes:

A pile of coal, a cabinet for storing tableware and ingredients, a small stove, a well-cleaned iron pan, a slightly greasy table, two round stools on the ground, two reclining chairs, several A glass bottle containing an unknown powder, and a stack of scattered Tarot cards.

"A occultist with an average financial situation?" The black-haired and blue-eyed inspector nodded slightly, made a judgment, and then signaled one of his subordinates to open the bedroom door.

With a creak, more bloody smell came out.

The police officer who opened the door glanced inside, let out a short scream, and stepped back a few steps.

The leading inspector frowned slightly, pressed the shoulder of the retreating officer, crossed the obstacle, and approached the bedroom.

He swept his eyes, and his expression changed immediately.

In the bedroom, on the wooden bed, a man was lying there with his hands tied to the guardrail above his head.

He was naked, and there were thin and deep cracks on his body. The blood had already drained dry, staining the bed sheet below and the quilt next to him dark red.

At first glance, the dead man seemed to be tightly entangled with iron wires, strangled the skin and flesh, and strangled into the bones.

Such a picture still has a strong impact on the police who have seen many murder scenes.

And with a certain ritual-like sense of evil.

Just when the chief inspector was about to say something, two people suddenly rushed into the room, one tried to take a picture, and the other asked a series of questions: "Another murder?

"Has there been a lot of murders in the East End recently?

"Officer, do you think it's a serial murder?"

The black-haired and blue-eyed inspector frowned even deeper. He waved his hands and said, "Don't destroy the scene, or I will regard you as criminal accomplices."

He immediately said to the policeman before him, "Callis, ask the two reporters to go out and tell them that if they have any questions, they should contact the press office at the Sivelas Field."

When the reporters were invited out of the murder scene, the inspector sighed and said, "It's going to be in the newspapers again, damn it!"

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Queens, in the luxury villa of Earl Hall's family.

"Another murder case occurred in the East District. The victim was suspected of being abused during his lifetime..." Audrey, who had finished dinner, casually flipped through the "Becklund Evening Post" in the living room.

Hearing his daughter's whisper to himself, Earl Hall shook his head and sighed, "In the Eastern District, this is not news. Statistics show that people die there every day, more than one."

Audrey didn't pay much attention to this matter. After chatting with her father, mother, and brother for a while, she returned to her room with her golden retriever Susie.

One person and one dog had a tacit understanding, and there was no verbal communication. The latter stood guard at the door and acted as a guard, while Audrey locked the door of the house, sat by the bed, and silently called Mister Fool's honorable name.

After waiting for a few seconds, a crimson light surged out of her eyes, drowning everything. JrNovels.com