Chapter 32 Chapter 8 Death mask

All wicked people are always afraid of seeing the sun, so it is not easy to analyze the wicked deeply; because the wicked deny that they are not perfect, and automatically give up those opportunities to analyze themselves.In this sense, Vincent Francis is definitely an alternative. There are not many new things in the life of the detention center: baths are arranged twice a week; food supply is fixed and rationed every day; routine meetings with lawyers and prosecutors, etc. In view of the seriousness of the case Vincent committed, he has been put in shackles; and because of his cruel methods, he has been assigned to a single room, which is a good thing for him or others.

Mr. Writer’s personal belongings are all under surveillance until the day he is acquitted or tried for treason, these things will be handed over to him, or kept by other people - depending on the "dangerousness" of those things in prison ” It depends—for example, the necklace that Vincent has been obsessed with and that his mother gave him should not appear in the prison anyway, lest it be used as a tool for strangling others. Wearing fetters is also an art, dragging something that is heavy and must rattle; in less than half a day, blisters will appear around the ankle bone; if you still don't pay attention, these blisters will soon disappear It will rot, leaving an indelible mark on the prisoner for life.

Seth Waller had already entrusted someone to take care of him, so the man in shackles at the same time "kindly" found some cotton and put it on Vincent's ankle-in fact, this is not necessary, Vincent He doesn’t have to work, and he only walks two hundred steps to meet with his lawyer every day. Once you put on the shackles—then other rules of the detention center will take effect; In the "House", the person on duty will bring you three meals a day.Things like excretion are also resolved in your private space.This is an unwritten rule.Even with the permission of some powerful people, Vincent can smoke "indoors" - of course, this requires more attention from the on-duty staff.

Vincent took a shower four days ago, so he doesn't look like a ragged beggar huddled in a corner.But most of the time of the day, he really huddled in the corner, looking out from time to time, or simply studying the mottled patterns on the wall. It was a pair of wild dog eyes. The favor of his own territory and the hostile feeling caused by the unfamiliarity with the new environment basically disappeared after two weeks; he seemed to be observing everyone around him, pondering See if they can put food in their mouth. Some unconventional writers, who don't know which nerves are wrong, try to get into the prison to experience life; and after a day or two, they want to get out of this damn place with a broken forehead.Vincent laughed out loud at the thought of this, some boneless bastards.The way he smiles is full of masculinity - he is already handsome, but now the tough mustaches and deeply sunken eye sockets that poke out of the skin under his eyes add to his downbeat unique charm.

He had only shaved the day before - at the suggestion of lawyer Ken, to impress the jury. Vincent was a little bored, so he said, "Hey, do you remember what happened that night?" "Which one are you referring to?" Someone answered in a low voice. The guard on duty glanced at this side, and didn't bother to pay attention - he was also a person who had been taken care of by the general's subordinates. "One winter, the meeting was over. I poured a glass of Martell and went into the living room, intending to sit by the fire and open the reader's letters."

"At this time, you heard the sound of a car starting," the voice continued, "so you went outside the house to check, but you didn't expect it was me." "Yes, unexpectedly." The prisoner in the "single room" on the opposite side tilted his head and blinked strangely at Vincent. "Did you run out of gas?" Vincent recalled. "I don't think so, that's what I answered at the time." "You think so? What's the fuel gauge showing?" There was an apologetic smile in that voice: "Ah, the pointer is pointing to zero."

"Since the fuel gauge shows zero, why do you think the fuel tank is empty?" Vincent felt annoyed and funny. "Because the needle on the fuel gauge is always zero." "What do you mean by that? Could it be that the fuel gauge is broken?" The Martell in Vincent's hand shook a few times, appearing incomprehensible. "No," the man told him, "at least I don't think it's broken. I never fill up more than a few gallons at a time, so I can be sure I don't waste oil. And, when it's necessary It’s also fun to play a guessing game in your head with a little extra fuel. I’m a master at it.”

"So," Vincent looked curious, "how many times have you encountered this kind of miscalculation? Like today." "Not often, maybe once or twice a year." "Really?" Vincent laughed, a weird habit—everything is under control, and Vincent who found out this secret was very comfortable, "So what are you going to do now?" His words were not lacking in irony. "If I could come in and make a phone call... Is that what I said?" "That's right, but I just lost the manuscript, and you know it, so I couldn't agree to your request. It was already past nine o'clock in the evening, and it was considered a suburb, and most people would not allow this. Don't blame me .”

"No, of course not! So, I have a new request, can I borrow some gasoline from your car?" "It should be fine," Vincent agreed at the time without hesitation, "but I don't have tools to get the oil. You're like, 'I have,' you're very happy,' I put them in In the trunk, just in case.'” "Did you think I did it on purpose?" "Some doubts. Then, I found the bucket and funnel, and you took out the siphon. Then, I started pumping you, oh my god, almost a gallon. You drove away. I went back to the house, all over the body. It was cold. On the one hand, it was because the weather was really cold, and on the other hand, the taste of Martell Wenwen had changed, very weak! The smell of gasoline in my mouth made me unable to taste the taste of wine. Hey, this night, my mouth It just smells like gasoline."

"I'm very sorry……" "Forget it, you bad boy!" "Two years, maybe not yet." Vincent suddenly remembered something, "By the way, is your autism getting better?" Vincent Francis in the detention center has resumed his old job before writing—of course, this is somewhat different from his college days—he is in handcuffs, and his client is not Sitting on a soft sofa... "How is Vincent doing here?" Yang Ke didn't find time to rush to the detention center until that night.After coming out of Hancock's widow's house, he returned to the police station, met with the analyst and the busy Speed ​​and Seth, and got a general understanding of the doubts about Hancock's death.

"He's fine, um, he hasn't suffered anything." The guard on duty replied neatly, and kept looking at Yang Ke. He was as young as himself, why did he suddenly get the position of detective chief? ! "That's good. Is he in a good mood?" "It can't be said. Most of the time, he is silent, and occasionally talks to the 'neighbors', and sometimes talks to himself. Hehe, you know, a bit of a narcissistic guy." "Well, that's good." Yang Ke's language expression ability, like his emotional expression ability, is a little poor.At this time, he was a little absent-minded again, and he found two meaningful things from Hancock's case notes: one is that Vincent once bought two mink coats, and who were they given to?The second is that his unpublished works were stolen. This is a possible suspicious point, and it can be regarded as the potential focus of Yang Ke's interrogation today. Regarding the word "narcissism", Yang Ke hesitated a little, not too interested.This kind of thing was mentioned in the study of the police academy, but he didn't quite remember it. If Seth was present, he might be able to give a detailed explanation. From a clinical point of view, he should have encountered such people. It should be said that autism is the ultimate manifestation of narcissism. Complete narcissists think that people are no different from a piece of furniture, and they are all things without emotions.Narcissists have only what Buber calls the solipsistic "self-relationship theory."It is easy for this type of people to show closeness to others in real life, but to position them as enemies of a different kind in their hearts.He was used to expressing their love to others, and in fact, subconsciously--the only place where the truth was stored--knows them as enemies. If Seth or Vincent were present, the former would only correct him in good faith, while the latter would laugh out loud from the bottom of his heart, and then show contempt and disdain on his face.These two close friends have had such opposite personality differences since their school days. Yang Ke was at the door of the interrogation room, watching from afar as the two guards sandwiched Vincent and escorted him all the way. Walking in shackles is an amusing sight--the man who says this because he has never worn them himself, and in order to avoid the heavy shackles knocking and chafing the ankles again and again, the prisoners often use a kind of trot The movements, more foot lifts, smaller strides, and bumps along the way can minimize the impact time and strength of the shackles.However, as mentioned earlier, Vincent Francis is definitely an anomaly. He swayed and paced leisurely, as if he was in the garden of his own backyard.Of course, this was also because the guards who had been instructed didn't walk very fast. Yang Ke suddenly felt the anger Hancock should have felt at that time - as if they themselves were the uninvited guests in this detention center. Vincent was only a little shorter than the new detective, so he tilted his head and looked at him, "New?" He hummed casually. "Open his shackles." Yang Ke smelled a strange smell from the hair of the rebellious guy in front of him.He nodded towards the guard, then turned and entered the interrogation room... Working under a microscope is not as beautiful as people usually imagine: it represents a respectable status and at the same time marks a stable high income.If the microscope really has any consistent impact on people, it is probably only migraine, an occupational disease. Spit has worked continuously for seven or eight hours in front of the experimental bench, which was not a record when he was young.However, as he grew older, now at the age of forty-five, his headaches became significantly worse, and he kept tapping the upper part of his left ear with his fingers.As we all know, another fact is that as an official, Spitt has been working continuously under the microscope in person for a long time. Seth Waller saw all of this. "Shift change, shift change." As he said this, he walked up to Spit and hurriedly drove the latter off. "Are you self-taught?" "I can't talk about it, but I probably remember the order of adding the reagents, and the rest is waiting." "Okay, don't do it too fast, wake me up in half an hour." Spit leaned back on the sofa and was about to close his eyes when he heard a hissing sound from Seth's mouth. "What's the matter?" he asked, Then he turned over and sat up. "No, I'm curious, why is there this thing on the pillow?" Seth picked up the pillowcase with the cotton core removed, and shook it against the light. "A little blue blob..." Seth continued, "What is this? Special sexual orientation? On the pillow?!" "No!" Spit's brain was extremely active, "Those cotton, the cotton in the pillowcase!" Seth stared at Spit with some surprise and made the following strange move: he took out the cotton from the pillowcase and soaked it in an unknown liquid. "To harden them," he explained, "so I can take partial cross-sections." "what is it used for?" "You'll find out soon enough." After about ten minutes, the soft cotton sleeve was taken out of the liquid and turned into a large brick.Seth found it unbelievable, it was a whim.He recalled a case in which cunning drug traffickers added talcum powder to cocaine, solidified them into "square bricks", and mixed them in the stone factory for transportation.After successfully arriving at the destination, the drugs are isolated. Spit fiddled with the cotton tiles: "Which side is the front?" "Probably, the position where your thumb is clasped is the front side, and the other four fingers are the back side..." Spit looked at Seth hesitantly: "Forget it, come on both sides!" He used a sharp knife to cut a thin layer on both sides of the pillow board, then drained the original liquid in the observation pool, cleaned it with a reagent, and poured in a new liquid ——Seth knew about this thing. After it is mixed with human DNA, it will emit a faint blue light. Spit soaked the two sampled sheets in the liquid: "Wait time and give us an answer, if my guess is correct..." The two of them stared at the observation pool, and after a while, a little bit of blue appeared on one of the cotton boards—and then spread, gradually forming a complete pattern. The upper part of the pattern is a "Ψ" in a Greek letter, and below it is a "D" in an English letter placed horizontally. "Death mask (death mask)?" Seth looked surprised. "Yes, a death mask! The upper half is an inverted letter M, and the lower half is a horizontal letter D." "Hancock...was suffocated." "Yes," Spit nodded solemnly, "this proves your suspicion. It is an ancient trick that has only been discovered recently. God knows how many people have been mistaken for sudden death because of this trick. The murderer will A pillow was placed over the victim's head because Hancock had sex at the time and was tired, which, combined with the high alcohol content, put him in a deep sleep - he may have drank a little afterward. The murderer Taking advantage of this opportunity, he covered Hancock's head with a pillow. Hancock, who fell into a deep sleep, couldn't wake up immediately, let alone make much struggle. When he regained consciousness, he might immediately die because of The blood supply to the brain was insufficient and the whole body was weak. It took less than ten seconds, and he might have left a scratch on the murderer's arm or shoulder. However, after the fatal blow for no more than a minute, the murderer replaced He cleaned his nails. This also caused Linda, who was doing the post-mortem, to be a little puzzled—the nails were clean, so clean! However, at the time, it couldn't be a problem because Hancock had taken a shower before making love to the woman— He's all clean." "And now," Spit picked up the camera and took pictures from various angles, "and now, everything is different. The murderer processed the visible traces, but ignored these invisible traces of evidence. In the When she suffocated Hancock with a pillow, the moisture and saliva exhaled from the victim’s mouth and nostrils soaked into the cotton. The inverted M is the position of the victim’s nose and nostrils; and the horizontal D , which is the shape of Hancock's mouth. There is no doubt that he was murdered." "Then," Seth smiled happily, "then, Yanke and I have the authority to formally investigate the case. Listen, um, friend, I have a guess and I'm going to ask for your opinion." "Oh, oh, come on," Spit said, walking back to the couch, "when people say that, it usually just means one thing—he's made up his mind, and he's just looking for someone to chime in with. one time." "Really? You are so smart, my old man." Seth Waller put away his smile, a little secretive...