Chapter 11 chapter eight

St. Peter dawdled around the garage for a long time before working up the courage to enter the house. He filled the hole made by the three bullets with putty and sprayed it with quick-drying black varnish.But two large dents and a long crack in the rear left fender can't hide it.He didn't have a replacement mirror, so he simply removed the two front fenders and covered the removal marks with spray paint.It doesn't help much though; the bolt holes are still there.The license plate looks fine.He has several interchangeable license plates, none of which are legally registered, of course.He put on a Connecticut license plate.

He continued to fumble around.At one point he also considered painting the entire car a different color, or at least the top half.Eventually, though, when the excitement wore off, he became frightened.He knew that if he was too nervous, he would definitely be seen through by the Bliss sisters and get into trouble, so he decided to go into the house and make an end of it. Now it's time for her to serve him, he told himself.For twenty-five years she'd left him helpless and homeless, but he wasn't going to run away alone because of a little trouble.If something really happened, he would also drag her into the water.It was her idea anyway, he argued to himself, he was just trying to take her business.

He quietly stepped up the path leading to the house, shotgun in his pocket, as if lurking close to the enemy. Only the screen door was closed.He began to be wary.His eyes widened when he poked his head into the kitchen, where the Bliss sisters were sitting at the kitchen table drinking sassafras tea and smoking a joint pipe, looking extremely content.For a moment, a thought flashed through his mind: she got something.He was instantly furious, but in the next second he had an epiphany that she couldn't succeed.He went into the kitchen and closed the door. There were windows to the side and rear of the kitchen, but the shutters were all closed to keep out the heat, and the only light came through the screened back door.The kitchen table, covered with a blue and white checked oilcloth, stands in front of the side window.The stove stood against the inner wall, and St. Peter's berth, covered with an army blanket, stood just under the rear window.

Sister Bliss did not change clothes.She sat sideways at the table, raised one leg to reveal the hem of her petticoat, and then raised her little finger appropriately, bringing the hot teacup to her mouth.Her black bead bag is on the table, and the black and white parasol leans against the wall beside her. A small electric fan was running above the refrigerator, stirring the smell of marijuana smoke and sassafras tea. She eyed St. Peter curiously over the rim of the glass. "Hmph, you're back," she said. Saint Peter coughed. "You saw me," he muttered. Pinkie sat across from Sister Bliss, taller than her, looking like a barrel-chested midget standing on a chair.His eyes flicked between the two.

"Did you see Gus?" he asked St. Peter in a whimpering voice. "I've said it, I'll tell you later." Sister Ji Le said to him sternly. St. Peter couldn't figure out which trick she was playing, so he decided to wait and see.He sat down on the berth, put the loaded shotgun beside him, then reached under the bed and pulled out a rusty locked iron box, which contained all his belongings.From the side pocket of his trousers he took a key attached to his belt by a long brass chain and used it to unlock the large Yale padlock that locked the trunk. Two pairs of eyes watched his every move, but he pretended not to care.He took out his own alcohol lamp, teaspoon, and needles.

They watched in silence as he mixed a packet of heroin with a packet of cocaine, lit an alcohol lamp to boil the teaspoon, and filled the syringe.Then he injected the drug himself into a vein above his left wrist.When the needle injected, he showed decayed black teeth like animal teeth, but as the needle was withdrawn, his mouth relaxed and let out a soft sigh. After drinking the tea, Sister Ji Le slowly exhaled the sweet-smelling mist for several minutes, waiting for the effect of his medicine to take effect. "What happened to that suitcase?" she asked at last. St. Peter looked around, as if expecting to find traces of the suitcase in the kitchen.He hadn't invented any kind of story yet, and although he kept peeking at her, he couldn't see anything.On the surface, she seemed to be peaceful and quiet, but judging from his past experience, this didn't count at all.So at last he resolved to lie to the end.Now that he's lost that goddamn truck and blown off some bastard's head, no matter what he does now, he can't change the ironclad facts.He's too fucking old to bother with all the chores that come with it.

He licked his dry lips and said in a low voice, "We were all wrong. There was nothing in that suitcase. The courier took the suitcase and took it straight to the pier, where he left it. I Followed them, but I found the boxes were empty, I guess they have been swapped. So I turned around and raced back uptown at full speed to find you, but you were gone. So, I think you've got it-if If there is something." "I'll just say it," she said mysteriously. "We're wasting our efforts." Pink Boy was furious, his scarred face distorted and distorted. "You were looking for Gus's treasure map," he accused, "that's why you gave me a strong anesthetic. You wanted to steal Gus's treasure map, put his life on the line, and get him killed." kill."

"He's alive and well just like you," Sister Bliss said calmly, "I saw him talking to the courier when—" "You saw that Gus is still alive!" Pink Boy screamed, his round eyes filled with panic. Sister Ji Le continued as if she hadn't seen him, "I not only saw him, but also touched him. When the courier came to pick up the suitcase, he talked to them and gave them the treasure map for delivery." Pinkie stared at her in disbelief. "Did you see Gus hand over the treasure map to the courier?" He echoed blankly. "What are you panicking about?" she asked sharply. "Didn't you say he was going to give them the treasure map and send it to him in Ghana?"

"But I thought he was killed now." Pink Boy stammered in confusion. St. Uncle looked at the two of them in turn with the same stupid expression.He wondered if he had heard wrong. "He may have been killed now, but he was alive when I was there," she said, "and Jeanne and the African were packing to leave. Jeanne was covering for the new couple who were moving in today." Tidy up the house." Pink Boy was dumbfounded.He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of car horns in the street ahead. "It's Angelo." She said casually, moving her eyes sharply back and forth across their faces, observing their reactions.

Both of them suddenly showed a guilty conscience and a dilemma. She sneered mockingly. "Sit down and don't run," she said. "I'll go out and see what he's doing so early in the morning." "But today is not his day." Pink Boy whimpered. St. Peter gave him a vicious look. However, Sister Ji Le got up and only said: "Of course not." The front door never opened, so she went in and out by the back door, taking the path around the house.Her long skirt brushed against the tall dry grass, and the hem of the skirt was covered with dry weeds and prickles, but she didn't care.

A stocky, dark-skinned dark-haired man wearing a navy blue straw hat with a gray ribbon, a pair of polarized black-rimmed sunglasses, a charcoal gray shantung suit, and a white silk shirt , wearing a maroon tie, sat in the driver's seat of a glitzy black MGA sports car with white sidewall tires.He is the district inspector. The sight of her tanned face revealed a row of neat white teeth. "How are you, Sister Bliss?" he greeted friendly. She put her gloved hand on the car door and looked at him questioningly. "Same as usual." In the bright sunlight, the black straw hat on her gray wig glistened like cockroaches. "Are you sure?" There was a pun in his voice. "What do you mean by that?" "I just came from the police station," he said. "I came to you as soon as I got the wanted bulletin. At least I can do this for an old friend." She stared at his dark green sun-glass lenses, trying to look directly into his eyes, but saw only her own reflection.She felt trouble getting close, so she looked across the street to see if anyone was watching them. The villa opposite is the only other house on the block.The occupants were a large family of Italians, but they had long been used to seeing the inspector's cool car parked in front of the Bliss sisters' house; they didn't bother to pay attention to other strange things that happened in that house.At this moment, I didn't even see the shadow of half a child. "Forget about that nonsense," said Sister Bliss. "Okay," he seconded, "About half past six this morning, there was a shotgun homicide near the pier of the French shipping company." He continued, watching her sharply through thick glasses, but her His expression didn't change. "It appears that a man standing on the pavement was shot with a shotgun by someone in a parked vehicle. Police found a short-barreled pocket pistol with a silencer on the pavement near the victim. And it had just Fired. The Homicide Squad believes the man with the pocket pistol tried to shoot the man in the car and was shot with the shotgun instead. That's a short-barreled pistol for the connoisseurs. Anyway, the killer got away." He said casually, waiting for her reaction. She doesn't respond.He just said, "What does that have to do with me?" He shrugged. "Nobody understands the case. You know, there's a lot of different stories about the two cars and the killer. All they know for sure is that the car was a low-slung black limousine, but no one knows Its label. But one eyewitness described the killer as an elderly black daddy with curly gray hair in a driver's uniform; and the eyewitness was pretty sure." "Hmph, wouldn't that be great!" Sister Bliss said loudly in disgust. "You are right," Angelo agreed, "although we are still at a loss. But one thing is certain, that is, the car was marked. Parked in the car behind the murderer, there seems to be another victim's car." Friend. This friend saw his partner shot down and opened fire with an automatic pistol, punching holes in the rear of the killer's car. Major Crimes is now pursuing this lead." She thought about it for a while. "What happened to the second shooter?" she asked. "Did he get away too?" "No. So the killer was lucky. The second gunman was driving a truck ahead of the killer, and the gunman's car was run over and he was killed." The old blue ocher eyes of the Blissful Sisters were clouded, and anger began to burn inside. "Anyone recognize them?" she asked. "Not yet," he said. "However, they have all the characteristics of a professional killer, so it shouldn't be too difficult to identify." "Okay," she finally let go. "I see, how much do you charge?" He took out a black leather case from his breast pocket, pulled out a small black chegar, and slowly lit it with a pure gold lighter imported from France.A sarcastic look imitating a private eye. Finally, he spoke: "How about it, Sister Bliss, since your nephew Pink Boy was wanted for lying about the fire alarm last night, I think the two of them combined together, 15 grams of cocaine is not too much. Still Yes, when you go to pick up the goods, you'd better give me the sweetness that should be paid next month. Who knows where everyone will be when this kind of shooting happens." "Two thousand!" she yelled. "Hell, you can take them both right now. They're not worth that much to me." He slowly exhaled a puff of smoke and smiled at her. "You don't get it. Major crimes will wonder what's going on. They're not going to think it's just an old black person driver's idea out of thin air—without complicity, you know what I mean." She didn't refute.That didn't work. "I'll see if I have that much money," she said, turning and walking toward the house. "Look carefully, look quickly," he called after her. She stopped, her whole body stiffened. "You know, most of the desperadoes from these remote areas are congregating around here," he said. "And it's under my jurisdiction. Someone's going to be asking me questions fucking soon, and I need to know how to answer them." As she walked on, her dress blew into the weeds again as she rounded the side of the house.The she-goat on the rope bleats for water, pauses briefly to untie it, and continues on through the sweltering garden, stepping on wilted vegetables indiscriminately and looking into the garage. One glance at the Lincoln and she knew it. "Who does he think he's playing?" She muttered to herself, and then said louder: "Anyway, I'm not wrong." She went back to the house and went into her bedroom. St. Peter and Pinkie had disappeared without a trace. She knelt down in front of the drawer, took out a bunch of keys, and picked one to unlock the bottom drawer.The hinged drawer front folds down to reveal a built-in safe.She turned the dial and opened a small rectangular door.Then another key was chosen to open an inner compartment, which was filled with bundles of banknotes.She drew two packs from the top, closed and locked the three doors before leaving the room. A tall, thin man in a tawdry brown suit and a straw hat with a red strap was standing by the door.She quickly slipped the money under her clothes. "I don't have any heaven powder right now, Skinny Monkey," she said, "I'll come back later." "I want it now," he insisted. "Hmph, I don't have one now." She scolded impatiently, and walked past him to the sidewalk. He followed her reluctantly. "Then when will you have it?" "One o'clock," she said over her shoulder. He looks at his watch. "It's only nine-and-a-half hours now, and I still have to wait for three and a half hours." He chirped and followed her into the street. "Go away!" she said angrily. His gaze shifted from her to the policeman in the car.Angelo tilted his head slightly and gestured with his thumb.Skinny immediately ran off the street.Angelo stared at him in the rearview mirror until he turned into a lane across from a clearing. "There's no one now," he said. Sister Ji Le took out the banknote stack from her clothes and handed it to him.Without raising his head, he counted the numbers carefully, without any concealment.Each stack of banknotes has ten hundred-dollar bills.He stuffed the money casually into the inner pocket of his coat. "I think you will be handed over to Jijia sports car soon." Sister Bliss said mockingly. "You're right," he responded. The powerful engine roared to life.She watched as he backed up at high speed to the first intersection, turned, and sped away. The key is Pink Boy, she thought.But the problem is how to get out of him. Instead of going back to the kitchen, she headed to the bunny hutch to see if Pinky had swallowed another Stimulant while she was away.The male rabbit huddled in the corner of the cage, looking at her in horror.She grabbed it by the ear and pulled it out of the cage, removing the plug from its rectum.The trichomonad cocaine-and-heroin capsules that were supposed to be there were long gone. No wonder he was talking nonsense, she thought.He is probably ecstatic. She put the male rabbit back in the cage, and walked slowly back to the kitchen with the plug in hand. Then pretend to be dumb, she decided.This time let's see what those super stimulants will make him do.