Chapter 137 Socialite "What?" Charlie couldn't believe his ears. Lumian was equally surprised and cast a sympathetic look towards Charlie. He felt that Charlie had no motive to murder Mrs. Alice. After all, as long as she was alive, Charlie would receive 500 Felkins every month for the next six months. According to some magazines and newspapers, this was close to the monthly salary of doctors, lawyers, middle-level civil servants (section chief level), high school teachers, senior engineers, and deputy police inspectors. For a man who had almost starved to death and could only work as an apprentice waiter, this was a considerable fortune. Seeing his two companions walking upstairs, the officer who handcuffed Charlie briefly explained: "Mrs. Alice was found dead in her room at the White Swan Hotel this morning, and according to many witnesses, you slept there last night and did not leave until nearly midnight." Charlie was terrified and confused: "How could it be, how could she die..." After muttering to himself, he suddenly looked at the police officer and said hurriedly: "She was alive when I left her, indeed! I swear to Saint-Vieve!"
The police officer said in a deep voice: "According to the preliminary autopsy report, Mrs. Alice died between 11pm and 1am last night, and there were no traces of anyone else there except you and Mrs. Alice." Maybe the others aren't human? Lumian thought of the Montsouris ghost and couldn't help but mutter to himself. If he hadn't been lacking in sufficient disguise and didn't want to attract the attention of the detectives, he would have said it directly. "Impossible, damn it, this is impossible!" Charlie shouted with his eyes wide open. At this moment, a policeman who had just quietly left came down from the fifth floor, holding a sparkling diamond necklace in his left hand wearing a white glove. "I found this!" he said to the leading officer. The police officer nodded, stopped explaining to Charlie, looked at him, and said seriously: "Charlie Corrente, you are about to be arrested for murder. You have the right to remain silent, but everything you say will be used as evidence in court." "I didn't! Did you hear me? I didn't!" Charlie screamed miserably and struggled hard. 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 noise and came to the stairs and saw this scene. This included Gabriel, who seemed to have just pulled an all-nighter to finish a manuscript. "Do you think it was Charlie who did it?" Lumian looked at the empty corridor and asked the playwright standing next to him thoughtfully. Gabriel came out early and roughly understood what had happened to Charlie. He shook his head and said: "I don't believe Charlie did it. He's not a good guy, but he's not a bad guy either." "Why do you say that?" Lumian asked, tilting his head. Gabriel pushed the black-framed glasses on his nose: “He had been defrauded of money before and almost starved to death, but he never thought of stealing from us neighbors.
"This shows that he either has his own principles and bottom line, or he is very afraid of the law. Either possibility is enough to prove that he would not murder that lady." Lumian nodded first, then chuckled: "But people are impulsive and they will change." After saying that, he went up the stairs one step at a time until he reached the fifth floor. This is the top floor of the "Golden Rooster Hotel". There are large areas of the ceiling that have been wet and dried, as if water would seep in when it rains heavily. Lumian walked to the door of Room 504 where Charlie lived, took out a 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 before, and various items were placed in a mess, but their number was quite limited. ——When Lumian and Charlie were drinking and chatting in the basement bar before, he heard him mention that during the time when he was unemployed, he went to the pawn shop to pawn his only formal suit and a lot of other things, and he still has no ability to redeem it. As he took a step inside, his sight slowly moved and Lumian suddenly saw a portrait. It was posted on the wall opposite the bed and depicted a woman in a long green dress. The woman seemed to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with brown hair, green eyes, rosy lips, a delicate face and elegant temperament. Lumian was stunned for a moment, and felt that the woman in the painting looked very familiar. He knew that this should be Susanna Mathis, the famous prostitute from Saint-Vieve, whom Charlie had mistaken for her. But he had never seen this woman before, so there was no reason for him to think she looked familiar. After thinking for a while, Lumian suddenly remembered something. When he was performing the Dance of Attraction in Room 207 some time ago, he attracted a translucent figure that was obviously stronger than the other creatures. The figure was also a female, and looked very similar to Suzanne Matisse in the portrait, except that one had green hair, while the other had brown hair; one had hair long enough to cover her naked body, while the other could only be tied into a normal bun. Moreover, that figure was even more charming, as if it could directly trigger the hidden desires in everyone's heart, but Susanna Matisse's portrait did not make Lumien excited. “Does praying without reason cause problems?” Lumian nodded imperceptibly. If it were him in the past, he would not think that there was anything wrong with what Charlie did at that time - if he really wanted to avoid starving to death, let alone thinking that it was the patron saint angel of Trier, even if he knew it was a prostitute, he would pray devoutly. Now, after having a certain understanding of the introductory sequence of the Twenty-two Paths of God, sacrificial taboos and related mystical knowledge through Aurore's witchcraft notes, Lumian knew that sometimes, praying blindly was a very dangerous thing. After checking for a while, he left Room 504, picked up the calcium carbide lamp, went to Market Avenue and took a public carriage to the observatory area. As they entered the underground and headed towards the area where Osta Trull usually appeared, Lumian looked at the darkness behind the stone pillars from time to time. In response, he laughed at himself and said: "Will we not run into the ghost of Montsouris again?" If this was the case, he would have to consider whether there was a special connection between the Montsouris ghost and something in himself, or whether the pollution from that person, although sealed, had indirectly changed his "zodiac sign", making his luck extremely bad. Fortunately, Lumian's worries did not become a reality. He successfully saw the bonfire and Osta Trull sitting under the stone pillar. The hooded man in a black robe smiled at Lumian. "Mr. K allows you to attend our occult gathering every two weeks at 9pm on Wednesday night."
Osta's eyes were extremely sincere, as if to say that it was time to pay. The day after tomorrow at nine o'clock...Lumian smiled and nodded: "Where is the party?" "Come to my place an hour in advance and I will take you there." Osta answered without hesitation. Lumian said, “Hmm.” "I'll pay you the balance then." "Okay." Although Osta was a little disappointed, he could still accept it. Lumian asked: "What should I pay attention to when attending that party?" "Cover your face and hide your identity." Osta said with great experience, "You don't want other participants to betray you after being caught by the authorities, right? Only Mr. K can control everything, no one else can." Lumian smiled: "You've seen my face and know my identity. After our first gathering, should I consider burying you somewhere in underground Trier?" Osta instinctively shuddered and forced a smile. “You’re so funny. "But I don't know who you are, where you live, or what you do. Besides, the way you look now is probably not your truest state." After scaring the other party and having a good time, Lumian found a rock to sit down, enjoying the warmth brought by the campfire, and asked casually: "Have you ever heard of Suzanne Matisse?" "Yes." Osta answered excitedly. "For a while, she was my dream girl. I bought many posters and postcards with her photo. In the past few years, she was the most famous prostitute in Trier. She could attend high-society dinners and had scandals with many congressmen, high-ranking officials, and wealthy people. She was said to earn hundreds of thousands of Felgin every year. But in the past two or three years, she has hardly appeared. Nana has taken away her position as a famous socialite in Trier. Alas, she may have become someone's regular mistress." Hundreds of thousands of Felgin? Lumian was a little surprised: "A high-class socialite makes more than most best-selling authors?" "Isn't this normal?" Osta said, with a look on his face. "High-class socialites can sleep in the beds of congressmen, bankers, and senior officials, but best-selling authors can't." Lumian said with amusement and self-mockery: "Yes, the poet Paulel said that there is no difference between writers and prostitutes. The only difference is that one sells ideas and the other sells her body." (Note 1) "I prefer the body," Osta said quite frankly. Lumian asked again: "Then have you ever heard of the legend of a female ghost? Her hair is turquoise, long enough to wrap around her body, and her facial features are very delicate. She can charm most men and arouse their desires." "No." Osta shook his head. He then said with a longing look: "If there really is such a female ghost, I would like to meet it once." Lumian stood up and chuckled: "Then be prepared to come dozens of times a night and eventually die suddenly." “……”Osta’s expression froze on his face instantly. ………… 27: ., No. Market Avenue, Lao Shi Ren Market District Police Headquarters.
Lumian spent nearly 300 Fel Gold to buy three sets of clothes of different grades, cheap cosmetics, and other disguise props and appeared in the busy and noisy hall. Some were brought in, some were lucky enough to leave, some quarreled loudly, threw tantrums and cursed, some slammed the table and hit the stools... With his blond hair neatly combed back, black-framed glasses on his nose, a mustache on his mouth, and his cheeks being noticeably pale, Lumian was wearing a black suit and carrying a brown briefcase as he walked towards a male police officer in charge of reception. He stopped in front of the other party, raised his head slightly, and said very confidently: "I'm Charlie Corrente's pro bono lawyer, and I want to see my client." Note 1: I remember that it was Baudelaire who said this, but I couldn’t find the source at the moment, so it is possible that it was said by someone else. (End of this chapter)