The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 155 Party and Umbrella ([-])

"Why do you..." Cobbot looked at Schiller with a gloomy face and said, and then suddenly he reacted and scolded with a wrinkled face: "Damn..."

He turned his head to look at Schiller again, but he didn't see the expression on Schiller's face that the police interrogated him successfully. to a humiliation.

Coppert pursed his lips, he stretched his neck, tilted his head, moved his shoulders, and said, "You first untie the bandage on my arm, it makes me a little uncomfortable..."

I thought Schiller would refuse, but Schiller stood up without hesitation, walked to his bed, and untied the strap on the armrest. Just after untying one hand, Coppert moved his arm impatiently .

His right hand was bound with a splint, and Schiller reminded him: "Because of the delay in treatment, your right hand fracture has become very serious, but if you delay for another two days, there is a risk of amputation, so bind it first."

Coppert muttered in a low voice, as if cursing something, when Schiller turned his gaze, he suddenly seemed to be choked again, and fell silent.

Schiller sat back in his seat, picked up the medical records, and said, "Come on, let's continue to talk about this issue. Judging from the layout of the crime scene, I can feel that you are in a hurry. Can you tell me about it? What's up?"

Cobbot wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips, which made him look a little fierce. He seemed eager to refute Schiller's point, but felt that he shouldn't say so much to a strange therapist.

"Let me hear your criminal thinking. After all, you have spent so much effort doing so many things. Wouldn't it be a pity if you didn't have an audience?"

Coppert's intact arm grabbed the guardrail fiercely. He tilted his head, stared straight at Schiller and said, "You damn psychiatrist..."

Cobblepot admitted that Schiller's words were more useful than any police interrogation method.

Schiller looked at him with a smile. He knew very well that any criminal who appeared on the Gotham stage in the future would be a fundamentalist in the criminal world.

They have their own pride in the crime, for example, the degree of sophistication of the technique, the presentation of the result, the misleading effect on the onlookers, etc., they hope to be perfect in all aspects.

Every criminal scheme they carry out takes these questions into account, and they hope that someone will see their genius.

They firmly believe that a crime without an audience is not a perfect crime.

Coppert's rationality told him that it was not a good idea to tell the truth at this time. If Schiller really recorded the audio, he might not be able to escape the trial.

But he just felt itchy, and another voice in his heart told him that Schiller was just like him, and he would be a good listener, able to understand the subtle criminal process that ordinary people could not understand, and to understand him. uniqueness.

Soon, Coppert couldn't bear it any longer. He said, "It was an accident, if it wasn't for..."

Cobbot paused, as if to organize his thoughts, and then he relaxed on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and began his narration.

"...It was a complete accident that I got to know the godfather. My father used to be a well-known gang leader in the East District. After his death, the land and property that should have been inherited by me were all divided up by those jackal-like gangsters... "

"In order to protect me, my mother took me back to the old house near the living hell, but we still have no peace. My father's former enemy chased and killed us time and time again..."

"It was one night, I was washing dishes in a bar in the East End, and when I came out, I was surrounded by people, they were about to shoot, and a car drove by, and there was Mr. Falcone sitting in it. , he stopped the gang and drove them away..."

"The godfather saved you?"

"That's right, I was only 12 years old at that time, but I was very thin and looked smaller. He might not understand that they were going to shoot a child. Anyway, at that time, I met the godfather..."

"I don't know where he saw that I was worthy of training. I'm thin and small, I'm not in good health, I don't like people, and I don't know how to get things done, but the godfather still secretly helps me..."

"So, when he needed you, you went to kill for him?"

Copper said blankly, "What's wrong with that? He saved me, I know, it's nothing to him, but killing people is nothing to me..."

"I have to say, you are very experienced in the case of old Edward, not like a novice. Can you talk about that day in detail?"

Coppert shook his head and said, "It all depends on the prestige of the godfather. No one dares to act wildly on his territory. This is not something worthy of praise..."

"Okay, then let's get to the point. What you have done should not be following the trend. What do you want to do?"

"I want to get rid of the control of the godfather." Coppert said amazingly.

"To be precise, it's not the old godfather..." Coppert added: "I am willing to work for Falcone and kill for him, but only His Excellency Falcone..."

"I knew some time ago that the old godfather wanted to abdicate and wanted to hand over his power to his son, Falcone Jr."

Coppert scoffed, and said disdainfully: "But he can't, little Falcone is completely inferior to his father, if you follow him, you won't have any future."

"If the new godfather wants to inherit the position of the old godfather, he will naturally inherit his property and connections, which naturally includes me, but I think that little Falcone is too far behind, and I don't want to follow him... "

"Why do you feel that way?" Schiller asked him.

"Before, he wanted to carry out reforms, and the land given to him by the old godfather was messed up by him."

"He's driven but has no goals. He's tough but lacks thinking. Simply put, he's not that material."

"So, what did you do?"

"I know that the old godfather is not dead yet. It is impossible to get rid of him with strong means. I will die."

"I have received his favor, and I have killed someone for him. It may seem that we are even."

"But every Gotham person knows that as long as you have done this kind of thing, you can't go ashore again. You will either die or go all the way to the dark."

"But I don't want to be regarded as a part of the inheritance, and then follow the instructions of the new godfather. In other words, the stupidity of the new godfather will not only kill him, but also kill me. I don't want to die, so I want to leave."

"When the godfather asked me to come to the living hell to stare at this place, I realized that the opportunity has come..."

"My first target is the Mooney Gang." Coppert said with a raised voice, "I have to gain a firm foothold here and find out the situation before I can make a follow-up plan, so I joined the Mooney Gang and obeyed Fish It took a short time to figure out everything here."

Copperpot's words gradually became smoother, and when this aspect was mentioned, the future penguin was eloquent.

"When I finished the preliminary survey, the Munich Gang was no longer a good place to stay, because Fish's territory was compressed layer by layer, and the scope of activities began to become very small. I couldn't collect enough information. At this point, I can't let the godfather think I'm not working hard."

"So, I found an opportunity and hooked up with Kevin. Yes, it wasn't him who chose me, but I chose him..."

As Coppert continued to tell, the voice echoed in the ward, and his recent life became a drama, presented in front of the two of them.

As his words fell to the ground, the red curtain opened, and behind it was the narrow corridor of living hell.

Cobblepot and Kevin stood in the corridor, and the short and stooped Cobot said flatteringly to Kevin: "Mr. Kevin, please do me a favor, please do patronize my business..."

The tall and tall Kevin raised his head, took a pack of cigarettes from Coppert, opened it, looked at it, and said, "Are you a new cigarette dealer? I haven't seen you before, you should be that crazy woman people?"

"Yes, yes..." Cobbot nodded impatiently, then he rubbed his hands a little embarrassed and said, "I'm also forced to make a living, there are too few cigarettes in the southern district, otherwise I wouldn't Taking a risk to come here..."

"How much do you sell for a pack?"

"Seventy cents, sir, only seventy cents."

Kevin raised his eyebrows in surprise and said, "Seventy cents? What's going on? The small cigarette sellers here are all ninety cents or one dollar. Why are you selling it so cheap?"

Kevin looked at the pack of cigarettes again, took out a cigarette from it, and Cobbot leaned over to light it for him graciously, and then said: "Actually, I still have something to earn. I am active in the south and north at the same time. It takes 1 hour and 20 minutes to make a circle, and about 6 to 7 packs of cigarettes can be sold. Even if the profit of each pack of cigarettes is only ten cents, there are 13 hours of activity in a day, and the average can be sold..."

Kevin took a puff of cigarette, exhaled the smoke, looked Cobbot up and down, and said, "You can still count? It's really strange. The little kids I met who sell cigarettes can't even count change... "

Coppert still nodded and smiled, inadvertently revealing his experience of going to school in a wealthy area in the south. He kept chatting with Kevin. After Kevin smoked two cigarettes, he felt a little flustered. Holding his cigarette butt, he said, "I think you're not bad. It's not going to get any good results if you follow that crazy woman Fish."

"You go and get me two good cigarettes, and I'll let you work at the outlet on the second floor. There will be a commission of three cents for every 2 pieces, which is more profitable than you selling cigarettes."

Coppert showed an overjoyed look, and Kevin curled his lips and said, "Little brats like you with weak arms and weak legs, besides running errands to buy newspapers and cigarettes, you can count them..."

"Those little bastards count wrong every day, their brains are not as good as the rusty door bolts, and they caused me to lose money. Don't be lazy and slippery..."

As the smoke from the cigarette in Kevin's hand gradually drifted away and the curtain slowly closed, Schiller turned to Cobblepot and said, "I can tell that you've done a good job so far."

"Taking advantage of your thin stature, pretending to be the most common child selling cigarettes and running errands in Living Hell, you inadvertently showed your ability in calculation, and successfully jumped to Kevin's job."

"But that's not all I want."

The curtain was opened again, and the stacks of cardboard boxes were getting higher and higher. Bills flew out of Copperpot's hands, through the narrow corridors of living hell, past the door of the shipping port, on the delivery stairs, and in the back kitchen of the restaurant. , a thin figure shuttled among them.

The last piece of paper stuck to Copperpot's face with a "snap". When he took it off with his hands, the bright neon lights of a restaurant's signboard were reflected in his exposed eyes.

"You should not lie about this part." Schiller commented: "I can see that you really want to open a restaurant."

Coppert, who was lying on the hospital bed, moved his lips. He was silent for a while, and then said, "That's right, but that's not what I should be thinking about right now."

"What I think about now is that as an errand runner, my path at the bottom has come to an end. Next, I will find a way to become a management team."

(End of this chapter)