marvelous rosaline

20

The First World War happened Roscelyn was nine years old.

At that time, she accompanied Miss Marple on business in London, and Miss Marple placed Rosalind by the window of the government office near the street.Impatiently, Rosalin stood up from the chair and opened the high windows. The humid air after the rain just hit her face, and the slightly cold wind blew on her face, making Rosalin shiver.

Then she looked up, and through the window, she saw a truck carrying wounded soldiers drive down the street.

The smell of blood, the smell of sweat, and the extremely strong stench that she didn't understand at the time rushed to her face.The truck slowly passed in front of Rosalin, and she looked at the soldiers sitting on it: dirty, tired, blood stained through the bandages but no one cried out for pain, one young face after another was almost dazed.

Their eyes are almost two holes, sucking in the light, but not refracting any images.

Since then, in Rosalin's heart, all the characters who have killed people have this lingering corpse smell.

The interrogation room of the Manhattan Police Department was closed and dark. Rosalin sat on the edge of the long table after entering the door.

Anansi was handcuffed in front of her, with her hands locked on the table.He had been beaten by the police, and there were varying degrees of bruises and bloodstains on the corners of his eyes and the bridge of his nose, and even his tuxedo, which looked like a flowery peacock, was torn to pieces.

The American judiciary in 1925 was not so particular, not to mention that minorities today are not treated as equal human beings.

But Anansi didn't seem to care.

He just greeted him politely: "Good day, Miss Poirot."

Anansi never served in the army.

Rosalin couldn't find any trace of military training on him, his sitting posture was upright, but it wasn't a military posture.The demeanor is generous, more like being taught etiquette than being on the battlefield.Annecy's age didn't match either: the African-American youth looked about twenty-three or fourteen, and he was a boy in World War I.

But the corpse smell from Anansi's body was stronger than any soldier Rosalin had ever met.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time." Anansi seemed very happy to meet Rosalind: "Fortunately, I didn't let go."

The police arrested Annecy, and Rosalind was not qualified to talk to him alone.

But just now, Detective Huggins came to her and explained in a very embarrassing way that Ananxi insisted on meeting with Rosalin alone, otherwise he would not say anything.

So Rosalind came—she was dying to see him.

"Oh . . . you don't seem to like me very much. Where's your insistence on politeness, Mademoiselle Poirot?"

Rosalin's gaze shifted to Anansi's hands.

His hands are gun callused, almost as thick as Sebastian Moran's.No, it's not just the gun cocoons, there are also cocoons at the junction of the palm and the heel. Ananxi's demeanor and dress will not allow him to do heavy work, which is the trace left after physical training.

Anansi curled up his palms and moved his jaw uncomfortably.

Rosalind: "Need a handkerchief?"

Anansi: "Huh?"

Rosalind: "You really want to wipe the blood from the corner of your mouth."

As she spoke, she thought for a while and added, "I have never used a handkerchief."

Anansi flashed a friendly smile.

"Thank you."

He took the handkerchief from Rosalind.The handcuffs restricted Ananxi's movements, the young man could only lean forward slowly, and solemnly wiped away the remaining blood on his face.

Even behind bars, Anansi moves with great grace.After he wiped off the blood, he helped Rosalin fold the handkerchief, and folded the blood-stained side inside.The young man pushed back the veil: "It happens all the time."

"you mean?"

"I know you guys are detectives in your hobby," Anansi said with a smile, "There are some savior plots to some extent. But you and I are human beings, and there will inevitably be omissions. Occasionally lose a game, it's a common thing. "

He was mocking Rosalind's failure.

The bright target, the beautiful gimmick, and the extremely high-profile appearance attracted Rosalin's attention.In fact, her inference was completely correct: Anansi's image was exactly the same as Rosalin's conclusion. She lost because she only stared at the bull's-eye on the shield, but ignored the possibility that the opponent also had companions.

I made a mistake, Rosalind thought.She didn't expect a narcissist to collaborate with others.

In Roscelyn's short "independent" life, such a taste is quite rare.She actually lost!Rather than annoyed, Rosalin was more surprised and curious.

Curious about the taste of defeat, and the people in front of you.

"Why do you want to kill me?"

Rosalin asked: "I have never known you before, unless you are trying to stop me."

Anansi: "Did you see the moment Miss Dirkson fell down?"

Talking to this kind of person is exhausting.Rosalin sighed from the bottom of her heart: He asked to talk to her, and he had prepared the words for a speech, not a face-to-face communication.

"A shot shot through the floor-to-ceiling window, and the bullet hit the back of her head," Anansi said.

"..."

The smile on his face became brighter and brighter, and his bright eyes were filled with anticipation.The stench of corpses in the closed room made it difficult for Rosalin to skip this topic—the clues were revealed in Anansi's words, and she couldn't pretend not to hear them.

"So much power."

hateful!

Rosalin still couldn't hold back: "It's a rifle. A sniper?"

Annecy: "Lee-Enfield MK.III."

The rifle () gun mass-produced by the British Army, the sniper is British, participated in World War I, and is a veteran of the war.

"Do you know what the most wonderful thing is, Miss Poirot?"

Alright, out of the clues, it's time for the narcissistic psychopath.

Rosalin thought, if Anansi was released from the handcuffs, he would be so happy that he raised his hands high and performed a classic aria.The African-American youth wrote his complacency on his face: "The most wonderful thing is the scream of the crowd at that moment, and the shock on your face."

"How great is the human civilization that can produce such a perfect killing weapon! How humane is a hot weapon. The bullet penetrates from the back of the head to the front of the head, leaving only a small hole. It is not as painful as the previous owl head.

"Did you see Miss Dirksen's reaction when she fell to the ground? She looked at you, Miss Poirot, with disbelief written all over her pretty face. She thought you could protect her, and you made a promise. But What happened? What a pity that the savior failed to save her.

"Poor Miss Dixon, who lived with a blank head, but she died so beautifully, and added so much value to her short life."

Once Anansi's chatterbox is opened, he can't stop talking.

The more Rosalin listened, the more she frowned, and the brighter Anansi's smile became.

"It doesn't matter if you lose, dear Rosalin." Between the words, his address had changed from his last name to his first name. "In this world, no one can be the savior. Everyone will always lose."

"It's a radioactive wound." Rosalin frowned.

The young girl has completely inherited her mother's good voice, and her crisp voice is like a magical bell that clears away the oppressive atmosphere in the room.

Although Anansi had imagined many Rosalind's reactions, he never expected this one.

The African-American youth was stunned: "What did you say?"

Rosalind: "The wound caused by the rifle ()gun can't just leave a small hole. The bullet enters from the back of the head and will explode in the skull. Miss Dirksen's face will explode like a flower."

Immediately, Ananxi's expression was as if he had discovered a treasure.

His smile is no longer restricted by etiquette, but shows a kind of recognition from the heart.Anansi even rubbed his hands excitedly, and put on a more eager and sincere tone.

"Oh, Rosalind."

Anansi sighed: "You really don't care about Miss Dirksen's life."

Rosalin tilted her head.

"You and I are one of a kind," he said, full of joy. "I can sense it. You are only bound by the manners and breeding that the country detective taught you."

She really didn't care if Miss Dirksen lived or died.

Why should Rosalinn care?

Miss Marple said, because everyone's life is equally important.

But that doesn't convince Rosalind - does anyone care if Yanke lives or dies?Does anyone care if Hank lives or dies?Two brothers, two families, cornered by a single stained dress.

Rosalin saw too many similar things on the way to investigate with her grandfather and Miss Marple.

Since no one cared about their lives, why asked Rosalind to care about Miss Dirkson's lives?Miss Dixon was trying to drug her.

Roseline didn't think everyone's life was as important.

She felt that life in this world, whether it was human or animal, was equally insignificant.If you are shot, you will bleed, if you take poison, you will convulse, and if you sink into the water, you will struggle in the same way regardless of your background or skin color.Rosalin never expresses, doesn't say it directly, she follows the teaching and care of Miss Marple and her grandparents because she likes them.

In her previous life, Rosalin had never received so much care.

She lived in the cold hospital all the time, all the beds were covered with soft bags, and the thickened door was tightly locked.The only person I see every day is the nurse who brings me the pills and watches her take them.

Because of this, Rosalin knew that such care is very precious.

She likes their love very much, so Rosalin is willing to respect them.

"I like Miss Marple," so Rosalind said honestly, "so I don't think her teaching is a bondage."

"That's because you've only had contact with Miss Marple."

Anansi leaned forward slightly.

"You see, Rosalind," he said, "you've never been in contact with your peers, have you? Young men and women are so stupid that you can see what they're thinking. Being around them just makes you feel boring."

"But I'm different."

The young man was all smiles.

"I can be your friend."

He shook the shackles on his hands: "You want the relic of Edith Poirot in the Times Theater, and I want it too. How about we share it together? I will do my best to support you, and you just need to give me a A copy of a copy will suffice."

Ah well.

It turned out that this was his real purpose.

Rosalin quickly glanced at his handcuffs, and Anansi shrugged indifferently: "The 48 hours I lived in the detention center should be considered as time for you to think about it, how about it?"

He attempted to poison ( ) but succeeded in killing someone. He made such a big detour, and he was actually trying to win her over.

And, a copy of the copy?

Walking out of the interrogation room, Rosalin met Tiago's nervous expression, and the first thing she said was: "The relic is a document."

Thiago: "Huh?"

Rosalind: "Or blueprints, or materials, anyway, they are things that can be copied."

Thiago: "What do you do—forget it, let's talk about it when we go back. Someone is here to find you!"

Rosalind: "Huh?"

Thiago: "Just now Mr. Foucault from the law firm next door sent someone over, saying that there are guests visiting."

guest?

Rosalin was unfamiliar with New York, so it was really unexpected that any guest would visit in person.

However, what should be asked at the police station has already been asked, and the work that should be cooperated has also been completed.It's useless for them to stay here any longer. After thinking about it, Rosalin decided to meet Tiago with the detective agency first.

It was already late at night when the taxi stopped under the office building.

The two climbed to the third floor and found that the "guest" was still waiting in the corridor.

Hearing footsteps, the lean and handsome gentleman took off his deer hat.

He is wearing a long black trench coat, a hat in his left hand, a cane in his right hand, his gray hair is neatly combed, his face looks like bootskin but his eyes are clear, just a glance is enough to confirm that this is an English gentleman with many stories.

"Sir, why are you here?!" Rosalin said in surprise.

Unexpectedly, she would reunite with Sherlock Holmes in the detective agency!