[Part1·Hands with lingering fragrance]

"Sam Walker."

The county policeman came in with a cassette recorder and seemed to take this conversation very seriously. I saw him——

——We always go to work at the same time, and the post office and police station are very close to each other.

His name is Tom, he is thirty-seven years old, has a wife seven years younger than him, and has no children.

Three years ago, probably in 1972, he complained to me, and I remember it very clearly.

His wife, Naomi, was unable to conceive, and he mentioned this more than once.

"Mr. Tom..." I was very nervous. I was afraid that the severed limb in my pocket would be discovered by the county police.

"I received a warning and came here to take a look." Tom's eyes were complicated and he did not talk about Margaret immediately: "The weather is too hot, I got up a little late, I'm really sorry."

These redundant and long-winded lines make me feel inexplicably anxious, because Mr. Tom has never been like this when handling cases - Xiaoxinsider is sparsely populated, and in this community, even if someone loses a dog, Tom will

I will also do my duty and get straight to the point.

"Well..." I could feel the severed palm in my pocket struggling, and Margaret grabbed my thigh. I didn't dare to move, and I didn't dare to continue talking.

"I remember you are getting married soon?" Tom then asked, "Next week?"

I immediately responded: "I haven't decided on the specific day yet. It depends on the church's arrangements. If there is a fast day or a choir performance and preaching, it will have to be postponed."

Tom: "Ah..."

I continued: "There is no way, I don't have enough money."

Tom: "You didn't send me an invitation?"

This sentence made me feel strangely offended. It seemed that there was no need to invite this county policeman to my wedding with Margaret——

——I am not familiar with him, we are just separated by a road, and we occasionally exchange a few words as a postman.

"Let's talk about the case, Mr. Tom."

Speaking of this, Tom's eyes obviously changed slightly.

Somehow, I seemed to have extraordinary inspiration. I seemed to be able to smell a strange smell from his slightly opened lips and from the hot and humid air.

His emotions were very strong when talking about Margaret...

It was a mixture of expectation, fear, and a little bit of sour joy.

I don't understand, I can't continue to think deeply, and I don't know where this intuition comes from. It seems that smell can speak and express other synaesthesia that goes far beyond the sense of smell itself.

This statement sounds too mysterious and weird.

"Sam Walker, the police information center has sent me the phone records." Mr. Tom became polite and unconsciously crossed his hands across the table, covering his chest.

He seemed to be very cautious, not facing me head-on, but squinting and looking into my eyes.

"There are also police officers who went to Margaret's apartment to investigate. The security situation at the Vienna train station is very bad. You have to be mentally prepared - as for my search work, it is mainly to collect evidence. For example, as you said, your

Diamond ring..."

At this point, Tom patted me on the shoulder, as if to comfort me.

"Brother, don't worry, she will be fine..."

I was not wary of the county police, so I took the ring box from the drawer of the dining table and handed it over.

"This is the package I received yesterday, which contains Margaret's ring..."

Speaking of these words, my heart almost jumped into my throat. I have never been a good liar.

"Tom, there is blood on her ring. She may have been assassinated. Was she kidnapped? How much ransom do I have to pay? I just hope Margaret can come back alive..."

Mr. Tom frowned when he saw the diamond ring. It seemed that things were not as simple as he thought.

He just continued to ask questions without answering my questions.

"Is the wrapper still there?"

"I don't know, I'll look in the trash can..."

"Is there anything else that was sent with the package?"

"Maybe it's a book, like a hollowed-out scripture..." I rummaged through the restaurant, hoping Margaret wouldn't be a disservice.

Tom then asked: "Where is the postman who sent you the package? What did he say?"

"Nothing was said. He took away my job and we had nothing to talk about."

"The shipping address is Portsmouth, England. Do you have any impressions of this place?"

"No, I may have been there once when I was a child, but I was too young to remember."

"Sam Walker, I just realized that you are British?"

"right."

"You never told the folks in Little New Sider about this..."

"It doesn't matter, Mr. Tom, I have chestnut hair and blue eyes, that's very common. I speak German, I speak Finnish, I speak English - talking about my hometown doesn't make my life any better."

"Just one ring?"

"I don't need to lie to you..." Having said this, I suppressed my inner impulse and wanted to take out the broken palm several times, but the inexplicable sour smell in the air became stronger and stronger, and I almost

To spit it out.

I found the Bible in the cupboard, and it seemed that Margaret had put it away.

"Here it is, Mr. Tom."

When the scriptures were placed on the table, the county policeman's face suddenly relaxed, and it seemed that the anxiety had disappeared.

"oh!"

"What's the progress? Do you recognize this thing?" I didn't understand the change in Tom's mood. I didn't understand: "Officer..."

"No, no." Tom quickly changed his words: "I thought you couldn't find it. You need to know about transnational law enforcement. Going to the consulate to apply for full cooperation between the two police stations requires a lot of procedures - applying for a search warrant with just a diamond ring? It's not big.

Maybe?"

"Sam, the place you want to check is Chadderton Castle. That is not a castle for ordinary people to live in. The Rose ran aground in front of the Chadderton Castle lighthouse. It has historical significance. It is almost a museum that can be sold.

"

The words of the county police poured cold water on my head. I immediately got up and went to the bedroom to look for the piggy bank.

This chapter is not finished yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content! The wedding can't be done, and there are still about 600 euros. If the police can't do it, I will run back to Portsmouth alone.

When he returned to the restaurant, Tom's expression became visibly relaxed, and the sour smell in the air seemed to have faded a lot.

"Officer, do you smell it? What's the smell in the air?" I became more and more confused.

Tom responded: "Maybe it's the wine? You smell of hangover all over your body."

"No, no no no..." Although my head still hurts a little, the sour smell is definitely not the smell of alcohol.

It happened to come from Tom, I'm just embarrassed to say it openly -

——I went to work with him in the past two months, and we were very close. I had never smelled this smell when I changed cigarettes. This is not his body odor.

...

...

[Part2·Tear off the face]

"Let's talk about something else. The tape is all recorded, and its content is limited." Tom reminded: "Mr. Walker, when did you meet Margaret?"

"The social activities of the chef class seven years ago." I tried to search out the most important memories from my mind: "I was still working as a postman at that time, and the company arranged social activities for me - going to church to learn cooking skills.

It was also the first time Margaret and I met, and we mainly learned about desserts.”

Tom's eyes wandered to the oven: "Apple strudel?"

I immediately said, "Yes, apple strudel."

Tom: "I actually envy you, Sam."

"Huh?" I was inexplicably surprised when I heard this sentence.

Tom opened the oven and took out the hot baking pan without using tongs or using cloth to insulate it——

——Yes, I was almost stunned. At that moment, I felt trembling all over, and a pair of cold hands pinched my neck.

There are some inexplicable auditory hallucinations appearing in my mind, only at this moment, every minute.

The county policeman's flesh seemed to melt along with the sultry humidity, and his fingers were blistered like boiling mud. When he let go of the baking pan, his face was expressionless and he felt no pain at all.

I don't understand...Am I still stuck in an illusion?

What happened to my brain? Ever since I fell out of that damn trap! I felt like something was wrong! Everything was wrong!

In just a blink of an eye, Tom's fingers returned to their original state, as if nothing had happened!

He twirled the apple roll, turned it over and over, and stared at the dessert with envy and jealousy in his eyes.
To be continued...