Angel is an excellent detective, and he has participated in the detection of almost all unusual cases near Henshel. This does not mean that his intelligence is superb, but because Angel is born with abilities that ordinary people do not possess.

One trait—extremely keen insight.

Because of this strange talent, huge fame and fortune and countless wealth came to him at the same time. The slight scratches left on his face by the years added a bit of vicissitudes and strange charm to him.

As usual, Angel was enjoying his morning coffee. At this time, a bizarre murder case in the small town of Loghill in the west caught Angel's attention.

"Charles, please clear up. This case seems a bit unusual. It seems we have to make a trip in person."

Angel held a pipe in one hand and a newspaper in the other, carefully reading the things recorded on it. His years of detective career had made his detective sense of smell even more sensitive than that of a dog. He knew that,

Something interesting happened. Then he stood up with the newspaper and walked to the window with his hands behind his back. He looked at the thick fog outside and blew out a smoke ring against the glass that was already stained with some dust, as if he was thinking about something.

.

Not long after, his assistant Charles stood behind Angel, carrying a briefcase that was not too big or too small.

"Sir, we can leave."

Angel seemed to have thought of something, and then he put the pipe in his mouth, put on a coat hanging by the door, and left with Charles. In front of the sofa where he sat, a cup of coffee was still slowly brewing.

Steaming.

"Hey Charles, there's no guarantee that only we can handle this matter. Can you still expect those policemen who drink tea and play with women in the office all day long?"

Angel was not impressed by these so-called policemen in the car.

"You are right sir."

"Then what do you think is suspicious about this matter?"

Angel held his pipe in his mouth and held the steering wheel in his hand to skillfully drive the car through the continuous curved road. The slight snow on the road and the surrounding fog did not affect his keen vision at all.

Charles' eyes visibly paused, as if he was considering his words.

"Sir, I think the biggest doubt is that the husband is the prisoner."

"The husband who only knows how to drink every day often stays up all night. When he comes home the next day with a bottle of wine, his wife is already dead."

"Although he himself has violent tendencies and often beats his wife, he has never accidentally killed anyone."

Charles took out an autopsy report from his briefcase and continued.

"Because although bruises from the beating were found on the deceased's body, these injuries were not fatal at all. However, the police, who were eager to close the case, forcibly passed the blame on an innocent person."

Angel listened to Charles's argument, opened his mouth and blew out a smoke ring.

"But this is the only explanation at the moment, isn't it?"

The car was not traveling very fast, and it was not until near noon that Angel and his party arrived at Loghill. Perhaps because of the recent murder, the entire town was enveloped in a heavy atmosphere, and the sun in the sky

It also seems a bit dimmer than usual.

"gentlemen."

Charles rubbed his hands that were frozen due to the cold, and kept blowing hot air on his hands with his mouth, trying to stretch his hands as quickly as possible.

"It's much colder here than in Henshel. Get in the car quickly. We still have a short way to go."

Angel patted Charles on the shoulder and restarted the car. There was only one tavern in this town. Looking at the "bar" sign not far away, Angel drove slowly over.

There were very few pedestrians on the road in the town, and most of the people looked in a hurry. At this moment, a very tightly wrapped man walked quickly past Angel's car.

"Hey man, I want to ask you something!"

Angel stuck out his head and shouted to the young man. However, to his surprise, the young man did not respond to him. Instead, he quickened his pace. Soon, he disappeared into the wind and snow.

Angel had no choice but to give up.

"Charles, have you noticed that the snow is getting heavier and heavier?"

In the car, Charles was holding his briefcase and shivering, his teeth chattering.

"Yes...yes...sir, and...it's...colder than when we first came here. This is not normal."

Angel was naturally aware of the changes in the climate. It seemed that there was no way to investigate today. He could only settle down in this bar temporarily and wait for the weather to improve tomorrow to learn about the situation.

He looked at the bar with yellow lights next to him, parked the car casually on the side of the road, got out of the car with Charles and walked in.

The space inside the pub is not very large. A stove ridge takes up a lot of space in the middle of the house. The old wooden spiral staircase extends from the side wall to the darkness of the second floor. The entire pub reveals a change of times, but it does not

It doesn't look dilapidated. This should be because the owner of the tavern has carefully taken care of it. There are no spider webs even in the high corners.

I don't know if it's because of the murder. The pub should be bustling on weekdays, but now there are only a few people drinking in the corner, talking about some unknown topic, and the dim lights can't illuminate everyone in the pub.

In the corner, all this scenery gave Angel a strange sense of uneasiness, and a hint of gloom gradually enveloped Angel's face.

Charles hurriedly gathered around the stove, rubbing his hands and warming himself. The whispers in the tavern seemed to have disappeared after Angel and the two came to the town. Several people sat around drinking in the shadows.

Looking up, although their faces were shrouded in shadow and their expressions could not be seen clearly, Angel knew that they were looking at him.

The feeling of uneasiness was getting stronger and stronger, but he couldn't tell anything to be wary of. Angel put the pipe in his mouth and took a deep breath, which made him feel better. When he looked back, several people in the tavern seemed to be looking back again.

He lowered his head and the inside of the tavern became brighter.

I don't know when Charles had walked up to the bartender. He was holding the money for accommodation and was taking it out of his arms to hand it to the owner of the tavern. The sound in the tavern was very loud, completely different from what he had felt when he first came in.

scene.

"Is it an illusion?"

Angel murmured to himself, and that sharp feeling of uneasiness was gone at this moment. He looked at the fishing ribbons on the ceiling of the tavern and the old-fashioned records on the wall, and shook his head.

"Sir, your room is at the end of the corner upstairs. Here is the key. Please take it."

The sommelier handed over a rusty iron key. The rust on the buckle had a color that seemed to have been stained by blood. In the warm tavern, Angel held the unusually cold key in his hand. The contrast in temperature was almost

Angel didn't hold the key firmly in his hand.

"Sir, are you feeling uncomfortable somewhere today?"

Charles noticed Angel's slightly trembling hands. After such a long time, he thought that the cold had already dissipated. Besides, Mr. Angel was not a person who was afraid of the cold. Why was this happening?

Angel ignored Charles and instead stared at the bartender. Ever since he came to this small town, the lingering feeling had been lingering in his heart. The strong sense of uneasiness only dissipated for a moment, but in

When he got the key, he was attacked again. Angel, who had just arrived, felt that there was a big net being rolled out towards him. Various seemingly unrelated events seemed to have something in Angel's feeling.

The key points are connecting them together.

The bartender looked at Angel strangely. Out of politeness, he did not ask the other person directly. Instead, he turned around and poured two large glasses of malt wine and brought them to the wooden front table. The wine glasses collided with the table and made two "dong dong" sounds.

Sound.

"Please, sir, we don't see this kind of weather very often here. Judging from your accent, you should be from the Hills."

Charles still didn't react when he saw Angel, he just stared at the bartender.

Charles, who has been with Angel for a long time, knows that Angel has discovered the clue.

The sommelier was surprisingly well-behaved. He didn't get angry or cursed because Angel was staring at him. His smiling look and his pudgy figure made it seem as if this man would never be angry.

After about two minutes, Angel picked up the malt wine on the table and drank it in one gulp.

"Thanks, buddy."

Angel put the key in the arms of his coat, then patted Charles next to him, motioning for him to follow him, and then slowly walked upstairs along the spiral staircase. Before he went upstairs, he looked back deeply.

The sommelier glanced at him, but his eyes were still smiling, just like before.

The two people's leather boots stepped on the wooden spiral staircase, making a creaking sound, as if every step made the old spiral staircase teeter.

"This damn ladder."

Charles listened to the overwhelming sound of the spiral staircase with some annoyance and cursed in a low voice, while Angel was completely unaware of it.

There are slight skin protrusions on both sides of the cheeks, so the first thing that can be concluded is that the bartender in this bar is not this person. If I guessed correctly, these protrusions should be traces of a human skin mask.

Although he was smiling all the time, his pupils would unconsciously move to the right when he was talking. Then this was fabricating or acting out the "facts" I saw in front of me.

The rust stains on the key are mixed with tiny blood scabs. The cold and slightly moist touch proves that blood stains were once attached to the key and were then carefully washed for a long time. So whose blood stains belong to it?

Angel had no clue. He could tell from the hands of the wine waiter serving the wine. They were hands that often used heavy objects. Although they were well maintained, the calluses on their hands could not be hidden. This was not true.

Someone who has been a bartender all year round should have some skills.

When he was in Henshel, it was true that the most common accent was Hills, but this time when he was communicating with the bartender, he felt something was wrong for some reason, so he changed his accent and deliberately spoke with the accent of Dong Xilin.

However, the other party seemed unaware and actually said that he had a Hills accent. Anyone who has heard the two accents can definitely tell them apart.

Angel handed the key with a little body temperature to Charles and motioned for him to open the door. As the wooden door slowly opened, there was nothing unusual except for a slight musty smell.
Chapter completed!