"What?" Charlie couldn't believe his ears.
Lumian was equally surprised and cast a sympathetic look towards Charlie.
Seeing his two companions walking upstairs, the officer who handcuffed Charlie briefly explained: Charlie was terrified and confused: "How could it be, how could she die..."
"She was alive when I left her, indeed! I swear to Saint-Vieve!"
"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.
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 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 Charlie 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 person, but he's not a bad person either."
Gabriel pushed up his black-framed glasses and said, “He was defrauded of money before and almost starved to death, but he never thought of stealing from our 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 can 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 had brought 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 all kinds of 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 not been able 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 27 or 28 years old, with brown hair, green eyes, rosy lips, 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 was Suzanne Matisse, the famous prostitute from Sainte-Vieve whom Charles 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 woman, very similar to the Suzanne Matisse in the portrait, except that one had green hair and the other had brown hair, one had hair long enough to cover her naked body and the other could only be tied into a normal bun.
Moreover, that figure was even more charming, as if it could directly arouse the hidden desires in everyone's heart, but the portrait of Susanna Matisse did not make Lumien excited.
“Does praying without reason cause problems?” Lumian nodded imperceptibly.
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.
Entering the underground, heading to Aosta. On the way to the area where 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 I 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 come true. He successfully saw the bonfire and Aosta Trull sitting under the stone pillar.
The hooded man in a black robe smiled at Lumian and said, "Mr. K allows you to attend our occult gathering every two weeks at 9pm on Wednesday night."
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'll take you there," Osta answered without hesitation. Lumian said, "Hmm," and said, "I'll pay you the balance when the time comes."
"Okay." Although Osta was a little disappointed, he could still accept it.
Lumian asked instead, "What should I be aware of when attending that party?"
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, forced a smile and said, "You are so humorous.
"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 reaping the joy, Lumian found a rock to sit down, enjoying the warmth brought by the campfire, and asked casually: "Hundreds of thousands of Felgin?" Lumian was a little surprised: "A high-class socialite earns 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."
"I prefer the body," Osta said quite frankly.
Lumian asked again, "No." Osta shook his head.
"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."
"Aosta's expression froze on his face instantly.
3:00 p.m., No. 27 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 to leave, some were arguing loudly, throwing tantrums and cursing, some were banging on the table and hitting the stools. "I'm Charlie. Corrente's public interest lawyer, I want to see my client."