I crawled towards her eyes from a height of eighteen inches, and she said: "I'm sorry, I will try to remove the toxin from the bitch.". I'm just a little nervous now. I thought the killing was over. Then this morning I heard that they found another woman. The worst thing is that they told me that they would not allow me to do anything because she was found in Canada and the case is being handed over to you inferior children. "
I like this girl, she hates the FBI almost as much as I do. I looked up at the speeding car and said, "You mean those idiots."
Caitlin was sitting quietly, without a doubt, she was trying to see what the bastard in a lavender shirt and brown tweed jacket was talking about sitting next to her. Finally she asked: "What are you?"
I repositioned myself on the black leather, "I am the safety net that Zhèng Fǔ came up with."
"Safety net? Please explain."
"If I solve this case, my name will never be mentioned, and the FBI will get another bedside position. But if the case is solved, my name will appear in all places. Will be slaughtered on the bedpost."
I finished the last third of a glass of warm beer and lifted my 160-pound body from the captain's chair. I still haven't regained the weight I have lost, and I can even see egg salad and sausage fighting for position at the door of my large intestine.
As I approached, I turned the steering wheel to the left, making sure to stay away from the large 10-foot tires at the entrance of the dock. Interesting story: About two months ago, I went to the high seas and made sure to bring enough food and beer for a week (in case I repeated the disaster of the Maine fishermen). But did you know? Sailing is boring. Let me put it another way: Sailing looks like a violent wind. "Not sailing", the word I came up with, is used to describe what I do on the water, which is very boring. The next thing I knew was that the food and drinks for a week were gone, I weighed five pounds and was drunk.
When I woke up, except for a pair of socks, my whole body was naked, which puzzled me because I was barefoot and wearing sandals. When I set off, my boat stopped in the middle of the swamp. Fortunately, a fifteen-year-old boy with pimples on his face was fishing nearby. If I gave him a hundred dollars in front, he agreed to drive the boat back. When we were a hundred yards away from the port, that little bastard had the guts to ask me to give him another one hundred yards. I told him to jump off the bridge and he jumped off the boat.
To make a long story short, I wrote a check for two thousand dollars to the owner of a foot-long whaling ship. After quoting the "whaler incident", every Saturday local children would line up at the pier to wait for my boat to enter the pier. This has become a common practice. The children would dive into the water and try to be the first to climb the boat, so after successfully docking my boat, they got a brand new five-dollar bill from the dock manager.
As I passed through the tire entrance at a speed of about miles per hour, I saw fifteen children strolling on the small wooden dock. Every time I pull out roots for a dwarf, his name is Karen. He is one foot smaller than the other boys and still seems to belong to his mother's head.
Karen was the only one who noticed that my ship passed through the harbor and entered the water quietly. Before the other kids noticed him and jumped into the water, he was already about a second ahead. He was within ten feet, splashing in all directions, almost invisible to him, and was suddenly overtaken by a few older boys.
I ran to the boat and shouted: "Come on, Kairon! Come on, man! You can do it. Let these kids see who this damn town belongs to."
The old people kept falling into the water accidentally, and at this moment they were pulling themselves aside. When Kairon finally reached the hull, I leaned on the side of the boat and rescued him from the waves. Then I asked him to stand on the railing and whispered in his ear: "Tell the owners of this town."
He took a deep breath and shouted in the loudest voice: "Kayron owes this town a favor."
Now, I don’t like children very much, but if I say I’m not looking for a place to hide him, then I’m lying. He was about the height of three beer bottles, his eyes were as big as half a dollar, and four of his front teeth had fallen out. He was standing on the railing, I was only a few inches taller than him, unknowingly, the guy wrapped my neck like a koala.
From previous conversations, I know that Kairon is seven years old and a bit slurred, and the boat is his favorite thing in the "wagon"
I asked him to go to work, silently watching him set sail, and skillfully steered the boat to my designated position. As we all know, Gap B belongs to Thomas Prescott, also known as Captain Stupid.
The manager of the marina is Karen's father. Instead of giving Karen a Franklin, he gave him a Dr. Pepper. What a waste. In addition, what the child needs is Ritalin, not caffeine.
I took out my wallet and paid him, but unless Karen took the credit card, he would be out of luck.
I dragged the refrigerator and chair out of the boat. Kairon insisted on helping me move the refrigerator to the car. When everything was stuffed into the trunk of my Land Rover Range Rover, I asked him: "What is your second favorite thing in the world?"
He stared at the ground pensively, then puffed up his brown eyes and yelled: "Whites!"
Then there is a kite.
I once again showed me the broad spectrum of Maine's colors that can be used at will.
I grew up near Puget Sound, which is beautiful in itself, but it can’t compare with the majesty of Maine. The road ahead of me rounded a protruding mountain, and then I stepped on the gas pedal to start all Land Rover’s 0 horses.
A front appeared over the Atlantic Ocean, and the ocean and sky began to appear gray. I screamed and walked around an entrance, thanking God that I left the water. If I am incompetent when the conditions are perfect, I can only imagine how quickly I will find a way to die if the waves reach two feet. Speaking of ocean waves, their strength began to rise, hitting the rocky embankment, turning into foamy white rǔwhite, and then disappearing between the cracks.
I took out my phone from the glove box, and the display showed that I had received a new message. The first message came from my sister’s boyfriend Connor, who reminded me that we had a rowing date the next morning. The second thing is that Lacey went on to say that she is not very good at cooking and I should buy something on the way home. The last news caught me off guard. I slammed on the brakes and the Land Rover chased me twice before finally stopping on a railing that stretched for miles on the coast of Maine.
I replayed the message. It's Caitlin. She wants to know how I am doing and wants to have dinner with me. I haven't spoken to her for more than a month. I don't know what prompted me to make this call. It may be the anniversary of the first murder. Maybe I sat in the car outside her house for nearly five hours last night. It could be any number of things.
I couldn't drive Caitlin's message from my mind, I almost missed the exit of Belfast Town. I walked through the small town by the sea and saw that the prosperous September was coming to an end. People are packing up for the winter, and shops are clearing goods. The 5% discount sign a week ago has been replaced with a 50% discount, and in a week these signs will be replaced with the price you stated.
I stopped at an Italian restaurant and saw the slogan on the window: "Last October 10rì, see you in May." (From mid-October to late May, Maine gradually closed. Technically speaking, Maine The state’s population has plummeted from 57 to about 00.)
I ordered two meatball sandwiches and asked if there is a bookstore nearby. He took me to a store in the same neighborhood and said that if I wanted to go to that store, he could prepare two fresh sandwiches for me in ten minutes.
The owner of the bookshelf shop is a girl in her fifties named Marguerite. Maggie's lenses are in a light pink frame, and her white hair is very soft, making her look more like an eighty-six-year-old. Marguerite told me that she expects to have another shipment in the next few days.
These mom-and-pop shops are all the same. I told Margaret that if she could find a copy of "Eight" in October, I would buy at least two more novels. Five minutes later, I left the bookshelf with a bag containing Michael Clayton's latest novel-I scored 1550 on the sat test! What did you get, idiot? "Idiot Sailing", "October 8th".
Back in the car, I walked north along Highway 1 to Surrey. I passed by the legendary Lighthouse Museum (historical side note: The Lighthouse Museum has the largest collection of lighthouse shots in the world) and turned to a small street leading to the Suri Forest. The house is separated by miles of oak, maple and fir trees. If you are going to the mailbox, you should consider bringing a lunch.
I drove half a mile down a steep hill, found the muddy entrance to Highway 14, went east for a short par-3 hole, and parked the car in a huge yard strewn with leaves.
About ten months ago, my sister and I moved into a three-story colonial building, on Christmas Eve to be precise. The house was built in the late 1950s, but has been completely restored in recent years. Most of the house is made of copper bricks, neat and tidy like pea green, which I have been on the to-do list for the past ten months. A year ago, I had a conflict with this house and fell in love with its location. Ten miles of forest to the north, south, and west. Three thousand miles of ocean directly east. 14 Surrey Forest Avenue is one of the few places in the world where dense forest meets the white sand beach. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)