White City Murder Expo

The next morning, I woke up alone, pushed the door out of the bedroom, and saw Cillian making coffee in the living room downstairs. "Good morning," he looked up at me, "the coffee will be ready soon."

I went downstairs and took the hot coffee from Cillian, and the bitter aroma filled the air.Really good coffee, I say.And Cillian looked at me and said, "You look much better and should be ready to go any minute."

His attitude almost surprised me. "Uh, yes," I said, "I'm leaving."

A moment of silence.

After a while, I asked him again: "Are you going to work today?"

He glanced at the calendar: "Of course."

I don't know how he will feel when he hears today's news.In my heart, I almost maliciously imagined Cillian's horrified expression when he heard the news of the detective's death, but when I looked at him from the corner of my eye, I knew that everything I imagined would not happen in reality.Even though he drank his coffee quickly, he looked exhausted, like he didn't care what happened.

**

I walked home and saw a red-haired figure standing in front of my house in the distance.His footsteps paused for a while, and he walked over to see that it was indeed Hunter.He looked slovenly, and he exuded an air of tension and anxiety.

Walking down the steps in front of my house, I looked up at him: "What's wrong with you?"

"Where did the lamb go?" he asked.

"...what?" I asked blankly.

Immediately afterwards, he picked up my collar and threw me against the wall.I was startled, cringed my neck, and heard him yelling in my ear: "Where did you get my dog?"

Startled, I pushed him away so hard that he staggered down the steps and almost fell to the ground.Hunter and I looked at each other, his eyes were red, as if he was about to cry.

"...You really don't know?"

I shook my head.

Hunter's face became even paler, as if he had been crushed instantly.After thinking about it for a while, I opened the door and motioned for him to come in.

Hunter was sitting on the sofa opposite me, with his head down, holding a cup of coffee in his hand, turning the cup around and around.The heat of the coffee made his hands red, but he seemed to be unconscious, and I didn't even dare to open my mouth to break the silence.

"This morning, I found that the lamb was missing."

"...Why do you think it's me?"

"The lamb is very afraid of strangers. It won't bark until it sees acquaintances. I didn't hear a sound. How could it disappear without a sound?"

"Did your front yard door close after you went back last night?"

After I finished asking, he fell silent and lowered his head so that I could only see his red hair. "The lamb never ran around before," he said.I smelled remorse from him, the smell of wet tears.

After a while, he sighed and said, "I'm sorry."

I really didn't expect to hear Hunter say the word "sorry" in this life, but in this situation, I also feel very depressed.Although Hunter is a jerk, I don't hate his dog, where did that silly golden retriever go...

Afterwards we didn't say anything more. After he finished his coffee, I refilled him a cup of hot milk. Smelling the smell of the milk, I thought of the day he and his dog were standing in front of my house in the rain.Hunter sat for a while and then left. When he left, he almost said to himself: "Did I think too bad of you?"

I don't know how to answer, now my head is full of my own business.

After Hunter left, I drove to the pharmaceutical factory to buy medicinal materials, and then shipped them to Chicago.The journey is very long, and looking at the boring scenery along the way, which can not be called the scenery, the depressed mood is slightly relieved.Chicago is still very lively, the World Expo has brought a steady stream of tourists, and also created patients with headaches for various reasons.If only this boom could last forever, I thought, completely forgetting that I never expected it at all.

The clerk at the pharmacy asked me for half a day off to go home to visit relatives. When I arrived, he was about to leave. "Can you be back before closing?" I asked.He nodded and hurried away.I sat at the counter, put on my glasses, looked at some personal orders recorded in the notepad, prepared medicines as needed, and waited for customers to pick them up.The first one to come was a little old lady, my regular customer, whose husband owned a nursery business in Portland, Maine, and who loved gardening herself, and took pains to teach me in those early years how to grow Roses live.

"Long time no see, Mr. Sedders."

"Long time no see." I handed her the packaged medicine and the change, and she didn't rush away, but instead asked how my flowers were. "It's all good, but sometimes there are aphids." I said.She said that I always have a gentle expression when talking about flowers.Yeah?I never noticed it myself. "Speaking of aphids..." She asked me for paper and pens, and wrote me a recipe, saying that I could make my own potion to get rid of aphids, and I planned to try it when I went back.

It was a quarter to six in the afternoon when my buddy came back.Leave the next thing to him, and I can finally go home.The thought of having a way to get rid of those aphids on the rose leaves brings joy to my heart.

When I got home, as soon as I opened the door, I saw Butcher leaning on the counter with a book in his hand, and the saucepan beside him was steaming. "Sue," he put down the book, "you're back."

"Hmm. Did something happen today?" I responded, took the recipe out of my pocket, and began to try to configure the potion.Butcher shook his head, leaned over and sniffed me, "It's time for you to take a shower, Dad." He was so close to me that my left ear was warm.

"Got it." I said.I took the watering pot from the balcony, fetched some water, and went to the yard to water the flowers. The water droplets hung on the petals, shining slightly in the indifferent twilight.I grow very well, and if there is one quality in me it is probably this ability to be a gardener.

Suddenly, I noticed a small bush of roses in the corner of the flowerbed became wilted. I thought it was an aphid at first, and twisted the petals, and found that the curly edges were slightly dry, unlike healthy petals, which felt like a thin and moist layer skin.This state is closer to lack of water. Only the cut flower branches in the flower shop will show this dying state. How can this be?I put on thick sackcloth gloves, and carefully poked open the flowers. The soil under this clump of flowers was loose, and the surface was slightly raised.

I didn't feel right, so I got a shovel and turned over the loose soil - revealing a piece of dark golden hair stained with dirt.I froze for a moment, then pushed the soil away in horror. In this way, the whole picture of a dog was exposed in the soil. It was sticking out its tongue, the hair at the corner of its mouth was covered with dried and clumped vomit, and its eyes were still slightly open. There was an ominous smell.

The shovel slipped from my hand and fell to the ground.

I stared blankly at the mess, for a long time, took off the gloves from my hands, threw them on the ground, and rushed into the door, "Butchell Sides!" I yelled.

Butcher Sides was ladling the soup into bowls without looking up, only shaking his hands. "I'm sorry," he said.He focused on the bowl in front of him, picked it up with his gloved hands, and placed it gently on the dining table.I'm not sure if this is a provocation.He knew exactly what he was doing.He—Butcher, he is such a person, one day, maybe he will kill me too.When I think about it, I feel unbearable, and my hands start to shake again.I wanted to say something, and when I said it, it became irrelevant.

"You've ruined all my flowers, and you know it's Matilda..." I said.Frustrating to say the words.In the final analysis, all words no longer make sense at this moment.What can I do with him?Even if he wants to kill me one day, I can only count the days and wait for that day to come.

"I know, those are Mama's flowers," Butcher said. "Mama's gone, and all the others are gone. Only I'll be with you forever, Daddy."

He took off his gloves, folded them aside, and walked towards me.I looked at him, unable to move, only my hands were shaking uncontrollably.Butcher hugged me and buried his head on my shoulder, which was wet in no time, and I couldn't understand why he was crying.I never really knew him, and it's too late now.All my energy was worn out in the endless internal friction, unable to deal with any relationship, and unable to clean up the mess of life.

"Let's have dinner first." I said.