The Slag Gong wants to Kill me - Chapter 33
I decided to go to the police station, the film emperor was not assured, or went with me. I saw Officer D as if he was relieved, he relaxed at once.
I don’t know why he wants to relax. I found the “key” of the door long ago.
Before I arrived at the police station, I called my editor friend B and told him about it. He said that he had hired a lawyer and had already found out the details of D. He was probably the adopted son of the Zhuma family. , But it seems not registered.
I told him I knew.
When I arrived at the police station, I found that my husband’s brother A was also sitting there. His mother was beside him. He seemed to be stupid.
A looked up at me, he sighed, and said, “Are you going to make a transcript?”
I shook my head. I saw that there was a stubborn look on his face, and some unscummed scum, which was not as bad as he used to be. He was hit hard.
Police Officer D took me into a room, and the film prince was arranged to wait outside the door. He pressed my hand and told me that if something happened, he would call for help, and he would come in immediately to save me. I think the film emperor has made up a lot of brains. This is the police station after all.
Inside was a hard wood table and two chairs. There is a transparent baffle between the room where the bamboo horse is located, and across the baffle, I can see the bamboo horse wearing a prison uniform with shackles on his hands and feet. His eyes were anxious, and he seemed frightened after seeing me. Alas.
I sat in the chair, and Police Officer D sat next to me. He coughed softly and said, “Bamboo, you can say it.”
I saw Zhu Ma’s trusting eyes sweeping through Officer D, and when he got to me, it turned into hatred and fear. He shivered and said, “That’s … he kept me and his husband in the house. I … . I couldn’t eat it … I ate him … “When he said that, he became more frightened, his hands were shaking, as if he would stand up and escape in the next second.
Officer D looked at me and asked, “What do you think?”
I stared at the police officer and said, “What’s so good about a crazy criminal suspect? I already knew it was my husband he killed.”
Officer D smiled and said, “Don’t you believe it last time?”
“… now … believe.” I lowered my head and wept with tears, and said, “Sergeant … Do you want to scapegoat this man who killed my husband?”
“No,” Officer D said, “Who locked the door?”
“Does it make sense for the door to be locked!” I roared pretending to cry, “My husband died because of excessive blood loss! He held the knife again! There was no second person in the room! And …”
“And he also ate my husband’s meat!” I said, “Who is the convict still indecisive? Why do you keep investigating who the door is locked! Send this murderer to the court and sentence him to death!”