The more he wrote down the details, the clearer he remembered what had happened during that long weekend. Step by step he felt he was getting closer to the truth. He looked at the back page where he was drawing. He had drawn a few pictures of the boat, trying to remember everything on it. This time he drew the view of the boat from above, showing two corpses and two living people. He looked at this picture for a long time; After a while, though his eyes began to blur, he continued to stare until he heard the bells reminding that the church was noon. Then he got up and went to the kitchen and poured coffee in his cup. This time he also added some whiskey. 22.1 26 The next morning, a little past nine o’clock, the police came. It was a Wednesday. George was making coffee, thinking about what to do during the day. Police! Open the door! he shouted. It was a male voice. George opened the door thinking he was going to be arrested, and O’Clair and two uniformed police officers appeared in front of him. George Foss. I’m John O’Clair of the Boston Police. We have a permit to search your home. He showed two sheets of paper folded. He was as cheerful as he showed off a win-win ticket in which he won a jackpot. George sat on the sofa, sipped his coffee and read the search warrant. At that time, two police officers had started from the kitchen, searched the living room, headed for the bedroom. Nora, with her interest, was watching them too, zigzagging between her legs, her head tucking into each opening drawer. O’Clair was not participating in this search business and stood in the living room, looking at his cell phone every second. Where’s Detective James? Ge-orge asked. He knows about the situation. 224 What are you looking for as Cam? O’Clair didn’t answer. George thought about the money Liana gave him that he hadn’t promised to the cops. He wrapped this money in a cloth, took it to the basement of the apartment, and stuffed it under a dryer there. At that time, he wondered if I was being overly cautious, but now he wouldn’t have to explain to Boston Police where so much money was coming from. Detective, we found something, said one of the uniformed officers in the bedroom. Without trying to hide the expression of satisfaction on his face, O’Clair told George to stay where he was and went to his bedroom. What sort of thing they might have found to blame him, George thought. I wish I had made my bed straight and removed my dirty clothes from the corner, he thought. Flash flares appeared in the bedroom; photos were being taken. As George stood up, O’Clair walked out of the room. Next to him, uniformed officers, hispanic female police officer with eyebrows resembling Frida Kahlo, the famous painter.
had. He was wearing white rubber gloves; He held out a piece of paper with two small boulders, one greenish and the other pink. Can you prove them? O’Clair asked. I’ve never seen these before. Where did you find it? Although they looked like boulders, George understood that they were diamonds. The hairs on his back shuddered. We confiscate them as evidence.