Marvel turns into Iron Man

Chapter 235 234 Detective game?

Chevrolet Volando slowly drove towards the center of the town along the quiet road.

Finally, it stopped at the edge of the town's central square.

Summer in the United States has come to an end and it is almost fall.

It was approaching midnight, and only some late-night establishments were lit on the street.

On the side of the road, a drunk homeless man vomited while holding a trash can.

The pedestrians who were about to rush home also hurried back.

The gloomy town showed a different kind of bleakness and desolation.

"Probably a small town with few tourists."

Miss Stark said, opened the rear door and stepped out.

The town is located halfway up Rose Mountain, and the night wind is a bit strong.

Even Miss Stark herself put on a tan jacket over the outside.

Inside is a checked cashmere sweater and a small gray vest.

And below, of course, is a casual denim jumpsuit for women.

"What's next?"

Coulson also opened the car door and got out.

It is still the same black suit for thousands of years, as if it is a secret agent for fear that others will not recognize it.

Miss Stark grumbled, and walked towards the other side of the square.

There, outside of an alley off the street.

There are some lighted white candles and bouquets, and wooden crosses.

It's like a farewell scene where a farewell ceremony has just been held.

In the alley, the bricks on the ground were turned up, and there were still scorched marks on the surrounding walls.

There are also a few searchlights - it seems to be to illuminate the road that has not been repaired.

"There was an explosion here two months ago, and seven people died."

"A ex-soldier named Chad Davis, who was born here, is accused of being the murderer."

"Strangely enough, the murderer himself died in the bombing."

As Miss Stark said, she reached out and took off the baseball cap on her head and held it in her hand.

"It was a suicide bombing, but what's so strange about that?"

Phil hasn't seen Miss Stark's record of the bombing, so he doesn't know.

"The temperature generated by the explosion was as high as three thousand degrees Fahrenheit, and everything around it was vaporized in an instant.

"Isn't that weird enough?"

Miss Stark turned her head to look at Phil's illuminated forehead and asked.

Poor Phil, the hairline is getting further and further away from him.

She said in the bottom of her heart, but she still didn't stop explaining.

"After the bombing, the terrorist leader, Mandarin, admitted that he did it."

"However, there has always been a question in my heart about this matter—"

"What ability does he have to confuse an excellent non-commissioned officer who has won countless meritorious service and is loyal to the country."

Miss Stark knew all this well.

But she was going to try to transfer the thoughts of an old agent to her own.

It's not easy, and it's not simple at all.

She had to guide Coulson's thinking to follow her own pace.

"So, you plan to come over and investigate that person?"

Fortunately, Coulson, as an old secret agent with rich experience, easily understood what she meant.

"You're right, that's exactly what I mean."

Miss Stark nodded slightly, turned around and said.

"Then where are you going to start the investigation? It's night now."

Coulson's meaning is very clear, this is not a big city like New York.

The townspeople here rarely have any so-called nightlife.

"Who do you think sent the flowers?"

There are seven bunches of flowers that are not put together on the ground, most of which are white chrysanthemums, which symbolize mourning for the dead.

"Among the seven dead, there was a bouquet belonging to Chad Davis. Who do you think gave the flowers to the murderer?"

Miss Stark asked back, but her eyes were a little cold.

"Probably someone close to the murderer, his wife, or his parents."

As he spoke, Coulson walked towards the broken ground, knelt down and inspected the bouquet of flowers.

While the other bouquets were placed against the walls, this one was placed in the center of the floor.

In other words, this bouquet of white chrysanthemums was probably given to the murderer, a non-commissioned officer named Chad Davis.

"The flipping marks are fresh, probably not older than an hour, someone left it in here before us."

The necessary skill for an agent-seeing evidence.

As an old agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Coulson is naturally handy.

"It's okay if the other party has already gone home, but if the other party intends to miss it..."

"I think there is a place that is very suitable to relieve the depression in my heart."

As she spoke, she turned her gaze to the small bar that was still open when the vehicle passed by when she came.

It's probably the only night shop still open in town.

Likewise, if you want to remember a loved one who has passed away, getting drunk is a good place to go.

Especially for a relative of a murderer—

After all, the relatives of the murderer had already picked up the night to pay homage to their relatives.

"It may be that the wife, or family members such as the mother, deliberately avoided other victims."

The two walked towards the small bar not far away, one after the other.

The bar doesn't look very big, but the neon signboards are flashing to illuminate the surrounding roads, which are colorful.

Miss Stark has been watching the movement in the bar through the window.

He didn't notice the woman walking in front of him, and the two accidentally bumped into each other.

"Sorry, accidentally bumped into..."

Miss Stark said sorry habitually, then slowly raised her head.

Instead, he saw a face of mixed blood with Latin blood.

"Watch the way, miss."

The other party was a woman who looked a few years older than Miss Stark.

He has flaxen curly hair, and a short windbreaker over a white shirt.

"Your hair is beautiful and suits you well."

"Your is good too, thanks, have fun."

The two women exchanged briefly, and then went their separate ways.

"That woman is probably not from the small town."

Watching the woman leave, Coulson whispered in Miss Stark's ear.

"If it had been, she would have seen that we didn't belong here either, but she didn't."

Of course Miss Stark understood what Coulson meant.

What kind of person would come to a place with a bit of traffic congestion and few tourists at night?

With a man by his side, it was natural for the man to open the door of the bar on behalf of Lao.

And looking at the townspeople who got drunk in the bar, Miss Stark was also a little helpless.

"Who do you think we're looking for?"

The surrounding music and human voices were a bit noisy, and Miss Stark could only lean into Coulson's ear and ask softly.

"A woman, age doesn't matter, her face may be a little haggard, drinking alone."

PS:

I really like writing analysis plots.

Enjoy the fun of discovery while counting words

I also wanted to write criminal investigation novels

But I feel that I may only be suitable for reading but not for writing

After all... there is really no such technology