Chapter 1107: Can villains also love?

"welcome"

Seeing three handsome men and beautiful women walk into the living room, the old Latino man on the sofa put down the cigar he had only taken two or three puffs of, and stood up with some difficulty.

Caesar Calderón was not tall, barely able to stand shoulder to shoulder with Beckett in his flat shoes. He wore an embroidered silk shirt in a very obvious South American style, and around his neck hung a silver necklace made of small pieces of cheap turquoise.

This ornament is somewhat inconsistent with his identity. According to the information sent by the DEA, before Calderon "retired from the underworld" that year, he laundered at least nearly 100 million US dollars.

Jack's eyes swept over the Cuban cigar box on the table and the bottles of wine on the small bar next to it. These luxury items were consistent with the assets he owned.

Although the information says that Calderon is only in his early 60s, his gray hair and beard, the wrinkled skin on his neck, and his slightly slow movements all give people a feeling of being extremely old.

Jack had no interest in dealing with this drug lord and completely ignored the hand he offered, stepping aside and letting Beckett take charge.

"Mr. Calderon, I'm Detective Kate Beckett, and this is Agent Jack Tawler, who's here to assist me, and..."

Beckett put on a fake smile and shook the other person's hand.

Calderon was well-mannered and did not get angry because of Jack's unfriendly attitude, or perhaps his attention was completely attracted by the great writer.

"It's nice to meet you, beautiful lady, and you, sir, need no introduction, I'm a huge fan of your novels."

Holding Cassell's hand, Calderon's weak voice couldn't help but raise its pitch slightly. Although he spoke English, his Spanish accent was very heavy and his speaking pace was deliberately slowed down, giving people the illusion of watching a Mexican TV series.

"Whenever I want to recall the bloody and fiery past of my early years, I will turn to your novels and look for that feeling in them. Of course, your new book is also quite good. I can even say that Nikki Vjego is my favorite protagonist."

Cassel looked slightly confused, but then he suddenly realized, "Ah, I think you mean Nicky Hitt?"

He subconsciously glanced at Beckett beside him. The "Niki Hitt" series based on the prototype of the beautiful detective has now reached the third book. Shangri-La Company is negotiating with the great writer for the TV adaptation rights of the first two books.

"No, I'm talking about Nicky Viego. I read the Spanish translation. Have you read your novel in Spanish?"

Without waiting for Cassel to answer, Calderon said, "You should read it. Anything written in Spanish will become more exciting and romantic."

As he spoke, he kept looking Beckett up and down, and obviously recognized the prototype of Nicky Vjego.

"So, a best-selling author and a charming detective and an FBI..." Calderon looked at Jack, who still had a blank expression on his face, and gestured for everyone to sit on the sofa in the living room.

The middle-aged man who opened the door for the three people at the beginning walked behind Calderon and looked at them with a vigilant look.

".What can I do for you?" Calderon still maintained his slow and unhurried tone, as if this could cover up his obviously weak voice.

Cassel glanced at Jack and saw that he still had no intention of speaking, so he took the initiative to explain his purpose, "We are investigating a murder case and need your assistance."

Calderon seemed to be chatting with Cassell all the time, but in fact he was secretly observing Jack. For some reason, from the moment this FBI agent walked in, he felt like a thorn in his back.

Only what Jack did in Mexico were high-level secret operations. If he knew how much blood of South American drug lords was on the hands of this FBI agent in front of him, he would probably be restless by now.

Taking his attention away from Jack, Calderon calmed himself down and looked at Beckett who was taking out information from the file bag. "Ah, it sounds interesting. Who is the victim?"

But the detective's answer instantly wiped out his fake smile. "Valerie Monroe? No, Valerie is dead?"

He looked at Cassel in disbelief, and the great writer smiled back at him, not understanding why.

"May I ask what is your relationship with Dr. Monroe?" Beckett noticed his expression and asked softly.

"she"

Calderon opened his mouth, and his already weak voice sounded like he was talking in his sleep, or talking to himself, "She is mine."

".She is my personal doctor." His lips trembled as he spoke these words with difficulty. He closed his eyes with a painful expression and it took him a while to recover.

"I have a heart problem. I had a heart attack six months ago and my brother Manuel took me to the hospital."

Having said that, Calderon looked back at the middle-aged man standing behind him. The middle-aged man did look somewhat similar to him, and he looked back at his brother with a worried look on his face.

Calderon stood up with some difficulty, holding on to the armrest of the sofa, and walked to the small bar to pour himself a glass of whiskey. "Valerie was on duty at the time, and she took care of me, so I gave her an extra job as my personal doctor."

The drug lord seemed to have aged ten years in an instant. He tremblingly picked up the wine glass and drank it all in one gulp. Then he breathed a sigh of relief, as if the alcohol gave him the strength to continue speaking.

"From that day on, my brother would take care of me two days a week, and Valerie would take care of me the other five days."

The three people on the sofa looked at each other and saw a hint of surprise in each other's eyes.

Although I had guessed that the relationship between the two was not simple, but judging from his performance at this moment, it seemed that he was really in love.

Forty thousand dollars a month is indeed a little too little for a mistress, at least it does not match the "identity" of this drug lord. But if it is a private doctor, this price can be said to be generous, but not outrageous.

"So she's just your personal doctor?" Beckett asked.

The female detective was just asking routine questions and did not expect the other party to tell her the truth, because from the drug lord's evasive description just now, it can be seen that he obviously did not want to speak directly about the true relationship between the two.

However, unexpectedly, Calderon put the glass back on the bar, as if he had figured something out, and spoke loudly.

"No, she is my miracle star. Valerie helped me to get back on my feet, back into the world, and regain my faith in life."

Calderon's lips trembled, as if to declare, "She would force me to walk in the park and accompany me to relax."

He lowered his eyelids and did not continue speaking. After a long silence, he looked at Beckett viciously, "Whoever did such an evil thing must pay the price for it."

"This is also the purpose of our coming here, to find the murderer of Dr. Monroe, Mr. Calderon." Beckett still spoke in a businesslike tone.

"Where were you between 7 and 9 last night?"

"I'm right here." The fierce light in Calderon's eyes disappeared, and he walked back to his sofa and sat down. "I ordered room service, and the hotel staff can prove it."