Chapter 1107: Can evil people also love?

“Welcome. 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 effort.

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

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

Jack's eyes swept across the Cuban cigar box on the table and the wine bottles on the small bar next to him. These luxury goods were consistent with his assets.

Although the information said that Calderon was only in his early 60s, whether it was the gray hair and beard, the wrinkled neck skin like chicken skin, or his slightly slow movements, they all gave people a very old feeling.

Jack had no interest in dealing with this kind of drug lord. He completely ignored the other party's outstretched hand and took the initiative to step aside, letting Beckett take charge.

"Mr. Calderon, I am Detective Kate Beckett, this is Agent Jack Tavoler who came to assist, and..."

Becket showed a fake smile on his face and shook hands with the other party.

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.

"Nice to meet you, beautiful lady, and you, sir, no need to introduce yourself, I am a super fan of your novels."

Holding Cassel's hand, Calderon's weak voice couldn't help but raise a little tone. Although he spoke English, his Spanish accent was very heavy, and the rhythm of his speech was deliberately slowed down, giving people the illusion of watching a Mexican TV series.

"Whenever I want to look back on my early years of blood and fire, I will open your novel and look for that feeling in it. Of course, your new book is also quite good. I can even say that Nikki Vjego is my favorite protagonist."

Cassell showed a slightly confused expression, but then suddenly realized, "Ah, I think you are talking about Nikki Hitt?"

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

"No, I am talking about Nikki Vjego. I read the Spanish translation. Have you read the Spanish translation of your novel?"

Before Cassel answered, Calderon said to himself, "You should read it. No matter what is described in Spanish, it will become more exciting and romantic."

While speaking, he kept looking up and down at Beckett, and obviously recognized the prototype of Nikki Vjego.

"So, a best-selling author, a charming detective, and an FBI agent." Calderon glanced at Jack, who still had no expression on his face, and gestured to 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 kept looking at them with vigilant eyes.

". What can I do for you?" Calderon still maintained a slow 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 have been chatting with Cassel, but in fact he was always secretly observing Jack. For some reason, from the moment this FBI agent walked in, he felt like he was on edge.

Only the things Jack did in Mexico were high-level secret operations. If he knew how much blood of South American drug lords this FBI agent had on his hands, he would probably be restless at this time.

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

But the answer of the female detective made his pretended smile disappear from his face instantly, "Valerie Monroe? No, Valerie is dead?"

He looked at Cassel in disbelief, and the great writer smiled back at him in confusion.

"What is your relationship with Dr. Monroe?" Beckett noticed his expression and asked softly.

"She"

Calderon opened his mouth, and his already weak voice seemed to be talking in a dream, or talking to himself, "She is mine."

".She is my personal doctor." He trembled his lips and said these words with difficulty, closed his eyes with pain on his face, and recovered after a while.

"I have a heart problem. I had a heart attack half a year ago. My brother Manuel took me to the hospital."

Speaking of this, Calderon looked back at the middle-aged man standing behind him. The middle-aged man looked a bit like him, and he looked back at his brother with a worried look.

Calderon stood up with some difficulty by supporting himself on the armrest of the sofa, walked to the small bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Valerie was on duty at the time. 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 trembled and took up the glass and drank it all. Then he breathed a sigh of relief, as if the alcohol gave him the strength to continue.

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

The three people on the sofa looked at each other, and saw some surprise in each other's eyes.

Although they had long guessed that the relationship between the two was not simple, from the performance of this person at this moment, it seemed that they were really in love.

$40,000 a month, if it was to support a mistress, it was indeed a little less, at least it was not in line with the "identity" of this drug lord, but if it was a private doctor, this price could be said to be generous, but not outrageous.

"So she is just your private doctor?" Beckett asked.

The female detective was just asking as a routine question, and did not expect to get the other party to tell her frankly, because from the drug lord's evasive narration just now, it can be seen that he obviously did not want to speak frankly 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 said loudly.

"No, she is my miracle star. Valerie made me cheer up, return to this world, and regain my confidence in life."

Calderon's lips trembled, as if to declare, "She will force me to go to the park for a walk and accompany me to relax."

He lowered his eyelids and did not continue to speak. After a long silence, he looked at Beckett with a sinister look, "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 who killed Dr. Monroe, Mr. Calderon." Beckett still spoke in a businesslike tone.

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

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