Library

In Brooklyn in 1964, the cold rain in late autumn was always wrapped in the fishy smell of the pier and stuck to the old windbreaker of "the world's best detective" Roland Peder. This 32-year-old detective spends his days in the office puffing away smoke and talking nonsense to whiskey bottles. When he encounters a murder scene, he will be so scared that his back is pressed against the wall. Only his wrestling ability can save him half his life in a bar brawl. What saved his detective career was his 28-year-old assistant Rosa Palin. Her schedule was precise down to the minute, she didn't touch cigarettes or alcohol, her notebooks were full of legal provisions and case suspects, and she could always find key clues in Roland's nonsense. When a case of the disappearance of a female teacher came to her door, Roland was "deducing" the case from an empty wine bottle, but Rosa had already come to her door with the deceased's suicide note: in addition to the scrawled address on the paper, there was only a strange line: "Don't trust the man in the gray coat." The abandoned warehouse at the pier, the sudden disappearance of witnesses, and the increasingly dense timeline drawn in Rosa's notebook drag this pair of partners with completely opposite painting styles into the whirlpool. When Roland's "random thoughts" collided with Rosa's rigorous reasoning, the truth hidden behind the cold rain was actually more chilling than his fear of the dark. It turns out that even the most timid detective has darkness that he must face head-on.

The gods of chaos control life and death, the twins go crazy and defy fate, and the blood sacrifice carnival overwhelms the world.

The wet fog in San Francisco in 1997 hid a colder secret than the sea fog. Rosa Linde, a British female college student, went to the United States to complete a forensic practice report, but was accidentally involved in a series of murders. The three deceased bodies were abandoned next to city landmarks, with a rusty brass cross clutched at their fingertips. The circumstances of their deaths were exactly the same as the plot of the out-of-print detective novels she collected. The person in charge of "assisting" the investigation is Roland Peder, a well-known local gangster detective: an apartment with piles of cigarette butts, a coat pocket that always carries whiskey, and a living on the change earned from finding cats, but he has a pair of eyes that can pick out clues from the garbage. Rosa's mysophobia is incompatible with his sloppiness, and her obsessive-compulsive observation of details collides with his "superstitious" intuitive judgment, making her the most absurd temporary partner in the San Francisco Police Department. The murders escalate one after another. The strange symbols around the deceased and the subtle traces of disappearances at the scene all point to a lost and terrifying manuscript. Rosa relies on her photographic memory to dismantle clues, while Roland uses charlatanism to open up underground connections. The two approach the truth through mutual dislike and dependence - the murderer is not only reproducing the murders in the novel, but is also weaving a web of death against them. When the church bells collide with gunshots in the fog, the squeamish academic master and the bastard detective must break the barriers: hidden in the ignored dust are the last messages of the deceased; and the Taekwondo black belt around Roland's waist may be the only confidence to fight against the darkness. The wet mist has not yet dispersed, but the next sacrifice is already waiting in the shadows.