The sound of the piano hunts the murderer

FBI agent Chris arrives at a hut on the hill. He's here to catch Carl Richards, a dangerous murderer with a gun. Through a tattered window, he sees a middle-aged man with a beard watching him closely.

　　Chris took a deep breath, raised his legs and walked into the hut, greeting cordially: "Hello!"

　　An old man was standing by the fireplace, looking at Chris without making a sound. The middle-aged man with the beard was still standing by the window, holding a pistol in his hand.

　　"You're a police officer, right?" the man with the gun asked.

　　"Yes," Chris replied with a friendly smile, "you must be Papi Richards, Carl Richards' father."

　　"That's right, I'm Carl's dad. You can't catch him." As he said that, he pointed the gun at Chris.

　　"So, you are..." Chris looked at the old man and asked.

　　"Papi and I are old friends," the old man replied.

　　Chris nodded and looked around the room. "I've been assigned to be in charge of this case," he said, "but I can see he's not home today. I think I'll have to come again." Then he saw the violin hanging on the wall.

　　"Who plays the violin?" he asked.

　　There was silence in the room for a while, then the old man replied, "Papi. He's the best violinist in the area. You should listen to'Turkey in the Grass' by him."

　　Chris seemed to be interested all of a sudden and said, "Really? I also know a little bit about fur. Mind if I take a look at that violin?"

　　As he walked over to get the violin, Chris knew the gun was still aimed at him. He felt sweat on his forehead, but he calmly removed the violin from the wall, as if he were a warmly welcomed guest. He carefully flipped the violin over and removed the bow. Immediately afterwards, lively music sounded.

　　It was "Turkey in the Grass" that Chris pulled. The old man began to beat with one foot on the dusty floor. But Papi still stood motionless, holding the gun tightly, looking at Chris coldly.

　　Chris played the violin hard, his eyes occasionally glancing at Papi. Chris felt like he had never played so well. Papi Richards was also intoxicated, his confrontational eyes turned to surprise. The gun is now pointed to the ground. When the last music note fell, Papi had thrown the gun into the corner.

　　"Oh, officer," said Papi, "that's a first-rate performance. Maybe you should stay for dinner and play us a few more tunes."

　　After dinner, the three of them sat outside the house enjoying the spring sun. They chatted about violin music, and the old man who lived in the area and the violinist Papi knew.

　　They chatted for an hour, and no one mentioned why Chris was here. The beautiful piano sounded again, and another hour passed without a word about Carl Richards.

　　Finally, Chris said, "Sorry, I have to go back to town. I live in the Justice Office now."

　　The old man looked at him for a moment and said, "Where's Carl? You want to arrest him, don't you?" There was some ridicule in his voice.

　　"Oh, I'm not arresting him," Chris laughed. "The government is arresting him. You know what the attitude of the government is when it's arresting someone. It may take days, months, or years, but they always catch him. The longer it takes, the worse he's going to be out there."

　　"Does the government always catch whoever it wants?" the old man asked.

　　"Not always. Sometimes that person dies while absconding."

　　Papi was lost in thought. After a long time, he suddenly said: "Well, Mr. Officer. I like the way you speak, and I also like your beautiful piano sound. I think you are a trustworthy person."

　　He paused, as if it were difficult to go on. Then he said in a hoarse voice: "I... well, I'll talk to Carl. I think he'll make the right choice tomorrow. You can wait in the attorney general's office at noon tomorrow."

　　Chris was relieved, but he still said in surprise: "Then, see you tomorrow at noon." As he descended the mountain, he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

　　At noon the next day, when the church bell in the town struck 12, a middle-aged man with a beard appeared on the street, followed by a young man. At a glance, he knew that the young man had been hiding on the mountain for several days. They were walking towards the attorney general's office...