The sound of the piano to catch the murderer

FBI agent Chris arrives in front of a cabin in the mountains. He had come to apprehend Carl Richards - a dangerous murderer with a gun. Through a broken window, he saw a middle-aged man with a beard watching him closely. Chris took a deep breath, lifted his leg, and stepped into the cabin, greeting him cordially, "Hello!"

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

"You're a cop, aren't you?" The man with the gun asked.

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

"That's right, I'm Carl's father. You won't get him." And with that, he pointed the gun at Chris.

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

"Papi and I are old friends." The old man replied.

Chris nodded and looked around the room. "My superiors put me on the case," he said, "but I can see he's not home today. I guess I'll have to come back." Then he saw the violin hanging on the wall.

"Who plays the violin?" He asked.

There was a moment of silence in the room, and then the old man replied, "Papi. He's the best violinist in the area. You should hear him play "Turkey in the Grass."

Chris seemed instantly interested and said, "Really? I know a little bit about it too. Do you 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 his forehead sweat, 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 afterward, lively music began to play. Chris played none other than "Turkey in the Grass". The old man began to beat with one foot on the dusty floor. But Papi still stood motionless, holding his gun tightly and looking coldly at Chris.

Chris played the violin hard, his eyes occasionally glancing at Papi. Chris felt that he had never played so well. Papi Richards was also intoxicated, and the confrontational look turned into amazement. The gun was now pointed at the ground. When the last note fell, Papi had dropped the gun into the corner.

"Oh, officer," Pappy said, "that was first-class playing. Perhaps you should stay for dinner and play us a few more tunes."

After the meal, the three men sat together outside the house enjoying the spring sunshine. They talked about fiddle music and the old people who lived in the area and the fiddlers Papi knew.

They talked for an hour without anyone mentioning the reason Chris came here. The beautiful sound of the violin played again and another hour passed, still not a word about Carl Richards was mentioned. Finally, Chris said, "I'm sorry, but I have to go back to town. I'm staying at the Justice Office now."

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

"Oh, it's not that I want to arrest him," Chris laughed, "it's the government that wants to arrest him. You know how it is when the government wants to arrest someone. It may take a few days, a few months, or a few years, but they'll always get him. The longer it takes, the worse it will be for him out there."

"Does the government always catch whoever he wants to catch?" The old man asked.

"Not always. Sometimes that person will die on the way to abscond."

Papi was deep in thought. After a long time, he suddenly said, "Well, Mr. Officer. I like the way you talk, and I like the sound of your beautiful piano. I think you're a man to be trusted." He paused as if it were difficult to speak further. Then, in a hoarse voice, he said, "I ...... well, I'll talk to Carl. I think he will make the right choice tomorrow. You can wait in the sheriff's office tomorrow at noon."

Chris was relieved, but he said with surprise, "Well, then, I'll see you tomorrow at noon." As he descended the hill, he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

At noon the next day, when the town church bell struck twelve, a middle-aged man with a beard appeared in the street, followed by a younger man, and it was clear from a glance that the younger man had been hiding in the hills for several days. They were walking towards the magistrate's office ......