Chapter 367: Chapter 233: The Military Dagger, Determining the Murderer! (Monthly ticket extra 1)_1
"Dean, long time no see!"
A slight figure with a ruddy complexion appeared in the projection room.
Dean looked up and smiled slightly. "Long time no see, Holz. You look much healthier than before."
Holz scratched his head. "Yeah, I don’t know why, but ever since you started working at the precinct, things have suddenly eased up for me here. I only have to work overtime occasionally, and I even have time to chat with ladies online. It’s just that I don’t know how to start a conversation."
"That’s easy!"
Dean snapped his fingers. "Go to a social media platform and register a female account to bait men. Whatever the ladies are talking about, use the same lines to reply to the male netizens. See how they respond, and if you find it interesting, use exactly the same lines to reply to your female netizens."
Lawrence’s eyes widened beside him.
Can you even do that?
Holz initially looked pleased but then said shyly, "Dean, would that be wrong? My dad taught me never to deceive when pursuing girls!"
"Come on!" Dean waved his hand dismissively. "This is clearly an effort for love, striving to improve oneself. How can that be called deception? That’s ambition, pure and simple! Men have to treat themselves well. Never be too sentimental towards any woman other than your mother. You’re a forensic expert; you should know a very cruel fact."
Dean lit a cigarette, his eyelids drooping, a wistful air about him as he spoke in a deep voice, "Most men, after a lifetime of hard work, receive their first bouquet of flowers in front of their own gravestones..."
With that one sentence, paired with Dean’s performance at that moment, it wasn’t just about triggering a sense of shared sorrow among men. If Niel were here, she would certainly feel extremely sorry for him, blaming herself and reflecting on whether she had given enough, and probably even help Dean organize a pleasant social gathering.
Holz’s already shaky moral baseline was instantly lowered by Dean’s words.
He clenched his fists and said gratefully, "Thank you, Dean. I know what to do now!"
Dean just smiled and said nothing. He could only hope Holz wouldn’t encounter one of those high-level players. Otherwise, who knew? In the midst of chatting, he could end up bent. After all, most of the time, men understood men better.
"Oh, right!" Something seemed to strike Holz as he slapped his forehead. "I came to find you because there’s been another murder—seven victims. The way they died is exactly the same as the previous victims you brought back. I thought it might help you!"
Upon hearing this, Dean and Lawrence looked at each other and said in unison, "Take us to see the bodies!"
The bodies Holz had mentioned had just been transported over.
「On the way.」
Holz complained, "Dean, there are too many bodies this time. I hope you can solve the case soon, otherwise the morgue warehouse will be too full."
"Morgue warehouse?" Dean asked. This was the first time he had heard the term.
Lawrence chuckled beside him. "Dean, it’s only at times like these that I can really feel you’re a newbie who only joined the force half a year ago."
Holz also smiled and explained the term’s origin.
It turned out the Forensic Department’s facilities for the deceased were divided into the ’mortuary’ and the ’morgue warehouse.’ Both were places to keep bodies. However, the former was generally for recently transported bodies, while the latter was specifically for storing ’cold case’ bodies—those from unsolved cases whose identities couldn’t be confirmed. The mortuary looked relatively normal. The morgue warehouse, on the other hand... outsiders would definitely be shocked and speechless. Why? Because the homicide rate in the United States was very high, but even in the technologically advanced early 21st century, the clearance rate remained extremely low. Year after year, the number of bodies just kept growing.
Ever seen warehouse shelves? Those ’cold case’ bodies, after simple processing and autopsy records, were wrapped layer by layer in plastic film like mummies. Then, they were stacked on shelves like cargo, or even directly piled on pallets, mountains of them. It saved more money this way.
When they were passing the morgue warehouse, Holz opened it to let Dean have a look.
Beyond a flicker of surprise that such a small refrigerated room could hold hundreds of bodies, Dean was internally unfazed. In his previous life, at a very young age, he had slept on corpse mounds so revolting they made his scalp tingle.
This... was a minor scene to him.
As the three conversed, they finally arrived at a mortuary on the second basement level.
Seven body bags filled the rather large mortuary space.
It seemed Holz had merely unzipped the bags for a quick look before rushing to inform Dean and Lawrence. In the ’mind your own business’ work culture of the United States, this was truly uncommon.
The head-covering part of the body bags had already been opened.
Dean only needed one glance to confirm that all seven people had died from the same type of melee weapon. The only difference was the entry angle of the wounds, which varied horizontally due to differences in height. But all wounds were inflicted by stabbing at the junction of the lower jaw and throat, exiting through the back of the head—clean, precise, decisive, and instantly fatal!
Lawrence stepped forward, yanked open the collars of several corpses, and after inspecting their chests, turned with a grave expression. "Dean, they’re all members of the Viper Gang, just as you said. The killer really did target these people because of that prostitute named Annie!"
If it was a coincidence before, now he fully agreed with Dean’s earlier deduction!
Dean nodded. "First, confirm their identities. See if they were minions of Blood Cow Anbu. If so, have Harry find out Blood Cow’s group’s usual hangouts as soon as possible!"
Although the Viper Gang wasn’t large, their activities weren’t confined to a single street in Los Angeles. So, minor leaders like Blood Cow Anbu all had their separate operational bases, somewhat similar to how the Red Poles of Hong Kong Island gangs in China would occupy streets to make a living.
Lawrence nodded and got to work.
Dean turned to Holz. "Holz, I need you to extract a model of the killer’s weapon as quickly as possible. Then, provide me with a forensic dummy. I want to simulate the murderer’s method to further confirm their identity."
Fighting skills, to put it bluntly, are really about how to exert force. Essentially, it’s a technique involving pushing strength and speed to their limits to strike an enemy’s vital points. Regardless of a fighter’s origin, a skilled practitioner’s power generation invariably involves a flow from bottom to top, from bone to muscle, engaging the entire body with a single impetus. This results in a force incomprehensible to an untrained ordinary person.
So... if the killer really was that limping man, no matter how formidable he was, there would be inherent flaws in his force exertion. These flaws would lead to subtle differences in the wounds, clearly distinguishing him from an able-bodied expert.
Anyway, the dead were all gang members, and the killer’s movements weren’t complicated. Dean was not in a hurry. He planned to first confirm the murderer’s identity with one hundred percent certainty before making an arrest, to avoid a wasted trip.
In the age of technology, forensic medical examiners could even simulate a deceased person’s appearance from a skeleton using computers, let alone identify the weapon used to kill eight gang members. Using machine scanning, Holz took only half an hour to hand Dean a straight, clean wax model of a ’military spike.’
"This is the material that can fulfill your request the quickest," Holz explained. "I can’t guarantee its strength, but I guarantee the weapon’s tip used by the killer is this exact shape. According to our database, two military spikes are the closest match. One is the quadrangular bayonet of the Mosin-Nagant. The other is a type of military spike from China. Truth be told, we hardly ever encounter either in real life. After all, a single bullet is far more efficient at killing."
"This is the Chinese military spike!"
Upon seeing the weapon, Dean immediately recognized it: the bayonet for early models of the Type 56 submachine gun! This submachine gun was mainly a copy of the AK47. However, the bayonet it came with became infamous worldwide due to its excessive brutality. After mass military downsizing, many veterans, struggling to make a living, left their homeland to become mercenaries and bandits, spreading its notoriety.
Of course, there were many rumors, but real experts who used it were exceedingly rare; Dean himself had never encountered one.
Holz was speaking crudely, but his logic wasn’t flawed. Times had changed. A handgun costing a few hundred US dollars could easily dispatch someone who had painstakingly mastered such techniques; the skill’s cost-effectiveness was simply too low.
Since the bayonet he held was made of wax, Dean couldn’t use it in actual combat, only for simulating force exertion. His Ancient Muay Thai skills had reached an expert level. The various ways to exert force and their resulting impacts were almost instinctual for him. After several simulations, he came to a conclusion.
The killer is that limping young man with the baseball cap!
Dean immediately called Hawk, the bald patrol officer, instructing him to take his officers, find the hefty bartender at the quiet bar, and inquire about the identity of the limping young man in the baseball cap. In the United States, many bartenders in small bars were akin to hotel lobby managers, partners with the owner, or even the owners themselves. They were often very familiar with their regular customers, so there was a high likelihood the bartender knew the young man’s identity.
Meanwhile, Lawrence also gave Dean feedback. "Dean, Harry just called me back. He said Blood Cow Anbu’s Viper Gang operations base is located next to an abandoned nursing home on XX Road. Normally, their women were interviewed and trained there. But now, all Viper Gang members there are dead. The victims are those same seven bodies we saw earlier."
Hearing this, Dean furrowed his brows and looked at Holz. "When you went there, did you see any injured people at the scene, or the body of a young white girl?"
Holz shook his head. "It’s just a small building with a basement that has been converted into a cage-like structure. I guess it’s where those scumbags were ’taming’ the girls. But there was nothing there but some fresh bloodstains."
Understood! Dean realized. A hospital or an illegal clinic! The killer likely took Annie to either a hospital or an unlicensed clinic.