North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 32 Locked!1

Dean arrived at the Forensic Departnt. After inquiring with the security guard, he took a deep breath and, carrying a Big Mac al, headed towards Morgue Number Three.

The Los Angeles Forensic Departnt was an independent agency under the Detective Bureau, responsible for various material tests, autopsies, and issuing authoritative reports on clues. It was often said that when detectives captured criminals and wanted to convict them, they frequently needed the support of reports from the Forensic Departnt. This support was very flexible. A good relationship made solving cases smoother; a poor one could lead to frustrating delays and make things very uncomfortable.

Dean’s current actions, whether right or wrong, would embarrass the head of the Forensic Departnt if exposed. If it weren’t necessary, Dean wouldn’t want to do this.

But Bill fit the murderer’s profile too well.

As a forensic doctor, Bill might have been even more professional at cleaning up traces than Dean, a forr Sweeper. Furthermore, with his familiarity with the human body and mastery of chemicals, he could precisely control the ti a victim remained conscious. Considering Bill’s unusual hobbies and excessively large build, which often led to discrimination and isolation, he fit the psychological profile of the killer that Dean and Lawrence had deduced.

The key was that the timings of Bill’s appearances and disappearances at Ross’s Gym were too coincidental. With so many coincidences, even though Bill was a three-hundred-plus-pound man—conspicuous and not easily mobile—Dean still considered him the pri suspect. After all, who could be sure there was only one murderer?

Formally interrogating Bill would undoubtedly be asking for trouble. So Dean planned to test the waters first, to see if he could rattle the snake and bluff Bill.

Morgue Number Three was located on the third basent level. The corridor was brightly lit, its walls clad in steel, giving the entire place the atmosphere of an evil laboratory from the movies.

When Dean arrived, he looked through the corridor’s glass window and saw Bill with a petite figure, their backs to the corridor, engrossed in dissecting a female corpse. Dean stood before the glass, scrutinizing them.

The small figure was thin, dressed in an oversized white coat and wearing a mask. He stood before a small cart laden with tools, apparently Bill’s assistant. Next to the autopsy table was a large bank of lights, like those in an operating room, with a recording device positioned to one side beneath them.

Bill and his assistant didn’t exchange a single word the entire ti, yet their coordination was seamless. Bill would rely lift a hand, and the petite assistant would promptly place the desired tool into it.

After waiting for about ten minutes, Bill stopped his work, paused briefly in front of the cara, and then walked towards a washroom to the side. The petite assistant stepped forward, picked up a cara, and photographed the organs removed from the female corpse one by one. He then placed them back inside the body and ticulously began to suture the incisions.

Only then did Dean, holding his parcel, push open the door and enter.

Hearing the sound, the petite assistant paused his stitching and looked up towards the doorway. "Who are you?"

"I’m Dean. I’m here to see Bill about a promise," Dean said, lifting the Big Mac package he was carrying. "Is Bill not around?"

Hearing he was looking for Bill, the petite assistant pointed to the female corpse on the table. "He just finished and went for a shower. You can wait for him over there." With that, he lowered his head and resud his work.

Dean placed the package on a nearby table and leaned in. "Is this a new homicide? Which squad from Homicide is handling it?"

"Yes, an eighteen-year-old girl from Bear Country. She was found dead by the roadside this morning. The Second Squad is handling it. It’s quite a troubleso case," the petite assistant said. He was quite talkative and didn’t hesitate to share what he knew.

Dean asked curiously, "Why is it troubleso?"

The assistant deftly tied a knot on the girl’s pale abdon, stood up, and said, "Because she was a prostitute. The prostitutes from Bear Country around here are mostly controlled by the Bear Gang. They only solve their own problems; they don’t cooperate with detectives."

He put away his tools, looked Dean over seriously, and smiled. "Hello, I’m Holz, Bill’s assistant. You must be a rookie, right?"

"Yes, I just joined the Fourth Squad two days ago," Dean shrugged.

"Then you’re really out of luck," Holz said, taking off his gloves and pulling down his mask to reveal a rather delicate face. "I’ve heard the Fourth Squad is completely overwheld by a case."

Hearing this, Dean deliberately looked down at the naked female corpse before him and said with feigned contempt, "It’s troubleso, but we’ve almost identified the murderer. He’s cunning, but his arrogance made him expose too much."

As he spoke, his peripheral vision was fixed on Holz’s expression.

"Congratulations then." Holz took a large white cloth from the cart and covered the female corpse. "I have to get back to work. I look forward to your good news."

With that, he waved to Dean, pushed the cart, and entered a small room.

His expression was normal.

Dean withdrew his gaze and walked over to sit at the small table. On it, besides the Big Mac al he had brought, was a half-eaten steak. The rare beef and oozing blood staining the green vegetables involuntarily reminded Dean of the female corpse’s internal organs he had just seen.

To be able to eat sothing like that in this environnt... Dean could only conclude that dical examiners weren’t normal people.

WHIRR.

The sound of disinfecting air blowers ca from the shower room. The iron door opened, and Bill, dressed in fresh clothes, returned to the morgue.

"Hello, Bill. I’m Dean, Lawrence’s colleague. Thanks for your help with the towel fiber analysis last ti," Dean stood up and greeted him warmly.

Bill glanced at Dean indifferently. Only when he saw the Big Mac al bag on the table did a smile finally appear on his chubby face. "I thought Lawrence would wait until the case was over to fulfill his promise."

"We’re almost there. We’ve already grasped the killer’s general identity. Barring any surprises, the case should be resolved in a day or two," Dean said, probing with the sa line.

Little did Dean know, a sneer appeared on Bill’s face. "I think you should start looking for your next job."

"What?" Dean looked puzzled. "Bill, I don’t quite understand what you’re saying."

The chair let out a groan, as if unable to bear Bill’s weight. Bill settled down with difficulty, opened the Big Mac al, scanned its contents, and then complained, "Where’s the tomato juice? Lawrence actually forgot my favorite tomato juice!"

"Sorry, my mistake. I’m the one who bought it," Dean said. "I’ll make it up to you next ti I co over, but first, you need to answer my question."

At this point, Dean was certain Bill didn’t possess the physical capability to commit this kind of cri. It was already a struggle for Bill to complete his daily work at the Forensic Departnt; he couldn’t possibly have the energy to go out committing cris at night. Besides, with his physique, it would be incredibly difficult to conceal his movents.

"Make sure you rember, or I won’t help you people again," Bill muttered, then explained, "Your case is unlikely to have a resolution!"

"I looked at the suspect’s body you sent over. The autopsy showed he died of a cerebral hemorrhage; the report will be sent to your squad later. However, I believe he was murdered!"

Cerebral hemorrhage... murder... Dean thought.

An idea flashed through Dean’s mind. "Bill, are you saying the suspect was killed by soone using resonance?"

The human body is far more fragile than one might imagine. If soone is well-versed in chanics, they can induce a cerebral hemorrhage by gently tapping on the skull, causing tiny blood vessels within the cranium to rupture.

Bill looked at Dean in surprise. "Not many people know about that."

In his past life, Dean had studied similar covert thods of murder, but of course, he couldn’t say so now. He could only reply, "I’ve read reports about similar criminal cases."

Bill nodded and continued, "There were no obvious traces on the body. To achieve this, the killer must not only be an expert in chanics but also possess a profound understanding of human anatomy. Typically, this thod is used in combination with drugs to prevent errors. The body was discovered promptly, yet no traces of drugs were found internally. This indicates that the killer is also extrely knowledgeable in pharmacology."

Bill chuckled. "Dean, a high-IQ criminal who leaves no trace, an expert in chanics, anatomy, and pharmacology—even if you catch him, do you think he’d leave behind any evidence for a conviction?"

Hearing this, Dean sighed. "Bill, whether we can convict him or not, we at least have to do our jobs to justify our monthly paychecks. I won’t disturb you any longer."

With that, he got up to leave.

At the door, Dean suddenly spun around, eting Bill’s eyes, which had been indifferently watching his back. This sudden move caught Bill off guard.

"Is there sothing else?" Bill hesitated for a mont, then asked sowhat unnaturally.

"Nothing much," Dean said, eting Bill’s gaze. "I just think being too overweight isn’t good for your health. Bill, I know a gym that not only has professional trainers but also lots of beautiful won. The key is, the won are passionately enthusiastic. If you ever need it..."

"NO!"

Hearing the words "passionately enthusiastic," Bill seed to recall so unpleasant mory. His gaze turned fierce. "I don’t need to work out, and you can leave now!"

"What a sha!" Dean whistled. Ignoring the ferocity in Bill’s eyes, he pushed the door open and disappeared from view.

Leaving the morgue, Dean imdiately called Lawrence. "Lawrence, stop the investigation. I need you to get all of Bill’s information, including details about everyone around him..."

「On the other side.」

Bill resud his indifferent deanor, pulled out his phone, and made a call...