North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 367 - 233: The Military Dagger, Determining the Murd

"Dean, long ti no see!"

A slight figure with a ruddy complexion appeared in the projection room.

Dean looked up and smiled slightly. "Long ti 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 here. I only have to work overti occasionally, and I even have ti 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 dia platform and register a female account to bait n. Whatever the ladies are talking about, use the sa lines to reply to the male netizens. See how they respond, and if you find it interesting, use exactly the sa 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 never to deceive when pursuing girls!"

"Co 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! n have to treat themselves well. Never be too sentintal 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 n, after a lifeti 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 mont, it wasn’t just about triggering a sense of shared sorrow among n. If Niel were here, she would certainly feel extrely 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 ti, n understood n better.

"Oh, right!" Sothing seed to strike Holz as he slapped his forehead. "I ca to find you because there’s been another murder—seven victims. The way they died is exactly the sa 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 ntioned had just been transported over.

「On the way.」

Holz complained, "Dean, there are too many bodies this ti. I hope you can solve the case soon, otherwise the morgue warehouse will be too full."

"Morgue warehouse?" Dean asked. This was the first ti he had heard the term.

Lawrence chuckled beside him. "Dean, it’s only at tis 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 Departnt’s facilities for the deceased were divided into the ’mortuary’ and the ’morgue warehouse.’ Both were places to keep bodies. However, the forr 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 confird. 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 extrely 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 basent level.

Seven body bags filled the rather large mortuary space.

It seed Holz had rely 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 sa type of lee 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 mbers of the Viper Gang, just as you said. The killer really did target these people because of that prostitute nad 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, sowhat 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 with a forensic dummy. I want to simulate the murderer’s thod 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 mbers, and the killer’s movents 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 dical examiners could even simulate a deceased person’s appearance from a skeleton using computers, let alone identify the weapon used to kill eight gang mbers. 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 imdiately 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 ca with beca infamous worldwide due to its excessive brutality. After mass military downsizing, many veterans, struggling to make a living, left their holand to beco rcenaries 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. Tis had changed. A handgun costing a few hundred US dollars could easily dispatch soone 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 ca to a conclusion.

The killer is that limping young man with the baseball cap!

Dean imdiately 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 custors, so there was a high likelihood the bartender knew the young man’s identity.

anwhile, Lawrence also gave Dean feedback. "Dean, Harry just called back. He said Blood Cow Anbu’s Viper Gang operations base is located next to an abandoned nursing ho on XX Road. Normally, their won were interviewed and trained there. But now, all Viper Gang mbers there are dead. The victims are those sa 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 basent 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 so fresh bloodstains."

Understood! Dean realized. A hospital or an illegal clinic! The killer likely took Annie to either a hospital or an unlicensed clinic.