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Chapter 5 - Chapter 5 - Solve the Case Within a Limited Time

Chapter 5 - Solve the Case Within a Limited Time

Theodore headed to the car to radio in their discovery while Bernie had already disappeared inside the house.

By the time Theodore finished his report, Bernie emerged carrying a large, bright red ceramic plate decorated with the image of a chubby baby riding a carp. Dark brown bloodstains speckled its surface, giving it a grotesque appearance that made Theodore's stomach clench.

This confirmed what he and Bernie had deduced: Diane was their killer.

Every clue pointed to her, and she fit Theodore's psychological profile perfectly. He could practically visualize the scene that had unfolded here.

Theodore pulled on the latex gloves he'd taken from the forensics lab, accepted the plate from Bernie, and examined it carefully. On the bottom edge, he found an irregular chip—small but significant.

"It's her," Bernie said with a nod, though there was no satisfaction in his voice.

Theodore slipped the plate into a paper evidence bag, then pulled shoe covers from his pocket and handed a pair to Bernie.

Bernie looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

They'd always walked freely through crime scenes. Smoking cigarettes and taking notes next to corpses was standard procedure. Hell, some cops even pocketed souvenirs from murder scenes to sell later. Since when did anyone worry about contaminating evidence with their shoes?

But faced with Theodore's unwavering stare, Bernie reluctantly complied.

The May heat was already oppressive, and waves of sour, putrid stench rolled out of the house, making both men grimace. Anyone without experience would be retching continuously—exactly as Bernie had predicted about female partners and their need for vomit bags.

Ironically, Theodore had used those very bags to preserve evidence.

Bernie watched Theodore's reaction carefully, ready to carry him outside before he collapsed from nausea. But Theodore merely frowned slightly, showing no signs of the dry heaves that usually afflicted rookies.

This surprised Bernie immensely. He'd been to war before joining Homicide, which explained his tolerance for gore. But Theodore? How had a newcomer developed such a strong stomach?

Vomiting was an involuntary physiological response—sometimes you didn't even feel sick, but your body rebelled anyway.

Theodore, unaware of Bernie's scrutiny, was busy analyzing the crime scene.

Diane was dead.

Her body sprawled across the living room sofa, positioned in what had probably been her favorite spot. A half-peeled apple sat on the coffee table before her.

She wore white floral pajamas, the fabric torn open to reveal large, irregular stab wounds across her chest. The wounds crawled with white granules—blowfly eggs—while adult flies moved lazily back and forth across the decomposing flesh.

Her face had been mutilated as well. Her jaw hung at an unnatural angle, and clean cuts marked both cheeks. One eye socket was now a black void, also infested with fly larvae.

Blood had splattered across the floor, sofa, walls, and furniture in chaotic patterns.

"Overkill," Theodore muttered, leaning closer to examine the wound patterns. "The killer was venting rage."

The intrusion of two living humans had obviously disturbed the flies' feast. They buzzed angrily through the air, landing on furniture, the sofa, and the shoulders and hair of both detectives. Neither man seemed particularly bothered.

After studying Diane's body, Theodore followed a blood trail toward the bedroom, pushing open the partially closed door.

A young man lay sprawled beside the bed, his upper body suspended in the air, his lower body exposed and motionless. His legs were emaciated and pale, his skin waxy. Blood had dripped from his wounds to cover most of the floor.

The bedroom was cramped, with drawn curtains blocking any air circulation. The concentrated stench finally broke through Theodore's composure, forcing out a sharp "ugh" of revulsion.

Bernie, following behind, actually chuckled at the sound.

Theodore shot him a confused look.

Bernie waved dismissively, signaling him to continue.

Theodore covered his nose, picked up a fruit knife from beside the bed, and took a quick look around. The sound of approaching sirens made him head for the exit.

According to department protocol, since Theodore and Bernie were first on scene, they'd be responsible for directing the supporting units and serving as lead investigators on this new case.

...…

Bernie and Theodore worked the crime scene all morning, then grabbed a hasty lunch of high-calorie fast food before returning to the station to divide responsibilities.

Bernie gathered several colleagues to handle the procedural paperwork for the new case, while Theodore took the ceramic plate and fruit knife to the forensic pathologist.

By three o'clock that afternoon, the forensics lab still hadn't reported back.

Bernie had already placed the organized case file on Supervisor Wenner's desk when he encountered the man himself in the hallway.

Wenner had just returned from another meeting with the Deputy Police Chief, and judging by his expression, this dressing-down had been even more severe than the last one.

The community where Diane lived was solidly middle-class, and two consecutive murders—especially the second being an apparent family annihilation—had spread panic through the neighborhood like wildfire.

Wenner had barely returned from his latest scolding when a city councilman called demanding answers about the situation.

After finally ending that conversation, Wenner rubbed his temples, feeling overwhelmed.

It was only May, and the Homicide Team's clearance rate had already hit rock bottom for the year.

His superiors were furious, and he felt helpless, as if his team's efforts were actually making things worse instead of better.

After being called on the carpet repeatedly, Wenner was under crushing pressure.

He pulled down his office blinds and retrieved several chocolate bars from his desk drawer, cramming them into his mouth.

The calories and sugar helped calm his frayed nerves.

Wenner carefully savored the sweetness between his teeth until his emotions stabilized.

Only then did he emerge to gather everyone for a case briefing.

"Everyone, drop what you're working on and focus all efforts on solving case 600511," Wenner announced.

The team members offered no objections—this was standard Homicide Team protocol, and many had already prepared for the shift.

Currently, the team operated more like a rotating 'special task force.'

For instance, when case 600403 had been active, the entire team had essentially become the '600403 Special Task Force.'

These task forces were personally led by Wenner and typically lasted three days—seventy-two hours maximum.

If a case wasn't solved within that timeframe, it would be reassigned to individual detectives to work alongside their other cold cases.

The system was designed to solve fresh cases immediately, preventing them from dragging on and eventually joining the growing pile of unsolved murders.

"The brass has given me exactly one day."

"I'll be waiting outside the Deputy Chief's office tomorrow at closing time, and I'd better not be going in there empty-handed," Wenner said grimly.

Several detectives groaned audibly.

They all knew what solving a case in twenty-four hours meant.

And Wenner wouldn't let them resort to the shortcuts other precincts used...

Most cases required witness interviews, initial investigation, autopsy results, data collection, more interviews, more data retrieval, additional interviews, and investigation...

It typically meant working through the victim's entire social network before possibly identifying the killer.

Sometimes, after a full day, they still hadn't figured out who the deceased's parents were.

Wenner clapped his hands sharply, demanding silence.

The fat on his face seemed to sag with determination, giving him the appearance of a vicious bulldog.

He declared loudly, "Remember—I want real results!"

He emphasized the word 'real' with particular force, scanning the room before handing the case file to Bernie and stepping aside.

"You give the briefing."

Bernie opened the file and began reading from it, occasionally pausing to add contextual details from memory.

When he finished, he closed the folder and emphasized the connection to case 600403, stressing that Diane had emerged as the prime suspect in the original murder.

"We've taken the ceramic plate found at her residence for comparison with the head wound from victim 600403," he explained. "Once we get a match, it'll prove she was the killer."

After Bernie concluded his presentation, Wenner clapped his hands again.

"Move! Move! Everyone, get going!"

The crowd dispersed rapidly.

Theodore caught up with Wenner before he could escape to his office. "Boss, I know who the killer is."

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