Chapter 109: What an Unethical Detective!
What does it mean to leave men speechless and women in tears?
This is it!
What made Detective Amy Santiago's composure completely crumble was that the bald professor spoke with a victim's tone, pushing the mockery and humiliation of the NYPD to the extreme.
"This isn't a movie. New York doesn't believe in tears."
Chuck frowned slightly as he looked at Detective Amy Santiago, who was completely shattered by a psychopathic criminal's words.
Didn't she hear what the bald professor said? He's just an amateur.
There are too many cases like this. If everyone had this mentality, how could they solve crimes?
Oh.
She is NYPD. Thirty-one "accidents" were solved and closed right under their noses.
Chuck's expression returned to neutral. He stopped looking at Detective Amy Santiago, who was struggling to compose herself, and instead focused on the excited bald professor. "Describe the tall man's appearance in as much detail as possible. Is he white or Black?"
"Black."
The bald professor, enjoying Detective Amy Santiago's distress, was slightly annoyed by Chuck's interruption, but meeting Chuck's calm, penetrating gaze, he could only answer honestly.
Now he had nothing left to hide.
To enjoy more of these beautiful scenes of Detective Amy Santiago's breakdown, he thought it would be best if the tall man who recruited him could join him in prison. Even better, he'd be hunted by the detective in front of him, and if a conflict broke out, he'd be easily eliminated by this man. Thinking of this, his attitude became more cooperative, and he added, "He has a British accent and mentioned that he'd spent time in juvenile detention as a teenager..."
"Go get the detective a pen and paper," Jake told his partner seriously, losing his usual playful demeanor as he watched Amy wipe her eyes and try to look strong.
Detective Amy Santiago instinctively wanted to refuse, but when she met Jake's suddenly serious gaze, she fell silent and walked out.
Jake rubbed his chin, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the bald professor who had been so cooperative.
Nobody messes with his girl and gets away with it!
They'd been competing and making bets, even teasing Amy about whether she was attracted to Chuck, but after Chuck's blunt confirmation, he finally understood his own feelings.
He had feelings for this beautiful and strong-willed partner. They'd previously made a bet: who could solve the most cases in three months? If he won, Amy would have to go on a date with him.
While it might have seemed like a joke, it was also based on genuine feelings, which was why he'd hesitated to respond to Chuck's earlier proposition.
Because she was his partner—his woman—he hadn't cared before, but now that he understood his feelings, he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her!
After Detective Amy Santiago composed herself outside, she once again mimicked Chuck's expressionless demeanor and returned with pen and paper, handing them to Chuck.
Chuck continued asking for details and began sketching.
"Excellent drawing! Great technique!"
The bald professor couldn't help but exclaim in admiration as he watched Chuck's skilled strokes.
As an architecture professor, he was required to sketch various buildings. He was actually quite skilled at drawing, though he specialized more in architectural renderings. When it came to figure drawing, while he wouldn't resort to stick figures, at best he'd sketch general outlines to indicate a person.
Otherwise, hoping to implicate his recruiter to ensure his own safety, he would have drawn the sketch himself.
Jake and Detective Amy Santiago, watching, had to admit Chuck's skill.
As detectives, they'd often consulted the department's sketch artists based on witness descriptions. They hadn't thought much of it before, but now, after seeing Chuck's work, they felt their previous police sketches lacked a certain quality.
When Chuck finished, the bald professor nodded. "That's him! Absolutely incredible! You could definitely be a professional artist."
"Anything else?"
Chuck ignored the factual compliment and looked at him.
"That's everything," the bald professor shook his head.
"What does this encrypted message mean?"
Chuck gestured to Jake to show the bald professor his phone, displaying the message.
Detective Amy Santiago gave Chuck a curious look.
"I don't know. I don't like puzzles."
The bald professor laughed.
Chuck nodded, stood up, and walked out.
"Wait, what about what you promised me?"
The bald professor stopped Chuck.
"Detective Peralta, please do your best to accommodate his requests."
Chuck said to Jake seriously.
"Oh, I will."
Jake agreed without hesitation, but his expression was less than reassuring.
"..."
The bald professor fell silent again. Looking at Chuck's departing figure, he could only sigh inwardly: "What an unethical detective!"
Detective Amy Santiago followed Chuck out: "Dr. Wolfe, you can't decode the encrypted message on his phone? It's different from the previous one?"
"Not exactly the same."
Chuck nodded: "It takes time to crack, better to ask directly."
"How is that possible?"
Detective Amy Santiago asked in surprise, "Isn't it from the same organization?"
"It's an organization, but each cell probably uses different encryption."
Chuck said.
"Isn't this overly complicated?"
Detective Amy Santiago frowned. "It's so elaborate. Is this organization so large that it needs specialized encrypted communication protocols..."
"That's classified."
Chuck interrupted seriously.
"..."
Detective Amy Santiago was speechless.
She knew Chuck was alluding to organizations like the CIA, NSA, and FBI again, but this time she didn't believe they would specifically recruit serial killers as assassins.
"How do we investigate now?"
She felt she was beginning to understand Chuck's dry humor, and looked at the sketch in Chuck's hand: "The contact is British."
"So?"
Chuck looked at her.
"...So even if we can make contact, it'll be difficult to get information from overseas."
Detective Amy Santiago felt like she was losing her mind. Why did she feel that Chuck's casual words and glances were implying something? She suppressed her frustration and expressed her thoughts: "Besides, he's just a former juvenile offender. Those records are sealed and confidential, completely inaccessible..."
Having said that, seeing the look in Chuck's eyes, she couldn't take it anymore and snapped: "Just say whatever you want to say! Stop looking at me like that!"
"Whether in Britain or the United States, the claim that juvenile offender files are strictly sealed and won't affect teenagers' adult lives is complete nonsense."
Chuck said calmly: "They're just sealed from people without clearance. For those with high-level access or the right connections, it's information that can be retrieved anytime. These are things you should understand when dealing with 'need to know' situations. Do I need to continue explaining this basic reality?"
"We don't have high-level access and can't get it!"
Detective Amy Santiago said irritably.
"I know."
Chuck pulled out his phone and dialed. "Director Joyner, I need to run a background check on someone related to a previous case."
Detective Amy Santiago watched Chuck make the call, realizing the problem was solved.
Every New York law enforcement officer knew that FBI New York Field Office Director Kate Joyner was formerly a high-ranking official at Scotland Yard. If she were willing to help, she could indeed access British juvenile criminal records.
"I checked the killer's phone and found he spoke to someone for over ten minutes before the crime. Want to check on that person too?"
Detective Amy Santiago suggested, "The person's name is Ted Mosby, a freshman in NYU's Architecture Department."
Although the person seemed harmless, given their experience with the psychotic professor, this seemingly normal and handsome freshman from the file could be trouble.
"Alright."
Chuck heard the name Ted Mosby, thought for a moment, and nodded in agreement.
New York University.
Dormitory.
The bed was a bunk bed. Ted, the student who had been on the phone with the bald professor, was lying on the top bunk, feeling hopeless. The rhythmic sounds below him were like torture, and finally, unable to take it anymore, he knocked on the bed frame and warned, "Guys, be quiet."
The sounds stopped, and a deep, embarrassed male voice responded. Then, a large hand tossed up a pair of headphones.
The sounds resumed.
"..."
Ted was speechless. He'd wanted the couple below to be quieter, not to block his own hearing. And even without hearing, didn't he have imagination?
Even without imagination, he understood basic physics: in bunk beds, when the lower bunk moves, the upper bunk inevitably moves with it.
It's scientific fact!
Just when Ted thought he was getting seasick on a rocking boat, there was a knock on the dorm door.
After several knocks with no response from his roommate and girlfriend, he could only climb down from the upper bunk, trying not to look at the moving blanket below. He cracked the door open, muttering, "This isn't a good time."
After saying this, he couldn't help but grumble, "No, to be more precise, it's never a good time."
Exactly!
Don't think he was clueless. He'd always made excuses to give the couple privacy, like when his roommate needed to "run errands" with his girlfriend.
But his roommate was obsessed, and his girlfriend was equally obsessed. Their passion was like they'd been celibate their entire lives—a fire that could ignite at the slightest spark. He couldn't just stay in the dorm and try to sleep, could he?
"FBI!"
Detective Amy Santiago was about to pull out her badge to identify herself as NYPD when she heard Chuck solemnly declare that classic line.
Then she heard chaos in the dorm, prompting her to instinctively draw her weapon and kick open the door. Upon closer inspection, she realized it wasn't a dangerous criminal trying to escape or resist, but a panicked couple.
"...consultant!"
Chuck slowly finished the sentence.
Everyone: "..."
(End of Chapter)
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