Wine and Gun

The body of the deceased was even more shocking: because he was indeed not tied to the stake, but penetrated through it. The sharpened wooden stake pierced through his back and pointed to his chest. Someone who can be so arrogant must be very strong. Albarino carefully picked up the clothes on the deceased's chest, and there was a lot of bleeding where the stakes had pierced through his chest.

And after loosening his collar, he could still see a thin, red and swollen streak on the deceased's neck.

"The murderer was still alive when he penetrated him with this thing. I initially speculated that he was almost killed by the massive bleeding that was stabbed in the opposite direction by the wood." Albarino clicked several times before speaking, It's not very respectful, is it. "But in reality, his cause of death should have been mechanical asphyxiation: you see the strangulation marks on his neck, these subcutaneous hemorrhages indicate that when the killer used something to strangle his neck, he had vital signs - of course, even if It's the killer who doesn't strangle him, he'll die of hemorrhagic shock a few minutes later, sooner or later."

"The pianist is a typical modus operandi," Olga commented, propping her chin, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. "The act of strangulation is actually not necessary for the whole murder process, but it is obviously important to the murderer. Symbolic meaning: no matter how he bào the dead, in the end the victim must die of suffocation."

Albarino glanced at Olga, the attitudes of the two of them were relatively relaxed, which should really reflect on it. He coughed and became serious: "He's a nüè maniac."

"Some people think that he chose the criminal as the victim out of an angry revenge mentality. In fact, I don't think so. We can write a paper based on this." Olga shrugged, her legs were numb. Shifting his center of gravity, he wriggled hard on the ground. "But, in any case, yes: he derives his immoral pleasure from nüè treating and strangling his victims, and it is this pursuit of pleasure that turns him into a serial murderer."

No taste. Albarino couldn't help but comment in his heart.

It was at this moment that Officer Hardy's cell phone rang again. He stood behind them for a few minutes on the phone, which consisted of a bunch of ummmmm and jiāo brief instructions to the officers, then Officer Hardy put down his phone through gritted teeth and said to them, "It's ok, it's him."

"Is the victim's identity found out?" Bates was the first to speak. If it was found out that the deceased was a criminal again, it could basically be determined that the case was the work of the Westland pianist.

"Yes," said Inspector Hardy, staring at the dead man's blurred face of stitches and buttons, "this man is the older of the Normans, Richard Norman—the 'that' Norman. "

Olga snorted, obviously remembering something: "The Norman Brothers, the gang leader in the East End of Westland?"

And when Albarino heard the name, he was stunned.

He finally knew why the dead man looked so familiar - the blood clots on the dead man's face, the mess of buttons and stitches completely ruined his face, the baggy patched scarecrow suit changed his figure and made him Albarino did not recognize him for a moment.

But he's actually been following this Richard Norman for a long time: he's spent three months tracking the guy between his busy forensic work, mentally embedding the man's body into one of his new works. , so that this guy who has contributed nothing to human society (except perhaps addicts) can at least be a part of artistic creation. If it weren't for the hell of the recent shootings, Albarino would have done it two weeks ago.

Again he turned to the smiling scarecrow of the dead man: now he was no longer a corpse, no longer a rotting flesh, in Albarino's eyes. Now, in Albarino's eyes—or, in the eyes of the famous "Sunday Gardener", a perverted murderer—he's been dug out of your palette for a chunk of white. Pigment, the deepest pain in every artist's heart.

Apparently, his three months of stepping and the mountain of drafts were ruined, and all the materials he bought that he needed to use were still piled up in a small shed at the back of the wooden house.

In this long moment, Albarino suddenly thought ironically: Does this count as plagiarism?

Note:

[1] The crime rate data of this non-existent overhead city in the article is actually the real data of Chicago in 2016.

[2] Everyone can see that this worldview is probably an empty city in the United States. Although it is not really the United States, it is obviously written according to the United States.

So the knowledge point is this: The US CSI (Crime Scene Investigation, Crime Scene Investigation Team), Forensic Bureau, BAU (Behavioural Analysis Unit, FBI Behavior Analysis Unit) and the police are independent departments.

The FBI is a federal police. Generally, it has no right to intervene in the case when the case does not involve interstate. Of course, the state police may ask the FBI for help in the case of a very large case. The FBI has not yet been involved in this case.

Hardy is a detective of the Westland City Police Department. Although the serial murder case involved is extremely bad, there is no obvious evidence to prove that it is a cross-state case.

Search [Book Reading Assistant] official address: www.kanshuzhushou.com Millions of popular books are free to read for life without advertisements!