Chapter 162: Professional Methods and Amateur Criminals
"I know this is probably a dumb question, but how professional could they really be?"
Chandler quipped. "This is already disguised as a suicide. If it weren't for the missing person case and the connection to the senator, it would have been ruled a suicide long ago. How professional is that?"
"There are professionals out there. One phone call and they'll come clean up the body and remove all traces."
Chuck said calmly. "No body, no case. Many spousal murders are committed by husbands, but they can't be prosecuted for this reason. As for the methods they use, besides burying bodies in remote locations, sinking weighted containers in lakes, hiding them in concrete foundations and walls at construction sites, and cremation, a more professional and secretive method involves chemical dissolution. I'd recommend hydrofluoric acid at 30% concentration..."
"..."
Chandler and the others watched Chuck speak with rich detail and step-by-step precision. They were stunned and felt a chill run down their spines.
What the hell is professional? This is what professional looks like!
But should they really be hearing this?
"How do you know all this?"
Detective Amy Santiago swallowed hard, speaking with difficulty.
"I'm a scientist,"
Chuck said calmly. "I'm also a detective. A scientific detective who can't imagine what criminals think, what they can and can't conceive of, everything possible and impossible, isn't a good detective."
"With your expertise, if you were a criminal, it would be legendary."
Chandler shrugged at Chuck, then looked at Detective Amy Santiago and joked, "You should be grateful he chose to side with law enforcement, not the other way around."
"Ha."
Detective Amy Santiago laughed nervously, but when Chuck turned to look at her seriously, she paused for a moment, then asked uncertainly, "Do I need to thank you?"
"He's right,"
Chuck looked at her honestly.
"...Thank you."
Detective Amy Santiago's mouth twitched. "Thank you on behalf of all law-abiding citizens."
"No."
Chuck shook his head. "On behalf of everyone."
Strictly speaking, Detective Amy Santiago should be thanking him on behalf of criminals too. If it weren't for his unshakable moral principles from his past life, his commitment to avoiding violence whenever possible, Chuck's daily routine would be quite different.
Both Batman and Daredevil would call his methods too dark.
"Okay."
Detective Amy Santiago wanted to complain, but upon reflection, it seemed to make sense.
The more she thought about it, the more terrified she became, and she was incredibly grateful that Chuck had chosen to side with order.
"You're welcome,"
Chuck nodded.
Late at night.
New York, Brooklyn, NYPD 99th Precinct.
After a busy day, most of the NYPD had gone home to rest. Only a few were on duty, either gathered together chatting or dozing off at their desks. A man in a janitor's uniform moved through the building like a shadow, and the NYPD officers ignored him.
High labor costs in the United States result in a large number of undocumented workers employed in the lowest-level jobs. Unless they cause trouble or are specifically targeted, they're generally overlooked.
The janitor worked diligently and slowly made his way to the precinct captain's office. He glanced around and expertly began searching.
Here were the belongings of the deceased, Christine Jasmine, collected from the senator's office. Because they involved a high-profile figure, the captain demanded not only constant updates but also proper cataloging of all evidence.
"Gotcha!"
Just as the janitor was searching, Jake Peralta leaped out from the shadows with a triumphant laugh.
"Jesus! You scared me!"
The janitor immediately clutched his chest, looking frightened.
Just then, Chuck and the others entered.
"I'll leave now. I won't interfere with your work,"
the janitor said, attempting to leave.
"Hold it! Turn around!"
Detective Amy Santiago drew her gun and forcefully restrained him, searching him for weapons.
"I think I should do it,"
Jake Peralta couldn't help but say. "Otherwise, you won't be able to search thoroughly. What if he has a gun hidden somewhere? That would be dangerous."
"Yeah."
Chandler immediately grinned knowingly.
"Shut up!"
Detective Amy Santiago immediately shouted at both of them.
"Oh, what do you mean?"
The janitor tried to continue his act.
"Who are you? Who do you work for?"
Detective Amy Santiago asked while patting him down.
"I work for this building. I'm responsible for cleaning."
The janitor said innocently.
"No, you're not,"
Chuck said. "You're a private investigator moonlighting as a janitor, but you're not professional."
The janitor glanced at Chuck, pressed his lips together, then smiled again: "I don't know what you're talking about. Look, I'm new here. If you don't believe me, you can call my supervisor and wake him up!"
As he spoke, he took the opportunity to hand Detective Amy Santiago his business card, backed toward the desk, grabbed a pen from the pen holder, and pulled Chandler, who was watching the excitement, over. He pressed the pen against Chandler's neck like a knife, looked at everyone and smiled: "Stay calm! Now I want you to put your guns on the floor, slowly take out your handcuffs, and cuff yourselves."
Detective Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta both complied. Jake Peralta handcuffed himself expertly, still managing to joke with his partner: "I've been wanting to try this for a while, but I didn't expect it to be under these circumstances."
Detective Amy Santiago immediately looked disgusted. Just as she was about to handcuff herself, she was interrupted by the janitor: "Cuff him first!"
"Him? Why?"
Detective Amy Santiago followed the janitor's gaze to Chuck. She immediately protested, "Are you discriminating against women?"
She only had one set of handcuffs, and if Chuck put them on, she wouldn't be able to cuff herself.
So, in the janitor's eyes, she, a legitimate detective, was less threatening than a civilian consultant?
The janitor paused, then said, "I just do my research. I know who Chuck Wolfe is. I don't mean to be discriminatory."
He nodded toward Chuck and said, "See, I'm an excellent private investigator."
"You can discriminate against me,"
Chandler said, terrified by the pen poking his neck. But he couldn't stop his nervous joking.
"Don't worry. If he dares to hurt you, we won't let him get away with it,"
Detective Amy Santiago reassured her friend as she handcuffed Chuck.
"Damn it!"
Jake Peralta stole the spotlight, feigning frustration, drawing everyone's attention. Then, he quipped, "Santiago's handcuffing technique is even better than mine. She's clearly been fantasizing about this."
"Back away now!"
After Detective Amy Santiago handcuffed Chuck, the janitor gestured for her to retreat. He then grabbed Chandler and prepared to leave. Then, his gaze fell on Chandler in his arms and he barked, "What are you doing? Move!"
"Sorry, I want to move, but my legs won't cooperate. Maybe you could ask them to move?"
Chandler, frightened and unable to move, couldn't stop cracking jokes.
"...You're really a detective assistant?"
the janitor grumbled.
What kind of incompetent can be a detective assistant?
The janitor, who considered himself a professional private investigator, was annoyed.
"My job as an assistant is to be funny,"
Chandler said matter-of-factly.
"..."
If the janitor hadn't noticed Chandler's genuinely weak knees, he would have suspected it was an act. Resisting the urge to stab him with the pen, he bent down to grab the gun from the floor.
Then a dark figure struck. As he raised his hand to block, there was a snap, and his arm broke. Detective Amy Santiago yelled, "Get back! He's mine!"
Then, a powerful force hit him, sending him tumbling to the ground. His broken arm suffered secondary damage, causing him to cry out in pain.
Only after the janitor was subdued and handcuffed did everyone else notice Chuck's empty hands and the handcuffs left on the table.
"How did you do that?"
Jake Peralta marveled.
"Like you said,"
Chuck said calmly. "I like those moves too."
"..."
Jake Peralta's mouth twitched.
"Talk! Besides being an accessory to murder, conspiracy, and obstruction of justice, just the charge of assaulting a police officer alone is enough to justify using deadly force right now."
Chuck said, "Look at what Senator Basson and her people did. They were incredibly amateurish. Do you think this is all they've got? What are the odds of keeping this secret for them? And given their positions, how likely are you to be silenced afterward? Think about that carefully."
The janitor fell silent, then slowly said, "I'm a private investigator. I have professional ethics..."
"Forget it,"
Chuck interrupted. "We can solve this case without your confession. Senator Basson's fake husband is just a staffer. He'll know what to do."
"No,"
the janitor said, immediately getting anxious. "Listen, I'm not saying I won't confess. I just want to..."
"No, you don't want to,"
Chuck interrupted again.
"..."
The janitor immediately understood that Chuck knew he was going to ask for more money, but Chuck simply wasn't going to negotiate.
"Fine,"
the janitor hesitated, finally abandoning his professional ethics.
Okay.
Like most people, he had a flexible moral bottom line.
"Let's go take your statement."
Jake Peralta pushed the janitor toward the interrogation room.
"You can call the senator's husband and ask him to come in now."
Chuck said to Detective Amy Santiago, who was comforting Chandler.
"Call him now?"
Detective Amy Santiago was surprised.
"They can't sleep anyway."
Chuck said bluntly: "Better to have them come in and close this case quickly."
"Why close it quickly?"
Chandler still hadn't recovered. Without the janitor's support, he stood up with difficulty. With his friend's help, he managed to get on his feet, instinctively making a self-deprecating joke: "I can't sleep when I get home anyway."
"I can sleep."
Chuck said matter-of-factly.
Chandler: "..."
(End of Chapter)
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