"How did you know George Burton liked orange soda? His file doesn't mention it."
Aubrey questioned this after leaving the mental hospital, which had a security level far higher than that of a regular prison.
The empty bottle in Jack's hand arced beautifully, landing precisely in a roadside trash can marked "Recyclable," with the crisp sound of glass clashing.
"No, I don't know, but I know that if I hadn't asked for it back, he would have accidentally broken it, hidden a piece of the broken glass, and later used it to slash a guard's neck."
"Ah!" Aubrey's mouth dropped open, unable to form a single word for a long time.
It was late at night when the two returned to Richmond. Inside the police station, everyone was yawning and flipping through files, looking listless.
When Jack and Aubrey entered the meeting room carrying large bags of food, nearly everyone cheered.
The two richest men in the group were treating us to a late-night snack; they certainly weren't going to just settle for two pizzas.
Richmond's upscale Chinese restaurants were just as good as those in New York. Jack even spotted dishes like chicken tofu pudding and stuffed yellow croaker on the menu, which required considerable effort.
Of course, there was no need to order such elaborate dishes for a late-night takeout snack, and they couldn't afford to waste an hour or two waiting while they were working on a case.
However, dishes like the fatty yet not greasy braised pork in a square sauce, stir-fried shrimp, and broccoli in a broth, paired with Yangzhou fried rice, were more than enough to satisfy everyone.
Jane Banner, a Muggle who only enjoyed Jack's presence but never his culinary influence, was quite satisfied with just the takeaway Chinese meal.
"I called some sources, and their accounts confirm what I've said before. All the relevant extremist groups have been quiet lately, and there's been no talk of the victim, Valerie, or her husband."
Jack smiled back, thanking her for her help. Given their current relationship, verbal thanks weren't necessary, especially with Hannah and Jiejie watching intently from the side.
He hadn't ordered anything like the sweet and sour pork ribs, but a subtle lingering sense of jealousy permeated the meeting room.
Jack coughed softly and turned to Jubal. "Any progress on Valerie's case?"
"Almost nothing," Jubal nodded to Alice, who displayed a row of photo files on the screen.
"We've reviewed all the patient lists and, based on the antisocial personality traits you mentioned, cross-referenced them with their violent criminal histories, narrowed down six individuals. They have
convictions for assault, domestic violence, schizophrenia, PTSD, violent tendencies, and so on. After verification, we've confirmed that all of these individuals have very solid alibis."
"How solid?" Aubrey helped Alice clear the lunch boxes in front of her, looking like a good wife.
"Three are currently in mental hospitals, two are wearing electronic shackles, and one is currently out of the country."
Clay sighed. While eliminating suspects is an essential part of solving a case, it can also be a bit frustrating.
Jack wasn't surprised. Simple cases usually don't fall into their hands. It's determined by the will of the universe in this world.
"So, either our investigation is going in the wrong direction, or the murderer is hiding among those with no criminal records?"
Seeing everyone growing sleepy after their hearty meal, Jack winked at Jubal. "Why don't we all go back to the hotel and rest? The list is still so long, we can't possibly finish it all in one night. Maybe new clues will emerge tomorrow."
Jubal paused for a moment before standing up, clapping his hands, and dismissing everyone. There was no sign of a serial killer in this case, so there was no need to rush.
Before Jane could say anything, Jiejie smiled and put her arm around her shoulders. "There shouldn't be anyone next to mine. Why don't you book that room tonight? We can have a drink and chat about girly things. Hannah and I have always been very curious about the Wind River Valley case."
Hannah, standing nearby, made a face at Jack and agreed with a smile. "
Three monks can't drink water, right?" Watching Jane, with a wry smile on her face, being dragged away by the two girls again, Jack shrugged, picked up the car keys, and walked the girls back to the hotel.
——Nothing
happened that night. The next morning, Jack received an email from New York. The bullet fragment he had sent to the CSI lab had yielded results.
While eating breakfast and printing out the information, Jack smiled and greeted everyone who had returned to the conference room. "It seems we're lucky this time. This bullet came from a registered Colt .38 pistol."
Aubrey took the coffee from him and asked casually, "Another murder case?"
"No, it was an accidental discharge of a gun." Jack handed him the printed information. "You'll never guess who that gun belonged to."
"Nathan Curtis? Who is this?" Aubrey shook the thin A4 paper in confusion.
"The male neighbor who reported the crime?" Jubal paused as he reached for a muffin from the paper bag. "Damn, he acted so convincingly, he managed to fool both you and me."
Jack didn't comment on whether they were being tricked, but poured himself another cup of coffee. "Clay is already on his way to his house with the police. They should be able to bring our helpful neighbor back soon."
Without any unexpected incidents, Clay smoothly "invited" the helpful neighbor, Nathan Curtis, back to the police station.
He thought he was there to assist with the investigation and wasn't handcuffed. It wasn't until he was ushered into the interrogation room and Jubal solemnly laid out the accusation that he suddenly realized what was going on, and his face flushed red.
"Are you crazy? Valerie and I were friends, how could I have killed her?"
Jubal pushed the results of the ballistic analysis in front of him, "But the evidence shows that the pistol in your name killed her. Friendly reminder, I don't recommend asking to see a lawyer now, it will only increase your suspicion."
"What gun? All my guns are in my gun cabinet, I certainly don't need to see a lawyer."
However, when his eyes fell on the pistol in the photo, Nathan Curtis's words stopped abruptly, "Damn it, why is it this one?"
Seeing his face turn pale in an instant, Jubal tapped the table lightly as a reminder, "Believe me, telling everything you know now is the best thing to do."
"Damn it. I really don't want to talk about this past." Nathan Curtis covered his face with his hands, his tone full of frustration.
(End of this chapter)