Chapter 16: The Young Forensic Investigator

2022-05-20

The stir this incident caused was as real as it gets.

Half an hour later, a group of people came rushing out, shouting, “That last shot was perfect, nailed it in one take!”

It was only then that everyone realized what they’d witnessed had just been a movie shoot. Someone claiming to be the director explained it was a horror film, though even he hadn’t expected the dog to drag off the fake human head. But after giving it some thought, he decided to film everyone’s genuine reactions. At that, the crowd finally relaxed, realizing the whole thing had been a false alarm.

But in truth, those people were just actors that Team Leader Shao had specifically arranged.

And the very real human head that the dog carried off earlier? Right now, it was sitting in the autopsy room.

I studied the girl in front of me. Her short hair made her look crisp and capable. According to Team Leader Shao, she was still in medical school—how she’d wound up here was anyone’s guess.

Though to be fair, both Gu Chen and I had ended up here on odd paths as well. I had no hope of ever making it into the official roster, and Gu Chen was technically still a trainee. But once we caught Zhao Mingkun, chances were they’d both get promoted on the spot. Meanwhile, where would that leave me? The thought stung—a sad sort of question.

Finally, the autopsy on the head was finished.

“Any idea how this woman died?” I asked.

Guan Zengbin looked at me like I was an idiot. She slowly removed her gloves and said, “You think long hair makes it a woman? Who told you this was a woman’s head? It’s actually a man’s, plain as day.”

“A man?” I could hardly believe my ears. At first, all I noticed was the long hair, but later, when the head was being wrapped up, I’d clearly seen a woman’s face. So how could Guan Zengbin insist it was a man’s head?

She let out a cold humph. “You’re letting first impressions cloud your judgment.”

Then she rolled her eyes at me. “Compared to women, men usually have larger skulls, bigger cranial cavities, lower eye sockets, a jaw angle under 120 degrees—and most importantly, a pronounced external occipital protuberance on the back of the head.”

As she spoke, Guan Zengbin picked up the head.

“Go ahead, touch it!”

I ended up putting my hand on Guan Zengbin’s face instead of the skull.

“I said touch the bump on the back of this head, not my face!” she cried. “That’s the occipital protuberance. What are you doing?”

Both Gu Chen and I took our turns feeling it.

“Now compare it to your own,” Guan Zengbin continued.

Sure enough, when I felt the back of my own head, there it was—the so-called occipital protuberance.

I really hadn’t expected this head to belong to a man. From those delicate features, he looked just like a woman. Maybe it was plastic surgery? Or had he always looked so feminine?

“These days, some men look more feminine than women, and some women are more aggressive than men,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Guan Zengbin winked at me. “Congratulations, you’ve caught my attention. The reason he looks like a woman is because he did have plastic surgery. And it must have been recent. Still, that doesn’t change the fact he’s definitely a man.”

The autopsy report came out quickly, though with only a head to work with, it was impossible to be absolutely certain about many things—such as the precise cause or time of death. There were some things it did confirm, like the depression on the skull was made post-mortem.

So my theory was likely on the mark: Last night, Old Zhang knocked over the bucket with the head inside, and it rolled off the fifteenth floor. It was picked up by a stray dog today. Right now, that’s our only real clue. The most urgent thing is to find the young man from last night.

The three of us made our way to Team Leader Shao’s office, where he was hanging out with Mary and Xiao Liu, sharing a chilled watermelon.

“You all have impressive appetites,” I said quietly.

“What’s up?” Mary asked. “I heard you had a case come up this morning.”

I nodded, then handed Mary a stack of photos. “Take a look at these…”

Mary just about spit her mouthful all over me.

Team Leader Shao said, “Now that the case has been handed over to you guys, it’s all yours. By the way, the three main members for the fugitive hunt are finally assembled.”

“Her?”

“Him!” Guan Zengbin and I responded at the same time.

“Any idea on a timeframe for the victim’s death? Even if you can’t pinpoint it, a rough range works,” I asked Guan Zengbin.

She nodded. “Most likely between eleven last night and one this morning.”

“You sure it’s not for lack of skill?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

“Believe it or not,” Guan Zengbin shot back.

Gu Chen stared at her in surprise too.

Had we encountered something unnatural?

Old Zhang mentioned spotting the thief around ten at night. Logically, by that point the killer was already on the fifteenth floor writing in blood. But Guan Zengbin claimed the victim died between eleven and one.

This would mean the killer went upstairs after Old Zhang saw the thief, and only then committed murder.

But all Old Zhang did was retreat a dozen meters or so before deciding to head upstairs to take a look. He hadn’t been gone long at all. How could the killer have murdered someone, written on the wall, and disappeared in such a short time? And what happened to the rest of the victim’s body? It takes at least half an hour to walk from the first floor to the fifteenth.

Could the killer really have killed someone, written a message, and hauled away a body, all in under thirty minutes?

Maybe the killer had taken the body up to the sixteenth floor, waited for Old Zhang to leave, then made his escape. But that still doesn’t solve how the killer could’ve headed upstairs after Old Zhang saw the thief.

There’s only one possibility: The killer went upstairs before the thief appeared, subdued the victim, then waited until after eleven to commit murder. But what was the point of all this? Was there a specific reason?

No matter which theory is right, the killer must’ve left after Old Zhang went back downstairs. Yet Old Zhang had searched every floor with a flashlight and found nothing out of the ordinary. That meant the killer had to be hiding somewhere above the fifteenth floor. If we check now, maybe we’ll still find a clue.

Of course, all this hinges on Guan Zengbin’s forensic results being sound.

But with how confident she looked, I figured it was best not to press the issue.

“Let’s move!” I urged the other two.

“Where?” Guan Zengbin asked.

“To go searching for clues to the killer, of course.”

Before starting the reconstruction, I took a good look at the building’s layout. The killer couldn’t have scaled walls like a superhero, and fifteen stories is too high to jump down from. So my earlier analysis had to be right.

“Gu Chen, check every floor from the first to the thirtieth for any other traces. Guan Zengbin, compare the blood from the fifteenth floor with the head’s blood, see if it’s the same person.” I split up the tasks.

“And you?” the two asked.

I smiled. “I’m in charge of daydreaming.”

Closing my eyes, I tugged at my hair and started to think.

If I were the killer, what would I want? I love her, so I have to kill her. All those old promises—forever, unbreakable vows, loves deeper than the sea—vanish before time. I love him, so I start to become her. Maybe the most romantic love is living my life as you.

I’d wear your favorite dresses. I’d put on the jewelry you loved. I’d even reshape my face to match yours. Maybe I’d even change my gender for you. I’m so afraid of losing you that I’d rather kill you to make sure you never leave.

There’s a place where someone could actually pull that off.

Two hours passed.

Gu Chen came running down from the top floor. Climbing thirty stories hadn’t made him so much as break a sweat. “Nothing—outside of bloodstains on the fifteenth floor, there’s not a trace on the others.”

How did the killer pull this off? It was basically a locked room mystery. The floor was open on all sides, but at fifteen stories up, the killer must’ve found a way to hide, because Old Zhang never spotted the body. And why hadn’t a single drop of blood reached the floors below?

Guan Zengbin spoke up: “I just tested it. No sign of luminescence from luminol reactions, so no blood on any of the other floors. As for the blood on the fifteenth and the head, it’s a match. So, the writing on the wall was definitely done with the victim’s blood.”

She paused, then added, “Based on the handwriting, the killer likely grabbed the victim by the neck and wrote by dipping the top of the head in blood. There are signs of heavy blood spatter—it really was the crime scene.”

Something about this case just didn’t add up. There was a weirdness I couldn’t put my finger on.

“What’s next?” Gu Chen asked, seeing the deep wrinkle in my brow.

“I’ll take you both to a place,” I said.