When Team B arrived at the Cheong Yan community on Portland Street, many neighbors were peering around the building, craning their necks to see who had met with tragedy.
The police cordon had to be extended outward to hold back the curious public and the relentless media reporters.
Fang Zhenyue led the team, and after showing their credentials, the military police saluted and let them pass.
Forensic officer Xu Junhao came with the team, carrying a case and followed by other forensic doctors.
They waited for the elevator, just as two forensic technicians were coming out.
Jiayi couldn’t help but wonder, “Why are you out already?”
Ah Jie laughed, “Sister Jiayi, Brother Da Guangming guessed that the killer was wearing rubber gloves during the crime. We didn’t find those gloves at the crime scene, so we came out to try our luck to see if there’s still this morning’s old trash in the garbage bins at the entrance of the building.”
“It’s probably already been taken away,” Jiayi turned to look and said pessimistically.
After a pause, she added, “Just call me Jiayi or Eleven.”
Ah Jie smiled, nodded in agreement, then greeted the other detectives of Team B before continuing his work at the entrance.
Since the major robbery at Baojin Silver Bank, everyone’s attitude towards Jiayi at the police station had subtly changed.
Most people were carefully respectful, no longer casually calling her “Eleven” or “Jiayi,” but now “Sister Jiayi.” Even those who would normally just nod in passing now stood at attention and saluted, politely saying, “Officer Yi, good morning.” Or “Officer Yi, good afternoon.”
Jiayi noticed this change and felt happy and honored, though she was somewhat unaccustomed and embarrassed.
As the elevator ascended and arrived, they saw the busy forensic technicians, all with serious and solemn expressions.
Brother Da Guangming, upon seeing Fang Zhenyue’s group, wiped his sweat with his sleeve and remarked, “I’ve never seen such a strange crime scene.”
“What do you mean?” Fang Zhenyue raised an eyebrow. Every time Brother Da Guangming claimed it was the strangest crime scene, but what made this one ‘the most’?
“The one who discovered the victim was the night manager of Daliyuan Nightclub, who goes by Sister Yun. She’s already been taken to the police car downstairs for the military police to watch. You can go down and question her later.”
“Usually, crime scenes are chaotic, full of clues and traces, but this time it was so clean that I felt dirty stepping in with my shoe covers,” Brother Da Guangming led everyone into the spotlessly clean Unit 208.”
“The victim really loved cleanliness. She was a beautiful woman with long hair, yet not a single hair was found in the room, so idle she was, always tidying up,” Brother Da Guangming couldn’t help but complain. “I don’t even know what to collect for evidence. Before, we often brought back some useless trash for pointless tests, now I don’t even know what to collect.”
Jiayi put on shoe covers, gloves, and a hat, and entered the crime scene, seeing it exactly as Brother Da Guangming had described.
“No men’s shoes at the entrance, no traces of a man in the living room,” Jiayi moved towards the bathroom, “One toothbrush, one set of toiletries, likely a single woman.”
“Yes, wow, Eleven has really improved a lot, already advancing to a master detective,” Brother Guangming from the forensic department said. As they were the first to arrive at the scene, they had a preliminary understanding of the victim’s condition, which indeed matched what Jiayi had said.
As Fang Zhenyue passed the fitting mirror at the door, he paused slightly. There was a faint outline of a square on the mirror. He breathed on the mirror, and a clear square shape immediately appeared:
“There is a perfectly square area here without any dust or grease stains… There must have been a photo here before.”
“Yes,” Brother Guangming immediately nodded, “We dug up shredded pieces of a photo from the trash can nearby, and Diane has already collected them. We will restore it immediately after returning to the station.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
“There were two cups on the table before, both with lipstick marks. We have collected them and will test the lipstick marks when we get back,” Brother Guangming continued.
“One of them might belong to the murderer,” Liu Jiaming nodded, “The victim willingly opened the door for the murderer and served them water. It was most likely an acquaintance who committed the crime.”
“There is a brownish-red long hair on the sofa that does not belong to the victim, which might also belong to the murderer,” Brother Guangming said as he walked and briefed the detectives:
“The furniture inside the room is all neatly arranged, with no signs of a struggle.
“The dagger that killed the victim was thrown in the trash can at the foot of the bed, with only the victim’s fingerprints on it. It is clear that the murderer took the fruit knife directly from the kitchen and used it as a weapon.”
“There are two possibilities. One is that the murderer didn’t intend to kill when they came, so they didn’t bring their own weapon and used the victim’s in a moment of passion, leaving it behind in a panic,” Jiayi said, frowning, from the doorway.
“The other is that they were very familiar with the victim, knew that there was such a convenient dagger at her home, and thus didn’t bring their own weapon. Moreover, using the victim’s belongings as a weapon also helps the murderer to conceal their identity, right?” Sanfu chimed in.
“Yes, I lean towards what you said because although the murderer used the victim’s kitchen knife as a weapon, they wore rubber gloves themselves and took them when they left. It’s very likely they came prepared, with the intention of killing the victim, and had everything planned out in advance,” Jiayi added.
Sanfu nodded, turned to look at Fang Zhenyue, and seeing that brother Yue’s expression was calm as he listened to their conversation, knew that he agreed with their deductions.
“Having guests at midnight and still being able to serve water normally fits with the victim being a female night worker,” Uncle Jiu said, frowning at the bedroom door.
“Yes,” Brother Guangming had found a drawer full of condoms in the bedside table.
“Sanfu, you and Gary go knock on the neighbors’ doors and also check with the old caretaker downstairs to see if they heard or saw anything last night or this morning,” Fang Zhenyue ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Sanfu and the other responded and left.
“The body is in the bedroom,” Brother Guangming stood at the bedroom door frame, nodding to Fang Zhenyue and the others, and to Xu Junhao and his group.
Detectives and forensic experts entered the bedroom one after the other, with Jiayi standing by the door, immediately spotting the woman lying naked on the bed.
…
In the old buildings along Portland Street, each unit is very small. Even if one rents the whole apartment, the living room and bedroom are cramped. If several people live together, they must brush past each other to turn around, often leading to awkward situations.
In that era, the electricity supply was not very stable. Whenever a typhoon approached, some neighborhoods would experience power outages one after another.
Fortunately, everyone had experience dealing with typhoons, and most residences were always equipped with candles and flashlights for emergencies.
However, Zhao Meini, being a night worker, always came home in the early morning hours and was able to find her door and familiarize herself with everything at home in the dark. Discovering there was no power, she simply went straight to sleep, so she found it troublesome to prepare things like candles.
But today was somewhat unusual. Zhao Meini was ready to go to bed when suddenly someone knocked on her door.
Hearing the voice outside, Zhao Meini did not hesitate to open the door.
The person walked in and saw the pitch darkness of the room without surprise, only murmuring in a low voice, “Power’s out again?”
“Yeah. What wind blew you here? Willing to talk to us now?” Zhao Meini groped her way to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and placed it on the small coffee table.
The low ceiling of the small house made it feel cramped and narrow, like a perfect square box without light.
The guest casually tossed aside the bra, snacks, and other miscellaneous items on the sofa, clearing a spot to sit down, and mumbled a few words before saying, “You’ve been quite irritable lately, what’s going on?”
After saying that, she picked up the water glass. The dim moonlight from outside shone through the window, casting the guest’s shadowy silhouette, which did not drink but merely dabbed her lips on the cup.
“Why blame me for being moody? I have my reasons for being unhappy,” Zhao Meini huffed, standing arms crossed by the sofa, her silhouette blurred but still outlining her shapely figure.
Seeing her pacing the hallway, the guest also stood up.
Their voices were not loud as they made casual conversation. Just as Zhao Meini turned her back to the guest, the guest suddenly reached into a small niche in the wall, grabbed something, and struck Zhao Meini on the back of the head with great force.
The blow seemed well-practiced, strong, and precise.
In the next moment, the hostess collapsed to the ground with a thud.
The guest exhaled softly, then very adeptly walked a few steps around Zhao Meini’s house. Taking out a bag she had brought with her, she donned rubber gloves, first wiping off the fingerprints on the blunt instrument in her hand, then placing it back far away.
She then turned into the bedroom. Using the very dim moonlight, she tidied the bedroom in the dark, made the bed and arranged the covers for the deceased, and then returned to the living room to bend over and pick up the body.
The guest was tall, with broad shoulders and long legs, and her silhouette revealed very strong muscles on her arms and legs.
She was very strong, bending over and lifting the woman off the ground in one go. As she moved, a slight metallic clinking sound was heard, a rustling like that of a keychain.
When turning into the bedroom, the murderer skillfully sidestepped to help Zhao Meini, whom she was carrying horizontally, to avoid a small round stool placed at the bedroom entrance.
Once in the bedroom, the guest then stripped the victim of her clothes and placed the completely naked victim squarely in the middle of the bed, arranging her to lie straight.
After doing all this, she walked straight to the kitchen as if she were in her own home, without bumping into anything in the dark.
She headed straight for the kitchen table and quickly took out a fruit knife. Returning, she straddled the victim’s waist, made a stroke between the victim’s breasts with her left hand, and then grasped the knife with both hands, raised it high, and forcefully stabbed down, hitting right in the center of the victim’s chest.
Seeing this segment of the flowing scenes, Jiayi unconsciously started breathing rapidly.
In the dark environment, the blurred figure of a person lifting a blade and forcefully stabbing another human being who had no ability to resist was too shocking.
Even as a detective who had handled many cases, even killed dangerous criminals, and conducted psychological counseling, she still felt her heart race and her hands go cold.
Biting her lip, Jiayi forced herself to focus back on the scenes.
Despite the fear, she had to watch it through, to see it clearly.
After the murderer stabbed once, she didn’t stop there. She forcefully pulled out the knife and then stabbed into the same wound a second time, a third time… until the sixth time, before finally pulling out the fruit knife and throwing it into the trash bin at the end of the bed.
After standing up, the murderer took a few moments to rest, then sat calmly on the edge of the bed and folded the clothes, placing them beside the body.
It was as if what she was doing wasn’t something horrific, but merely folding clothes or doing housework.
Jiayi couldn’t see her face and couldn’t help but speculate whether the murderer’s expression was as calm as her actions.
After completing all this, the murderer’s work for the day was still not over.
In the time that followed, she not only wiped off the blood on the floor and her fingerprints but also cleaned the floor for the victim and tidied up the room.
In the dark, the silhouette was busy as if working under sunlight without any delay, and her speed was very fast, as if she had been doing this kind of work for decades and could manage everything smoothly and quickly even with her eyes closed.
After finishing everything, the murderer stood in the dark room and took a deep breath, as if smelling the freshness of the air after tidying up.
Then, she took out some items from her bag.
Jiayi concentrated all her energy and finally saw that the murderer seemed to be scattering some thin threads… or hairs, across the sofa, bathroom, and the gaps at the head of the bed.
After returning, she took out an earring and dropped it on the floor, nudging it with her toe to make it naturally roll under the sofa.
Finally, she removed a square piece of paper from the mirror, tore it up, and threw it into the trash can beside her. She then took a small bottle from the rack opposite the main door and tossed it into the bathroom trash can.
Outside the window, the rain had stopped at some unknown time, and low rumbling sounds began to emerge.
The night was no longer so dark, and dawn was approaching quickly.
Jiayi hoped that the murderer would wait until daylight so she could see their face.
But fate had other plans. The murderer stood at the bathroom doorway for about a minute, glanced once more at the body lying in the bedroom, then crossed the small living room, twisted a jar on the rack by the door, changed shoes, and left.
In the final moments of this mental image, the murderer stood in the equally dark hallway outside the door, locked the door and repeatedly twisted the doorknob to ensure it was locked.
Watching this scene, Jiayi listened to the sound of the murderer twisting the doorknob, silently counting:
“One, two… six times.”