Jiayi didn’t bother talking to the others at first, instead picking up a cup of steaming hot coconut milk coffee. The drink was sweet, slightly bitter, and fragrant with coconut, warming her body as the hot liquid flowed down her throat.
The aftertaste of fresh milk lingered in her mouth, soothing her body and soul as she let out a long sigh.
It’s really cold outside, but so warm inside.
“Does Eleven also want to change houses?” Liu Jiaming asked, peeking at Jiayi.
“Yes, but when I went house-hunting with Big Brother, they were either too expensive or just about the same in size and quality, not really worth moving. I’ll just have to save up more money,” Jiayi said helplessly. Money, money—annoying yet unavoidable.
“We’ll help you look around too, see if we can find you a suitable house,” Uncle Jiu said, also picking up a hot drink.
“We’ll all help you look,” Fang Zhenyue and Qiu Sushan said as they returned from the forensic science department and the medical examiner’s office, respectively, entering the office.
“I have a friend who is immigrating to the UK, and her place in Mong Kok will be available. I’ll ask her if she wants to rent it out,” Qiu Sushan said as she found a chair to sit on.
“Thank you all, really, I feel even warmer now,” Jiayi expressed her gratitude.
“Let’s start the meeting. Everyone, please share the information you’ve collected,” Fang Zhenyue began, uncapping his marker and erasing the messy scribbles on the whiteboard.
“The first forensic report indicates no injuries related to assault; the examination suggests the victim had multiple sexual encounters before death, but this is preliminarily determined to be unrelated to her death. There are no other suspicious wounds on the victim’s body, and samples taken from under her fingernails have been sent for analysis; results are expected in a day or two. The fatal injury was a blunt force trauma to the back of the head, not a stab wound to the chest,” Madam reported first:
“This suggests that the murderer did not need to stab the victim in the chest, so it’s assumed that the stabbing was merely an act of venting anger. This supports the theory that the murderer was an acquaintance.”
“It could also be some kind of ritualistic act,” Uncle Jiu recalled the scene in the bedroom: the naked body lying horizontally, in a position as if asleep, the pale skin, the red bloody hole in the chest, and the neatly folded clothes placed beside the body… It gave him an eerie feeling.
“Or it was premeditated to use the fruit knife from the victim’s kitchen, but the murderer didn’t expect that a blunt object to the head would be lethal. So, the murderer still followed each preplanned step methodically,” Jiayi said solemnly.
“You mean like in the Baojin robbery case, where Ye Yongqian planned all the details like time and process beforehand, and then committed the murder exactly according to this plan?” Gary swallowed hard, wondering if everyone these days is a devil?
“It’s all because the newspapers report too much, failing to hide details of how the murderer operates and how the police solve cases. The public relations department still needs to define boundaries!” Uncle Jiu complained angrily.
Fang Zhenyue nodded, jotting down a few words on the whiteboard: [Acquaintance Crime, High IQ Murderer]
Then, he continued with the first batch of reports from the forensic department, as Madam had begun:
“The shape and bloodstains of a crystal ball match the blunt force trauma on the back of the victim’s head, confirming it as one of the weapons. It was placed on a small stand near the door. There are three photos in the victim’s album with that wall, where the stand is located, as the background, which corroborates that the weapon was originally there.”
As he spoke, Fang Zhenyue put up a photo on the whiteboard.
“The murderer either knew the victim’s home layout very well or it was an impromptu decision, just happening to see the weapon nearby,” Fu analyzed.
“The victim’s community had a blackout the night before. The murderer carried out the killing and clothes folding in the dark, clearly the work of someone familiar,” Liu Jiaming said, almost suggesting it was that woman with the auburn hair but refrained from making such a hasty conclusion given the seriousness of everyone’s expressions.
“But why did she take off the victim’s clothes and then fold them?” Fu asked.
“Maybe it’s a form of retaliation, like despising the victim’s profession? Or maybe some sort of cleanliness compulsion?” Liu Jiaming pondered as well.
“Thinking that since the person came in bare, they should also leave bare? To keep things neat and tidy? Is it a sort of cleanliness ritual?” Uncle Jiu analyzed, frowning.
“Um… let’s not speculate too much for now, let’s sort through the clues.”
“No second person’s blood was found at the victim’s home, and no suspicious fingerprints were found along the supposed path the victim took in death. However, we found a brownish-red long hair and an earring, which should point us toward the murderer,” said Fang Zhenyue as he posted five photos on the whiteboard. One photo was of the brownish-red long hair, one was of the earring, one was of a shredded photo restored by the forensic team, one was of a bottle of perfume found in the trash, and one was of neatly folded clothes beside the corpse:
“Another anomaly discovered was this torn group photo. There’s also this bottle of not-so-cheap perfume, clearly not empty, yet discarded. Lastly, there are the neatly folded clothes by the bed.”
Jiayi stared at the photo of the perfume for a moment, which matched the image of the small bottle the murderer threw into the bathroom trash can in her mind’s eye.
“Next, we need to find the suspect so we can compare these items left at the crime scene,” said Fu, continuing the conversation.
“Yes,” nodded Fang Zhenyue.
Jiayi pursed her lips; nobody could see that the murderer had intentionally taken these items out, meticulously setting up the scene.
Just as the murderer had arranged, they were being led step by step down the path the murderer had laid out.
Jiayi was restless, with countless words rushing to her lips, only to be forcefully suppressed.
“Gary and I visited the neighbors around the victim’s residence, and she often brought different men home, likely men she met at nightclubs, sleazy types.”
“Some neighbors also saw her bring female friends over, and one remembered by the neighbors is this woman in the photo,” Gary said, circling the woman’s face and handing it to Fang Zhenyue.
“This woman, we’ve confirmed at the nightclub, is named Clara, a temperamental hostess,” Liu Jiaming also handed over a photo of six women, each labeled with their names.
Everyone looked at Clara’s photo simultaneously. She was beautiful, with upturned eyes and arched eyebrows, and one could tell at a glance that she had a sharp and difficult personality.
Crucially, she had that head of brownish-red hair!
“Ah, that torn group photo, it’s a photo of the victim with Clara,” Gary exclaimed in shock.
“Clara!” Fu exclaimed, punching his palm.
“Clara…” Uncle Jiu also murmured her name.
Everyone seemed to feel that the murderer was becoming clearer.
Jiayi scanned all the people in the photo, not looking at their faces, but at their figures.
Most of them had a similar body shape and height as the victim, except for Clara, Sister Yun, and the tallest black-haired woman standing on the edge, who were all much taller than the victim.
The photo was taken in autumn; everyone was wearing thick clothes, so it was hard to tell if they had muscles.
Jiayi couldn’t be sure whether Clara, Sister Yun, or the other tall woman were the murderer; she only remembered their names.
Clara was a hot-tempered person and had conflicts with the victim.
But her bad temper wasn’t new. Could she suddenly kill someone over a single argument?
What was so special about the customer that Clara believed the victim was competing with her for?
Sister Yun was the night club manager on duty and the one who found the body. Could it be her?
The other tall woman with black hair standing on the edge was named Qin Hongliang.
She had sparse eyebrows and wide-set eyes, her features were not particularly refined, but her tall stature and long legs made her noticeable among these beautiful women, though not outstanding.
Jiayi knew nothing about this person and would need to meet her, check her muscles, and hear her voice to make any judgment.
This group photo was pinned on the board by Fang Zhenyue, and Fu continued:
“Since the victim often stayed inside during the day and went out at night, neighbors rarely encountered her. They occasionally saw her taking out the trash, and she didn’t talk much. No one saw her with older or younger relatives visiting, nor did she have a steady boyfriend. The people around her were quite mixed, making it hard to discern if she had any special social circles.”
Jiayi shook her head; the murderer was not a man, certainly not one of the victim’s boyfriends.
“The caretaker downstairs goes to sleep in the small mailroom next to the first floor after 1 AM and doesn’t wake up until around 6 AM. He only saw the victim leaving the house, didn’t know when she returned, and had no idea if she brought someone back with her,” Fu continued.
The murderer completely avoided all eyewitnesses. Did she know the downstairs caretaker’s routine by heart?
“There were no special visits on the day of the victim’s death or the day before, and nothing unusual in her behavior. Neighbors going to work in the morning didn’t notice anything special, only the next-door neighbor said they seemed to hear a noise at night, but they weren’t sure. Also, in the morning, they didn’t see any trash placed outside the victim’s door as usual,” Fu said, looking at the group photo on the whiteboard, pointing to Sister Yun in the center, the still-charming middle-aged woman:
“The victim had an appointment this morning with the nightclub manager, Sister Yun, who is actually an old madam, to look at a shop. Sister Yun couldn’t open the door by knocking, no one answered the phone calls, and she finally used the spare key given to her by the victim to open the door and found the body.”
“The body was discovered so quickly, so the estimation of the time of death is very accurate,” Qiu Sushan glanced at the forensic report, “It was early this morning, around five.”
“Being discovered so quickly was unexpected by the murderer,” Liu Jiaming exclaimed.
“Maybe everything was in the murderer’s plan,” Jiayi said, looking at the words “high IQ murderer” on the whiteboard.
“Ah, why do this?” Liu Jiaming didn’t understand at the moment.
Jiayi looked at Liu Jiaming, who appeared utterly clueless.
Turning her gaze back to Fang Zhenyue, Yue’s expression was clear and bright, clearly understanding her point.
Since the murderer had planned so much, it’s unlikely that Clara, the prime suspect with brownish-red hair, had an alibi for the time of the victim’s death.
The murderer probably knew that Sister Yun would meet the victim this morning, so they chose to act in the early hours today.
This was to ensure she would discover the body and call the police, leading them to determine the time of the victim’s death.
Brownish-red hair, an earring, shredded photographs… and the time of death, one link after another.
Jiayi felt a slight tingling on her scalp, a sense of alertness and fear rising from the depths of her heart.
The murderer had a strong anti-investigation awareness, likely having mentally rehearsed countless encounters and strategies with detectives before committing the crime.
Jiayi did not like the feeling of being led by the nose. A fighting spirit gradually emerged in her chest as she stared at the photo of Qin Hongliang on the whiteboard, her lips pressed lightly together.
Liu Jiaming, sitting beside her, sensed a faint murderous intent, turned his head to face Jiayi’s profile, and saw her with furrowed brows and narrowed, angry eyes, her gaze emitting a cold, electric-like light.
He shivered involuntarily.
Wow, the short-haired Eleven looks really fierce.