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🕑 Added 2025-03-17 07:48:36 +0000 UTCAnatomy of a Killer
Chapter 07 - The Christmas Case, Part 7
Larry leaned down to pick up the photos and glanced at the outer cover of the file box that had also fallen to the floor.
This was a human resources file from the real estate company with which the victim had many business dealings. The information collected was extremely detailed—it even included the family situation of every person close to the victim.
The photos that had just fallen remained in Larry’s hands. After a few moments of silence, he smiled. "This is interesting."
Ángel heard Larry’s words and stepped closer to see what he had found.
"Let me introduce you to the president of MPez Corporation, Mr. Christopher Hall. I remember reviewing some of his information, but now that I think about it, his story is far too interesting."
Larry paused, moved the boxes to the center of the table, and placed a photograph of the man in question. "Like any successful middle-aged man, Christopher is nearly fifty years old, has no children, but his wife is very young and beautiful."
"Wait a second, even though Christopher Hall’s wife, Amanda Hall, is a beautiful woman, there’s no way she has any connection to the victim, right?"
"Well, that idea isn’t so crazy, considering the couple is currently going through a divorce." Max, standing beside Larry, looked up and held up some documents in his hands.
Larry flipped through all the information in the box and found Christopher Hall’s file. Just as Max had said, his wife’s information was attached to the same folder.
Although there were only a few lines of text, the details were quite specific.
Name: Amanda Hall
Gender: Female
Age: 36
Education: Graduated from Johns Hopkins University with a degree in pharmacology, but as the wife of a successful businessman, she never pursued a career in her field, remaining a full-time housewife.
Pharmacology!
Larry knew that Johns Hopkins University was one of the best for studying medicine—one of the very best.
That was why everything clicked in his mind, and he wanted to confirm his suspicions.
Larry stood up, took the information, and pinned the photos on the board.
Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at him in confusion.
Larry used magnets to hold the photos together, then took a magnifying glass from the table and handed it to Sergeant Doakes, who was standing beside him. "Look closely."
"What do you want me to see, Luk? I’m not here for preschool lessons." Sergeant Doakes was different from the rest—he found it hard to admit that Larry was far better at investigative work than he was.
The press photograph showed a man and a woman. The man appeared agitated, waving his hands and shouting something. The woman, on the other hand, was dignified and beautiful, with a colorful shawl draped over her right arm. She looked calm, holding her hair with her left hand, and the background appeared to be a yacht.
Larry paused before saying, "Look at the woman’s right hand."
Through the magnifying glass, Sergeant Doakes carefully observed the woman’s hand.
On the ring finger of her right hand was a large diamond ring, at least one carat in weight.
A gold ring, worn on the ring finger of her left hand, was densely inscribed with English letters on the front.
As Doakes examined the photograph and focused on the woman’s hand, he carefully considered whether this was truly a mistake.
"When was this photograph taken?"
"The press delivered it this morning. It’s not hard to find a woman like her when they’re constantly following her husband."
Larry looked around the room and said, "Analyzing this woman’s profile, we can determine that she’s left-handed, studied medicine, and is wearing the same ring that was replaced on the victim."
"Are you saying she’s the one?"
"Yes, you can arrest her." A crime of passion wasn’t much of a challenge for Larry, now that he had been gifted with almost limitless knowledge.
As an analyst, he had access to a massive database of criminals who had yet to be caught. The traces he was following were annoying because he wasn’t dealing with a serial killer. Originally, he thought he might find the murderer at the dog care center near the victim’s workplace.
Larry had found that theory appealing, but unexpectedly, love was the driving force behind this case.
Perhaps it was emotional attachment—the woman who killed the victim wasn’t as clever as she believed.
When Larry concluded the investigation, everyone seemed pleased, and Sergeant Doakes personally congratulated him, even though they hadn’t yet definitively concluded that she was the murderer.
The real work now fell to the detectives—dealing with a woman whose intelligence was above average was going to be extremely complex.
They all had to rely on Larry’s analysis if they wanted to catch her.
"Do you want to come to the arrest?" Ángel asked, glancing at the gun on Larry’s belt—his service weapon.
Everyone working in Larry’s position had a service weapon. His status and credentials allowed him to carry a gun as if he were an officer himself.
The reason was simple—people like him often got too involved in crimes and could suddenly find themselves face-to-face with a killer at any moment.
But Larry wasn’t stupid—at least he knew when to stop. "A woman? That doesn’t sound very interesting."
"I’d let you be the one to put the cuffs on her—Masuka would really appreciate that." Ángel whispered to Larry while looking at the woman’s photographs on the board.
Larry, understanding what Ángel meant, gave a subtle smile and said, "I’ll leave that to you. I have a headache."
"Alright, I’ll fill you in later over a beer—I’m sure the Sergeant will cover the tab." Ángel smirked, locking eyes with the Sergeant as he followed him to the arrest.
"I don’t drink much…" Larry only had a vodka drink when he couldn’t sleep—it helped him more than some medications.
…
At noon, Amanda Hall was arrested and taken to headquarters for questioning.
Larry, who was on the second floor reading over a colleague’s case file, heard the car doors slamming just outside the main entrance.
Closing the lunchbox he had just opened, Larry walked over to the window and looked down.
To his surprise, he moved just in time to see the woman being dragged inside by the detectives. He immediately noticed that Amanda’s left arm was in a cast, yet she still maintained an air of pride despite being escorted in.
"I can walk on my own—I’m not going anywhere, officer." Amanda adjusted the folds of her white dress and gracefully entered the building.
Larry perked up his ears. "What a great disguise!"
Sergeant Doakes' call quickly came through to the pathology department. "We’ve brought her to the station. We’re requesting a search warrant for the raid. We’d also like Dexter to come in for analysis."
Masuka, who took the call, nodded and said, "No problem. I’ll make sure the suspect’s blood sample gets sent to the lab."
Larry, hearing this, thought for a moment and asked, "Could I watch the interrogation?"
Masuka looked at Larry and said, "That’s also why they called—you’re needed."
"Well, let’s hope this goes smoothly," Larry said, walking toward the adjacent room—the interrogation room—and stepped inside.
As expected, there was a surveillance camera that directly captured the interrogation room.
Amanda sat calmly in the chair, lifted her right leg, and crossed it over her left knee, yawning slightly.
There was no trace of fear. Occasionally, she glanced at the glass on Larry’s side with a hint of understanding in her eyes.
An hour passed, and the officer in charge of questioning had run out of ideas.
Larry frowned slightly—his assessment was correct.
The results of the blood analysis would soon provide the most compelling evidence. But how did these two people’s lives overlap?
One was a corporate executive.
The other is a full-time housewife.
From childhood to adulthood, there had been no close contact between them.
As he observed the interests and hobbies of both individuals and listened to Amanda talk about all her friends and acquaintances, Larry suddenly stopped his fingers, which had been moving nonstop in simple exercises to activate his neurons.
Larry grabbed Ángel's shoulder and asked, "Do you remember the Golden Retriever the victim had?"
Ángel looked him in the eyes, a hint of excitement flashing in his gaze. "That’s the connection. If she has denied knowing him and we have evidence to the contrary, we’ll have the upper hand in the interrogation."
Amanda’s best friend had opened a pet hospital right in front of the building where the victim worked.
The victim often left the Golden Retriever at that pet hospital.
Maybe they had known each other for a long time but had become familiar with each other through this connection.
Could this be the breakthrough?
Ángel called Sergeant Doakes, who was in charge of the interrogation, handed him the tablet with the information, and whispered something to him.
The sergeant looked at Ángel for a brief moment before returning to the interrogation room.
Seeing how confident the police officer was, Amanda slightly squinted her right eye.
Her psychological defenses were about to collapse. As medical students, they had all been exposed to psychology to some extent, making them naturally skilled in investigation and counter-investigation.
That’s why, when the perpetrator in a case is a doctor, dealing with them is extremely difficult.
Sergeant Doakes handed her a cigarette and said, "I heard you graduated from a prestigious medical university."
"Umm."
"In the U.S., the income in this industry is so high. Why abandon a discipline that cost you so much to learn?"
This was probably the first question everyone wanted to ask upon seeing Larry.
"Ha! My husband has an enormous fortune. Why wear myself out working for others for a few thousand dollars? If I have the world in my hands, surely everyone would do the same."
"The world in your hands? Ha ha ha!" Sergeant Doakes burst out laughing, while Larry was left speechless.
This guy has a very strange sense of humor if something like that makes him laugh.
Seeing that there was no progress in the interrogation room, Larry's frown deepened.
"By the way, Ángel, can we remove the cast from that woman’s hand?"
Ángel’s smile froze instantly, revealing a trace of concern. "If it’s a real fracture, removing it could worsen the injury or cause further damage."
Larry’s face darkened immediately. "You don’t trust my judgment!"
"It’s not about trust! Sergeant Doakes will bury you alive if we’re wrong for any reason." Ángel had started to enjoy his friendship with Larry, so he didn’t want him off the investigation. Working with him was extremely comfortable.
Larry looked through the window into the interrogation room and saw that Amanda’s exposed fingertips weren’t swollen or showing signs of poor circulation, so it was definitely not a fracture.
Without saying another word, he rummaged through his inspection kit and found an electric saw on the lower shelf.
Ángel knew he had just provoked Larry’s pride.
Underestimating his skills was the worst thing anyone could do to a man considered a genius.
Though Larry was a man of few words, he had an obstinate temperament. Once he became stubborn, nothing and no one could stop him, so Ángel simply followed him.
Ángel, trailing behind Larry, watched as he pushed open the interrogation room door.
"I’d like to interrupt this interrogation."
"Mrs. Hall, let me introduce you to forensic doctor Luk." Though annoyed, Sergeant Doakes didn’t stop Larry when he realized his intentions. If he could get rid of this lunatic, he’d be better off working the traditional way.
"Please cooperate." Larry stepped forward and began cutting off Amanda’s left arm cast.
At that moment, a flicker of panic flashed in Amanda’s eyes. "Stop! My hand is injured! You’re violating my human rights! I’ll sue you!"
Larry acted as if he hadn’t heard her. Amid a burst of white smoke and the sharp sound of electric saws, with Ángel’s help, he removed the cast.
At first glance, they found a large piece of gauze wrapped around Amanda’s left index finger.
Larry carefully removed the gauze.
Amanda closed her eyes, her lips trembling slightly.
Sure enough, there was a wound at the base of her index finger that had been sutured but had not yet scabbed over.
"What a bitch…" Ángel, now fully involved, couldn’t help but spit out the insult upon seeing that every detail Larry had pointed out was true.
There was no comparison between standard detective investigations and what Larry had just done—now Ángel understood him better.
Though the method had been somewhat aggressive, being able to find direct evidence like this was the biggest blow to a suspect.
"The results of the DNA comparison between the suspect and the blood found at the scene will be sent in immediately."
After Larry finished speaking, he began sorting the cast fragments.
Once a person’s psychological defenses break, all disguises become useless.
Amanda asked Sergeant Doakes for a cigarette.
Larry knew that was a sign she was about to confess, so he quickly left the interrogation room.
At that moment, Larry’s phone rang—it was Max, his forensic assistant.
Larry assumed they must have found some evidence at Amanda’s house, so he asked, "What did you find?"
