North American Detective: I Am Proficient In All Kinds of American IAI

Forensics Section.

Holz took Dean and Harry to the underground morgue.

Mike Smith's body has been dismembered into parts connected only by skin and flesh, like a pig or sheep that has been disembowelled and ready to be hung in a kiln.

Holz looked like a pervert, wearing gloves, lifted Mike Smith's head, and pointed to the back of his neck: "Mike Smith is very cunning, he covered this area with scars, if it wasn't for your reminder, Dean, I would still Can't really spot the tattoo."

On the back of Mike Smith's neck, where the scar was originally, a human-shaped tattoo of thorns on a cross emerged!

Tattoos are unclean!

Neither lasers nor scars can hide the stained cells beneath the epidermis.

Unless you cut off this piece of flesh directly!

Mike Smith obviously didn't do that.

After hearing the reminder from Harry, Holz directly burned the scar on the back of Mike Smith's neck with a blowtorch gun, and then peeled off the layer on the face like a paper, and re-revealed the tattoo underneath. out.

Dean glanced at the same tattoo on Ona's neck, and looked at Holz with a smile in his eyes: "Man, look at the situation, you have already found out the source of this tattoo."

Holz nodded: "This is the symbol of an ancient organization in Europe. It once prospered for a period of time in the European Middle Ages when religion was prevalent and had many fans (dǔn). But with the prosperity of material, this organization also It's gone."

talking.

He took off his gloves, brought Dean and the two to the computer, entered a long and complicated password, opened a website, and entered: Source of Pain.

A new page pops up.

What imprinted in the eyes of the three of them was the sign of the 'figure of thorns on the cross'.

There is not much information on this, but the core is one:

All human beings are angels with sins, who are punished to suffer in the world. Only when their sins are washed away and their sinful bodies are removed can they return to the sanctuary and enjoy bliss.

Therefore, human nature is inherently evil, which is the cognition of this organization, and abuse is to purify one's own sins, which is the core of this organization.

Let's talk about it now.

This kind of organization is a pure cult.

But in the Middle Ages when material was scarce, this statement could attract a large number of poor people who were rich in spirit but had nowhere to rest.

They need a reason and belief to paralyze themselves and accept the confusion and pain that they are in a miserable situation but unable to change.

This is actually the same as Ah San's caste-religious brainwashing.

People are divided into classes by caste.

You can’t change it, but if you accept that nonsense, you can lie to yourself, enjoy being oppressed with peace of mind, and even bring comfort: In my next life, I can also be a high caste and oppress others.

That's probably what it means.

"It's no wonder that Mike Smith has so many old wounds on his body. It turns out that he wants to wash away his sins." Harry was stunned, and at the same time he was a little unbelievable: "But he is obviously a highly educated psychologist, and even many How can such a person, a professor from a prestigious university, believe in such a foolish statement?"

Dean shook his head: "I guess this stems from Mike Smith's unfortunate childhood. The child's cognition depends on the people around him, and when he grows up, he denies his own beliefs, so he ruins the tattoo, but childhood The habit brought about is not so easy to get rid of."

Ona also has tattoos on her neck.

But as far as Dean's contact is concerned, apart from her bold personality, there is nothing unusual about her.

Consider that Ona and Mike Smith are distant relatives.

Dean guessed that Mike Smith's family was a member and believer of the Source of Pain a long time ago. With the development of the times, the family members scattered.

Some members still follow ancient traditions.

Some members just regard the tattoo as a memorial, but they have abandoned the concept of "pain is the purification of sins on the body".

Holz looked at Harry contemptuously: "Dude, you must understand a truth. Knowledge is knowledge, and ideas are ideas. Have you ever heard of a medical professor drinking his own urine every day? Do you think it is good for your body? ?”

"Is there such a disgusting professor?" Harry's eyes widened.

Holz shrugged:

"He is quite normal. I even knew a biologist before who insisted on interbreeding within the family, thinking that the pure-blooded offspring born in this way are of the highest quality.

Reality is magical.

If you confuse knowledge, authority, and ideas, you may be killed by those so-called experts and professors someday. "

Dean interrupted the chat between the two, took out his mobile phone, and called Daisy: "Daisy, I asked you to check the information, do you have any idea?"

"Time is too tight!" On the other end of the phone, there was Daisy's rapid typing on the keyboard and an impatient growl: "FK, Dean, I am really poisoned by you, and I listen to you like this!" .”

"Don't say that, Daisy, I heard that there is a 'hot pot' restaurant in Chinatown. It's delicious, and I'm going to take you to try it."

These words, like cold water, instantly extinguished the irritability and resentment in Daisy's heart.

Her voice regained its gentleness:

"Well, I'm looking forward to that food called 'Hot Pot'.

In addition, through Mike Smith's financial account, I found that he has frequent money exchanges with a private clinic named XX. You may gain something if you go there and have a look. "

"Thank you, Daisy, if you have any news, please let me know as soon as possible."

"Got it, Inspector Dean!"

hang up the phone.

Harry immediately said: "Dean, I know that private clinic. It is a well-known underground clinic in Los Angeles. It often helps some gang members with gunshot wounds and other difficult injuries. Besides the price is not cheap, word of mouth is very popular in the underground world. good!"

"Very well, you drive and lead the way!"

The two bid farewell to Holz and left again.

at this time.

Mike Smith's house.

Ona is patiently feeding Little Mike.

Little Mike was still concentrating on the big book in his hand, but compared to before, now he opened his mouth rhythmically, waiting for Ona's feeding.

finish eating.

Ona, as usual, was ready to go downstairs.

Sudden.

A familiar yet unfamiliar childish voice stopped her: "Ona..."

With surprise in her eyes, Ona turned around and looked at Little Mike excitedly: "Little Mike, you haven't talked to me for a long time!"

Little Mike didn't look back, and said indifferently: "Some meaningless exchanges are tantamount to wasting my precious life. Is the person here today from the police department?"

Ona looked at Little Mike with some doubts, and nodded hesitantly: "Yes, there is a little thing, they"

"Mike Smith is dead?"

pat~

The dinner plate in Ona's hand fell to the ground.

She stared at Little Mike in a daze, only to feel that the familiar face in front of her was extremely strange at the moment.

I was stunned for a long time.

Ona licked her lips before asking in surprise, "Little Mike, aren't you really autistic?"

Only then did Little Mike raise his head, and a strange smile appeared on his pretty face: "I just feel that communicating with you stupid creatures is a waste of my own life."

As he said that, he rubbed his face and sighed slightly: "When Mike Smith is buried, please send me a white chrysanthemum. Although he was ignorant and perverted, he killed my dog, but I also Help him purify the sins on his body, and hope that when he goes to heaven, he will be happy in his heart."

finished.

He lowered his head and read the book seriously again.

a long time.

Ona regained her senses.

She glanced at Little Mike, who was thin and pale, and then at the dinner plate that fell on the ground, almost thinking that she had just hallucinated.

But the dinner plate under her feet told her clearly.

The twelve-year-old little Mike told himself honestly that he killed Mike Smith, that is, his father!

But how did he do it?

Ona can guarantee it!

Little Mike has always been under his own care, never left the villa, never even went down to the first floor, and never had contact with outsiders!

How did he do that?

Ona picked up the dinner plate in a daze, came to the lobby of the villa, then found the business card left by Dean, picked up the landline, wanted to make a call, but seemed to think of something, and put it down again.

Repeatedly hesitated several times.

She sighed and didn't make the call after all.

"Little Mike must have lied to me, he is a 12-year-old kid who has barely had contact with the outside world, how could he torture and kill Mike Smith?

Impossible, absolutely impossible! "

According to the ancient tradition of their family, purification is extremely painful massacre.

A child can never do this!

Ona shook her head, lay down on the sofa, and curled up her body, which was stronger than the average man.

The afternoon sun shines through the glass windows and falls on the broad back.

There is no warmth from the sun.

There is only a lonely middle-aged woman, helpless and panic that has nowhere to release.

A distorted bloodline will only breed distorted offspring.

perhaps.

They don't deserve the right to reproduce

the other side.

On the way, Harry was bored and asked about Dean's experience at Mike Smith's villa.

He was very displeased with that strong woman, Ona, and she also had the logo of the Source of Pain organization on her neck, so she also felt that she was suspicious.

After all, Ona's physique, not to mention using pulleys to lift Mike Smith, even hanging him up by hand, is probably a piece of cake!

Dean was sorting out the clues he had found so far. Hearing Harry's words, he smiled and said, "You suspect that Ona killed Mike Smith?"

"Yes!" Harry said in a decent way:

"First of all, Ona has this ability!

She is also a believer in the 'source of pain', which shows that she has a good understanding of medieval torture tools.

Secondly, Ona has this motive!

Mike Smith had only one twelve-year-old autistic son, and when he died, the rest of the property fell into the hands of the sole guardian, Ona. "

Harry was not rude.

People who are proficient in medieval torture tools are really rare in modern society.

There is a suitable method of killing, and there is also a motive.

Normal case-solving process.

These two points are enough for Dean and others to focus on investigating the suspicion of Ona.

Dean directly vetoed Ona's suspicion: "She is not a murderer, and the torturer must be counterattacked and his soul sinks, but Ona does not have these characteristics. In fact, I suspect Mike Smith's son, Little Mike."

"The kid who's only twelve years old and has autism?" Harry exclaimed.

Dean nodded:

"It's just a hunch, the eyes are the windows to the soul, and although I haven't looked directly into his eyes, I've seen pictures of him as a child.

A child's eyes are either pure or full of curiosity.

But in Little Mike's eyes, there was only indifference.

This may be my illusion, but I do feel that he is not autistic, but emotionally deficient.

This is also a kind of mental illness. It is born without empathy, and cannot understand emotions, but it can also maintain absolute rationality at all times, and only do what you think is right, and...

IQ is generally not low! "

This disease was seen by Dean from the books Anthony gave him.

Mind reading is not a panacea.

It will be useless for some experienced people, or some relatively rare situations.

This includes people who are emotionally deficient.

This kind of people is very rare, but because they will not be disturbed by external objects, no matter what they do, they can achieve high achievements in the end.

And because they watch and perceive various things in this world from the perspective, they are not disturbed by external objects, and they often go straight to the essence. After long-term training, their learning efficiency is very high.

In other words, among these people, the proportion of geniuses is very high!

After listening to Dean's popular science, Harry still shook his head: "This is too exaggerated, Dean."

"If a skinny twelve-year-old child can easily kill an adult, wouldn't I have lived on a dog for more than twenty years?"

Dean sneered: "You have a very accurate understanding of yourself. I should add that you should have lived on Teddy."

Harry: ".."

The two were talking and laughing.

Harry drove an off-road vehicle and came to an area that was a little different from the outside world.

This is the slums of Los Angeles.

There is actually a big difference between a slum and a slum.

This difference is based on race.

For example, the slums where Italians gather are relatively safe, but extremely xenophobic.

The same is true for other races.

After all, in a foreign country, in order to survive better, people will have the idea of ​​reporting to the group to keep warm.

Except blacks.

Because their sources are too complex.

There are localized blacks, tribal brothers from different countries in Africa, and people who immigrated from the European continent to make a living.

Therefore, the communities where they gather are more chaotic than ordinary slums, and there are often clashes between juvenile gangs, adult gangs, and regional gangs that use the streets as their territory.

Not to mention the policeman.

Ordinary black people dare not walk into such a community during the day without a friend to bring them with them.

Because you may go in in the morning, and in the afternoon you will appear in an underground organ hospital, becoming a cold corpse to be cremated at any time.

Yes, the organ hospital here is more humane.

They will take the corpse to the funeral parlor run by the gang, and provide one-stop service for cremation and ashes.

Dean noticed.

Since Harry entered here, his expression has obviously become much more tense!

"Harry, you're making me nervous." Dean joked casually.

He is now wearing a portable body armor, two guns on his waist, one gun on his shoulder, no less than six magazines, as long as he is not caught by an automatic rifle, for the unprofessional little Karami here, he can fight in and out, Staged a bloodbath gang, probably not a big problem.

Harry was very distressed: "Damn it, I was thinking of getting close to here and asking a friend to borrow a broken car to come in, but I ended up chatting with you and didn't pay attention, Dean, you'd better be careful, we've been watched up."

Dean glanced at the dry, black and thin boys and girls on the side of the road, nodded, and said no more.

It gave him the feeling that he lived in Colombia in his previous life.

The children there may ask you for candy with their front feet, then pull out a pistol from behind their back feet, kill you, and then search for the corpse directly.

Fortunately, it is estimated that Dean's cross-country is of high value, which deterred the greedy eyes that were eager to move in the dark.

No accident happened until the off-road vehicle stopped under a dilapidated two-story building.

here we go.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief: "The gang members were injured, and it would be very troublesome to treat them, so everyone will have a consensus that no trouble should be caused near the clinic. Before we go out, it should be safe!"

During the conversation.

A dry black girl came over: "No parking here."

Harry rolled down the window and smiled at the little girl: "Hey, beauty, I'm a friend of the big dick. My brother was injured and it's not convenient to move, so I want to ask a doctor to operate on it."

Seeing Harry's complexion, the black girl nodded: "Okay, I'll call the doctor."

After speaking, she walked into the small broken building in front.

While waiting.

Dean glanced at the rearview mirror, frowned, and took out a pistol from his waist: "Harry, have you ever killed anyone?"

Harry:? ? ?

Thank you 'jasonmeng' book friend for rewarding a thousand book coins, thank you boss!

Thanks to the "Red Blood Cell 2002" book friends for their rewards, thank you boss!

Two chapters and nine thousand words.

Good night.