"Is it just me, or is this the mark of a perfect butt?" Masuka, treating it like an exclusive matter for the best butt analysts, stepped closer and began inspecting it carefully.
"Let's go to the room, there should be plenty of evidence there," Larry said, showing his practical approach.
Larry and Masuka began searching for any traces left at the scene.
The bed in the center of the room, European style, stood out with its pillars at each corner, draped with curtains. Masuka, with his usual enthusiasm, remarked that it was quite an exotic touch.
However, at the lower ends of the four pillars, there were signs of fairly uniform wear.
In the distance, Ángel, who had been investigating, found a professional chain stuck in the gap between the pillar and the mattress in the southeast corner. Immediately, he let out a long whistle while holding a pink whip.
"My God..." Ángel murmured.
"By all the heavens..." Masuka added, holding back a laugh.
Max, who appeared at the door, could hardly hold back his laughter. Larry, however, remained stoic, observing calmly.
Ángel coughed twice before quickly removing the chain, which was still tied to a Latino, and stored it in the evidence bag.
The material used to wrap the chain was flannel, a fabric that could easily release epithelial cells from the packaging.
Then, on the sheet beneath the duvet, they found a trace of water. The fabric seemed to have been rubbed vigorously, to the point of being wrinkled.
After removing the sheet and lifting the pillow, a small pink plastic bag appeared in front of them.
"Who needs ultra mega resistant Durex banana-flavored?" Masuka couldn't resist making comments like this.
Ángel, thinking it inappropriate to continue such banter under Larry's watchful gaze, quickly placed the Durex in the evidence bag.
These items contain oil, which makes it easy for fingerprints to be collected on the outer packaging.
In the open wardrobe of the bedroom, there was a safe with a password. The safe was already open, with some bills scattered on the floor, and the clothes and nightstands clearly showing signs of being overturned.
Ángel frowned as he took some photos. "The signs of disturbance here are relatively recent, and there's no dust covering the cleaning traces."
Larry observed calmly, assessing the scene logically. He understood that the killer had tried to disguise the crime as a robbery. However, thieves wouldn't be naive enough to waste time hiding a body.
With his mind clear and precise, Larry made a quick estimation. In his judgment, after being killed, Ron had been thrown into the tub, where the water concealed the real cause of death. Then, his body was frozen for at least a month.
Once taken out of the freezer, the corpse was tossed into a secret pond, where it was left to rot.
Once they finished their search in that area, everyone returned to the study. At first glance, this space was larger than the master bedroom, about 120 square meters.
There were three computers and two desks.
One of the desks had a tilt of over 30 degrees, suggesting it was probably used for drawing plans. On it rested a ruler, placed carelessly, as if it were Ron's usual workspace.
On the eastern side shelves, which had no doors, there were photographs of several people. Upon closer inspection, there were pictures of Ron and Steven together.
If Ron weren't taller and stronger, anyone would think the two were brothers.
Both had gone from inexperienced teenagers to people in the prime of life, in their mid-twenties.
But why had Steven distanced himself from Ron? It seemed ironic that all of this was the result of a third person, Elias.
"Hmm, I understand..." Larry murmured, reflecting quietly.
The west wall was covered with cabinets, and the door to the south, which led to the storage area for sports equipment, was open. A stranger would never have found that door so easily and used the material there as a weapon.
Just as everyone was about to descend the stairs, Larry stopped, turned around, and looked at Sergeant Doakes.
"When we get back to the department, I'll conduct a thorough study of all the murder cases that are even remotely related to this one and the ones involving prostitutes. I think we're dealing with a rather clever serial killer."
Larry, who had devoted his life to investigating murder cases, serial killers, and violent crimes, knew he was facing a killer who seemed to be testing something.
That something, Larry thought, was himself. A variant that had arrived at the Miami Police Department, with an impressive record of killers caught since his arrival in the city.
"Are you serious?"
"I think we should take it more seriously." Ángel responded, quite confident that Larry was only judging by his intuition.
"I take my investigative work very seriously. Let's do it. Also, our main search should focus on Elias. If I'm right, he's the key to all of this and will lead us to the real killer."
"Do you think we'll find something on the computers?" Sergeant Doakes, who had not intervened in Larry's investigation until then, now did. He had learned to trust his ability.
"I don't think we'll find anything relevant, but we can investigate."
After finishing their investigation of the second floor, everyone went down to the first level.
Larry continued gathering information. The living room and dining area on the first floor were spacious, open, and bright.
However, on the north side of the first floor, there was a sliding glass door leading to the kitchen.
Ángel was the first to approach. After all, he had barely taken a preliminary look and already had a clear understanding of the layout.
He pushed open the sliding door leading to the kitchen. It was relatively spacious, with a row of scarlet cabinets, a visually appealing detail.
The two-door refrigerator was still running, emitting a constant hum. The sound was loud and echoed in the room.
When he opened the refrigerator door, all he found were some canned goods, nothing worth examining.
Larry stood next to the refrigerator, staring at the wall behind him, deep in thought. The design of the entire room was luxurious and tidy, but something didn't fit.
There were no cabinets installed.
A wall so abrupt was unusually strange. For someone studying architecture with a clear appreciation for aesthetics, this should not be the case.
Larry approached and tapped the wall with his fingers a few times. A hollow sound echoed. His hand paused slightly, then pressed both palms against the wall and pushed hard in a horizontal direction.
With a "click," the wall opened!
The wall turned out to be an invisible sliding door, and inside the storage room was a huge white freezer with a single door on the floor.
Angel quickly approached to observe what was inside. "My God! Is this the freezer?"
Remembering Larry's earlier analysis about freezing a corpse, he stopped the officers from doing anything.
"I'll take care of it," said Masuka, moving closer to the freezer to examine it for fingerprints.
With a meticulous look, he found several fingerprints and proceeded to extract the prints from the edge of the freezer. Although he collected more than ten different prints, he didn't think it was a good sign.
"I managed to collect several fingerprints, but judging by their shape and layers, they don't seem to belong to the killer." Upon examining the edge of the freezer's opening and closing, he found traces of glove prints everywhere.
"In such an exclusive community, why does the kitchen have such a secretive partition design? What the hell could be valuable enough to hide?" Larry said, with a tone of doubt.
Angel agreed with Larry's words and walked over to Masuka, who was still carefully analyzing the details.
The freezer light was still on, indicating that something was frozen inside.
"Can we open it?" Angel asked, looking at Larry.
"Yes, of course."
The three of them were visibly excited, something they couldn't hide.
However, Angel and Masuka waited for Larry to approach first so they wouldn't miss any details.
"One on one side, me on the other, Larry in the center," said Masuka as he lifted the freezer door, and Larry illuminated the interior.
At that moment, the three of them were even more surprised than they had expected.
What they found was a body, cut into perfectly equal parts. There was no trace of blood, which was fascinating.
"I was right, I'm always right," murmured Larry, visibly excited, unable to hide his sadistic smile.
He was on the trail of a serial killer. This was their method of execution. They hadn't done it to Ron, which meant that Ron's murder hadn't been the work of the N.I.H. serial killer. Larry assumed that something too important had stopped the killer from fully cutting up Ron after draining his blood.
"Tara was the only one with a key to this apartment. I want to question her as a suspect," Larry said firmly.
"Yes, understood," Angel responded without objection.
Sergeant Doakes, showing no surprise, commented, "This must not get out."
"There are two different killers. It seems the student wants to be like the master, but something stopped him from doing the same with Ron," Larry said, not taking his eyes off the body.
"I can see that," Doakes replied, nodding slowly.