1960: My uncle is the FBI Director

Chapter 16 finally provides a complete scene.
Theodore made a fist with both hands, mimicking the murderer's posture, and said in a low voice, "She was forced to her death by repeatedly slamming her head against the wall."

As he spoke, he shook it forcefully.

Bernie took a step back, looked down at the spot where the dead man had lain, and then at Theodore's loosely clenched hands.

Theodore stopped joking and told Bernie to go down and get the paper bag and camera.

Theodore had Bernie open all the drawers of the dressing table and take pictures of each one.

The dressing table was filled with jewelry and cosmetics, and the last drawer was filled with two small umbrellas.

Bernie whistled, picked one up, looked at it, and then curled his lip. "This is a prostitute."

After taking the photo, Theodore looked at him with a puzzled expression, seeking an explanation.

Bernie picked up two small umbrellas and tossed them over, asking, "Do you know them?"

Theodore looked down and examined the packaging. It was very simple, even rudimentary. He opened one and found that the small umbrella was very dry, thick, and had an unpleasant smell.

Bernie then said, "This brand of umbrellas has almost become a staple for prostitutes. You can buy a whole bag for ten dollars, enough to last you until you die."

Theodore dropped the small umbrella, turned around and pulled out the trash can. He dumped all the trash on the ground and began rummaging through it.

The trash can wasn't full; it was only about half full.

As Theodore flipped through the pages, he asked, "Since she's a prostitute, why doesn't she go to Rose Street instead of staying at home? Isn't that more dangerous?"

Bernie squatted down across from her, helping to spread out the trash, and explained, "She's getting old and isn't competitive on Rose Street anymore. I doubt any pimps will take her in. If she wants to stay on Rose Street, she'll have to lower her price. Lowering her price will get her killed by her competitors."

Theodore paused in his rummaging and looked at Bernie with a puzzled expression.

Bernie turned his head away and remained silent.

The trash was quickly sorted, and Theodore matched the used umbrellas with their packaging one by one; one umbrella was left out.

This is a red aluminum foil-wrapped Trojan brand umbrella bag, which looks particularly stylish among a bunch of tacky bags.

Whether in its past or present form, Theodore doesn't know much about this thing, but Bernie seems to be exceptionally knowledgeable about it.

He explained to Theodore, “This is very expensive and only sold in pharmacies. You need to register when you buy it. No prostitute would buy Trojan’s umbrella unless the customer brought it himself.”

Faced with Theodore's strange gaze, he forced a response this time: "This is the one I use!"

Theodore waved his hand, telling him to stop talking. But Bernie thought this was a sign that Theodore didn't believe him, and eagerly said he would show it to him when they got back to the car, as it was in his bag.

Theodore raised his hands in surrender.

He packed the package and began looking for the small umbrella, but couldn't find it.

Theodore then gathered the remaining props together and stared at them thoughtfully.

Bernie glanced over, chuckled dismissively, and then Theodore directed him to pack them all up.

Theodore finally came to the bloodstain on the wall and found two golden hairs in it.

After confirming that nothing was missing, Theodore packed up his camera and prepared to leave.

This surprised Bernie greatly. He gestured with his hands and asked, "Is she leaving already? Didn't she tell you who the murderer was? Or did she simply not come?"

Theodore made a final effort to correct Bernie's thinking, standing in the doorway pointing to the room and giving a verbal analysis of the scene.

"The murderer and the victim agreed on a price, and the two went into the room to prepare for the transaction."

“The murderer was looking forward to it and made special preparations. He may have worn a decent outfit and dressed up carefully before going to a nearby pharmacy to buy this.”

Theodore pointed to the paper bags Bernie was carrying, one of which contained the red Trojan. "But things didn't go as he expected. He was ready for a big fight, only to find himself in poor condition."

"The deceased took out various props to enhance the atmosphere, which angered the murderer, who thought that the deceased looked down on him."

"The enraged killer unleashed his fury on the victim."

"He grabbed the dead man's head and slammed it against the wall repeatedly. By the time his anger subsided, the man was already dead."

Theodore paused here, drawing Bernie's attention. Seeing that he didn't intend to continue, Bernie cautiously asked, "Is that all?"

"Why not?"

"What about that? Didn't she describe the killer to you? His age, height, how they met, where he lived, etc."

He was referring to profiling.

Theodore chuckled inwardly; it seemed all his explanations had been for nothing. He shook his head and said, "I need to go back and check the evidence that was taken away, as well as the autopsy report."

He paused for a moment, then said, "She did tell me something. She hates the person who rummages through her dressing table, and she wants to follow him around all the time."

Bernie knew it was a lie from the start, and nudged Theodore with his elbow to change the subject, "Should we ask her?"

He gestured towards the next room, where the door was ajar and two brown eyes were peering out through the crack.

Without waiting for Theodore's response, he shoved everything back into Theodore's arms and walked toward the door.

The person behind the door tried to close it, but Bernie stopped him and pushed it open, revealing a brown-haired woman.

The woman was about the same age as the deceased, old and faded, wearing only pajamas. When Bernie looked her over, she deliberately pulled her pajamas to the sides, revealing more of her body.

Then came a torrent of indescribable, lewd solicitations, praising Bernie and herself, while simultaneously pulling Bernie into the house. Despite his large size, Bernie was nearly knocked off balance and almost fell on top of the woman.

Bernie was startled and quickly kept his distance.

"We have a few questions for you..."

Upon hearing that it wasn't business, the woman immediately lost interest and was about to close the door when Bernie blocked her with his leg.

He took out a few coins and handed them over. When the woman saw the money, she immediately stopped rolling her eyes, and instead smiled broadly as she counted the coins, her face crinkling with laughter.

"Ask away, ask anything, even if you're a beginner."

As she spoke, she reached out and rummaged through Bernie's hands, her smile lewd.

Bernie awkwardly pulled his leg back and asked her, "Do you know the people who live next door?"

The woman moved closer again, her hands starting to wander. "I know her, her name is Qiong, she's a slut. Her cunt is cunt..."

The woman relentlessly slandered the deceased.

Bernie pulled her restless hand down, and when the woman tried to pounce on him again, he pulled a long face and flashed his badge. This worked, and the woman immediately behaved herself.

"Did you hear anything last night? Or did you see who she brought back with her?" Bernie asked.

The woman shook her head, yawned, and began to cry. "I don't know, I didn't hear anything."

Bernie frowned, glancing through his loose pajamas at the numerous needle marks on his arm.

Undeterred, he knocked on several doors, but either no one answered or the door opened exactly as the woman had done.

This place seemed to be the lair of aging prostitutes. Theodore and Bernie both felt a chill down their spines, as if their personal safety was no longer guaranteed.

(End of this chapter)