American forensics, but the gourmet system

The abandoned low-rise building has seven floors. The elevator has long been broken. The building is filled with years of dust and grime, and there are tattered bedding left by homeless people in the corners.

Under the white light of a tactical flashlight, dust particles slowly swirled in the air.

Russell cleared his throat instinctively.

"It doesn't look like anyone's here..." Jesse said softly. "The stairs are over there."

Captain Hansen quickly surveyed the scene and then issued instructions:

"Russell and I will go upstairs to examine the body first. Jesse, Diaz, you two search from low to high, be careful."

"Yes, Captain."

Russell, carrying his investigation kit, followed Captain Hansen up the filthy stairs.

The staircase was covered in messy footprints, indicating that many people had come and gone during the time the building had been abandoned.

Russell frowned slightly. If the traces left at the scene were like this, then it would undoubtedly be a hellish challenge for the on-site investigation technicians.

It takes several days just to extract the suspect's footprints.

But now is not the time to feel sorry for them. If Russell can find the key clues on the body, then the others won't have to bother.

Neither Russell nor Captain Hansen spoke; footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Occasionally, the sounds of Jesse and Diaz kicking down doors during their search could be heard from downstairs, but there was no signal on the walkie-talkie, indicating that everything was going smoothly so far…

Finally, the two stood in front of the iron gate leading to the rooftop.

The rusty iron gate was ajar. Although he knew it was unlikely that a murderer was hiding behind it, Russell still nervously gripped the handle of the examination kit.

creak.

Captain Hansen reached out and pushed open the iron gate.

On the edge of the rooftop directly opposite the iron gate, the corpse lay silently, looking lifeless.

Captain Hansen gestured for Russell to stay inside, then stepped out with his gun raised, surveyed the situation on the rooftop, and beckoned to Russell.

"Come on, no problem. Looks like the killer has already left..."

Russell, carrying his examination kit, strode quickly toward the body.

The closer Russell got to the corpse, the stronger his ominous premonition became.

The texture of that blonde hair... the texture of that skin...

And then there's this standard, even stereotypical, office lady attire...

But Russell dared not be negligent. He placed his examination kit beside the body and quickly put on a new pair of nitrile gloves from his pocket.

  

Then he crouched down and reached out to fiddle with the corpse's arm.

This damn feel...

Russell was momentarily bewildered, speechless, and somewhat angry.

"Captain," he stood up and called to Hansen, "come here for a moment..."

"What's wrong?" Captain Hansen was still guarding the iron gate when he suddenly heard Russell calling him, and he was a little confused.

But he still came over.

"The deceased was..." Russell hesitated, unsure how to phrase it, "...not a person..."

"Not a person?!"

Captain Hansen's voice contained shock, confusion, and a hint of fear...

"It's a... silicone doll."

Russell turned the body on the ground over, revealing a lifelike, exquisite, but stiff and rigid face.

"Damn..." Captain Hansen rolled his eyes. This was the first time Russell had ever seen such a vivid expression on Captain Hansen's face since he met him.

It seems to be the first time he's ever swore...

Captain Hansen looked at the silicone face, smiled with a mixture of anger and relief, holstered his pistol, and took the walkie-talkie from his tactical belt:

"Everyone, that's a wrap. We found a... um... silicone doll on the roof."

boom!

A muffled thud came from downstairs, as if someone had kicked the door in frustration.

……

An hour later, at an Irish pub.

The team members, now dressed in casual clothes, sat at the bar, each with a strange expression on their face.

Onion rings are still given away for free, and they're still fried to perfection.

From the moment they entered until they sat down, the five remained remarkably silent; no one spoke, and no one chatted.

The bartender nervously brought over the whiskey on the rocks. He knew who these people were, of course, but he didn't know why they were all so...serious tonight.

It wasn't exactly serious; the young Black policeman looked like he was trying not to laugh, the young Chinese man seemed somewhat helpless, and as for the other three middle-aged men…

Finally, it was Marty who was the first to raise his glass:

"Is this a celebration party after solving two cases? Boss, you should treat us to two rounds of drinks."

His expression was serious, and his voice was muffled, which sounded strangely comical.

The silence was suddenly broken when Jesse burst into laughter, Russell reluctantly picked up a fried onion ring and put it in his mouth, and Diaz looked like he had just escaped a disaster.

His paid leave is finally secured.

Captain Hansen couldn't help but chuckle, picking up his glass and swirling it around; the golden liquid danced within.

"Alright, even if we solved two cases, I'll treat you to two rounds today... Where did you send the silicone doll, Jesse?"

"The forensic unit," Jesse shrugged. "They finally managed to clear a spot on the shelf. They pulled out a silicone doll, and Anna from the forensic unit is laughing her head off... We'll be talking about this for a month."

"I'd rather be a silicone doll every time I go on a call," Russell said, raising his glass. "Saving a few lives is better than anything else."

I second that.

Diaz was the last to raise his glass, and said briefly.

"There's more good news to announce." Captain Hansen tapped the table with his fingers, and after everyone looked at him, he continued, "Because our team solved a two-year-old cold case in less than 48 hours, and considering our 100% homicide clearance rate over the past year, the NYPD has decided to give us a collective commendation... Congratulations everyone!"

"Waaaaah!"

Jesse was the first to let out a strange cry.

Marty and Diaz were more composed; both of them had received several awards, but they couldn't help but show their joy upon hearing the news.

For these police officers who fight on the front lines and deal with violent crime and death, receiving commendations or medals is one of the few moments when they can feel recognized by the outside world.

"Of course." Captain Hansen raised his voice slightly, "We still have to thank Dr. Russell... He accurately identified the unidentified victim, and he made rigorous reasoning and judgment..."

"Don't compliment me like that, Captain. I'm already blushing even before I've had a drink."

Russell smiled and shook his head.

Sitting next to Russell, Jesse patted him hard on the shoulder:

"You deserve it, bro. Remember that big guy, Carey Rupert? He specifically asked me to pass on a message to you from the detention center, saying he believed in justice again because of you."

Russell smiled but didn't say anything.

Captain Hansen was the first to raise his glass:

"Respect to the successful resolution of the case, respect to the deceased, respect to Dr. Russell... and respect to justice."

"And respect for justice!"

Everyone raised their glasses, which clinked together, making a crisp sound.