American forensics, but the gourmet system

The wheels of the hand-pushed hearse made a soft clattering sound as they rolled over the edges of the paving stones.

Russell pushed the morgue towards the autopsy room, with Jesse following beside him, carrying a laptop.

"Haven't you found any information about the deceased yet?"

Russell casually asked Jesse a question, then pushed the morgue cart into the autopsy room.

"No..." Jesse's face showed a frustrated expression. "No white-collar workers have been reported missing in the surrounding blocks, and there's no such person on the citywide missing persons list..."

"The deceased wasn't necessarily a white-collar worker." Russell pushed the hearse next to the morgue and turned to Jesse, saying, "Come lend a hand."

Jesse put down his laptop, grabbed the body bag, and together with Russell, moved the body to the autopsy table.

"What do you mean?" Jesse asked impatiently. "What do you mean by 'the deceased wasn't necessarily a white-collar worker'? She was dressed like that..."

"These are the clothes the killer dressed her in." Russell sighed, pulling open the body bag to reveal a pale face. "There were stab wounds on her left chest, but her shirt was intact. And while office women usually have fat buildup in their legs from sitting for long periods, her calf muscles were remarkably well-defined..."

Russell pointed to the deceased's legs, which were clad in black stockings.

"Then she might be—"

"Help me take off my clothes first."

Russell took out several large evidence bags from a nearby locker. Just as he turned around, Jesse grabbed Russell by the collar and started pulling him down.

"Hey! Take off the corpse's clothes!"

  

Russell was both annoyed and amused.

"Then you should explain more clearly..." Jesse muttered, "I thought you were going to change clothes..."

Anyone who frequently changes clothes for corpses knows that once rigor mortis develops, it is very difficult to put clothes back on the body properly.

The same applies to taking off clothes.

Russell put on nitrile gloves and tossed another pair to Jesse, and the two began to unbutton the corpse's shirt.

"The deceased had a very low body fat percentage," Russell said softly, looking down at the exposed skin of the corpse. "Judging by appearances, the body fat percentage is around 15%..."

"Anything else?" Jesse hurriedly jotted down notes. "Is there anything else that's unusual?"

"The bra size is wrong, it's clearly two cup sizes too big. This suggests that the bra might not have been specially prepared for her by the killer..."

Russell examined the upper body of the corpse and continued to draw conclusions.

"Okay, the bra size runs large..."

Russell bent down and carefully examined the corpse's left chest under the bright light of the operating lights.

There was a narrow wound there, from which a yellowish-green liquid was oozing. Russell reached out and touched the wound.

"The wound is on the left sternal border, between the second and third ribs. It must have been caused by a very sharp knife." Russell continued, frowning. "I suspect it was a scalpel... inserted along the rib gap, precisely piercing the aorta or pericardium. An ordinary person couldn't do that with such precision... This suggests the perpetrator may have a medical background."

"This is a good clue!"

Jesse excitedly took notes.

With Jesse's help, the body's shirt and underwear were removed, and Russell put them into separate evidence bags.

Then there are the high heels on her feet.

As soon as he took off his high heels, Russell was immediately drawn to the feet encased in black stockings.

High arches, hallux valgus, thickened and deformed toenails, calluses on the toes, pigmentation on the instep and ankle joints...

These features can only appear on the feet of one type of person.

"A ballet dancer," Russell said to Jesse as he put the high heels into the evidence bag. "She was a ballet dancer, or at least a passionate ballet enthusiast... Look at her feet."

"Hmm... I can't tell." Jesse shook his head. "I don't pay much attention to women's feet... but since you say so, then it must be... a ballet dancer."

"I don't pay attention to women's feet either," Russell corrected. "That's inference."

"Okay, reasoning." Jesse shrugged. "But her leg muscles are definitely well-developed... I think your reasoning is sound."

The two then worked together to remove the remaining clothing from the corpse.

Russell pulled out a measuring tape and began measuring height.

"Height 171 cm, age approximately 26-28, weight is—"

"Wait, wait, wait, how many feet and inches is 171 centimeters?"

Jesse looked up and asked Russell.

Russell quickly performed the conversion, and in his mind cursed the convoluted American units.

"Five feet seven inches."

"That's amazing," Jesse said enthusiastically. "My math is absolutely terrible..."

Suddenly, the door to the dissection room was pushed open.

Captain Hansen walked in first, followed by Marty and Diaz.

"Did you find anything?"

Captain Hansen glanced at the corpse on the dissection table and stood by the locker, which was far away from the dissection table.

"The deceased's exact identity hasn't been determined yet, Captain," Jesse said, looking at his laptop. "Russell carefully examined the deceased's feet and deduced that she might be a ballet dancer..."

"There's no need to go into so much detail, Jesse!"

Russell glared at Jesse.

"Okay, okay..." Jesse chuckled. "A ballet dancer, five feet seven inches tall, between 26 and 28 years old... There aren't many people in all of New York who fit this description, I'm sure we'll be able to find out soon."

"But we can't find a match for that face in our database..." Marty said, arms crossed, his voice slightly muffled but still understandable. "Didn't you already check?"

"Yes, I checked." Jesse nodded. "The facial recognition system identified her as an aunt born in 1974, but she passed away from breast cancer four years ago... I knew that thing wouldn't work."

"The facial muscles of a corpse will be deformed to some extent," Russell said. "Facial recognition is designed for the living."

"migrant."

Diaz, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke.

"What?"

Everyone looked at him.

"migrant."

Diaz repeated it again.

"That's possible," Captain Hansen said immediately. "Jesse, go and investigate New York's immigration data from recent years. If it's not immigration, it could be illegal entry..."

"There are quite a few illegal immigrants," Marty said with a shrug. "We just finished investigating one a few weeks ago..."

Russell did not participate in the discussion with the other team members; instead, he took a scalpel from his examination kit.

At the same time, the translucent light curtain lit up.

[The host is about to process spoiled food.]

[Task: Use the butcher's skill to process a piece of spoiled food]

[Quest Reward: Skill Upgrade Points *2]

Fine……

Russell, already accustomed to his own twisted sense of humor, expressionlessly held the scalpel to the corpse's shoulder.

Cut it off with one stroke.