American forensics, but the gourmet system

"I'm an NYPD agent. I need to access your hotel's CCTV footage from December 5th." Marty approached the hotel reception and showed his identification.

"Ah...I..." The girl at the front desk looked at the two uniformed police officers with a blank expression, clearly not used to dealing with similar situations.

"Call the manager out."

Diaz crossed his arms and coldly pointed at the receptionist.

Although Diaz is taciturn, he always possesses an undeniable air of authority that commands respect.

Especially when facing criminals, Diaz's aura always manages to completely intimidate them.

The hotel manager was the same; upon seeing Diaz, despite being dressed in a suit and tie, he unconsciously felt inferior in terms of presence.

The manager readily took the two to the monitoring room and retrieved the surveillance footage from December 5th.

Marty watched as the elegant Vera Kubaeva walked arm-in-arm with Isaac into the hotel lobby on the computer screen. The time displayed in the upper right corner of the monitor was 8:12 PM.

About an hour and a half later, at 9:36 p.m., Vera walked out of the hotel lobby alone and disappeared from the view of the surveillance cameras.

It looked like they got into a taxi.

"That guy wasn't lying..."

Marty muttered something and turned to look at the hotel manager:

Are there any security cameras at the hotel entrance?

"There is one," the manager nodded, then shook his head, "but it's been broken for a long time..."

"Are there any other security cameras in the lobby, positioned at different angles? The kind that can clearly see the license plates of taxis parked at the lobby entrance?" Marty continued.

  

"I think there aren't any more..." the manager said awkwardly. "There are two other security cameras in the lobby, one pointing at the elevator lobby and the other at the front desk..."

"Fine," Marty sighed.

However, the investigation was not entirely fruitless. At least we learned when Vera left the hotel, and there should still be surveillance cameras on the surrounding streets. Finding the license plate of that taxi should only be a matter of time.

"Let's go, Diaz. Let's go outside and see if there's any more recordings."

Marty beckoned to Diaz, but Diaz didn't move. He leaned closer to the computer screen, intently watching a corner of the monitor.

"Look at her."

Diaz pointed to the girl at the front desk in the surveillance footage.

The girl only showed half of her head, and was holding a phone in her hand.

However, the way he holds the phone seems a bit strange. When ordinary people use their phones, there is usually a 20°-45° angle between the phone and the ground.

The phone in the receptionist's hand was almost perpendicular to the reception desk.

"Is she recording a video or taking pictures?" Marty immediately perked up. He turned to the manager, "Come on, take us to ask that girl!"

……

"She had a very elegant demeanor, and the way she walked was beautiful, so I secretly filmed her... I didn't know that was illegal..."

The receptionist was almost in tears.

Looking at the cold-hearted Diaz, a wave of regret washed over her. If only she hadn't acted impulsively and filmed that video—

"It's okay, your actions aren't illegal," Marty quickly reassured the girl to prevent her from actually crying because of Diaz. "We're investigating a case, and your video happened to capture the taxi's license plate number."

"That's good...that's good..." The receptionist breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought you were going to arrest me...I don't have any money for bail..."

Marty used AirDrop to transfer the video of the taxi's license plate to her phone, carefully put the phone in her pocket like a precious treasure, and pulled the aloof Diaz out of the hotel.

Their next task is to find the taxi and figure out where Vera went in it on the night she was murdered.

……

"We are NYPD agents," Jesse said, showing his badge to the nurse at the clinic's reception. "We're here to see Dr. Brown."

The nurse, clearly a woman of considerable experience, glanced up at Jesse and Captain Hansen standing behind him, then calmly pointed down the corridor:

"Clinic Room Number Two"

"Thank you." Jesse put away her documents and was about to leave when the nurse called her back.

"Hey, did Dr. Brown prescribe something illegal again?"

"Again? Why is it 'again'?" Captain Hansen keenly noticed the key words in the nurse's statement.

"Again, of course." The nurse shrugged. "Last time he violated the rules by prescribing double the dose of morphine to a drug addict, and his license almost got revoked... What trouble has he gotten himself into this time?"

Jesse and Captain Hansen exchanged a glance, both seeing the joy and excitement in each other's eyes.

Looks like I won't have time to make a trip this time...

"That depends on the results of our investigation." Jesse nodded to the nurse, walked down the corridor, and pushed open the door to examination room number two.

Dr. Brown was a stocky middle-aged man who was engrossed in writing something on the table.

He was startled by the sudden noise of Jesse pushing the door open, and looked up cautiously, saying:

"Do you...have an appointment?"

"NYPD." Jesse flashed his badge in front of him. "You should know why we're here, Dr. Brown. Do you know Vera Kubaeva?"

……

Russell raised his hand and knocked on the door.

dong dong dong.

"Please come in."

A calm voice came from inside the door.

Russell pushed open the door to Dr. Beckman's office.

"Ah, you've arrived, Russell." Dr. Beckman gestured to a chair across the desk. "Please have a seat... Were you in the biology lab just now?"

"Yes," Russell nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm observing their procedures... and also urging them to expedite the forensic examination results in the Vera murder case."

"Any new leads?" Dr. Beckman asked casually.

"No." Russell sighed. "The killer was very careful, probably wearing gloves the whole time, and didn't leave any fingerprints or biological evidence... The semen stain found on the hair belonged to a client, and according to the information sent back by Marty and Diaz, the surveillance footage gave the client an alibi."

"It looks like a pretty tricky case... but I have something to show you." Dr. Beckman turned the computer screen in front of him around. "It's a murder case that happened six years ago. The victim was a musical actress. Her body was found in a junkyard, and next to her was a deflated inflatable doll in a similar position... Take a closer look."

Russell stared intently at the screen, quickly reading its contents, muttering to himself:

"The cause of death was cardiac tamponade caused by a punctured ascending aorta... There was ether residue in the upper respiratory tract mucosa of the deceased... It's so similar, so very similar... The modus operandi, the way of provocation, it's practically identical..."

Dr. Beckman remained silent, waiting quietly for Russell to speak.

Finally, Russell finished reading it.

He looked at Dr. Beckman with some confusion:

"But...this murder case is already closed..."

"Yes, the case is closed." Dr. Beckman nodded. "A week after the incident, the suspect shot himself at home. Although he didn't leave a suicide note, we found clothing stained with the victim's blood, a scalpel with his fingerprints, and other evidence closely related to the deceased in his home..."

Russell remained silent, his mind racing as he considered the possible connections between the two cases.

"I handled this case," Dr. Beckman said in a low voice. "I was very surprised when I learned that the murderer had committed suicide... someone who left an inflatable doll at the scene to provoke the police would actually take his own life... However, the district attorney determined that the chain of evidence was complete, and the police had to close the case. Now it seems..."

Dr. Beckman took a deep breath and looked up at Russell:

"I am very worried that the decision to hastily close the case back then was a mistake."