American forensics, but the gourmet system

In Captain Hansen's office.

Although it was late at night, the pothos on the windowsill was still full of energy, holding its head high.

Russell and Jesse sat around the desk, which had been cleared of files and forms and replaced with three 10-inch-diameter pizzas.

Slightly charred pizza crust, soft pizza base, rich cheese, salty ham...

It wasn't particularly delicious, but it was enough to make Russell's stomach feel satisfied.

There's an urban legend in America that if pizza orders suddenly surge near the Pentagon one night, it means the once-invincible U.S. military is about to launch an operation somewhere in the world.

Why pizza?

Why not Burger King? Why not Subway? Why not McDonald's?

It's unlikely that it's because the Secretary of Defense's brother-in-law ran a pizza shop near the Pentagon (though that's not necessarily true).

The only explanation is that a bite of steaming hot carbohydrates mixed with fat is probably the greatest comfort a miserable overtime worker can get on a miserable night of working overtime.

Russell and Jesse opened a box of pizza and shared it, one slice for the other, without saying a word; the office was silent.

All that could be heard was the faint crunch of chewing on the pizza crust and Jesse smacking his lips.

The two quickly finished a pizza.

Jesse patted his stomach, leaned back slightly, and let out a comfortable burp.

"I'll go get Marty back," he said, standing up. "I heard his stomach growl several times in the interrogation room..."

"How's the interrogation going?" Russell asked casually.

"Not bad." Jesse shrugged as he walked out of the office. "That guy doesn't seem to think he did anything wrong. He said he did it to get rid of two bitches who tarnished art... another self-proclaimed righteous thug."

"But the person he chose to be his scapegoat is definitely innocent..." Russell said, frowning.

“Yes,” Jesse said, turning back as he reached the office door. “Captain Hansen said the same thing, but Dawn said… well, they’re just unlucky. I really think New York State abolishing the death penalty was a terrible decision…”

Jesse shook his head and walked toward the interrogation room.

Russell recalled the unfortunate Dr. Brown, who had inhaled an excessive amount of ether and, although conscious, was still under observation in the hospital.

  

He thought of Vera Kubaeva, lying on the roof of an abandoned building, who had done wrong and was ultimately judged by a paranoid man.

He finally remembered Dr. Beckman; Russell had called him while buying pizzas for the team. Upon hearing that the real culprit had been caught, Dr. Beckman's voice was filled with a relieved joy.

Dr. Beckman said the case had troubled him for a long time. He noticed many suspicious points in the case, but he could only be responsible for his forensic report and could not change the final decision to close the case...

Marty pushed open the door and walked into the office.

"You're still at get off work, Dr. Lasso..." He plopped down in Captain Hansen's office chair and casually tore open a pizza box.

Russell certainly wanted to leave work, but seeing how tired, hungry, and sleepy the team members looked, he went back and bought them three pizzas.

"I'm about to leave." Russell scratched his head. "Did Dawn confess to the entire murder and body transport?"

With pizza in his mouth, Marty's voice was even more muffled:

"He confessed... that silicone doll was his test subject. He used it a few days beforehand to study the feasibility of hoisting a corpse to the roof. After confirming the feasibility, he replaced Vera's medication with the one you mentioned—"

Flunitrazepam.

“Yes, flunitrazepam.” Marty nodded, swallowing a bite of pizza. “After Vera took the drug, he pretended to offer her a ride, and when Vera was nearly unconscious, he stabbed her to death… Dawn used a winch and a large wooden crate for theater props to hoist the body; he rented a warehouse to store them. The technicians are already looking for evidence in Dawn’s pickup truck; we should have results tomorrow…”

……

Russell opened the apartment door and the first thing he saw was...

A pair of long, white legs.

Full thighs, slender calves, long Achilles tendons, and bony ankles.

It's the type Russell was most willing to dissect.

Soothing music played in the room. Aina, wearing tight shorts and a loose white T-shirt, lay on a yoga mat, doing a plank.

"Ah, you're back..."

Aina let out a sigh of relief, unable to hold on any longer, and collapsed onto the yoga mat, panting slightly.

"Yeah, I worked a little overtime again today." Russell said, trying to avoid looking at those dazzlingly white legs as he changed his shoes.

"Hmm..." Aina tidied her sweaty hair and sat down on the yoga mat. "I didn't realize that being a forensic pathologist was such a busy job... I always thought that all you had to do was dissect the body and check the cause of death."

"Of course not." Russell changed his shoes, walked over to the sofa, and plopped down. "We have a lot of other things to do... My first case at the New York Medical Examiner's Office involves shoving bone fragments out of a giant oil drum..."

Russell told Aina about his first case as a forensic intern.

The murderer used a wood shredder to cut the victim into pieces at a lumber mill, and then put the body parts into a large drum used for waste engine oil...

For a newcomer to the forensic department, this is truly a hellish challenge.

Aina rested her chin on her hand, her bright blue eyes listening to Russell's story, occasionally letting out a sigh.

Russell discovered that Aina was not averse to his forensic work and was quite interested in the forensic stories Russell told.

She would probably be quite suited to be a forensic pathologist, but she went astray and studied art...

After telling the story, Russell felt a little thirsty, so he stood up, took his cup, and went to the kitchen to get some water.

In the living room, Aina suddenly tilted her head and asked:

Are you free this weekend, Russell?

"There should be," Russell said, turning around. "As long as no murder cases are assigned to our team... but that's unlikely, considering we just solved a murder case, and the report will take at least a week to write..."

"Let's go to the shooting range in the suburbs together," Aina said excitedly. "It's a place my dad recommended. We can ride horses and play with all kinds of guns... I've wanted to go for a long time, but no one has come with me."

"Yes, of course."

Russell agreed without hesitation.

"Very good!"

Aina smiled, her eyes crinkling, and her long legs swayed unconsciously.