American forensics, but the gourmet system

"Name?"

Bertrand Russell.

"Surname and given name!"

"Russell Luo".

"age?"

"26 years old."

"Why and when did you come to Highland? What were you doing before you discovered the body?"

Russell never imagined that one day he would be sitting in an interrogation room, being questioned as a suspect by a burly white police officer.

However... that's not surprising.

Because it was Russell who called 911, and as is well known, when a murder occurs, the person who reports the crime is always treated as a suspect by the police.

Not only Russell, but also Aina and Mr. Clarkson were being questioned in two other interrogation rooms at the town police station.

Seeing the entire police station on high alert, if he hadn't been unable to understand dog language, Ka would probably have been thoroughly interrogated as well.

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Presumably, there hasn't been a murder in this town for many years, which is why the Highland police seem so nervous.

If this murder had happened in Brooklyn, a major crimes unit would have been dispatched to handle it. Instead, there were nearly twenty police officers running around like this, as if they had entered a poorly managed stable.

"I came here to visit with friends, and we only arrived in Highlands this morning... Before the body was discovered, my friends and I were having a barbecue at the farm restaurant. Then my friend's dog ran away."

Russell answered honestly that he was very familiar with the police questioning process, and that the restaurant's surveillance footage should have recorded the entire process of him and Aina chasing after Kay.

Unless the police here are particularly stupid or malicious, they probably won't interrogate Russell as a suspect.

The chubby policeman asked Russell a few more questions that had little criminal investigation value, told Russell to wait for him in the interrogation room for a while, and then left with the interrogation record.

Russell stared at his toes with boredom, recalling the pale-faced corpse.

When they were taken away by the police, the scene had already been cordoned off, but the forensic doctor had not yet arrived.

This is understandable, as a small town like Highland with only a few thousand permanent residents would not be able to have a full-time forensic pathologist.

The unfortunate forensic pathologist will likely have to travel from Ulster County to the farm, a 20-minute drive from Highland, in the dark to conduct a site investigation and preliminary autopsy.

After finishing one set of tasks, we returned to begin the formal autopsy, which was almost midnight.

That poor forensic doctor will probably have to stay up all night tonight...

Russell couldn't help but sigh, feeling a sense of shared misfortune.

"Alright, come out now." While Russell was still wallowing in self-pity, the fat policeman opened the door to the interrogation room. "Go to the chief's office and sign something, then you and your friends can leave."

Just as Russell had expected, they had come all the way from Brooklyn, and with the farm's surveillance video as evidence, the police certainly wouldn't interrogate them as criminals.

Following the direction the fat policeman pointed, Russell walked toward the chief's office.

The town's police station has only two floors, and its combined area is roughly the same size as the morgue at the Brooklyn Medical Center. There are only a handful of offices.

Every now and then, one or two serious-looking police officers would walk briskly down the corridor, while loud discussions could be heard coming from another office.

Footsteps and chatter echoed down the corridor, but Russell couldn't make out what they were talking about at all.

Aina and Clarkson were already waiting at the door of the chief's office. Clarkson was holding Kay's hand. Kay was much more well-behaved than before, perhaps because he was frightened by the chaos in the small town police station.

"Aren't we supposed to go in and sign something?"

Russell looked at Aina with some confusion.

"He's on the phone," Aina said, pointing to the door.

Through the blinds in the office door, Russell saw another overweight white police officer talking on the phone, his expression a mix of anxiety, embarrassment, and flattery.

If a person displays a fawning expression while making a phone call, it means the call is very likely to go on and on.

Russell guessed that the portly chief was probably trying to borrow some resources from higher-level police departments, which was why he had that expression.

Bertrand Russell had some understanding of human relationships and social dynamics.

However, in order to get back to the farm hotel as soon as possible and to see if Aina had only booked one room for the two of them, Russell decided to be impolite at the last minute.

He pushed open the wooden door to the director's office and went inside.

"Hello, officer," Russell said directly. "An officer asked us to come here to sign some papers."

"Wouldn't it be too late to transfer people the day after tomorrow..." The fat bureau chief's tone already carried a hint of obsequiousness. "Although the weather is rather cold now, leaving the body in the wild—"

"Hello, officer, I'm here to sign."

Russell raised his voice.

The portly bureau chief glared menacingly at Russell:

"Wait a minute! Can't you see me... Hey, what did you say...? You want to talk to—"

The fat bureau chief's face sagged, and an expression of confusion mixed with shock appeared on his chubby face.

He glanced at Russell again, but this time it wasn't a glare, but a complex look tinged with speculation.

Immediately afterwards, the chubby director put down the phone and switched it to speakerphone mode.

A familiar voice came from the telephone speaker:

"Good evening, Dr. Russell. Apparently, your journey had a little unpleasantness, didn't it?"

"Cough...cough cough..."

Russell choked on his own saliva.

Russell might have expected to receive a call from Dr. Beckman during his travels. But he never imagined he would hear Dr. Beckman's voice coming from the chief's phone speaker in a police station in a strange town…

Russell calmed himself down:

"Good evening, Dr. Beckman. I really didn't expect... you're still up get off work?"

Dr. Beckman sighed:

"Sigh, the forensic center is short-staffed for administrative duties, and Dr. Blake asked me to fill in... Chief Hunter just called the forensic center, requesting that the Brooklyn Forensic Center send a forensic pathologist to Heights to provide support... Did you know about this?"

"have no idea."

Russell shook his head vigorously.

He roughly guessed what Dr. Beckman was going to say to him, but he couldn't, absolutely not.

His sweet trip for two was only halfway through, and he didn't want to be suddenly assigned to dissect a cold, lifeless corpse.

He wants to play Switch with Aina, eat snacks together, collect photocards together, enjoy the scenery together, and breathe fresh air together...

However, Aina, who was listening to the phone call, suddenly perked up, and her blue eyes lit up.

"The forensic center is short-staffed," Dr. Beckman said earnestly. "Even if we send our least busy forensic pathologist to Highland, it won't be until at least the day after tomorrow... I'll help you apply for travel allowance, Russell. Just relax and work there; Chief Hunter will cooperate fully with you."

Russell knew that he was now like a duckling in a pot, a piglet in a slaughterhouse, a louse on Captain Hansen's bald head, with no room for struggle left.

He turned and glanced at Aina's bright blue eyes, then sighed deeply:

"Then I'll start calculating your travel allowance from today, Dr. Beckman..."

Dr. Beckman chuckled, like a swamp crocodile that had caught a fawn with a death roll:

"That's only right, Dr. Russell. Best of luck with your work."

The phone hangs up.

The chubby Chief of Staff, Hunter, rubbed his hands together, looking at Russell with eyes full of anticipation and excitement, like a tadpole that had found its mother frog…

Fat tadpole, giant tadpole.

He chuckled as well:

"Um, Dr. Russell... then we'll..."

Russell raised his hand and pinched the space between his eyebrows:

"I have a question, Chief Hunter... Shouldn't the Ulster County Sheriff's Office have a resident medical examiner? Why isn't he involved in the autopsies?"

"Actually, you've already met him, Dr. Russell..."

Chief Hunter gave an awkward laugh, waved his short, chubby arm, and looked a little embarrassed, like a parent who had been invited to school by the teacher to find out that his son had lifted the skirt of the little girl sitting next to him.

Russell had a vague idea of ​​Director Hunter's answer.

Could it be—

"That's the one who died." Chief Hunter shrugged, then shrugged again. "You'll have to see him again in a bit..."