American forensics, but the gourmet system

Boom!

Simmons' body fell onto the autopsy table with a dull thud.

Russell turned on the shadowless lamp above the mortuary, and the clear light shone on the corpse, making it appear as a ghastly white expanse.

Unlike the shadowless lamps with high-definition cameras in the forensic center, the video data here needs to be recorded by yourself.

Andrei, familiar with the place, opened the storage cabinet, pulled out two cameras, and then dragged a tripod from the wall. As he set up the cameras, he explained to Russell:

"We usually prepare two cameras, one for taking photos and one for recording videos... What angle do you prefer, Dr. Russell?"

Russell looked around and pointed to a place that wouldn't be in the way:

"Just leave it here."

"I...I'll take notes."

The fat policeman trembled slightly as he took out his notebook.

With the advent of digital video technology, the recording process during forensic autopsies has essentially been eliminated.

However, detectives usually carry paper and pen to jot down clues discovered by forensic doctors during autopsies, such as the cause of death and time of death, which helps the police in their investigations.

After Andrei set up the camera and the fat policeman prepared his notebook, Russell was finally able to perform the autopsy.

  

"The time of death was approximately between 1:30 and 2:00 PM. The preliminary cause of death was determined to be a laceration to the left chest caused by a sharp object, leading to hemorrhagic shock..."

The chubby policeman lowered his head and wrote furiously.

"Alright, I'm going to start the dissection now."

Russell took the scalpel from the instrument tray. The handle was cool and the curve was comfortable to hold. His elite-level butchering skills made the scalpel seem like a part of his body.

He suddenly remembered that this knife used to be in Simmons's hands.

Using Simmons' scalpel to perform an autopsy on himself was an outcome that probably no one could have predicted...

Russell sighed inwardly, but now was not the time for sentimentality; finding out the truth of the case was the most important thing.

He held the knife in his right hand, aiming it at Simmons' left shoulder...

"Wait... what's this?"

Russell frowned and lowered his head even further.

On the surface of the deceased's left trapezius muscle, there was a faint bruise with indistinct edges.

If it weren't for the fact that the dissection was to begin here, Russell wouldn't have even noticed this bruise during the previous surface examination.

"What happened? Is this a bruise? How did it happen?"

Andrei clearly noticed Russell's unusual behavior, and with his camera in hand, he started snapping away at the bruise.

"I don't know yet..." Russell shook his head. "It looks like bruises caused by compression... kind of like marks left from carrying heavy objects, or from being squeezed by something."

The essence of bruising is intradermal bleeding caused by the rupture of subcutaneous capillaries. Bruises caused by impact and bruises caused by squeezing have different appearances.

Bruises caused by impact have clear borders and are often accompanied by abrasions, with the center of the bruise being the darkest. However, a bruise like the one on Simmons' trapezius muscle has indistinct borders, intact skin, and a generally uniform color with slightly purplish edges; this is a bruise caused by compression.

"Is this thing... related to the cause of death?"

The fat policeman looked up and asked a question.

"It shouldn't be a big deal." Russell shook his head. "But judging from the color of the bruises, they were probably formed shortly before the death, which might provide some clues for solving the case... I'll cut this open and take a look after the overall autopsy is finished."

"It has nothing to do with the cause of death... then I won't remember it..." the fat policeman muttered, glancing at the corner of the wall, but he didn't dare to watch Russell's knife-wielding movements.

But no matter how hard the fat policeman tried, he still couldn't avoid witnessing Russell's autopsy.

When Russell lifted the skin flap on the corpse's chest, the fat policeman turned ashen-faced.

When Russell turned the body over, sweat beaded on the fat policeman's forehead.

Even Russell's every move was smooth and rhythmic.

However, the overweight police officer still showed obvious signs of discomfort.

Clearly, his bottom line at the moment is that it's just a corpse, not a dissected one...

In contrast, Aina remained quiet after entering the dissection room. She stood in the corner out of the camera's view, carefully observing Russell's dissection process.

"There is damage to the left ventricle."

Russell turned to the fat policeman and said.

"Okay..." The chubby policeman straightened his neck, swallowed hard, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "The left ventricle is damaged... How do you spell ventricle? Does it start with W or—"

"Ventricle. is V."

"It was Aina who had been silent until now," she said.

"Thank you..." the chubby policeman shrank back, "I was just a little too nervous..."

He swallowed again.

Russell glanced at Aina, who was wearing a mask, but Russell guessed she was probably chuckling to herself underneath.

It's not Aina's fault. Judging from the fat policeman's appearance, he was probably suppressing his urge to vomit. His Adam's apple was bobbing, which was a sign that he was about to vomit.

There's a trash can in the corner.

Russell offered a reminder.

"No...no need..." the chubby policeman still stubbornly insisted, "I'm just a little...a little nervous..."

Of course, stress can also worsen vomiting symptoms.

Russell gave Aina a wink, and Aina understood immediately, kicking the trash can in the corner to the fat policeman.

Next, Russell separated the abdominal wall of the corpse, pried it open to both sides, and exposed the organs inside the abdominal cavity.

For an American white man who had never witnessed an autopsy and who rarely ate offal from pigs, cows, or sheep, the impact of having a human liver, stomach, spleen, large intestine, small intestine, and duodenum exposed before his eyes was unimaginable.

A faint smell of blood filled the air.

No abnormalities were found in the abdominal organs.

Russell turned to look at the fat policeman.

"Inside the abdominal cavity—"

The fat policeman finally couldn't keep up the act any longer. He threw his notebook on the table next to him, buried his head in the trash can, and started vomiting violently.

The smell of vomit mixed with the smell of blood made the odor in the autopsy room somewhat strange for a moment.

"Why don't you go outside and throw up, Rick?" Andrei suggested, frowning. "We still have a while to go..."

"Ugh... I still have to... ugh... make records... ugh..."

The fat policeman was quite dedicated. Although he was currently hugging a trash can and imitating a dragon's roar, he still hadn't forgotten why he came to observe the autopsy process.

"I'll take notes for you." Aina picked up the notebook he had tossed aside, and moved away from the fat policeman with a hint of disgust. "Go outside and throw up first."

Fortunately, the fat policeman wasn't too stubborn. After hearing what Aina said, he took the trash can and went out.

A series of high-pitched, intermittent cries echoed through the corridor, as if several zombies had jumped out of the morgue next door and were calling to their friends in the corridor.

Andrei casually turned on the room's exhaust fan, watching Russell's scalpel dance as he skillfully and swiftly removed Simmons's various organs, and remarked with a sigh:

"Your anatomical skills are truly impressive, Dr. Russell... almost on par with Dr. Simmons..."

Is the elite level of the butcher's skill only about the same as Dr. Simmons's level?

It seems even small counties can harbor hidden talents...

However, it's also possible that Andrei only had a superficial understanding of anatomy. It's like asking a student who scored 20 in math to grade papers that scored 60 and 100; he probably would think the two papers were about the same level.

If you give him a test paper with a score of 150, he will find several faults before he will stop.

Even so, Andre's words still stirred up Russell's competitive spirit.

He placed the organs into different containers and waited for samples to be taken.

Now, Russell is going to use the "Butcher's Skill" to do something very difficult.

Russell held the knife tip steadily against the bruise on Simmons' trapezius muscle.