American forensics, but the gourmet system

On the flat mountaintop viewing platform, two horses leisurely grazed on the remaining withered grass.

According to the guide, these naturally dried grasses have basically no nutritional value left.

For a horse, it's similar to a puffed snack.

Russell and Aina stood side by side on the observation deck. Aina pointed to the farm estate in the distance, her slender, white fingers drawing a circle in the air that encompassed the two small hills around it.

"The farm and ranch together are about this big," Aina said casually, putting down her hand. "About a thousand acres... This is the largest piece of land my father owns in New York State."

"The biggest..." Russell gasped, somewhat taken aback, "meaning there are many more plots of land?"

“Before…” Aina shrugged, “he’s shifted his focus to California and Washington. He bought some land there, and he’s been staying in Seattle growing apples, rarely coming to New York.”

Aina's gaze shifted to the quietly flowing Hudson River, and she continued:

"To be honest, my dad's a pretty stingy guy. When he was making the most money, he invested all his profits in the farm. And now, with international fertilizer prices skyrocketing, his farm is struggling to turn a profit. I'm not complaining, but you're probably wondering why, as the daughter of a big-time farmer, I'm sharing a small apartment with you, right?"

Russell nodded silently.

A faint smile played on Aina's lips, and her blue eyes gleamed.

"To be honest, my dad loves me very much, and he supports me silently. But I'm a rebellious daughter. I chose to drop out of MIT's computer science program and come to New York to study art. I thought he wouldn't tolerate my actions, but he still sent me tuition and living expenses..."

Aina paused for a moment, as if recalling something.

"And then?" Russell asked, "You returned the money?"

"Yeah..." Aina laughed awkwardly, "Back then... I was young and impetuous... Sigh, I was such a fool back then. I thought that since I made my own choice, I had to earn my own living..."

"I completed my art degree with student loans and then became an illustrator. To be honest, my income is occasionally pretty good, allowing me to buy some things I like while paying off my student loans. Fortunately, I'm not too picky about my living environment, as long as my roommates don't make a lot of noise when I'm drawing. Oh, and they have to be clean."

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Aina wrinkled her nose, clearly thinking of her unhygienic former Indian roommate again.

"I asked around among seven or eight landlords before finally finding a roommate who doesn't casually bring people home for parties. I'm so lucky, and you're even a great cook of Chinese food..."

"I'm a forensic pathologist..." Russell muttered, then asked:

"Aina, so you've come to your father's farm for a vacation this time, is it to try and mend your relationship with him?"

"That's absolutely right." Aina nodded, her eyes crinkling with a smile. "You really understand what I'm thinking... I tried to be friendly with him, calling to ask if I could come visit his farm. He readily agreed, and I thought I'd finally get to see him this time. The last time we met was at my graduation ceremony..."

"But I forgot, he's busy selling apples right now! He can't get away! That's just how he is, no matter how important something is, it always comes after his farm... It's infuriating."

Although Aina said she was angry, she couldn't stop smiling.

"But he must be very happy," Russell said calmly, gazing at the distant hills. "The Chinese families I've met, or families of Chinese descent, all value their family members very much... no matter where they are."

A few snowflakes twirled down from the sky with the wind, falling into the Hudson River, onto the dry grass, and onto Aina's dark red hair.

"And what about your family?" Aina asked casually. "I don't think I've heard you mention them..."

Russell did not answer this question.

"It's snowing," he said, pointing to the river in the distance. "We should go back."

"Really? Are we going back?" The guide, who was shivering from the cold at the bottom of the hillside, immediately jumped up. "Thank goodness... I mean... the mountain road will be difficult to travel if the snow gets too heavy."

……

Outside the window, the snow was falling heavily.

Meanwhile, at the farm hotel...

"Clap clap clap clap clap!"

The sound of typing on the keyboard was rapid and complex.

Russell continued writing his forensic report at his computer.

Writing a report is not difficult. Compared to other forensic work such as autopsy, injury identification, evidence search, and crime scene reconstruction, writing a report can even be considered very simple.

The problem is that when you make detailed or even demanding requirements for a simple job, even the simplest job can become boring.

After a case is solved, all written reports produced during the investigation must be presented in court as evidence.

Whether the judge needs it or not is another matter, but the report is required and it must be accurate.

You never know if the defendant might find a formidable legal team that will seize upon a tiny flaw in your report and launch a fierce attack, ultimately accusing you of procedural injustice...

Let alone Jesse, who only has a high school diploma, even someone like Bertrand Russell, who has gone through nearly twenty years of compulsory education, American education, and higher education, would occasionally struggle to write a report.

Meanwhile, Russell also had to endure a barrage of text messages from Jesse.

"I heard you encountered a murder while on vacation? Do you enjoy your work, Russell?"

"I've finished my case report, are you still writing yours? Hahaha!"

"Captain Hansen told you to take a break. He's worried that if you get too tired, you won't be able to help him solve the case when you come back."

"By the way, Dr. Beckman said you won't be back for a while, so I've requisitioned your workstation. I've temporarily given mine to the new intern on the team. But if you beg me, I won't water your pothos plant with coffee..."

Jesse sent a final selfie of himself sitting at Russell's desk, grinning with his big white teeth.

Russell was seething with anger and was about to pick up his phone to yell at Jesse when Dr. Smith called.

Russell quickly answered the phone:

"Good afternoon, Dr. Smith. Have the DNA comparison results come in?"

"We've reached a preliminary conclusion..." Smith's voice sounded slightly better than yesterday, not as lifeless as before. "I'll send it to you later... I just wanted to ask you, since the owner of this hand was reported dead on October 5th of last year, do I still need to issue a formal report?"

"Then there's no need for a formal report." Russell breathed a sigh of relief. "It seems the raccoon just pulled a hand out of some grave... Thank you, Dr. Smith."

After hanging up the phone, Russell absentmindedly flipped through the preliminary conclusions sent by Dr. Smith.

But as he watched, he slowly sat up straight, and his brows furrowed.

A few minutes later, Russell dialed a phone with a serious expression.

"Good afternoon, Sheriff Monroe. I need detailed information on all accidental deaths in Ulster County last year... Yes, now."