"Uh, maybe I should say we have a theory," Jack began, "based on the findings from Dr. Hammerbeck's autopsy. Kevin Carter clearly ate a meal nearly identical to the one prepared by his wife Deborah, but before he got home."
Jack paused to let the others absorb the point. "We also checked Kevin's parking spot. It's about half a block from their apartment building. From the parking lot to the apartment, including taking the elevator and entering the unit, it would take at least fifteen minutes. Which leads us to a bold hypothesis."
Jack gestured for Stella to explain the conclusion they'd just reached.
"Based on the ring and the card found in Kevin's coat, we believe Kevin's affair wasn't just a fling—it was a long-term relationship," Stella said, her confidence growing. "And we suspect that this mistress is none other than our mysterious female serial killer."
"She knows Kevin's tastes and prepared a similar meal. Considering the digestion time of the food and the proximity of their apartment, it's plausible that she lives nearby."
With a smug look, Stella took the roll of tape from Mac Taylor's hand and twirled it. "This also explains how the DNA was transferred. Before parting ways, Kevin and the mystery woman kissed, transferring her DNA to Kevin's lips. Then, when he bit into the bread, her DNA was transferred onto the bread."
"It's not a mistress," interjected Sheldon Hawkes, the former coroner and now a Level Two CSI researcher. He held up a report in his hand, his next words shocking the group. "Kevin Carter is likely a bigamist."
Hawkes pulled out a photo. "I found violet pollen on the chest area of Kevin's coat. There were no violets found in the couple's apartment. Combine that with the peridot ring—what does that make you think of?"
Danny Reagan, a married man, immediately made the connection. "Violets and a peridot ring—it's a one-year wedding anniversary."
"Huh?" Jack raised an eyebrow, completely clueless. Apparently, he'd hit another knowledge blind spot.
Danny clapped his hands together in excitement. "This guy is a master of time management. He celebrated his first anniversary with his second wife over dinner, complete with violets and a peridot ring. After dinner, he made an excuse—probably a prearranged business trip—and kissed her goodbye. Then, he rushed over to his first wife's house and pretended to be starving."
"Clearly, his acting skills still need work," Jack quipped, but then added, "Still, there's another question. Why would the second wife's DNA be on the knife handle?"
The group fell silent, exchanging uncertain glances. Jack's mind raced through countless movie plots. "If the two homes are within walking distance of each other, it's possible the two wives already knew each other. Maybe the second wife even visited the first wife's home. That ring and card could've been left on purpose."
The group collectively pictured a sinister scene: the mysterious female killer gripping the murder weapon, glaring at another woman's back with murderous intent. Then, after a moment of contemplation, she places the knife down and begins scheming a way to manipulate the situation.
But such a dramatic interpretation was clearly not convincing to everyone. Mac Taylor was the first to point it out. "That sounds a bit far-fetched. Maybe you can refine it and put it into your next novel."
Mac then took an analysis report from a female researcher, glancing at it briefly before a smile spread across his face. He pulled out a photo from the file and handed it to Jack and Danny.
"Our researcher found fibers on the victim's shoes and socks that match this type of carpet. This might help narrow down your search area."
Danny frowned at the image of the carpet's pattern, which featured red and yellow threads in a cheap, coarse weave. His face twisted in frustration. "This kind of cheap carpet is everywhere. How does that narrow anything down?"
"Our researcher also detected high levels of fluorinated insecticide on the carpet," Mac explained.
Danny still looked puzzled, but Jack's eyes lit up. He snatched the photo, rolled it up, and tapped Danny on the shoulder with it. "Come on, we're looking for a place with newly installed carpet. Fluorinated insecticides are often used as a pest repellent and will only linger on new carpets."
"We'll also head to the detention center and re-interview Mrs. Carter. Let's see if she's hiding anything," Mac told Stella.
Splitting up, Jack and Danny drove to the crime scene. It didn't take long for them to find a building next to the Carters' luxury apartment complex with carpets matching the pattern in the photo.
Danny confirmed with the building manager that the carpets had been recently installed. And so began the painstaking process of knocking on doors.
The apartment building had 16 floors, with four units on each floor and two penthouses accessible via private elevators. That made a total of 182 units.
Jack and Danny, armed with a list of tenants, went door to door, showing a photo of Kevin Carter and asking if anyone recognized him.
"Sorry to bother you—do you know this man?"
"NYPD here. Have you seen this guy before?"
"Hi, do you happen to recognize him?"
From the first floor to the sixth, they encountered all sorts of characters. A middle-aged man with hairy legs in shorts was nothing unusual. But then there was the person dressed head-to-toe in latex, holding a riding crop.
"I still want to ask her if farting in that outfit causes it to balloon," Jack muttered, genuinely curious. In his previous life, he'd never seen such attire in person.
"If I see one more person answering the door naked, I'm going to lose it," Danny grumbled, trying to keep his composure. "I can't even remember the last time I did something like this. I think I was still a patrol officer."
This kind of tedious work was typically left to patrol officers. But since their suspect was likely a psychopathic female serial killer, they had no choice. Such a person might hide their connection to the victim and pose a serious danger. Jack kept his hand close to his holstered gun the entire time.
"To be honest, the last time I did something like this wasn't exactly a fond memory. I was still a rookie, ordered to search a building called the Bronson Complex. It turned out to be a drug den. That was the first time I got shot, and, uh..." Jack trailed off, his expression clouding as he recalled what happened afterward in the hospital—a memory that haunted him to this day.
"Sounds like it wasn't a pleasant story," Danny remarked, not noticing Jack's change in demeanor. He knocked on the next door.
The door opened to reveal a blonde woman who looked to be in her early twenties. Danny smiled politely. "Sorry to bother you. I'm Detective Reagan, and this is Detective Tavolar. Do you recognize this man?" He held up the photo.
To their surprise, the blonde woman responded without hesitation, "Of course. That's my husband."
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Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 677)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 1059)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1418)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1422)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1452)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1504)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld!(Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
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