Jack entered the room from which the Asian boy had escaped. The abandoned factory had no electricity; even in daylight, it was pitch black.
Under the beam of his tactical flashlight hanging from his Glock, the body of a middle-aged white male appeared before him.
Half an hour later, Angela and Nolan, already slightly pregnant, arrived at the scene.
"What's the situation?"
After a preliminary examination of the body, Jack removed his rubber gloves and gave his assessnt.
"White, male, around 40-45 years old. The lividity is still spreading. The estimated ti of death is no more than 12 hours. Uh, the exact ti of death needs to be determined by the coroner. As for the cause of death, it's obvious: murder."
He pointed to the neck, "Cervical fracture. The person who did this is very professional and cold-blooded; a single, fatal blow." Jack's forensic skills had improved through self-study; this level was already sufficient for so local forensic work.
Angela frowned. Professional murder thods usually ant big trouble. The more professional the person, the fewer clues they left, and the more complex the motives behind the murder.
"Have you investigated the scene?"
"Lucy is asking around. This place has been abandoned for a long ti. There are no caras, and hardly anyone cos here. Even holess people are rare." Jack said, pointing outside.
"Speaking of holess people, I noticed sothing strange."
He took out an evidence bag. "The body didn't have an ID card or driver's license, but I found this."
Angela took the evidence bag and glanced at it, puzzled. "Mobile kitchen voucher? This guy is holess?"
"But his clothes are new."
Jack nodded. "That's right, brand new, from head to toe. A suddenly rich holess man. Could that be why he was being watched?"
Angela looked thoughtful and asked, "Have you checked his holess wallet?"
Jack was taken aback. "Huh?"
"Holess people sotis put valuables in their shoes. We call that a holess wallet." Angela's expression seed to say, "Finally, sothing you don't know."
Since arriving at the precinct, Jack's tireless learning attitude has put considerable pressure on these veteran police officers. The experience they had accumulated over years, even decades, has almost been exhausted in less than a year.
Jack put his gloves back on, took off the body's shoes, and sure enough, found sothing in the left shoe.
"A room key?"
"Where?" Angela leaned closer.
"An SRO in the city center." Jack put the key into the evidence bag as well.
"Are you free? Let's go check it out. I heard there's a Michelin-starred restaurant nearby with great desserts," Angela suggested.
How could Jack say he wasn't free? Solving a case with a detective was a significant experience bonus.
The two walked to the entrance of the abandoned factory and saw Nolan and Lucy chatting with a black man in overalls. Behind him was a van with the security company's logo, matching the pattern on his overalls.
Jack opened the trunk of the police car, took out the prepared lunch, and handed it to Lucy along with the evidence bag.
"What are you two talking about?"
Nolan shrugged. "The only cara is broken, so the surveillance footage is useless."
The black guy spoke with a uniquely rhythmic tone: "It's been broken for a week, otherwise I wouldn't have been called to fix it."
Lucy looked at the lunchbox in her hand, sowhat puzzled: "It's only ten o'clock, isn't it too early to have lunch?"
"No, this is for you and Nolan. The forensic team won't arrive for at least two more hours. You and Nolan need to stay at the scene. Angela and I are going to an SRO in the city center to investigate a case. She said there's a restaurant nearby with good desserts, and I heard their Italian food is amazing. You know , once you've tasted it, you can make it."
Both of them had complicated expressions on their faces, both envious that Jack could go with Angela to investigate a case, and looking forward to eating the supposedly amazing Italian food he could recreate in the future.
Jack's culinary skills are now widely recognized. His most amazing ability is that he can replicate almost any dish he tastes, even those supposedly secret recipes.
Fortunately, Jack's lunchbox always contains a variety of delicious flavors. Lucy opened it, glanced at it, and then, beaming, opened the trunk of the police car Nolan had driven and put the lunchbox inside.
....
"This place dares to call itself a serviced apartnt?" Entering this SRO located in the city center, Jack was dumbfounded.
The elevator was rusty, the corridor's decor dated back at least to the mid-20th century, the paint was peeling off the walls, the stairwell was littered with needles and piles of unsightly stains, and the fluorescent lights overhead flickered like a ghost.
If it were nightti, he doubted he would have the courage to walk in alone; this place was more than suitable for being converted into a haunted house.
The small, run-down apartnt his parents left him in the downtown area was in a better location than this place. The key difference was that this was the city center, not so chaotic slum where nobody would want the place even if it were given away for free.
"The rent here is only $800 a month. Many families of three are willing to pay a little more to bribe the manager and squeeze into this room of less than 10 square ters," Angela rolled her eyes.
Jack thought about the migrant workers in his previous life living in cramped conditions and understood. LA was, after all, the second largest city in North Arica; it wasn't surprising.
Angela waved the room key she'd just gotten from the hotel manager. "The manager said the victim checked in three days ago. His na is Joe Delacourz."
"He prepaid a week's rent, all in cash."
She swiped the key to open the door. The simple room was almost empty. Two single beds and a bedside table were placed by the window. A pile of clothing and shoe wrappers were scattered on the floor, and there were two pizza boxes on the bed.
Jack casually closed the door, glanced into the bathroom, then silently closed it again to make sure no one was there. He didn't want to look too closely since they were going to eat later.
"Looks like Joe bought a lot of stuff," Angela said, crouching down to examine the paper bags on the floor.
"New clothes, new shoes... um? Two shoe sizes? That seems like a clue."
Jack pointed to the bathroom. "There are two sets of toothbrushes on the sink. Looks like the hotel manager didn't ntion soone else is staying with Joe."
"In places like this, they don't care. They just keep quiet after they get the money." Angela flipped up the mattress, revealing two rolls of cash underneath. "Hmm, looks like at least five or six thousand dollars."
Jack picked up one roll and was surprised to find it was all hundred-dollar bills. These are rare; Aricans usually use $20 bills, and rarely even $50.
Just then, the door beeped twice and opened again. A pale-faced, short, thin white man pushed the door open and entered. He froze when he saw Jack in his patrol uniform and Angela in plainclothes with a police badge on her waist.
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