American forensics, but the gourmet system

Today, the temperature in New York suddenly dropped to around zero degrees Celsius. The biting wind blew down Russell's collar and into the back of his neck, stealing away the little warmth he had left.

Russell tightened his trench coat and walked into the OCME Brooklyn Forensic Center.

The forensic center looked relatively quiet today, with two body trolleys casually parked in the connecting corridor at the entrance.

One plane was empty, and the other plane was also empty.

In recent days, the number of violent crimes in New York has shown a clear downward trend, much like the temperature.

Generally speaking, in the same calendar year, the peak of homicides in New York occurs in the hotter months of July and August, then begins to decline in September and October, and shows a significant drop in November and December.

The months with the fewest homicides in a year are usually January and February, the coldest months.

This trend is certainly not because American killers also celebrate the New Year, but rather due to the influence of temperature.

The hotter the weather, the more irritable people become, and the higher the probability of crimes of passion.

When the weather gets cold, everyone wants to stay in their warm beds and doesn't have time to study complex things like murder.

Russell greeted the security guard sitting at the door, turned left and entered the elevator, pressing the up button.

He wasn't there to get Dr. Beckman's signature. Russell was already a certified municipal forensic pathologist, and he had the right to sign his name on forensic reports and bear legal responsibility for it.

However, as Russell's nominal superior forensic pathologist, Russell still had to come to Dr. Beckman to report and discuss the case.

Furthermore, Russell also planned to inquire when Dr. Beckman's $30,000 would arrive and how to handle it...

Ding!

When the elevator doors opened and Russell saw who was inside, he was startled.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Black."

  

Dr. Black, wearing a Sherlock Holmes-like hat and a knee-length overcoat, seemed somewhat surprised to see Russell.

"Dr. Russell," Dr. Black stepped out of the elevator and nodded to him, "You did a great job on the broken leg case, congratulations."

Russell intended to be modest and say that he solved the case by a bit of luck, since the actual situation was pretty much the same.

However, Russell remembered the task Dr. Beckman had given him: to demonstrate his abilities to the management as much as possible, as being too humble would not work.

But to boast about one's forensic skills in front of Dr. Blake would feel like showing off one's limited knowledge or being overly arrogant.

Russell smiled and quickly organized his thoughts in that one second:

"It was Dr. Beckman who encouraged me to continue following up on this long-standing case, which led to the results we have today."

A faint look of surprise appeared on Dr. Blake's weathered, dark face, quickly turning into satisfaction and appreciation:

"Lorne and you are both very capable... Even with Lorne's encouragement, you managed to identify the deceased in less than 24 hours... This is something that the previous five senior forensic doctors had not accomplished."

Russell noted that Dr. Black was now willing to use the word "the dead".

That's certainly rigorous enough...

"Thank you for the compliment, Dr. Black." Russell felt he could now be modest. "I just got lucky and a bit of cleverness..."

"Being luckier than five senior forensic pathologists also says something..." Dr. Blake raised his hand to look at the Rolex on his wrist and continued, "I have a lecture at NYU School of Medicine this afternoon, we can talk again when we have time."

Goodbye, Dr. Black.

Watching the figure in the long trench coat disappear around the corner, Russell quickly reviewed the conversation in his mind.

There shouldn't be any mistakes... The old man's attitude towards me is also quite good...

He stepped into the elevator with satisfaction, a secret sense of smugness in his heart.

After all, it was praised by an authoritative forensic pathologist like Dr. Blake, so it's normal for it to get cocky.

Dr. Beckman's office is not large, only about 20 square meters, but having your own private office in a place like New York where every inch of land is precious is not an easy thing.

This is Russell's next goal.

Dr. Beckman seemed pleased to see Russell enter and even got up to pour him a cup of coffee.

"You're quite famous at the forensic center," Dr. Beckman said, sipping his coffee. "That unidentified severed leg has stumped many forensic doctors... especially since it's a rare case of twin brothers murder... Many forensic doctors are discussing the ins and outs of this case."

Holding the hot coffee in his hands, Russell felt the warmth that had been taken away by the cold wind outdoors gradually returning to his body.

"Captain Hansen went to the detention center this morning to interrogate Carey Rupert..." Russell began.

"The one who refused to confess his motive in the fall case? He knew the details of Joey's murder of the twins? What did he confess to?" Dr. Beckman asked curiously, then a look of realization dawned on his face. "He didn't kill Joey to avenge Romo, did he...?"

“That’s right.” Russell shrugged. “Kerry Rupert and Romo Simmons were a same-sex couple… Captain Hansen just told Rupert today that we’ve solved Romo’s murder case, and he’s already explained the whole story.”

"Same-sex partners... no wonder." Dr. Beckman nodded. "Tell me about it, I'm quite curious about this case... brothers turning against each other, partners seeking revenge, it's a bit like a Shakespearean tragedy..."

Although Russell did not participate in the interrogation of Carey Rupert, Jesse showed Russell Rupert's statement as soon as he returned to the Criminal Investigation Center.

Russell decided to satisfy Dr. Beckman's curiosity:

"This story begins with the twins' parents' divorce. After the divorce, Romo stayed with their father, and Joey stayed with their mother, taking her surname. About four years ago, Romo came to New York from Mexico, met Carey Rupert, and the two quickly fell in love..."

"It was certainly a dramatic beginning..."

Dr. Beckman adjusted his posture, leaned forward, and remarked as if listening attentively.

"At the time, Rupert was a moderately well-known professional bodybuilder. He was worried that coming out as gay would affect his reputation in the professional world, so his relationship with Romo actually went underground," Russell continued. "Romo made a lot of money selling bodybuilding drugs using Rupert's fame and rented a detached house in the Brooklyn suburbs."

"How did Naromo become enemies with his twin brother?"

Dr. Beckman took a sip of coffee and asked.

Russell sighed, then replied:

"Joey Cruz's mother was seriously ill. Knowing that Romo was in New York, he brought his mother to New York to seek help from Romo, hoping to prolong her life... He may have seen Joey and Rupert's chat history, or he may have noticed that Joey's behavior was a bit off. In any case, Joey learned that Romo was gay, but Joey was a very devout Catholic, so devout that he could be described as old-fashioned."

"oh……"

A hint of helplessness appeared on Dr. Beckman's face.