The hotel’s underground parking lot.
Dean and Lawrence, led by a hotel employee, arrived at Lily’s husband’s vehicle.
"Alright, buddy, thanks for showing us the way, but you can head off now," Lawrence said, circling the vehicle as he addressed the hotel employee.
The employee, taking the hint, walked away.
Dean was curious. "Lawrence, what’s up?"
"Rookie, we don’t have a search warrant!"
Lawrence pulled gloves from his pocket and explained, "This is a messy business..."
After Lawrence’s explanation, Dean understood. For the sake of fairness under the law, evidence like recordings had to be obtained legally and legitimately to be admissible; otherwise, it was considered invalid.
In fact, as technology advanced, many cases weren’t difficult to crack. However, while identifying suspects was often easy, proving their guilt was hard. Many cases fell apart due to a lack of strong evidence to convict the suspect. It was a very frustrating and infuriating situation.
This is so irritating... This will make it harder for me to gain experience, Dean muttered to himself.
"Ha, Dean, that’s just one of the headaches," Lawrence said. "Taking statements is also troublesome. Many criminals cling to the hope of getting lucky, and they have those damn lawyers scheming for them. If we make a single procedural mistake, it can lead to a failed indictment..."
Lawrence had clearly been burned before; the tough muscles on his cheeks twitched, his face etched with annoyance. Suddenly, he stopped speaking, yanked hard on the car door, and actually wrenched it open. "Haha, this idiot forgot to lock his car! Dean, get over here, quick!"
Dean stepped forward. His eyes swept to the rear of the car and noticed a piece of cloth caught in one of the back doors. That must be why it isn’t locked properly, he thought. The car’s interior was spacious. While Lawrence searched the front, Dean focused on the back. He followed the trapped piece of cloth and pulled a bag—to which it was attached—out from under the rear seat.
It was a golf bag, containing a full set of clubs and tools. Under the handle, a name was engraved: Wolf.
That was Lily’s husband’s name.
Wearing gloves, Dean scanned the club handles. His eyes narrowed, and he quickly called out, "Lawrence, come here! Look at this handle!"
There were dried liquid traces on the handle of one of the golf clubs.
"Wow," Lawrence said, his face lighting up. "I’m sure this was the tool used to assault the victim’s lower body. That fool actually left it in the car!"
This was strong evidence.
"It seems Wolf knew some of our investigation protocols, figuring we couldn’t search his car without a warrant. But he didn’t expect to run into a rule-bender like you," Dean said with a hearty laugh.
Lawrence shrugged, stuffing the golf bag back. "Oh, come on, buddy, you and I are cut from the same cloth. Once the forensics team gets here, we can go straight back and bring Wolf in for questioning."
"How are you going to explain finding this golf club?" Dean’s methods were always straightforward and somewhat brutish, unlike Lawrence, who was a crafty old hand familiar with all the procedures. He opted to ask about things he didn’t understand, without pretense.
"Simple," Lawrence said. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and stated coolly, "We were concerned for Mr. Wolf’s safety, so we checked his vehicle. That’s when we discovered the anomaly with the golf bag."
Putting it that way changed the whole complexion of things.
I’ve learned another trick, Dean thought. Sometimes, Lawrence seems like he has the potential to be a lawyer. I think he chose the wrong profession.
After the forensics team arrived, Lawrence greeted them, specifically mentioning the bodily fluids on the golf bag, and then took Dean back to the Detective Bureau.
As it happened, Mr. Wolf had just finished giving his statement and was preparing to return to the hotel when Lawrence’s car blocked him at the exit. Lucky for Wolf, he was spared the trip and escorted back to an interrogation room.
"Hey, guys, I heard you went to inspect the scene of the fourth case. How did it go?" Harry, having regained his energy, came up to greet Dean and Lawrence. Old Hunter had asked him to come back and help.
Lawrence gestured towards the interrogation room, where a restless Wolf was visible. "If things go smoothly, we might be able to close this case soon."
"Is it related to the previous cases?" Harry asked, his face full of envy, clearly eager to get in on the action.
"Not at all, just a clumsy copycat crime. Alright, Harry, could you grab Wolf’s previous statement for us?"
With that, Lawrence looked at Dean. "I figure he’s a first-time offender. Criminals like him are usually very psychologically unstable for a period after the crime—nervous, panicky, guilty, regretful... We just need to apply a little pressure, and he’ll confess."
Dean nodded. His Interrogation Skill was Level 2, and he had a knack for questioning suspects.
After a brief wait, Harry handed Dean and Lawrence a copy of the statement, still reeking of fresh ink.
Lawrence glanced at it, tossed it to Dean, and then led him into the interrogation room.
The two sat down opposite Wolf.
"Hello, Mr. Wolf, I’m Detective Lawrence."
"And I’m Detective Dean," they stated, identifying their roles.
Wolf, uneasy and fidgeting, finally found an outlet. "Detectives, haven’t I already given my statement? I’ve just lost the person I love most! Instead of looking for the killer, why are you torturing a poor soul like me?!"
Lawrence’s fleshy jowls bunched together in a ’kindly’ smile. "Mr. Wolf, I understand how you feel right now, but when we were processing the scene, we found some discrepancies with your statement. That’s why we want to re-interview you."
Upon hearing his statement didn’t match, Wolf’s pupils contracted. His body went limp against the chair. After a moment of silence, he said, "I’m not in the mood right now. Besides, if you continue to treat me , I demand that my lawyer be present!"
Dean’s Spirit perked up. There it is! The classic demand for a lawyer!
Lawyers in the United States were very particular about their professional ethics; whether you were a heinous murderer or a vicious criminal, as long as you paid, they would use every means at their disposal to achieve their client’s objectives. They were familiar with police procedures, knew the judges’ limits, and excelled at finding loopholes in the rules. For detectives, many lawyers were far more troublesome than the criminals themselves.
I’m curious how Lawrence will handle this, Dean thought. This is all valuable experience for future cases.
Lawrence remained unruffled. "Of course, Mr. Wolf, that is your right. However, there’s something I must tell you: lawyers aren’t omnipotent when faced with solid evidence. Especially in your wife’s murder case. It’s connected to the recent string of serial home-invasion stabbings, and the Los Angeles city government is facing elections across the board. Mr. Wolf, it’s not just us in the police force who hope to solve this quickly; the entire Los Angeles city government wants it even more."
Wolf was no fool. His face turned pale, but he forced himself to ask, "What are you trying to say?"
Lawrence leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight, his demeanor relaxed. "Mr. Wolf, don’t be nervous. I’m just reminding you that when there’s evidence, the only difference is the severity of the crime and punishment. A single murder case doesn’t necessarily result in the death penalty. But the perpetrator of serial home-invasion stabbings? I can assure you, that person is finished! So, are you sure you don’t want to accept our goodwill?"
After this exchange, Wolf’s face lost all its color, and he fell completely silent.
Dean looked at Lawrence with admiration. Lawrence hasn’t once directly accused Wolf of killing his wife, yet every word is an unmistakable threat. Wolf has no idea what evidence we actually have; his mind must be in utter chaos...
After a long silence, Wolf still didn’t speak. I still have a sliver of hope, he thought.
Impatience flickered across Lawrence’s face. "Mr. Wolf, I hear you’re quite fond of golf..."
At the mention of golf, Wolf’s body jolted. His psychological defenses completely shattered. "I... I’ll talk. But I want a cigarette..."