Sunday, January 29, 2006, at 2:15 PM
Miami Metropolitan Police Department, Homicide Division
The high temperatures had started to make themselves felt in the city, reaching over 23 degrees for three consecutive days. At this time of year, it was the perfect opportunity for outsiders to visit Miami without experiencing extreme heat or cold.
The air outside the window felt fresh, perfect for taking a walk or solving a crime.
But contrary to that, inside the department, the air conditioning hummed, and the office temperature was pleasant.
Captain Tom Matthews ordered Larry and his team, which had gradually solidified, to handle the identification and verification of traffic accidents over the next few weeks due to the high demand for assistance in that area.
Larry, who had become the head of the formed group, and Sergeant Doakes, as the team leader, were joined by Ángel as a subordinate and Max as Larry's support, with occasional help from Masuka alongside blood analyst Dexter.
According to Tom, they would only serve as support for a while until a crime sophisticated enough appeared that required their intervention.
That is, until the influx of tourists decreased and traffic accidents became less frequent.
During their shifts, numerous forensic reports from various hospitals were issued regarding accident cases. There were bound to be errors or omissions, making it necessary to periodically review these cases to prevent unnecessary claims of medical negligence later on.
Every so often, a group of dissatisfied people would arrive at the department, loudly protesting the declaration of death of their relatives, hoping that a professional forensic doctor would evaluate their injuries.
This type of work was so tedious and complicated that Ángel was going crazy as soon as they started being bombarded with cases.
Being the only support that could be assigned due to the low number of deaths requiring their attention in recent days, unfortunately, they wouldn't be able to abandon this tedious work until a homicide case required their intervention.
At present, the biggest problem the department faced was the lack of personnel. After all, not many people chose to become forensic scientists to handle these tedious tasks alongside detectives, and even those who studied this specialty often changed careers halfway through.
Therefore, it remained to be seen whether they could retain the newcomers, such as Max, who had mustered the courage to continue on the team.
Larry looked at the document on his computer while sitting at his desk, then read the title, "Second Semester 2005 Work Summary," and frowned slightly.
How was he supposed to write about his second half of the year when it had only lasted a month?
Aside from the tedious meetings and cases that didn't require much attention, the second thing Larry couldn't get used to were these inevitable meetings and summary reports.
What was there to summarize?
How many autopsies had the pathology department performed, and how many crime scene visits had they attended this year? After all, the computer system had already compiled statistics in daily work reports and transmitted them to the higher-ups.
But since this task was mandatory, Larry had spent the entire morning preparing a summary of the cases he had participated in.
If he submitted the drafts as they were, they would ask him to further analyze and summarize the most important cases. However, if he included everything in the report, Masuka would definitely kill him.
"It's incredible. The best work rate in the Homicide Division has been since you started working with us extensively on cases." Masuka said while reviewing all the cases Larry was organizing.
"Shouldn't they already have this on hand?"
Masuka looked around and whispered, "This is going straight to storage, but between you and me, we're doing the logistics department's job for them."
"We shouldn't be wasting time on this nonsense, you should know that, boss," Larry murmured casually, trying to find out if Masuka, as the head of the pathology division, could do something to make his days less boring.
Masuka puffed out his chest, looked at Larry with pride, and said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
When Masuka left, Ángel, who was nearby, commented, "He's really excited."
"He shouldn't be. After all, he is technically my boss." Larry said as he refocused on the documents on his desk.
But at that moment, the desk phone rang. It was Tom Matthews, the captain.
Ángel, who was busy, quickly picked up the phone.
"Hello, Captain!"
"Detective Batista, notify Forensic Examiner Luk. A body was found floating in an irrigation pond on the outskirts of the city. This time, they need you. Keep up the good work."
"We'll be there as soon as possible."
"Don't forget to bring the protective gear."
The captain took the trouble to 'kindly' remind them to take protective measures. This meant the scene was horrific. With this weather, it couldn't be a pleasant sight!
Unlike the cases they solved in winter, now, with hotter weather, any delay could make the scene even more disastrous.
Larry closed the document and looked at Ángel, who had just finished the call.
"Do we have a case?"
Ángel, who was growing tired of dealing with hospitals, nodded and said, "A body was found floating in a pond on the outskirts of the city, but still within our jurisdiction."
"With this temperature and the body in a pond… considering how long it's been there… Damn it, I wanted to get out of here, but not under these conditions."
"That's not very reassuring…" Max murmured, clearly disturbed.
Larry shook his head and said, "It doesn't matter. Let's take the new masks we just received, Max."
"Yeah, I'll pack them in the gear."
…
About half an hour later, Larry, followed by Detective Batista and Max, arrived at the scene where the body had been found.
The humid, sticky, and hot wind blew against everyone's faces.
At that moment, the surface temperature of the exposed concrete ground outside was seventy-three degrees.
The scorching heat felt like it was burning their airways, and the wind carried an overwhelmingly foul stench that overpowered all the officers who had cordoned off the area.
That all-too-familiar sensation made Larry's nerves tingle with a strange excitement.
He quickly suppressed the emotion, put on a mask, and stepped forward.
With the mask on, the smell seemed much lighter.
After that, Larry put on a one-piece investigation suit, layered two pairs of latex gloves, slipped on special crime scene boots, picked up his case, and glanced at the two men behind him.
"It's hotter than in the department…"
"That doesn't matter. We need to remove this body as soon as possible, or else the stench of decomposition will spread and affect the civilians." To Larry, that scent had a name: the perfume of the dead, a detail that young forensic experts often underestimated.
He crossed the security cordon with measured steps and approached the edge of the pond.
The sidewalls were lined with stone slabs arranged at an angle of about 40 degrees to the water's surface. Only in the southeast corner was there a step descending into the water, the only visible access point.
The first responders had gone down in a boat, and from below, Sergeant Doakes greeted him with a nod.
Larry adjusted his gas mask, but the amplified sound of his own breathing was unsettling. He didn't like wearing it. Still, he descended the stone steps, each about 50 centimeters wide, until he reached the bottom of the pond.
Sergeant Doakes, his shirt soaked with sweat, took off his mask and patted him on the shoulder. "Dr. Luk, we've got a job that excites you more than a prostitute."
"Give me the details." Larry ignored the vulgar remark. He knew Doakes had nothing but contempt for criminal profilers and forensic experts, seeing them as little more than undercover psychopaths. But in Larry's eyes, Doakes was no different from a killer—someone for whom deciding between life and death had become a routine in his past work.
"An hour ago, a local civilian, Federico, reported the discovery. Due to the recent drought, farmers had been pumping water for their flowers. The pump had been running for over an hour when he noticed that the pressure was unusually low."
"He went up to check and then saw it—a massive white bundle, tightly bound, floating and blocking the water outlet. The stench was suffocating. Federico stepped down a few stairs to get a better look and saw a human foot sticking out of the bundle. He panicked, backed away immediately, and called the police."
Larry understood everything quickly. "I'll go down to take a look. By the way, are the forensic divers on their way?"
Sergeant Doakes checked his watch before answering in his usual indifferent tone: "Well, you always complain when someone touches the scene before you arrive, so this time, I called you first. But don't worry, they won't take long to get here."