Chapter 17 Chapter 15 Suspicious Fingerprints

I go to the free zone, away from the city center.The downtown area is packed with Christmas shoppers, shoulder to shoulder, swiping their credit cards on everything they see, the more ridiculous the prices, the better, sooner or later it will make me want to find someone to fight.I knew a nice guy called Danny "Match" who once said if I wanted to set fire to anything he'd do it for me.I thought of the place of loyalty, the greed on Mrs. Cullen's face, the hesitation on Des Nolan's face, and the fear on Imelda's face, and I suddenly wanted to call Danny. I kept walking until the urge to punch anyone I met faded away.The streets and alleys here are like neighbors who came to participate in Kevin’s wake. They are all familiar, like a joke I have never participated in: brand-new BMW cars are parked in front of the original rental apartments, and young mothers are facing famous brands. Baby strollers roar, and dirty grocery stores turn into glamorous chain stores.When I finally stopped, I had reached St. Patrick's Church.The rush hour for work is getting closer and the traffic is congested. I sat in the courtyard of the church for a while, staring at the 800-year-old building in front of me, and listening to the residents driving rampantly and rushing on the road.

I just sat there, cigarette after cigarette, beyond Holly's standards.Suddenly, the phone rang.It's a text message from the good boy Stephen. I dare say he edited it four or five times before pressing send: Detective Mackey Hello, I've got the information you want, I'll report it to you, best wishes.Stephen Moran (Detective). Good boy.It was almost five o'clock, and I texted him back: Well done, see you Cosmo, ASAP. Cosmo was a lousy little sandwich shop tucked away in a rambling alley off Grafton Street, but it was a bonus that the Homicide Squad couldn't be killed.In addition, Cosmo is also the only remaining store in the urban area that still employs Irish staff. In other words, no staff will condescendingly look at you.Sometimes this is a good thing, and I occasionally meet netizens here.

When I got there, the kid was already waiting in the store, holding a coffee cup in one hand, and scribbling with his fingers on the icing sugar with the other.I sat down at the table, but he didn't look up. I said, "Nice to see you again, Detective. Thanks for connecting." Stephen shrugged and said, "Well, I said I would get in touch with you." "Oh, is there any trouble?" "It didn't feel right." "I promise you my respect is undiminished." "At Temple, they said we were part of the police family. I listened, you know? I took that very seriously," he said.

"That's right. The police are your family, and families are supposed to help each other, Sunshine Boy. Haven't you noticed yet?" "That's right, I didn't find out." "Well, lucky you, childhood happiness is a wonderful thing, but not everyone has that fate. What information can you find for me?" Stephen bit the inside of his cheek, and I watched him with interest, letting him fight himself.Later, of course, he didn't grab the backpack and leave, but leaned forward and took out a thin green file folder. "The autopsy report," he said, handing me the file.

I thumbed through the report, and the close-ups of Kevin's wounds loomed large, along with organ weights and brain contusions, not a good read for a coffee break. "Well done," I said, "thank you very much. Give me a quick summary, thirty seconds or so." He was startled.He may have done things like notify the family, but was never asked to describe the details.He saw me without blinking and said, "Uh...well. He—I mean the deceased, uh, your brother—he fell out of the window, head and foot, no fight or self-defense wounds, No evidence of anyone else involved. Fall approximately twenty-five feet, hard surface. Deceased landed on his side, probably at this location. Fall fractured skull, injured brain, fractured neck bone, and paralyzed breathing. Any of the above One injury could be fatal, and very quickly."

He made a good report and did exactly what I wanted, but I fell in love with the overdressed waitress as soon as she appeared.I ordered coffee and a certain type of sandwich, and she wrote it wrong twice, proving that she was overqualified.She rolled her eyes, couldn't stand my stupidity, and took away the menu, almost tipping Stephen's glass between his legs.At least my jaw loosened a little, though, as she swayed away with a swaying hip. I said, "I know all of this. Did you get fingerprints?" Stephen nodded and pulled out another file.The ball king obviously put a lot of pressure on the forensics department, and the results came out so quickly.He wanted to close the case quickly.I said, "Just tell me the key points."

The surface of the suitcase was a mess, having sat so long in the chimney that it had nearly worn away the original marks. "We found the fingerprints of the construction workers and the family members of the deceased—that is, your family members," he bowed his head in embarrassment. "There are also several fingerprints of Rosie Daly, one of her sister Nora, and three unknown fingerprints—according to the location analysis, it should be pressed by the same hand at the same time. The same is true in the box, and there will be The underprint thing has lots of Rosie's prints on it, the Walkman has a bunch of Nora's prints, and the case has two Teresa Daly's prints on the inside of the case - which makes sense, I mean the suitcase used to be hers .And lots of Mackey fingerprints, mainly Josephine Mackey, who was, uh, your mother?"

"That's right," I said.The person who opened the box was definitely my mother. I heard her say: Jim McKee, get your dirty hands off that thing. There are underwear in it. Are you a pervert? "Are there any unknown fingerprints?" "Not in it. We also found, er, some of your fingerprints on the shipping ticket envelope." After these few days, I thought I would never feel any more heartache: on that innocent night twenty years ago, the fingerprints I left at O'Neill's Bar are still fresh, as if they were left yesterday, waiting for the forensic personnel to play with.I said, "Really? I should, I didn't think of wearing gloves when I bought the ticket. What else?"

"It was the suitcase. As for the note, it appears to have been scrubbed. The second one, the one found in 1985, we found the fingerprints of Matt, Teresa and Nora Daly. , and the fingerprints of the three construction workers and you who found the note handed over to them, but not half of Rosie's fingerprints. The first one is the one in Kevin's pocket. There is nothing on it, and I can't find it A little bit of fingerprints, as clean as a piece of white paper." "Where's the window he fell through?" "The problem is just the opposite: too many fingerprints. The forensics are pretty sure that there are Kevin's fingerprints on the upper and lower windows. If he opened the window, there will be fingerprints. The window sill where he leaned out has palm prints, but the forensics are afraid. Guaranteed to be his, because there are too many fingerprints stacked underneath, covering the details of the palm print."

"Is there anything else I might be interested in?" Stephen shook his head and said, "Nothing special. Kevin's fingerprints appeared in two other places: the front hall door and the door of the room where he fell, but they did not appear in other suspicious places. There are too many things in the room. Still searching. So far we've got a few petty offenders, but they're all locals, probably just hanging out in the house. Many years ago, as far as we know." "Very good," I said, aligning and folding the files into my data box. "I'll make a note of that. Now give you a brief account of Detective Kennedy's view of the case."

Stephen looked at the movement of my hand and said, "Tell me again, why is it not against morality to do this?" I said, "Because it's done, it's not against morals, kid. Go ahead." After a while, he looked up into my eyes and said, "I don't know how to talk to you about this case." The waitress threw the coffee and our sandwiches on the table and walked off angrily to get off work, but we pretended not to notice.I said, "Thanks for worrying, Stephen, but I don't want you to be sentimental right now. I'm just talking about the facts. You have to pretend that this case has nothing to do with me, that I'm just a guy passing by and need a little background. Can you do that?" He nodded and said, "Well, that makes sense." I lean back in my chair and pull the dinner plate in front of me. "Excellent, go ahead." Stephen is not slow, which is good.He dipped the sandwich in ketchup and mayonnaise, moved the fries, and organized his thoughts before he began, "Well, here's what Detective Kennedy was thinking. December 1985 On the evening of April 15th, Franco Mackey and Rosie Daly met at the End of Loyalty to elope together. Franco's brother Kevin got the news—" "How does he know?" I couldn't imagine Imelda digging into a fifteen-year-old boy. "It's not clear, but someone obviously knows, and Kevin is the likeliest candidate. This, along with other factors, supports Detective Kennedy's reasoning. Those we have interviewed agree that Franco and Rosie are absolutely at odds." Speaking of elopement, no one knows what they're planning. Except for Kevin, who has the slight advantage of sleeping in the same room as Franco and maybe seeing something." Good girl Mandy really tight-lipped. "It shouldn't be possible. There's nothing nice in the room." Stephen shrugged and said, "I'm from the North Wall District, and I dare say that the Free Zone is no different from ours, at least it was the same before: the weak eat the strong, the east and the west are weak, and there is no such thing as secrets. To be honest, if there were no half I found it strange and unbelievable when I personally knew about the elopement." I said: "It makes sense, this part is temporarily doubtful. What about after that?" Concentrating on the report made him relax a bit, and we were all right again. "Kevin decided to block people before Rosie went to Franco, maybe to ask her to meet or he knew she had to go get the suitcase. Anyway, they met, the most likely place was Sixteen Loyalty. The two happened Arguing, he grabbed her by the throat in a rage and hit her head against the wall. According to Cooper, this part doesn’t take much time, at most a few seconds, and it’s too late when Kevin calms down.” "The motive? Why did he block her, let alone quarrel with her?" "I don't know. People say Kevin is very attached to Franco, so maybe he doesn't want Rosie to take him away. Or maybe it's sexual jealousy, Kevin was just that age. Rosie is pretty by all accounts. .Maybe she rejected Kevin's pursuit, or they secretly communicated with the song—" Stephen suddenly remembered who he was talking to, and immediately fell silent, blushing, and looked at me worriedly. I remember Rosie, Kevin said, with that hair and smile, and the way she walked... I said, "There's a little bit of a gap between them—fifteen and nineteen, remember? But he It's possible to have a crush on her, that's right. Go ahead." "Well, he didn't really need a strong motive, I mean, as far as we know, he didn't intend to kill her, it just happened. When he found Rosie dead, he dragged her to the basement— Unless they're already there—under the concrete slab. He's strong for a boy his age, he worked on a construction site that summer, moving stuff, so he can do it." He glanced at me again. glance.I picked out the ham crumbs around my molars and looked at him with a gentle expression. "During this time, Kevin found out that Rosie had written a note to his family, and he immediately thought of using it. He tore off the first page and kept it for himself, and kept the second page, so that if Franco left by himself, everyone would think They went off as planned, and the two eloped together, leaving notes for her parents. If Franco came home because Rosie didn't show up, or contacted the family after being away for a while, everyone would think the note was for him, Rosie left him alone." "Twenty-two years," I said, "that's how things really went." "Yeah. Later, when Rosie's body was found and we investigated, Kevin panicked. Everyone we talked to said he was stressed for two days and it got worse and eventually he couldn't take it anymore. So he dug out the note that he had hidden for so many years, spent the last night with his family, returned to the place where Rosie was killed, and then...um." "He bowed his head in prayer, he threw himself from a top floor window, and justice was done." "Basically, I think." Stephen peeked at me while holding a cup of coffee, fearing that I might get angry. I said, "Well done, Detective. Clear, to the point, and objective." Stephen breathed a sigh of relief, as if the interview was over, and began attacking the sandwich. "How long do you think it will take for Kennedy to decide that his inferences are true and both cases closed at the same time?" He shook his head and said, "Maybe a few days. He hasn't sent the file up yet, and we're still gathering evidence." Detective Kennedy was thorough, really.I mean, I know he's got ideas in his head, but he's not going to take them and get the case over with.From the tone of his voice, it seemed that we—me and the other supporting detectives—would be at least until the end of the week in Homicide. In other words, I have about three days left.No one likes to go back and forth. Once the case is officially closed, it is impossible to restart the investigation unless I produce a fully effective video analysis and photograph another murderer. "I'm sure it's going to be cool," I said, "and what do you think of Detective Kennedy's push?" This question caught him off guard, and he managed to swallow the food in his mouth. "I?" "That's right, boy, it's you. I know very well the way the king of the ball does things, and I told you before, I'm curious what other skills you have besides your amazing typing speed." He shrugged, "It's not my job—" "No, you're wrong. Since I asked you, it's your duty. Are you convinced by his reasoning?" Stephen stuffed another mouthful of the sandwich into his mouth, trying to buy a little more time.He stared at the plate so that I wouldn't see his eyes.I said, "Okay Shi, you have to figure it out, I might be full of prejudice, sad to the point of madness, or even downright crazy, either way it might make me very unsuitable to share what's on your mind .Nevertheless, I bet you must have crossed your mind more than once that Detective Kennedy might be wrong." "I did," he said. "Of course, you'd be an idiot if you didn't think of it. Did any of your other colleagues think of it?" "They didn't mention it." "They won't mention it. They've all thought about it, because they're not idiots, but they keep their mouths shut, afraid of being blacklisted by the king of the ball," I leaned over the table and he had to look up. "So it's just you, Detective Moran, and you and I. If Rosie Daly's killer is still at large, it's just the two of us who will hunt him down. You see now why our little trick is not morally wrong right?" After a while, Stephen said, "Probably." "It's a terribly moral thing to do because you're not serving Detective Kennedy, and it's not me, it's Rosie Daly and Kevin McKee. We're the only ones they can rely on, so stop acting like a Virgin clutching his panties, tell me what you think of Detective Kennedy's reasoning." Stephen only replied briefly: "I don't really believe it." "why?" "I don't care about the loopholes, like the unknown motive or how Kevin found out about the elopement, etc. After many years, there will be such loopholes. It's the fingerprint forensic report that really bothers me." I kept wondering if he would find out. "What happened to the report?" He licked off the mayonnaise on his thumb, gave a thumbs up and said, "First of all, the unknown fingerprints on the suitcase shell. Those few fingerprints may not be important, but if I were a detective, I wouldn't mind unless I found out who the fingerprints belonged to." Case will be closed." I'm pretty sure who the fingerprints are, but I don't want to reveal.I said, "Me too, what else?" "Well, there is one more point, that is—" He held up another finger, "Why are there no fingerprints on the first note? It is reasonable to erase the fingerprints on the second note. If anyone becomes suspicious, call the police and tell Rosie Missing, Kevin didn't want the police to find his fingerprints on her farewell letter. But what about the first note? He took out the note that had been hidden for many years from nowhere, intending to use it as his last words and confession, but wiped it clean first , and then put the gloves in his pocket? Is he still afraid that people will infer that the murderer is him?" "What's Detective Kennedy's opinion on that?" "He said it was just a small discrepancy, it wasn't a big deal, it was like this in every case. Kevin wiped both notes that night, hid the first one, and took it out later without leaving fingerprints, which happens occasionally There will be. That's true, except... we're talking about the guy who wants to kill himself, the guy who's going to admit that he killed someone. I don't care how calm he is, he's sure to be fucking sweating. As long as the If you sweat, you will leave fingerprints." Stephen shook his head and said, "There should be fingerprints on that note, that's all." After speaking, he began to devour sandwiches. I said, "Just for fun, let's assume one thing. Suppose my old friend Detective Kennedy screwed up this time and Kevin Mackey wasn't the one who killed Rosie Daly, so what? " Stephen stared at me and said, "Let's assume Kevin was murdered too?" "how could I know?" "If it wasn't him who wiped the note and put it in his pocket, someone else did it, and I think it's murder." A wave of blind affection surged into my heart again, and I almost clamped his head and scratched his hair. "That sounds reasonable," I said. "What do we know about this killer?" "You think there's only one person?" "I hope so with all my heart. People in my part of the country may be a bit of a freak, but I pray to God, don't exaggerate to the point where there are two murderers on the same street." In just one minute, from the moment he explained his views, Stephen was no longer so afraid of me.He leaned forward, with his elbows on the table, so absorbed that he completely forgot about the sandwich at hand, his eyes were never firmer than I expected from this blushing little rookie. "Then, according to Cooper, the murderer should be a male, in his thirties to his fifties, that is, he was in his teens to his thirties at the time of Rosie's death, and he was of the same build as he is now. Strong, in other words, a muscular man." I said, "That's Rosie, not Kevin. As long as there's a way to coax him out of the window - he's not the paranoid type - a little nudge is enough, no muscles needed." "So, assuming the killer was between fifteen and fifty when he attacked Rosie, that means he could be in his thirties to seventy now." "That's too bad. Are there any other discoveries to narrow it down?" Stephen said: "He grew up in the Loyalty area and knew the inside and out of 16 because he would have been shocked to find out Rosie was dead, but he still remembered that there was a concrete slab in the basement. Also, the people we asked People say Sixteen is only known to people who lived in or near Faithful Place as teenagers. The murderer probably doesn't live there anymore, and he had plenty of ways to know that Rosie's body was found, but he must have lived in That area." For the first time since I've been a cop, I get a little taste of why the Homicide guys enjoy it.When undercover arresting people, as long as they fall into the trap, they will not let go, and our ability lies in knowing what to use as bait, which ones should be released after we catch them, and which ones should be knocked unconscious and taken away. That's not the case at all with the Major Crimes Unit.They are tracking experts who are ordered to hunt ferocious predators. They only have the murderer in their eyes, just like they only have lovers in their hearts. They focus on chasing the only one in the clueless darkness, and turn a blind eye to all other figures.They are single-minded, and their relationships are close and intense.The suspect was somewhere, and the detective and he both listened, waiting for the other to take a wrong step.This night at Sad Cafe, I felt an unprecedented closeness. I said, "The question isn't how he knew Rosie was found, as you said, anyone who's ever lived in a free zone probably would have heard. The question is how did he know that Kevin in our family was a threat, and the incident It's been so many years. As far as I know, there is only one person who can let him know, and that is Kevin himself. Either the two have been in contact all the time, or they happened to meet last weekend, or Kevin took the initiative to contact each other. If I have time, I will Hope you find out who Kevin was in contact with in the last forty-eight hours of his life, including cell phones and home numbers - unless he doesn't have one at home - and who he texted, who called or texted him. Don't tell me Kennedy Detectives haven't asked for contact records yet." "He wants it, but the record hasn't come down yet." "As long as you find out who Kevin talked with on the weekend, the murderer will be revealed." I remember last Saturday afternoon, when I was taking the suitcase to the king of the ball, Kevin suddenly ran away without knowing what happened. When I see him again, it's already in a bar, and he can contact someone in the meantime. "One more thing: I think this guy could be violent, I mean, of course he was violent, but not just these two times. I think he probably has a criminal record, at least a notorious one," Stephen said. "Interesting, why?" "Two murders are not the same, are they? The second is definitely premeditated, even if the plan was hastily decided before it happened, but the first is almost certainly not premeditated." "So? He's getting older, and his self-control has also become stronger. He knows how to think twice, and the first time it was just a spur of the moment." "Yeah, but that's what I'm talking about, he's going to be impulsive, and that doesn't change, no matter how old you are." I raise an eyebrow.I know what he means, I just want to hear him say it.Stephen scratched his ears awkwardly, trying to find the right word. "I have two younger sisters," he said, "one of them is eighteen years old, and whenever she is provoked, she starts yelling and can be heard down the alley. Throwing things against the walls of the bedroom are not fragile items, just things like Biro ballpoint pens. They are like this, they have been like this since they were young. If one day the younger sister gets angry and smashes things, the older sister yells, and even the two start I find it strange to hit people with my hands. There are fixed ways for people to lose their temper." I smiled approvingly at him (this kid deserves applause), and suddenly a thought flashed in my mind, and I started to think about how they went crazy: Shay's head hit the wall with a muffled sound, and his throat was held open by Dad's big hands Limbs go limp; Mom yells, "Look what you've done, bastard, you're killing him"; Dad responds in a rough voice, "Better dead"; And, grabbed her throat, grabbed her head and repeatedly hit the wall." The look on my face startled Stephen, which was probably why I kept staring at him.He said, "What's wrong?" "It's fine," I said, throwing my coat on.Matt Daly once said categorically and flatly: people will not change. "You're doing a good job, Detective, and I mean it. Contact me as soon as you have the contact record." "I will. Well, things still—" I pulled out a twenty-pound bill, put it on the table and pushed it in front of him, saying, "I'm treating you." As soon as the forensic department compared the unknown fingerprints on the suitcase, it would notify me, in case Detective Kennedy said he was going to close the case. Also tell me right away.Remember, detective, it's just you and me on this case, just the two of us. I'm leaving.I saw Stephen's face printed on the window of the cafe watery, holding the twenty pounds in his hand, he watched me walk away dumbfounded.