Chapter 15 Chapter fifteen

Theoretically speaking, the 72-hour case briefing of the Greater Dade County Police Department can not only give everyone enough time to make progress in the investigation of a certain case, but at the same time, the interval is too long, and there are still more clues in the case. temperature.On Monday morning, the indomitable Inspector LaGuerta called everyone in the conference room on the second floor for a 72-hour case briefing. I also attended briefings, and the cops who knew me usually gave me a wink and a short, happy one-liner like, "Hey, man, where's your girlfriend?" How friendly. "What the hell are you doing here?" muttered Officer Doakes.He was a large black man who held the record for barbell presses with the Greater Dade County Police Department.He was very unfriendly to me.In fact, for one reason he hated all the technicians in our lab, and for another reason he especially hated Dexter.I didn't want to mess with him because he was the only one with eyesight in a room full of cops, and the sight of me gave me goosebumps.

"Let's get started," LaGuerta said, snapping his whip and making it clear to everyone that she was the head here. The first half of the meeting was purely routine: presentations, political tactics and trifles.LaGuerta briefly told information officials what could and could not be released to the media.The information that can be released includes a brand new photo taken by LaGuerta specially for the case.The faces are serious but beautiful, and the expressions are tense but elegant.Seeing this photo you must have thought she was going to be promoted.If only Deborah had her PR talents.

It took LaGuerta almost an hour to bring the conversation back to the murder.She finally started to ask everyone to report on the progress of the mysterious witness, but as I expected, there was nothing to report. LaGuerta frowned. "Let's talk about it, someone here will find something, right?" Nobody found anything.Everyone was silent, carefully observing their own fingerprints, the floor, and the sound-absorbing tiles on the ceiling. Deborah cleared her throat. "I, huh," she raised her voice, "I have an idea, a little different from everyone else's. I want to try it from a different angle." What she said seemed to be in quotation marks, and the fact It is also true.I taught her so carefully, but now she still speaks so unnaturally.Still, her wording was quite careful and largely correct from a political point of view.

LaGuerta raised his eyebrows reluctantly. "Idea? Really?" She grimaced, surprised and excited. "Exactly. Tell the folks. Eince—Constable—I mean, Constable Morgan." Deborah blushed, but said it with difficulty. "Well, the idea came from cell crystallization, found on the most recent victim. I'd love to check to see if there have been any reports of refrigerated vans being stolen in the last week or so." There was silence. Complete, suffocating silence. There was no sound. These hard-headed fools didn't understand, and Deborah didn't care whether everyone understood, and let everyone just keep silent.LaGuerta frowned her beautiful brow, glanced around the room in bewilderment, to see if anyone was getting it, and then she gave Deborah a polite look.

"Refrigerated... trucks?" LaGuerta said. Deborah panicked, the poor little girl, she is not a person who is good at speaking in public. LaGuerta gleefully watched as Deborah made a fool of himself. Deborah's face was livid, which was not a good sign.I cleared my throat, but it didn't help, and I coughed loudly enough for her to understand that I was telling her to stay calm. She looked at me.LaGuerta looked at me too. "I'm sorry," I said, "I think I have a cold." Who could wish for a better brother than me? "Freezing," Deborah blurted out, finally telling the crucial point, "refrigerated trucks are likely to cause that kind of musculature damage. Trucks are moving, so it's hard to catch the murderer, and the murderer dumped the dead body. It's also much easier to lose. So, if there's a truck ... a refrigerated truck being stolen ... then we have a clue."

There are one or two people in the conference room who are frowning in thought, and I can almost hear the sound of their minds turning. LaGuerta nodded. "Officer, the idea... is really interesting, but I still believe that the best option is to find witnesses. We should focus on this." She said, "Take that dead horse as a How about leaving it to the Broward County Sheriff's Department as a live horse doctor? But, Constable Morgan, you keep in touch with those whores, they know you well. I want to thank you for that." She said the word "police officer" very lightly, in order to remind everyone that democracy is very important here, and anyone can speak up, but in fact she still has the final say.

God, LaGuerta really has a set.She distracted everyone with just a few words and a joke about her rivalry with the Broward County Sheriff's Department and pulled the whole group over, leaving Deborah aside .Even I wanted to applaud her.Seriously, she's not in LaGuerta's class. I'm on Deborah's side, though. After the meeting, we came to the hall. "She's damned," Deborah said, under her breath, "she's damned, damned, damned! What am I supposed to say? I'm not even on the detective team, and I'm going to the meeting because the chief wants me to go. Now Looks like I'm not going to get into the homicide department, it's probably ruining my career. Dexter, I'm afraid I'm going to be a traffic cop dealing with illegal parking for the rest of my life."

"There's another way, Deborah." I smiled at her. "Find the van."