North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 56 - 55: The First Corpse! (Please Follow)_1
Chapter 56: Chapter 55: The First Corpse! (Please Follow)_1
「The next day.」
Dean and his two colleagues, having obtained a search warrant, drove immediately to the warehouse.
The warehouse Marcus had rented was located in the suburbs of Los Angeles.
It was typically used by small companies for storing goods in transit or items not moved frequently, so visitors were rare.
The warehouse keeper was an elderly white man.
When the three of them went to find him, the man was still fast asleep, clutching a liquor bottle.
Harry pounded on the door a few times.
The old man showed no reaction at all. freewebnσvel.cѳm
If they hadn’t seen his chest rising and falling through the glass window, they might have mistaken him for a corpse.
"I genuinely worry for the clients who chose this warehouse," Harry said helplessly.
"You think they care?" Lawrence gestured upwards. "There are plenty of cameras here. Even if the warehouse gets robbed, the company has insurance to cover it. This old guy is probably just a mascot."
Dean checked the time on his phone, pushed Harry and Lawrence aside, took a step back, and then kicked the door right on the lock.
BANG!
The wooden door, lock and all, flew inwards.
Watching this violent scene, Harry put on an exaggerated expression, a hint of excitement in his voice, "Wow, Dean, I feel like we’re burglars breaking and entering! This is thrilling!"
"Your threshold for thrills is pretty low then," Lawrence sneered, curling his lip, then stepped over the scattered wood chips and went inside.
He grabbed the still-sleeping keeper and shook him vigorously.
The poor old man was likely in the middle of a pleasant dream, mumbling dazedly, "Fuck! Is this an earthquake? Oh, my beer..."
He opened his bleary eyes. To his shock, he found a fierce-looking face right in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the shattered wooden door leaning against the bed, and he instantly sobered up.
"NO!" The old man quickly scrambled to the corner of the bed, clutching his small blanket. "The warehouse keys are hanging on the wall! I’m just a lonely, pathetic old man! Please don’t hurt me!"
Lawrence was speechless.
"Don’t be nervous, sir. I’m Detective Dean from the Homicide and Robbery Division, and these are my colleagues. We need to search Warehouse 86. Here’s the search warrant."
"Oh, not burglars..." The old man, seeing Dean’s amiable smile, instantly grew bolder. "This is private property! You kicked down my door to get in! I’m going to file a complaint against you all! I want compensation! I want to... oof!"
Dean let his jacket fall closed, concealing the handgun inside again. He pulled out a twenty US dollar bill and tossed it to the old man. "Take the money and lead us to Warehouse 86. Any more nonsense out of you, and I guarantee you’ll be sent to prison to make license plates!"
Only then did the old man realize that this seemingly amiable detective was a real bastard!
He didn’t dare utter another peep, hastily got dressed, and led the three of them toward the warehouse area.
The warehouses were arranged in a grid, divided into four rows with over twenty units each. At the four corners stood noticeably larger warehouses. In total, there were well over a hundred units.
Warehouse 86 was located in a corner on this side.
As soon as they entered the area, everyone detected a faint but distinct, strange odor.
Dean paused mid-step. That was the stench of a decomposing body! He was all too familiar with this smell. In his past life, at the organization’s training base, he had once slept among many corpses—some were fellow trainees, others were people he had killed with his own hands. This was also the reason his Mating Level was L3. If he hadn’t found some form of amusement as an anchor to preserve what little humanity he had left, he might have become pathologically twisted long ago.
As they drew closer, that faint odor grew increasingly intense.
Even Lawrence and Harry, whose senses of smell weren’t as keen as Dean’s, caught a whiff of it.
"Guys, what on earth are you storing here?" Harry exclaimed, covering his nose. "This stench is unbearable!"
The old man looked embarrassed. "There are a lot of rats around, so we often get the smell of dead ones. But these warehouses mostly store mechanical equipment, so it doesn’t really affect business."
"No, that’s the stench of a rotting human corpse!" Lawrence, far more experienced than Harry, exclaimed, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I think we’ve hit the jackpot this time!"
The closer they got to Warehouse 86, the stronger the stench of decay became.
The old keeper also realized something was amiss.
He hurriedly stuffed the keys he was holding into Harry’s hand. "Look, in this row, only Warehouse 86 is rented out. You guys go check it yourselves."
With that, he turned and scampered back towards his security office.
"Well, that explains it," Harry shrugged. "Now I get why this old fellow never noticed anything unusual here."
He quickened his pace to Warehouse 86 and pulled open its large doors.
Harry didn’t notice Dean and Lawrence, who had silently retreated about ten meters and were now watching him from the side with pitying gazes.
The door creaked open.
The next moment, a stench, easily ten times more potent than before, billowed out.
Harry’s eyes widened, then rolled back into his head. He collapsed to the ground with a THUD, knocked out cold by the overpowering stench.
"HAHAHA!" Lawrence roared with laughter. "That idiot’s been a cop for over five years and still doesn’t know something so basic!"
Dean, too, was all smiles. "I imagine this will be a memorable lesson for him," he remarked. He thoroughly enjoyed this kind of seemingly over-the-top camaraderie; it was twisted, but genuinely amusing.
At room temperature, under normal circumstances, a human body begins to bloat about three days after death. Large quantities of foul-smelling, toxic gases accumulate within. After about a month, as the flesh putrefies, these gases and decaying matter gradually seep out.
Harry had been unfortunate enough to receive a full blast of the purest essence of corpse stench.
Joking aside, they quickly dragged the unconscious Harry to a well-ventilated spot. Then, they called the Forensics Department and left the warehouse to air out.
「Two hours later.」
Holz arrived at the warehouse alone, bringing several special respirator masks.
"Holz, you’re here alone?" Dean asked, looking puzzled.
Holz nodded. "It’s almost Christmas, and there’s been a spike in homicides. Deputy Captain Hunter took a few others to the villa for bloodstain pattern analysis, so it’s just me."
"Fair enough," Dean said, not particularly concerned. "Holz, could you try to wake Harry up? Lawrence and I are going in to take a look first."
"What happened to him?"
"He got a face full of ’toxic gas’," Dean chuckled.
Holz caught on immediately and snickered. "That stench won’t wash off for at least three days. Looks like Harry won’t be charming any ladies for a while."
After equipping themselves, Dean and Lawrence entered the warehouse.
The first thing they saw was a black Ford sedan. Its tires were caked with reddish mud, a side window was shattered, and beneath it lay a large patch of dried, dark bloodstains.
Beyond the car, a gruesome, contorted corpse lay before them, most of its skin shredded and decaying.