Chapter 8

Detective Bureau.

After the meal, Captain Susan gathered everyone in the conference room for a meeting.

Newly transferred female officer Jenny took the initiative to pour coffee for everyone.

Susan looked at David and Luke, who had just returned from the investigation, and asked, "Is there a problem with Joe's Gun Shop?"

David replied, "The owner is slippery. There are no surveillance cameras in the store, and transactions are in cash. At first, he wouldn't cooperate at all.

After I patiently persuaded him for a long time, he finally admitted to selling modified Taser guns.

According to him, a man called 'Postman' brought the modified Taser guns to the store for consignment, and the store has only sold one."

Susan followed up, "What about the real identity of the Postman?"

David said, "The owner doesn't know."

Deputy Vincent added, "Or he might not want to say."

David's face turned sour, "If you doubt my ability, you might as well handle it yourself next time."

"Don't get so worked up, young man. I'm just saying it's a possibility," Deputy Vincent continued, "If what the owner said is true, finding the Postman can help us lock down the distribution channel for the modified Taser guns, and we can track down the suspect in the Taser robbery case.

The problem now is how to determine the real identity of the Postman. A nickname doesn't have a social security number."

Raymond mused, "I feel like I've heard this nickname somewhere before."

Deputy Vincent joked, "I've heard it too. NBA superstar Karl Malone's nickname is 'Postman,' and I can reveal a little secret: he also worked as a part-time police officer."

Captain Susan said, "Deputy, this isn't the time to discuss basketball or your contemporaries."

"He's not my contemporary; he's a few years younger than me. Are you satisfied?" Deputy Vincent shot back, then turned to Marcus, "You know the local gangs best. Can you find out the identity of the Postman?"

"Finally, you remembered me," Marcus grinned, showing his thick lips.

Marcus grew up in the slums and is familiar with various gangs. Although he doesn't seem very reliable and isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, he is excellent at finding people.

Susan said seriously, "It's 1:30 PM now, and the suspect might strike again tonight.

Marcus, we don't have much time left."

"I'll do my best," Marcus said, then got up and left the office.

Female officer Jenny asked, "The suspect has already committed two crimes and should know that the police are actively investigating. Is it possible that he will stop or flee?"

"I hope so, but from the crime scene, the possibility is very small," Deputy Vincent picked up a whiteboard marker and started writing and annotating, "On February 18th, the first crime, the victim was only robbed of their belongings and clothes.

On February 25th, the second crime, the suspect slashed the victim's thigh and wrote 'you like' (do you like it?) in blood at the scene.

Compared to the first crime, the second one was more aggressive.

From my experience, unless caught by the police, he won't stop and will become even more brutal."

Luke pondered for a moment and asked, "Why did the suspect leave the message 'you like' at the scene? What's the purpose?"

Deputy Vincent said, "Serial criminals usually fall into two categories. The first is for economic reasons, which can be logically deduced.

The second is due to some psychological stimulus. Unless you have experienced the same stimulus, it's hard to predict their behavior."

Luke shook his head, "I'll pass on that. I prefer to speak with evidence."

"Wise choice.

I once had an excellent colleague who, in pursuit of a serial killer, ended up with schizophrenia."

"Are you joking?"

Deputy Vincent looked serious, "No."

Luke had been considering whether to work overtime today but decided against it after some thought.

He is a systematic person. If he needs to work overtime to solve a case, then the system is not worth it.

To avoid overwork or becoming schizophrenic, Luke still left on time.

None of his colleagues left, and they all looked at him with various complex expressions.

Whatever, my health is the most precious.

...

Los Angeles Chinatown.

This area is home to a large number of Chinese people, and you can hear Minnan dialects at any time.

It was Luke's first time in Chinatown. The streets were filled with Chinese signs for Sichuan restaurants, nail salons, travel agencies that handle passport extensions, and green card applications. The exaggeration in the Chinese signs was no different from the "cure-all" ads on utility poles in China.

Luke felt a deep sense of nostalgia and missed home.

After a long while, he remembered why he came to Chinatown.

Eating fried chicken and burgers every day, his brain and taste buds were starting to protest, and he wanted to have a home-cooked meal.

Luke parked his motorcycle in front of a restaurant. The sign was green, with "Yingchun Pavilion" in Chinese on the left and English on the right, with two red lanterns hanging beside it.

Inside the restaurant, a young Asian woman in a qipao greeted him in English, "Welcome."

He found a seat by the window, and an Asian waitress handed him a menu.

Luke glanced at the menu, which had both Chinese and English. The first dish listed was "General Tso's Chicken."

Many people in China might not have heard of this dish, but it is very popular in America.

Luke had never tried it.

He scanned the menu and ordered four dishes: General Tso's Chicken, Mao Xue Wang (a spicy hot pot dish), stir-fried pig kidney with Laoganma (a brand of chili sauce), and seafood stew, along with a bowl of rice and a bottle of Wuliangye (a Chinese liquor).

Luke had been feeling depressed lately, unable to go home or afford home-cooked meals.

Now that he had money, he could indulge himself.

Just do it.

Drunk driving is also enforced in America, and the laws are very strict.

However, in this area, there is a consistent emphasis on human rights and freedom, including the right to drink.

Therefore, America is one of the most lenient countries in the world when it comes to drunk driving.

Luke has a good tolerance for alcohol. Drinking two ounces wouldn't affect his ability to ride his motorcycle or walk straight.

After a satisfying meal, Luke ordered a pot of Longjing tea to sober up and ease his homesickness.

The meal cost over two hundred dollars.

It was around 7 PM.

Luke put the half-bottle of Wuliangye in his pocket and rode his Harley home.

He had to face reality.

Because he had been drinking, Luke rode slowly.

As he rode near the Iro Community Commercial Square, he saw a familiar figure.

A small, black-haired boy and a white girl in a school uniform were walking together.

To distinguish between white and Chinese girls:

Look at their faces from the front, and their butts from the back. White girls have more pronounced buttocks.

Luke slowed down. The small boy was none other than his younger brother, Jack.

The two were chatting and laughing, and the white girl was holding a cup of bubble tea.

The small boy tried to put his arm around the girl's waist a few times but pulled back.

From their demeanor, it was clear that their relationship was more than just classmates or friends.

Luke stopped his motorcycle, feeling a mix of amusement and concern, "What's going on? This kid is only thirteen!"