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Chapter 143 - Chapter 143: Impossible! Absolutely Impossible!

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Chapter 143: Impossible! Absolutely Impossible!

The address on the note belonged to a newly built community.

The community was located southeast of the Riverside Hotel, almost at the edge of the Third Precinct's jurisdiction.

When Theodore and Bernie arrived, patrol officers from the Third Precinct were already waiting downstairs.

They were a middle-aged duo, one's belly stretched his uniform taut, while the other was bald and shiny.

They'd been partners for seven or eight years.

Like a married couple of seven or eight years, they barely communicated while waiting. One was reading a newspaper, the other listening to the radio.

Upon meeting, the fat officer shook hands with Theodore, and the bald officer shook hands with Bernie.

The two of them didn't even exchange a glance throughout, skillfully heading toward their respective targets.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the fat officer led the way into the apartment building and headed straight upstairs.

The bald officer walked at the very end and began explaining the situation. "The apartment you're looking for is on the fifth floor. The registered homeowner is Steven Wallace."

This was originally their patrol area, and after receiving the notification, they'd briefly questioned the residents in the apartment building, gaining some understanding of the target apartment and its occupants.

Bernie asked him, "Is it a man?"

Theodore couldn't help but turn to look at the bald officer as well.

The bald officer shook his head. "We asked several residents in the apartment building. No one has seen Steven Wallace, but his wife, Mrs. Wallace, often makes appearances."

He lowered his head, glanced at his notebook, and continued, "The residents here are discussing kicking the Wallace family out. They often see strange men entering and exiting the Wallace home. They believe Mrs. Wallace has moral issues and worry she might have a bad influence on their children."

The bald officer read several descriptions of "Mrs. Wallace" from his notes, as provided by the residents.

Besides useful details like reddish-brown long hair, a full figure, and being well-maintained, there were also descriptions such as having seductive eyes, dressing provocatively, frequently having fevers, and not looking like a good person.

The expressions varied, but the meaning was largely consistent.

The bald officer closed his notebook and finally said, "No one has seen Mrs. Wallace this week. We knocked on the door, but no one was inside."

As they spoke, the four of them were already standing at the door of the target apartment.

The fat officer pulled out a key to open the door.

The key had been obtained from the apartment manager.

Neither of them intended to enter the room. After opening the door, they stepped aside.

Only Theodore and Bernie entered to search the interior.

Bernie found a thick stack of newspapers in the living room's storage cabinet.

The newspapers were all from tabloid rags, dated ten years ago.

All reports concerning Annie Halleck were circled.

Descriptions of Annie Halleck's clothing, words, and actions were also highlighted.

Bernie called Theodore over to look. "It seems our victim's identity is changing from 'Annie Halleck' to Mrs. Wallace."

Theodore came out of the bathroom and shook his head at him. "There's only one toothbrush, no razor. The laundry basket is also full of women's clothes."

Bernie corrected, "Then it's Ms. Wallace."

Theodore suspected the victim was neither a Halleck nor a Wallace.

He opened the wardrobe and rummaged through it, but couldn't find even a single men's sock.

The wardrobe was full of women's clothes, and in the corner were several neatly folded 'slut outfits.'

There were no signs of a man living in the entire apartment.

Theodore meticulously checked the wardrobe, but found nothing except a few revealing undergarments.

He turned his attention to the nightstand. From its drawer, he found a Social Security card.

The name registered on the card was Barbie Jo Carter.

Along with it was a photocopy of a birth certificate, also registered under the name Barbie Jo Carter.

According to the birth certificate photocopy, she came from a small rural town in Maryland called Tucson.

Bernie leaned over to look and asked Theodore, "This should be her real name, right?"

Theodore didn't speak. He pulled open the lower drawer.

The drawer contained cash.

There were both bills and coins, very scattered.

At the very bottom was an envelope, and inside the envelope were large denomination bills.

Theodore counted. There were $500 total in the envelope.

By the time they left the apartment, it was already nearing noon.

After lunch, Theodore and Bernie returned to the Department of Justice Building and called the Tucson Police Department to confirm the identity of Barbie Jo Carter.

Tucson was located in northeastern Maryland, a small town with a population of less than five hundred.

The advantage of a small town was that almost everyone knew everyone else.

When they called, the person on the other end didn't even need to check records or visit her family. He immediately confirmed that there was indeed a Barbie Jo Carter there.

According to the officer from Tucson, Barbie Jo Carter had come to D.C. eleven years ago.

Her current job was as a model, and she'd made a lot of money shooting adult films.

Barbie Jo Carter sent money home every month.

Her parents were proud of her achievements in D.C. and praised her to everyone they met, making it known throughout the entire town.

A few years ago, some people privately discussed that being a model was similar to being a prostitute and was a shameful job.

This quickly reached Barbie Jo Carter's father's ears.

Her father found the person who'd said this and almost stabbed them to death.

The officer from Tucson just kept talking endlessly.

Bernie had to interrupt him and ask him to confirm Barbie Jo Carter's physical characteristics.

However, because she'd been away from home for too long, the officer from Tucson no longer remembered what she looked like.

Bernie could only ask him to notify Barbie Jo Carter's parents to come to D.C. to claim the body.

The officer from Tucson was shocked by this and repeatedly confirmed with Bernie.

After ending the call, Theodore and Bernie set off again for the Riverside Hotel.

According to the list of hotel employees provided by the Third Precinct, thirteen people's fingerprints appeared in Room 511.

This task, as well as the questioning of the other five individuals whose fingerprints were matched by the FBI Laboratory, should have originally been assigned to Detective Thomas of the Third Precinct.

But Detective Thomas was now without ambition, so Theodore and Bernie had no choice but to handle it themselves.

The Riverside Hotel had quite a few guests today. When they arrived, the lobby was already crowded with people.

The two front desk staff were incredibly busy.

Bernie stopped a luggage porter, and after showing his identification, the porter helped find the manager.

The manager enthusiastically led the two to his office and immediately began inquiring about the unsealing of Room 511.

Bernie quickly stated their purpose before he could speak.

He handed the list of thirteen people to the manager and asked him about the situation of these thirteen employees.

The manager had a pleasant demeanor but wasn't a fool.

He didn't answer immediately but instead asked Bernie, "You suspect our employees killed the guest in Room 511?"

He shook his head repeatedly. "Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

He explained with a serious expression, "All our employees undergo detailed background checks before being formally hired. Anyone with a criminal record or who has served time in prison simply cannot pass the background check."

Theodore asked him, puzzled, "How do you know if they have a criminal record or if they've served time?"

The manager was momentarily speechless.

Whether someone had a criminal record or had been to jail wasn't public information.

Checking such things required authorization.

The manager shook his head. "In any case, our employees could not have done such a thing."

Theodore questioned again, "How are you sure?"

The manager fell into a brief silence.

He looked at Theodore, then at Bernie, and said in a deep voice, "I need to make a phone call."

A hotel employee killing a guest, such a matter didn't even need confirmation. Just a whisper of it would be a devastating blow to the Riverside Hotel's business.

The manager didn't dare take such a risk.

He needed to seek approval from above.

Bernie understood this and nodded to him.

The manager left the office and returned about ten minutes later, nodding to the two of them.

Bernie handed the list of thirteen people back, then pulled out his notebook and began questioning item by item, according to Theodore's profile of the killer.

Soon, only one employee named Charles Anderson remained on the list.

Charles Anderson was a cleaner on the fifth floor.

His main job was to clean the rooms on the fifth floor.

He was thirty-two years old this year, not very social, and had had conflicts with colleagues multiple times.

Theodore flipped through the fingerprint markings provided by the Third Precinct's forensic lab.

Charles Anderson's fingerprints appeared on the doorknob, the wardrobe door, the window, and the desk lamp.

He was the one with the most fingerprint occurrences.

Bernie asked the manager if he could call the person over.

The manager called an employee to fetch him.

While waiting, he kept staring at Charles Anderson's name, looking somewhat incredulous. "Charles has always performed very well. He's very capable. There are many rooms on the fifth floor. Normally, it would require two to three cleaners to keep up. But Charles can do it very well by himself."

Theodore interrupted his recollection and asked, "On the evening of April 3rd, was Charles Anderson on duty?"

The manager was also unsure. He shook his head and called another employee to retrieve the fifth-floor duty roster.

The first employee quickly returned and informed them that the cleaner on duty for the fifth floor today was someone else, and Charles Anderson was off today.

The duty roster was also quickly brought back.

Theodore opened the roster and saw that Charles Anderson's signature accounted for at least half of it.

April 3rd was naturally included.

Bernie looked at the manager. "Where does Charles Anderson live?"

The manager shook his head, indicating he didn't know.

Theodore looked at him with suspicion. "Didn't you say you conducted background checks before hiring employees?"

The manager, without blushing or a racing heart, picked up the phone. "We haven't investigated employees' addresses."

As he spoke, he dialed the phone, quickly reporting to his superior that a hotel employee might have killed the guest in Room 511.

Theodore kindly corrected him. "The killer first assaulted Barbie Jo Carter, then broke the phone in the room, and finally pushed Barbie Jo Carter out the window, causing her to fall to her death."

The manager and the person on the other end of the phone simultaneously fell silent.

Bernie pulled the kind-hearted Theodore aside and waved at the manager, then turned to talk to the employee who'd been running errands.

The employee asked him curiously, "Was the guest in Room 511 killed by Charles Anderson?"

Bernie didn't answer but instead asked, "Do you know where Charles Anderson lives?"

The employee nodded.

He glanced toward the manager, and seeing that the manager was on the phone, he quietly replied, "When he doesn't go home, Charles stays in the linen room on the fifth floor."

He told Bernie that the linen room on the fifth floor was divided into two rooms, an outer and an inner one.

The outer room was used for storing linens, pillows, and other miscellaneous items, while the inner room had been cleared out by them and used as a lounge.

Initially, the fifth-floor employees would play cards and smoke there, and sometimes they would do other things.

Anything that wasn't convenient to do in the regular lounge, they would go there to do.

But then Charles Anderson came.

Gradually, that place became Charles Anderson's exclusive resting spot, and others rarely went there anymore.

Bernie looked back at Theodore.

Theodore asked him, "Is Charles Anderson in the linen room now?"

The employee shook his head.

"Where did he go?"

The employee still shook his head.

Bernie: "Do you know where his home is?"

The employee still shook his head.

He told Bernie that Charles Anderson had a very bad temper and would often lose his temper over small things, yelling at them.

He and his other colleagues didn't want to have any contact with Charles Anderson. Unless necessary, they didn't even want to talk to him.

The employee also told Bernie that they'd discussed it privately and unanimously believed that Charles Anderson had mental problems, that he was mentally ill.

Bernie wanted to learn more, but the manager had finished his call and was looking their way.

The employee immediately fell silent.

Theodore suggested going to see the fifth-floor linen room.

The manager, who'd just been scolded, was unaware that the linen room had been modified by the fifth-floor employees, and readily agreed.

The linen room on the fifth floor was at the end of the corridor, piled full outside, leaving only a narrow path in the middle.

At the end of the path was a door, which was locked.

The manager stared at the door with wide eyes, the fat on his cheeks jiggling twice.

He turned to look at the employee who'd come up with them, as well as other employees who'd gathered to watch the commotion.

His gaze swept over the group one by one, and he pointed at the door, asking in a deep voice, "Where's the key?"

No one answered.

The manager asked again.

The employee who'd spoken with Bernie reluctantly pulled out a key and handed it over.

The manager took the key, waved away the onlookers, opened the door, and then very consciously stepped aside.

The inner room was not large, not even as spacious as a single room on the fifth floor.

A bed and a table filled the inner room, leaving no space for two people to enter.

Theodore put on his protective gear and entered the inner room. Bernie could only stand at the doorway.

On the table was a radio, which looked very old. Its buttons were already worn white and shiny.

Next to the radio were two books, their corners already dog-eared from being flipped through.

Theodore picked them up and flipped through them. They were adult novels.

The bedding on the bed was very clean, the same kind used in the hotel rooms.

It was probably taken directly from the outer linen room for use.

Other than that, there was nothing else.

[End of Chapter]

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