Chapter 23: Honesty Returns Found Treasure

The fat man’s corpse was transported to the medical examiner’s office. Once the examination was complete, David and William received the detailed autopsy report.

Upon returning to the precinct with the report, the two sensed that the atmosphere was off. Many officers were whispering to one another, their expressions filled with disdain. However, preoccupied with the case, the pair paid little mind to the gossip.

William organized the coroner's findings and said, "The killer placed a bucket beneath the victim and forced him to eat continuously. The medical examiner says the forced feeding lasted over twelve hours. The victim’s throat was distended as a result of the feeding... and then, at a certain point, he simply collapsed and died."

"The killer is a sick, sadistic bastard," David remarked.

William nodded in grim agreement. If it were merely a simple murder, a single gunshot or a knife would suffice; there was no need to waste so much time on such elaborate cruelty. When combined with the clues found at the scene, it was clear the perpetrator had a different agenda. William recalled Luca’s instructions—the talk about Catholicism.

"There are seven deadly sins in Catholicism: Gluttony, Pride, Lust, Greed, Sloth, Envy, and Wrath," William said, staring at his partner. "If Luca’s theory is correct, there should be six more murders to come."

David frowned. Although this was the word of a mobster, he had to admit that Luca’s reasoning held weight. The killer had deliberately left notes and clues at the scene, pointing to a very clear pattern. Investigating from the perspective of religious-themed murders seemed to be the right path.

Just then, William said, "I want to step down from this case. I’m retiring soon, and I don’t want this to be my final act." It was evident that the case was incredibly complex and unlikely to be solved before his retirement; he did not want his career record stained with an "unsolved mystery."

David, who had just transferred and was eager to make a name for himself, was full of energy. "Then leave it to me. I’ll be the one to finish it."

"Mills, I advise you to step back as well. You’re new; you aren't suited for this case." William keenly sensed that this investigation was beyond the reach of an ordinary officer.

But David wouldn't listen. With his pleas ignored, William went directly to their superior to express his desire to withdraw—all he wanted was a quiet retirement. The superior immediately rejected his request.

"Somerset, do you have any idea how many people are watching this case?" The superior slammed his hand on the desk, looking both frustrated and furious. "The entire city of New York, every media outlet is reporting on it! The most ridiculous part is that those damn reporters receive the news before we do. By the time our patrol cars are on the road, it’s already in the papers! Every citizen in New York is watching. Do you realize what kind of public pressure we’ll face if we can’t solve this? Or were you hoping for another 'concerned citizen' to swoop in and solve it for you?"

William replied bluntly, "That wasn't a concerned citizen. That was the Mafia."

The superior was silent for a moment. "I know, I know! Do you think I need you to remind me?" he said, sounding both speechless and helpless. "We’ve lost all face. Since when has the NYPD been reduced to relying on the Mafia for help? It makes us look like failures. Even those idiots over at the Detroit Police Department are laughing at us for being incompetent!"

"Er..." William hesitated, choosing not to mention that the Mafia had helped again today, and substantially so. He feared his boss might suffer a stroke if he knew.

William’s silence led the superior to believe he had backed down. He urged, "You are the most experienced detective in this precinct. No one here has your depth of expertise. At this critical moment, you cannot shrink away. I believe you can help New York catch this killer and shut those media outlets up."

"If I weren't retiring, if I had the time, I would take it. But I’m finished soon... this case is too complex to be solved in a short time. I cannot end my career on this."

"Can’t you show a little confidence in yourself? Somerset, New York really needs you right now."

"You could go to Richie Roberts... or McLean. They are both experienced officers."

The suggestion made the superior even more miserable; his expression looked as if he had just swallowed something foul.

"What kind of garbage advice is that?" The superior slammed the desk again, pointing toward the office window. "McLean has shut himself off from the world. His marriage fell apart, and he’s become self-destructive. He hides in the church drinking all day; the man is a wreck. You expect him to solve a case? I’d sooner rely on the Mafia."

William: "..."

"And Roberts?" William persisted.

The superior shook his head. "Roberts isn't suitable either. Go check the property room, and you’ll see why."

William: "???"

...

Not long after, William discovered the cause. While he and David had been out investigating, a small incident occurred at the precinct. Two officers had "discovered" several bags of dirty money in a drug dealer’s car during a raid, and instead of pocketing it, they had—much to everyone’s shock—turned it in to the department. One of those officers was Richie Roberts.

William was stunned. Honesty? Selflessness? David was equally shocked. Having only been there a few days, he had already learned of the corrupt culture within the NYPD—everyone was on the take. Some officers even colluded with the DEA to sell "powder," deliberately cutting it to lower purity before putting it back on the streets. Much of the contraband in New York was seized by police, "re-processed," and sold back out. The game here was far more intense than in the small town he came from.

William pointed toward an office with glass walls, where officers were counting the seized money. A sea of greenbacks covered the table. Richie sat nearby, the target of disdainful glares, while others looked at the cash with naked greed.

"Mills, when a cop turns in that much money, it only means one thing," William said, shaking his head. "He might be turning in other officers who are on the take. Roberts and his partner will become pariahs. A cop who walks a different path than the others is headed for a dead end."

Young David felt he had just received a lesson. Next time he found money, he would know to keep it for himself.

A while later, Richie and his partner walked out. Every officer in the room fixed their gaze upon them. Suddenly, someone muttered, "What are you acting so high and mighty for?"

Neither officer looked well, but faced with so many piercing stares, they said nothing and silently left the station. Before leaving, Richie cast a complex and sorrowful look at everyone present. David felt a strange sense of shame. Just days ago, they had all been chatting amicably, and now, they were to be strangers.

David wanted to help Richie, but he feared being ostracized by his colleagues, which could effectively end his career. It was a serious matter—imagine having no one willing to partner with you, or no one willing to provide backup when you were on a mission. Caught in a dilemma, David suddenly felt an urge to curse. The police department was rotten to the core.

...

Richie left in disgrace. Having turned in a million dollars, he received nothing but symbolic, empty praise, while suffering the contempt and exclusion of his peers.

William was forced by his superior to swallow his pride and continue investigating the religious murders alongside David. He felt helpless, but he had no choice.

As expected, the next day, a new victim appeared in Manhattan—a movie star who had been murdered and disfigured. The media received the news first, leaving the police to arrive late to the scene. Because the victim was a celebrity, her death caused a massive social uproar. The incident was too significant to hide; the news spread beyond New York to Boston, Philadelphia, Washington, and even as far as Los Angeles. Fanatical fans gathered in Times Square to protest, holding signs and cursing the "useless" New York police.

This placed the NYPD under even heavier public pressure, leaving the higher-ups in a state of chaos. Amidst this oppressive atmosphere, William and David arrived at the scene.

"The killer cut off the star’s nose and sliced the skin from her face to disfigure her. Before leaving, he placed a cell phone in her left hand and a bottle of sleeping pills in her right," William noted. "She could have called for help and been saved, but the disfigurement would have been exposed to the world... or she could have ended her own life to escape the agony."

At the scene, William looked up at the word written in blood on the wall:

—PRIDE.

The star’s greatest vanity was her beauty, and the killer had destroyed exactly what she held most dear. William felt that the killer hadn't just carved up her face, but was also cutting into the face of the NYPD.

"The killer is indeed using the seven deadly sins to commit these murders," David said, his tone filled with grudging admiration. He recalled that Luca had predicted this long ago; the mobster seemed to have seen through the killer’s intent at a glance.

William stared at the bloody letters. "The killer is using extreme rituals to punish those who have committed the seven original sins."

"Seven deadly sins? What kind of charge is that?" David retorted. "If we actually prosecuted people for these, the entire human race would be dead! I don't believe anyone is free from sin."

William didn't answer, offering only a bitter smile. In that moment, he found himself thinking of Luca. He wondered if that "concerned citizen" had any leads, and whether he would offer a helping hand once more.