Chapter 342 Accident during the interrogation
Russell nodded, "Not only that, our people also tested the murder weapon, which was the long double-edged dagger. The blood type test confirmed that there were two blood types on it. The blood stain was type AB, consistent with the nanny’s blood type.
The blood stain on the knife handle was type O, which was consistent with the blood type of the boy Hubble and his father, TC Riordan.”
James Burris stood up suddenly. The flesh on his cheeks trembled because of his violent movement, and he looked very sexy.
“I really want to know how this son of a bitch would explain all this.”
——
“I contacted the police station in San Francisco, your hometown. Actually, I just wanted to verify your nanny, but I found that your past is not simple.”
A few times. The conference room where the person is now is actually the layout of an interrogation room, with a table, an emergency light placed on it, and only one chair on each side of the table.
On one end sat Russell, and on the other sat the father of the missing boy, TC Riordan.
The speaker was Inspector Brace. He was pacing slowly around the table at the moment. This seemed to be a way for him to put pressure on the other party.
Jack pretended to be a note taker, moved a chair by himself, and sat next to Russell, completely hiding his body in a dark corner, like an insignificant little transparency.
Russell opened the information in front of him. It was the stack of faxes from the San Francisco Police Department that Detective Burress had in his hand when the two first arrived at the police station. He continued what the detective said.
“You said before that your wife passed away five years ago, but you seemed to have forgotten to mention how she died. Drowning in your own swimming pool is indeed very suspicious.”
Jack seemed to be concentrating. He was doing record-keeping work, the tip of his pen rubbed against the paper, making a rustling sound, but in fact he was drawing pig heads in circles. He seemed to be busy with his head down, but he was observing TC Riordan with his peripheral vision.
This is a rich man whose class attributes can be determined from his appearance alone. His well-maintained face makes it difficult to tell whether he is in his thirties or forty-five years old as shown in the information.
His face has strong lines, short black hair, and his temperament is very capable, a bit like Tom Cruise, but there is a lingering sadness between his eyebrows. He is neither impatient nor impatient when speaking, and his enunciation is clear. Well educated.
“What does this have to do with the disappearance of my son?” TC Riordan asked in confusion, as if he still didn’t understand why he was invited.
Inspector Brace walked to Russell and stopped, holding the table with both hands, his fat face showing no anger or authority.
“Let me get this straight, the San Francisco police have always suspected that you killed your wife in a fit of rage, and I believe you did the same thing to your nanny, and then turned the tables on the only witness, who was Get rid of your son.”
“It seems that we can only find your son’s body, right?”
After saying that, he stared at TC Riordan's lowered head.
“Actually, this kidnapping drama is just a drama, right?”
TC Riordan suddenly raised his head and looked directly at the old detective, with anger in his eyes. There is disdain and suppressed pain.
"I told the San Francisco police, and I will repeat it to you now, I am innocent and what I said is the truth."
"Yes, but you seem to have ignored some Important facts, such as who is Harper's biological mother?" The old detective interrupted.
"Your nanny, Shelby Burress."
Jack suddenly raised his head and saw TC Riordan's expression at this time. It was very interesting. It was not fear or anger at being exposed, but Disdain?
Like a rebellious little boy in adolescence, he was wronged by his parents and would rather be beaten than bother to explain. He has an indescribable aura of being a middle-class boy.
"We have confirmed with the local hospital in San Francisco that she is indeed Hubble's biological mother." Russell said in a low voice. It's still the old man's and the red man's routine. The old detective now plays the white man who exerts pressure and creates a tense atmosphere. Russell naturally plays the red man, eliminating the antagonism of the subject being interrogated and gaining trust.
"That makes sense." Seeing TC Riordan lower his head and remain silent, the old detective could only apply further pressure.
"Your wife found out that Shelby was pregnant with your child. She wanted a divorce and wanted to divide your property, but she died in her swimming pool."
"Then yours Mistress Shelby, she died in your back garden. I have to say, you are really good at dealing with women, man."
However, faced with the ridicule of the old detective, TC Riordan was just calm. He opened his mouth, but closed it again and continued to remain silent.
The old detective and Russell looked at each other, feeling a little awkward. The former immediately opened a PAD on the table, showing a photo of a long dagger on it.
"Have you seen this knife?"
This was just sent from the laboratory. The body cannot be further autopsyed. Even the test tube centrifugation and micro-column gel methods commonly used for blood tests cannot be used due to lack of electricity. use.
The former requires a centrifuge, while the latter requires a fully automatic blood group identification analyzer.
Fortunately, the laboratory also reserves some anti-A reagents and anti-B reagents. Through the slide method, the blood type can still be determined by observing whether the red blood cells have clots with the naked eye or an ordinary microscope.
The long dagger in the photo was stained with blood. Just when a few people thought that TC Riordan would still remain silent, he readily admitted it.
"I've seen it. This is mine. It's in my home."
"It's better to say it's on Shelby's back." The old detective's words made TC Riordan bewildered and his eyes widened. He opened his eyes and looked at the two people.
"We found that the blood on the blade was hers, but your blood appeared on the handle. How do you explain this?"
To everyone's surprise, TC· Riordan admitted it very frankly.
“This is my blood, but I didn’t kill anyone.”
He paused, as if he was struggling with something, and then he was relieved and continued to explain in a tone that would make you believe it or not.
"I am just donating blood to the deceased."
Russell, who was sitting opposite him, subconsciously looked at each other with the old detective, his eyes filled with disbelief. What kind of magical unfolding was this? ?
Even Jack, who was pretending to record, couldn't help but stop scribbling and looked up at the rich man again, wondering if he had heard wrong just now.
Seeing that everyone looked confused, TC Riordan readily opened the sleeve of his right hand and showed everyone his wrist wrapped in gauze.
"When summoning souls, I used this knife to cut open the vein and take some of the blood."
"What nonsense are you talking about?" The old detective looked stunned, and it was quite a punch that had been planned for a long time. , but the feeling lingers in the air.
(End of this chapter)