The world of American TV series: Starting with the L.A. Patrol.

Chapter 342 Accident during 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 stains on the knife were AB type, which matched the nanny's blood type.

The blood on the handle of the knife was type O, which was consistent with the blood types of the boy Hubble and his father, TC Riordan. "

James Burris suddenly stood up, and the flesh on his cheeks trembled because of his violent movement, making him look 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 check on your nanny, but I found that your past is not simple."

The conference room where these people are now is actually just like an interrogation room, with a table, an emergency light placed on it, and only one chair on each side of the table.

Sitting on one end was Russell, and on the other was the father of the missing boy, TC Riordan.

The one who spoke was Inspector Brace, who was pacing slowly around the table at the moment. This seemed to be a way for him to put pressure on the other person.

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 Brice 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."

However, facing the old detective's ridicule, TC Riordan just opened his mouth, then closed it and continued to remain silent.

"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."

"This is my blood, but I didn't kill anyone."

It's like a rebellious little boy in adolescence who 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.

"Let me be blunt, 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 the nanny and then eliminated the only witness, your son. "

"I've seen it before. This is mine. It's in my home."

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.

"I'm just giving blood to the dead."

Detective Brace walked to Russell and stopped, holding the table with both hands, his fat face showing no anger.

Even Jack, who was pretending to take notes, couldn't help but stop scribbling and looked up at the rich man again, wondering if he had heard wrong just now.

"We have confirmed with the local hospital in San Francisco that she is indeed Hubble's biological mother." Russell said in a low voice.

<divclass="contentadv">It's still the same old routine of white face and red face. The old detective now plays the role of the white face who exerts pressure, creating a tense atmosphere. Russell naturally plays the red face, eliminating the opposition of the subject being interrogated. Emotions, gaining trust.

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.

The former requires a centrifuge, while the latter requires a fully automatic blood group identification analyzer.

"We found that the blood on the blade was hers, but your blood appeared on the handle. How do you explain this?"

"Your nanny, Shelby Burress."

"I told the San Francisco police, and I'll repeat it to you now, I am innocent and what I said is the truth."

"What does this have to do with my son's disappearance?" TC Riordan asked in confusion, as if he still didn't understand why he was invited.

Jack suddenly raised his head and saw TC Riordan's expression at this moment. It was very interesting. It was not fear or anger at being exposed, but disdain?

Jack seemed to be concentrating on recording work, and the pen tip rubbed against the paper, making a rustling sound. In fact, he was drawing pig heads in circles. He seemed to be busy with his head down, but he was observing TC·ri with his peripheral vision. Odan.

"It's better to say it's on Shelby's back." The old detective's words made TC Riordan surprised, and he looked at the two of them with wide eyes.

"Actually, this kidnapping drama is just a drama, right?"

This was just sent from the laboratory. The body could not undergo further autopsy. Even the test tube centrifugation method and micro-column gel method commonly used for blood testing could not be used due to lack of electricity.

To everyone's surprise, TC Riordan admitted it very frankly.

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.

The old detective and Russell looked at each other, feeling a little troubled. The former immediately opened a PAD on the table, showing a photo of a long dagger on it.

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.

TC Riordan suddenly raised his head and looked directly at the old detective. There was anger, disdain, and suppressed pain in his eyes.

Fortunately, the laboratory also reserves some anti-A reagents and anti-B reagents. Through the slide method, using the naked eye or an ordinary microscope to observe whether the red blood cells have clots, the blood type can still be determined.

"That makes sense." Seeing TC Riordan lower his head and remain silent, the old detective could only apply further pressure.

"Have you seen this knife?"

"It looks like all we can find is your son's body, right?"

Russell, who was sitting opposite him, looked at the old detective subconsciously, his eyes filled with disbelief. What kind of magical development is this?

"Then there was your mistress Shelby. She ended up dead in your back garden. I have to say, you are really good at dealing with women, man."

"Yes, but you seem to have overlooked some important facts, such as who is Harper's biological mother." The old detective interrupted him.

After saying that, he stared at TC Riordan's lowered head.

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 the soul, I used this knife to cut the vein and take some of the blood."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" The old detective looked stunned, as if he had planned a punch for a long time, but it was swung in the air.