"At the entrance to the Gotham Central Hospital, three police cars blazed through with roaring sirens, blending with the wail of an ambulance, the surrounding residents poked their heads out from their buildings, eager to find out who had crossed the Gotham Police Department.
Ever since the Gotham Police Department got its equipment upgraded, the deafening wail of sirens regained their power. Members of any gang, barring the Twelve Families, didn't dare to honk as a mark of respect while passing by the police station for fear of being blown to smithereens by a grenade launcher.
Ever since Gordon came into power, he has been in cahoots with the Twelve Families, both physically and mentally, earning a place of honor amongst the Godfathers. Consequently, the Gotham Police Department has grown to be one of the most formidable gang organizations in Gotham. The moment the sirens rang, the two fiercely fighting sides had to drop their dispute.
Even deterring the Big Mafia, two armored police cars would have been enough, but further led by three squad cars and trailed by two logistics cars right behind the ambulance, residents watched from their windows for a while until the rumors from a warning shooting officer confirmed it, the head of Lawrence Family was dead.
Ever since the situation in Gotham stabilized, the Twelve Families have all been working together to churn money, and internal strife was all but gone. Any incidents of a leadership change three times in two months had been absent for a long time now.
The rumors spread like ripples in a lake, reaching the mob bosses affiliated with the Twelve Families down to the street hooligans, all the small-time business owners involved with the gangs were speculating who knocked off old Lawerence.
Lawerence Family had a lot of young ones, around a dozen where at least five or six were fairly outstanding. His second son, Baden was already a surefire heir apparent. Although his relationship with his elder daughter was not cordial, they lived peacefully without any conflicts for many years.
While some were murmuring that he died of heart disease or was shot, someone with insider knowledge suggested the mysterious "Summer Killer" had begun to strike again.
"Summer Killer" was the alias given by Gothamites to the culprit of a serial murder case. He was not brutal, but perhaps it was influenced by the lack of information.
Certainly, the situation now was far graver than before. Old Lawerence was in his prime expecting his term to end in another twenty to thirty years.
Baden couldn't accept that his father was instantly taken from him. He hadn't entirely seized control of the family business yet. What was anticipated was the unfinished trades that would definitely be encroached by other families. Moreover, Godfather Falcone couldn't accept this as this was the third incident in the last two months.
Gordon and Cobblepot were finding themselves at their wits' end in the chief's office at the police station. They had received straight orders that they were to find the culprit this time, or else the Godfather would make them pay dearly.
In fact, nobody was more keen than Gordon to track down the killer from the murder cases. After all, he had borrowed on every resource available, Cobblepot even decided to rather kill a thousand innocents than let one guilty perpetrator slip by who already managed to massacre a group of magicians at a conference, leaving the few lucky survivors chased around Gotham, but in the end, still couldn't find any decisive evidence.
The name "Summer Killer" was becoming increasingly notorious in Gotham, to the point of starting to undermine the credibility of the Mafia and affecting the tourism business. This time, Mayor Roy went to seek Professor Shearer.
"Professor Shearer, I don't mean that you need to do something for us, but the current situation is unfavorable. If we let the killer continue to rise, all the hard work establishing security will go down the drain," said Mayor Roy.
Reluctantly, sitting on the couch while wiping Aisha's hands, Shearer replied, "I received a call from Gordon just a few minutes ago. He wishes for me to inspect Lawerence's body anyhow, but I have told him not to get his hopes up."
Roy stiffened, looking at Shearer, saying, "Professor, are you suggesting that even you fail to catch this killer?"
Sighing, Shearer looked at Roy and said, "You need to understand, deduction isn't magic, there has to be some clue which could lead us to results, even the most insignificant traces can be analyzed, but the reason I am not at the police station or mortuary now is that there are no traces available."
Banging his head with his hand, unable to comprehend anything, Roy said, "How's it even possible that the killer hasn't left a single trace? This is totally unscientific!"
"I believe Gordon must have invited Bruce by now. After all, he is the world's greatest detective, but judging from the tone when they called me just now, it seems there hasn't been much progress. Which implies, maybe things are far more mysterious than we can ever imagine."
Roy could now only feel the pain in his head, failing to perceive the hint in Shearer's tone. Therefore, Shearer added, "The world is fair, there's nothing that can truly come without a trace leaving no clue or weakness. Maybe we should wait for a while until the situation becomes clearer."
"But we do not have that much time remaining. The music festival opening ceremony is one week away. Right now, the whole city is under the shadow of murder. The beach is barren of sunbathing tourists. If the opening ceremony flops, all the promotional fundings will go down the drain."
Shearer glanced at the calendar that hung by the window. Today was Wednesday, the final week of summer. According to the calendar, autumn would commence next week. The temperature had dropped noticeably, although not cool, it was no longer sweltering.
Standing up, Shearer moved towards the door, picking up his umbrella. Roy, accepting his hat from Merkel's hand, also opened his umbrella.
Shearer, standing by the door, glanced at the weather outside. Suddenly there was a cloudburst. Due to artificial intervention, the rainy weather in Gotham had changed. If it isn't a persistent drizzle continuing for days, it was a torrential downpour accompanied by roaring thunder.
Both men got into the car. Turning slightly, Shearer looked at Roy in the back seat and asked, "Have you seen the weather forecast for the past few days?"
"No, I have been insanely busy these days." Roy gave a weary sigh, rubbing his own temples, he continued, "A few beach maintenance companies have shown interest in our newly developed beach tourism industry in Gotham, intending to enter into a contract with us to be responsible for beach maintenance. I have been in business talks."
"Thank you for your hard work." Shiller turned his head back, gazing into the moist fog that had gathered on the glass window due to the night's drop in temperature, seemingly lost in thought.
As expected, upon arriving at the morgue of the Central Hospital, Gordon, Cobblepot, and Bruce were already there. The coroner had just withdrawn from the room, and the three were gathered around the body, discussing something in hushed tones.
When they saw Shiller and Roy entering, Gordon quickly approached them. At first glance, Shiller noted Bruce's serious expression as he scrutinized the bloated corpse, frowning deeply.
Bruce was just saying he wanted to test some tissue samples, but that would have to wait until the autopsy was completed. However, the descendants of the Lawrence family and some gang members did not trust the forensic pathologist's expertise.
Cobblepot heaved a deep sigh, saying, "I don't know who spread such rumors, but they're saying we couldn't find any clues on the bodies of the previous two cases due to lack of experience on the part of the coroner."
"What about the truth?" Shiller asked.
"It's not entirely wrong," Gordon shook his head, "The coroners in Gotham don't have much experience with autopsies because there were almost no murder cases that required them previously. If anything, they are more experienced in dealing with sudden illnesses or gunshot wound victims. Poisoning? Gothamites rarely employ such a sophisticated method in murder."
"The digestive systems of the first two bodies were meticulously analyzed, but no useful clues were found. Blood tests were done too, and anomalies were found in the test reports, but no cause could be identified."
"Take them to Arkham." Shiller decisively pointed to the ground with his umbrella and said, "Bruce, go get Lex and Pamela. I'll notify Jonah, Pig Face, and the Puppet Master. Gordon, you call Constantine and Zatanna."
"If even a consultation of such magnitude fails to yield anything, I suggest we wait it out. Even the best criminals will eventually reveal themselves."
Shiller's decisiveness took everyone by surprise, but upon further thought, everyone agreed with the arrangement. The collection of talents from Gotham University, Arkham Asylum, and Gotham Magic Academy was essentially all the best minds in this city. If such a large-scale consultation could not find any clues, then there was no other option but to wait.
Cobblepot breathed a sigh of relief, giving Shiller a grateful look. The deaths of a few gang members were not important at all. There were times when several mob bosses were replaced within three months, and things still went on. What the Godfather wanted was merely an attitude.
In other words, engaging all the scientists and magicians in Gotham to serve a single Lawrence family meant even if they couldn't find the problem, the family had to smile and play nice, right?
Shiller, Roy, and Cobblepot got into the same car. The vehicle carried them towards Arkham, on the way, Roy said, "Shiller, don't keep us in suspense, you must have a plan, right?"
"Sometimes the truth of the problem is much simpler than you think, but the solution might not be. Thus the truth isn't that important." Shiller shook his head.
The car speeded towards the small island where the Arkham Asylum is located in the darkness. Gordon led a convoy of police cars escorting the body closely behind. The mentally ill who received the news were already fully equipped and ready in the laboratory.
With a "thud", the body of Old Lawrence was lifted onto the autopsy table. The surgical lamp was turned on at its maximum power, yet it couldn't outshine the glow of wisdom in the room.
There were about seven or eight people around the table, each with at least three doctorate degrees, teaching experience in medical school, surgical licenses, and prescription rights. The dozen or so apprentices who were surrounding them were mostly students from Gotham University.
Mrs. Miller, leading the nurses, prepared for an autopsy that would last from night until midnight the next day. The gangster family members outside the door took turns waiting. It wasn't until Cobblepot was struggling to stay awake that the thick autopsy report was finally handed over to the analysis team.
Bruce, Lex, Jonah, Victor, Pamela and others - anyone with the slightest knowledge of medicine, biology, and chemistry was called over. Arrogance was high at this point, and the psychologists couldn't be much help, so he just sat in his office waiting.
However, Shiller was well aware that the analysis probably wouldn't yield much. If there truly were any noteworthy clues, Batman would have found them the moment he came into contact with the body.
As expected, the data analysis meeting lasted nearly six hours. It was already daybreak on the third day. Scientists and magicians collectively agreed that the poison was specifically designed to attack the kidneys, but its specific nature, chemical composition, method of poisoning, and ways to concoct an antidote were all unknown.
Jonah was devoting time to researching an antidote. This piqued his interest and gave him something to do for a long time. Meanwhile, Bruce and Lex were figuring out how to catch the killer.
The key lay in the only survivor.
Bruce and Lex tracked down Victor's student, a guy named Guy. They interrogated him for a long time, even treating him as a suspected criminal, but obtained no coherent clues.
The first case in history that had Batman scratching his head appeared. Meanwhile, Shiller was at his mansion, rebuilding his garden.