007. A Beautiful Corpse
Pierre parked his car on the edge of a building, offering a sweeping view of the dock where sleek yachts and speedboats bobbed gently. Stepping out, he was soon joined by Nora, and together they made their way towards an apartment building cordoned off by police tape and surrounded by a throng of onlookers. Thankfully, a police officer recognized Pierre and granted them access to the crime scene.
As they approached, a man in a sharply tailored suit and tie emerged from the crowd. His meticulously combed blonde hair framed a face that belied his age; despite being two years older than Pierre, his slender physique and immaculate appearance made him appear younger. The man extended his hand to Nora, an unusual gesture in France where bisous, or kisses on the cheek, are the norm.
"I’m Olivier Grange," he introduced himself, shaking Nora’s hand firmly. He then led them up the stairs to the third floor, where the victim had been found. As they ascended, Olivier filled Pierre in on the details. Like the situation in Russia, all electronic devices in the apartment had been rendered useless, with no signs of hacking. He guided them through a door guarded by two police officers.
Inside, the small student apartment was teeming with forensic staff, their presence a stark contrast to the tight quarters. Nora noticed a flicker of irritation cross Pierre’s face as he surveyed the bustling scene. Olivier, noticing Pierre’s displeasure, explained in a clipped tone that the police had permitted their entry on the condition that they would not interfere with the ongoing investigation. Pierre's face reddened, a clear sign of his displeasure.
Understanding the tension between the police and FN, Nora stepped forward, her resolve firm. She flashed her special identification card and addressed the room with authority. "Nora Laurent, DGSI," she announced, holding her card high for all to see. "Our team will be analyzing the crime scene first. Please clear the room immediately! We guarantee that not a single piece of evidence will be disturbed during our investigation!"
The forensic staff hesitated, their murmurs of discontent growing louder before they grudgingly complied with Nora’s order, vacating the room. Moments later, only Nora, Pierre, Olivier, and the lifeless body of a young woman remained in the room.
"I just want to see the end of this case, Mr. Balzac," Nora said, meeting Pierre’s inquiring gaze. He responded with a nod of understanding.
Pierre crouched beside the body of the young woman, her exquisite form barely concealed by the fetal position she lay in. Her blonde hair, rich and lustrous, fanned out around her like a disheveled halo, catching the dim light and casting delicate shadows across her porcelain skin. The grace of her physique was evident even in death; her features, though twisted by a final, silent agony, retained a haunting beauty. Her smooth, alabaster skin, unmarred by visible bruises or wounds, suggested a life marked by delicate refinement and youthful allure.
Yet, Pierre’s seasoned intuition sensed otherwise. He positioned himself almost parallel to the corpse, his long hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail, as he scrutinized every inch of the victim’s body. With meticulous care, he examined the curves and contours of her body, from the gentle slope of her shoulders to the delicate arch of her back. Each movement of his hands was deliberate, his eyes tracing the lines of her form with practiced precision. The beauty of her body was starkly contrasted by the grim reality of her death, a juxtaposition that only deepened the mystery of her demise.
Olivier, standing nearby, reached into the deep pocket of his tailored coat and pulled out a device that resembled a blocky flashlight, though it was significantly more complex. The device had a sleek, metallic finish, with various switches and dials lining its surface. Its rectangular body was about the size of a small book, with a prominent lens at one end and a faint glow emanating from the edges. Olivier held it with a practiced ease, his fingers deftly adjusting the settings as he prepared to use it. The sophisticated gadget seemed almost out of place in the gritty reality of the crime scene, its technological sophistication contrasting sharply with the stark environment around them.
“There’s an injury near the tailbone,” Pierre announced as he stood up, his expression grave.
Nora quickly knelt and scrutinized the area Pierre had indicated. The victim's buttocks displayed an unnaturally smooth and delicate texture, marred only by the natural folds of skin. At first glance, everything appeared unremarkable. However, as she focused on the specific spot Pierre had pointed out, she noticed a minute, almost imperceptible mark just above the victim’s anus. The spot was so tiny it resembled nothing more than a reddish pore. Its presence was subtle, blending almost seamlessly with the surrounding skin, making it easy to overlook without close examination.
“Your questions will be answered once it is scanned,” Pierre said, stepping back.
Olivier moved forward, his attention entirely absorbed by the device in his hand. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he activated the gadget. Instantly, a brilliant beam of light swept over the body, akin to a camera flash but far more intense and penetrating. The device emitted a rapid succession of clicking sounds paired with subtle crackling noises, creating an auditory rhythm that seemed to stretch on longer than anticipated. The continuous, almost rhythmic noise underscored the fact that the device was not simply taking a photograph but was engaged in a sophisticated process of detailed analysis, scanning beyond the surface into the very fabric of the evidence.
Nora watched intently, her heart racing as the mysterious equipment whirred and flickered. Olivier’s device, now glowing with a low, rhythmic pulse, once again cast its light over the victim's body in a meticulous sweep. The clicking grew sharper, each echoing like a drumbeat in the heavy silence that enveloped the room. The crackling sounds intensified, a crackling tension mingling with the charged air. Every second stretched, thickening the atmosphere with palpable anxiety as they awaited the device's revelation.