Los Angeles Legendary Sleuth

The next morning.

FBI Criminal Investigation Department.

Luke walked into the office yawning; last night's interrogation ended at midnight, and he only got to rest after one in the morning when he got home.

Seeing Luke arrive, Michael called everyone for a meeting.

"Amir, can you talk about last night's interrogation?"

Amir ran a hand through his messy hair, "Last night, we found Filippo Carter at a client's house from the Venus Club.

He admitted to seeing the deceased on the night of October 3rd and said he slept with the victim.

But he denied having anything to do with the victim's death.

Additionally, he claimed to have seen the murderer who killed the victim.

Based on the clues he provided, the murderer is male, wore a mask during the crime, and was driving a black sedan, which is very likely a Lexus."

Michael rubbed his chin, "We've checked the surveillance footage near the crime scene, but we didn't spot a black Lexus around the time of the incident."

Being an outsider, Luke was not familiar with the terrain in Most Mountain, so he asked, "Is the crime scene located on a hillside, and is the surrounding terrain complex? Are there several branches, and does each branch have surveillance?"

Michael replied, "That's the problem; the mountain terrain isn't high, but it is quite complex, with many branches.

Two of the main roads have surveillance, but some smaller intersections do not.

It is indeed quite challenging to investigate."

Michael shifted the focus of the conversation, "Do you think it's possible that Filippo Carter is lying? Could he be the real killer?"

Luke had considered this possibility as well, but he shook his head, "I didn't see any signs of him lying; it's unlikely."

Amir nodded, "I don't think he's lying either.

Moreover, this case is very similar to the Blood Hand Mac case.

The method of operation, the special symbols left at the scene, and even the mask worn by the suspect are reminiscent of the serial murder cases from five years ago.

The killer who murdered Grace Bloomberg is definitely somehow connected to Blood Hand Mac.

I want to go to the prison and have a chat with Blood Hand Mac."

Luke said, "Good idea, it might open up a new direction for the investigation."

Michael shrugged, "OK, then you two go on ahead, I'll take care of tracking that black Lexus."

...

Riker's Island Prison.

The prison is located on an island between Queens and the Bronx, covering a large area with many cell blocks, housing about tens of thousands of detainees.

Not long after Grace Bloomberg was killed, the FBI had already contacted the prison and expressed the desire to meet with Blood Hand Mac.

Once communication with the prison authorities was settled, Luke and Amir arrived at the prison that afternoon.

Luke met the infamous Blood Hand Mac.

Blood Hand Mac was not very tall, probably just over five foot seven, with a thin build and sporting a small mustache. Despite wearing prison garb, he looked quite refined, not at all like a vicious criminal from the outside.

What stood out about him were his hands, which were unlike the rough fingers typical of men; his hands were slender, long, and beautiful, with meticulously trimmed nails.

Blood Hand Mac also sized up Luke and Amir, a faint smile on his face, "It's been a long time since I've seen strangers, can you tell me about the outside world?"

Luke didn't directly ask about case-related matters and casually inquired, "What do you want to know?"

"In the past two years, have there been any new famous pianists?"

This question really stumped Luke, as he hadn't paid any attention to such news, and he turned his head to Amir beside him.

Amir also shrugged, "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed; we're not very knowledgeable about the piano world.

However, if you'd like, I can bring a few piano magazines for you next time we meet."

"Thank you.

That's exactly what I need."

If it weren't for knowing his identity, Luke would find it hard to believe that this is the serial killer responsible for dozens of lives.

"Why did you kill people back then?"

"I explained that very clearly after I was caught."

Luke smiled, "I'd like to hear it from you in person.

Moreover, I don't think we have any other common language."

Mac scratched his ear, "If I cooperate with your investigation, what's in it for me?"

"What else do you want?"

"I want freedom." Mac laughed at himself, "I know that's not possible.

However, I'd like to attend a piano performance, preferably playing Beethoven pieces."

Luke chuckled, "What gives you the illusion that you are in a position to negotiate with us?

Listen, we can give you some benefits, but it's at our discretion.

If you think you can extort something from the FBI, you're gravely mistaken."

Mac raised his hands, "I surrender; I know you have many ways to deal with me, you bunch of despicable people." Mac twisted his right hand, flipping a middle finger.

Luke reiterated his previous question, "Why did you kill people back then?"

Mac reminisced, "I was a pianist; the piano was my everything, it was my life.

I possess a pair of skillful hands that can play wonderful music. I could have been a piano maestro.

However, a car accident resulted in an injury to my left hand." Mike rolled up his left arm's sleeve, revealing indeed a patch of scars, "Through hospital treatment, the wounds on my arm healed up.

But the nerves in my arm were damaged, and my fingers no longer obeyed commands.

I can no longer play beautiful melodies on the piano.

I fell into confusion and pain. I visited many hospitals for treatment, but I still couldn't completely heal the nerve damage in my left hand.

Every time I played piano, my fingers trembled.

At that moment, I felt like a useless person.

I envy and am jealous of those who have healthy, beautiful, and nimble hands.

As time went by, these feelings only deepened rather than diminished.

Eventually, I couldn't restrain my impulse and killed a person for the first time.

I still remember her; she was a beautiful woman with a pair of nearly perfect hands, hands that were perfect for playing the piano.

I killed her.

Cut off her hands." At this point, Mike sighed, "Unfortunately, it was my first time doing such a thing, and I had no experience nor knowledge on how to preserve those beautiful hands.

Those hands eventually went bad.

After this incident, I seemed to find a way to make myself happy and fulfilled, so I learned how to preserve human arms.

After that, I began hunting those with beautiful hands, claiming their hands as my own.

Until you FBI caught me." Mike said with a sigh, "I hate it here; not only is there no freedom, but everyone here has ugly, very ugly hands."

Luke asked, "I've seen your list of victims; most of the people killed by you were women, predominantly socialites and wealthy heiresses. Is wealth also a criterion for your selection?"

"No, no, no, I don't care about wealth at all. I only care if the prey's hands are perfect.

However, from my experience, women from wealthy families have a much higher proportion of beautiful hands than ordinary people. Not only do they have good innate conditions, but they also know how to maintain them."

Luke held up the photo of the round Blood Stain Symbol, "Why do you leave this mark at every crime scene? Does it have any special meaning?"

Mike gazed at the Blood Stain Symbol in a daze, his hand tracing over the table—a circle, with a triangle inside, and two interlocked S symbols inside the triangle.

Looking at these symbols, Luke recognized them, but together, he didn't understand them.

Mike smiled faintly, "I miss this symbol; it's my own creation, and it doesn't mean anything."

Luke stared at him, "I don't like people lying to me."

Mike snorted, "I didn't lie. If you don't trust me, you can send me back to my cell."

Luke took a note in his book and pulled out a photo of Grace Bloomberg, "Do you know her?"

Mike took the photo, "Her hands are not bad; I think I've seen these hands." His gaze moved up, staring at Grace Bloomberg's face, "Yes, I should have seen her, but I can't remember exactly."

Luke reminded him, "Her name is Grace Bloomberg."

"Grace…" Mike repeated, snapping his fingers, "That's right, it's her, the wife of the Mayor of New York. I truly didn't expect her bastard husband would continue to serve as Mayor of New York."

"Have you met her?"

"At a party, she even performed a piano piece."

"Would you consider her as a target?"

Mike looked at the photo, "No."

"Why not? Are you afraid of her mayor husband?"

"Haha…" Mike laughed, "If I were afraid, I wouldn't have ended up in here.

Her hands are considered beautiful, well-maintained too, but not perfect, not worth my effort."

Luke pressed further, "Do you think her piano performance was good?"

"Among amateur pianists, she's quite good, but…" Mike didn't finish, but Luke could already see a trace of disdain on his face.

"Why did you seek me out?"

Luke pointed at the photo, "This woman was murdered."

"When?"

"A few days ago."

Mike shrugged, "What does that have to do with me? I've been locked up here for years."

"After her death, her arms were severed."

Mike responded indifferently, "America, especially big cities like New York, never lacks weirdos."

"Your usual Blood Stain Symbol was left at the crime scene."

Mike raised an eyebrow, "Identical to the symbol I used to leave?"

"Yes."

Mike chuckled, "That's rather interesting."

"Let's be clear, we are here to investigate this case, hoping you can provide clues about the killer."

Mike asked back, "You think the killer is related to me?"

Amir said, "We are very familiar with your file; these two cases share many similarities, it can't be a coincidence.

My guess is, this killer is likely your fan, admirer, or follower.

Furthermore, he may have contacted you recently."