Chapter 42

Urgent footsteps and knocking woke Officer Lu Ka from half-sleep; he cursed twice, then forced a smile at the female officer on duty at the door, “So the rebels have reached the Presidential Palace, have they?”

Recently, the immigration controversy has sparked major unrest, with people gathering outside the Presidential Palace to protest the Federal Government’s “inaction” on illegal immigration and smuggling; some jokingly called for “storming the Presidential Palace” to rally opposition against the government’s inaction.

He’d been roused from his drowsy night shift—he had to vent his frustration.

It’s understandable to be dissatisfied with the status quo, and understandable to complain about the system.

The female officer’s serious expression broke into a brief, involuntary laugh; she realized it was inappropriate and quickly said, “A serious home invasion and assault case has occurred—the precinct needs you.”

The Criminal Investigations Unit of the Jincheng City Police Bureau is under the headquarters; after receiving a criminal case, the precinct forwards it to headquarters for case assignment—the precinct has no authority to handle criminal investigations.

Of course, “handling” here doesn’t mean precinct officers ignore criminal cases—they still bear responsibility for stopping crimes and making on-site arrests—but all investigative work is transferred entirely to headquarters’ Criminal Investigations Unit, which consolidates citywide resources to solve the case.

This is a form of resource optimization.

Officer Lu Ka was one of the three Criminal Investigations officers on duty at headquarters tonight; the other two had already left—Jincheng’s nights aren’t safe.

He slapped his thighs to stand up, rubbed his face, stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and headed for the door; the female officer hurried after him and handed him a note with basic details.

Officer Lu Ka arrived at the scene quickly—Johnny’s Bakery—put on gloves, crossed the crime tape, and entered the bakery.

Several colleagues were already working—collecting evidence; the on-site lead was the precinct’s night patrol officer.

“Hey…” They knew each other; Lu Ka walked over, offered him a cigarette, and they lit up together, “What’s the situation?”

The patrol officer summarized briefly: “Someone called in—a violent home invasion. The hospital said over twenty fractures, and over a thousand dollars stolen.”

Lu Ka noticed several labeled bags on a table—evidence.

A few wrapped brown-paper breads caught his attention: “What’s in these?”

“Bread and ham.”

Officer Lu Ka opened one, then whistled: “Looks like they left their late-night snack behind.” He turned to the patrol officer, “What do you think?”

The patrol officer outlined what he’d found: “No signs of forced entry—all windows locked, no climbing marks. The only two possible entry doors showed no damage—they came and went through the front door.”

“The front door’s intact too?”

“Could they have picked the lock?”

Ordinary people might not know, but as an officer, he knew well—modern locks aren’t very secure; skilled individuals can easily pick them without leaving traces.

The patrol officer shook his head: “The lock was on the inside.”

Officer Lu Ka raised an eyebrow: “Then when the owner was attacked, there must have been a second person inside the bakery.”

The patrol officer nodded: “The apprentice.”

The case was mostly clear now; he glanced again at the paper bags—the wrapping was expert, clearly done often.

If there had been only bread or only ham, it might not mean anything.

But together, it was clearly suspicious.

Bread and ham stored together cause flavor transfer—the ham’s odor seeps into the bread; as a merchant, neither owner nor apprentice would make such a mistake.

So it must have been done outside work.

Looking at the bread crumbs scattered everywhere, he’d already pieced together the likely sequence: “Where are they?”

“They went to the hospital with the boss.”

“This case shouldn’t have been sent to us,” he muttered, “A case this obvious doesn’t warrant wasting police resources.”

Most importantly, it didn’t warrant disturbing his sleep!

The patrol officer smiled: “Honestly, I didn’t want to either—but that’s the rule.”

After shaking hands, Officer Lu Ka returned outside the crime tape, drove off, radioed for backup, and headed straight back to headquarters—arrests didn’t require his involvement.

Meanwhile, Johnny had just fallen asleep.

His arms were broken into seven or eight pieces; according to the doctor, he wouldn’t recover for six months, and even after healing, he’d be left with deformities and unable to handle heavy hand movements.

Things like kneading dough were out of the question; the apprentice had struggled hard to hold back tears, yet his face still carried an odd, unsettling cheerfulness.

“Your boss has health insurance—that’s good news—but there are non-insurance fees to settle, like the ambulance bill. You should notify his family.”

Soon after, the boss’s daughter and her boyfriend arrived; the apprentice had heard about her boyfriend but never met him—skin slightly dark, looking over thirty.

“How’s Johnny?” she demanded the moment she arrived; the apprentice summarized the situation.

As he comforted the boss’s daughter, two officers approached: “...Sir (apprentice), we need you to cooperate and explain what happened.”

The apprentice reassured the boss’s daughter briefly and followed the two officers away.

He had no experience—technically, if he were merely a victim, his statement should’ve been taken quietly.

Instead, he was taken straight back to headquarters and locked in an interrogation room.

At that moment, he sensed something was off.

Officer Lu Ka entered ten minutes later with a clipboard; the “quiet” time hadn’t calmed him—it had only made him more anxious.

Seeing Lu Ka enter, he instinctively stood up, wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to begin.

Officer Lu Ka sat across from him, gestured for him to sit: “Smoke?”

The apprentice shook his head: “No, thanks.”

Lu Ka took one for himself: “Mind if I do?”

“No.”

He lit it, inhaled deeply: “Care to explain why you attacked your boss?”

The apprentice froze, then denied it: “I didn’t do it!” His innocent expression made Lu Ka smile—too fake, terrible acting.

He’d seen all kinds of criminals here—some with terrible acting skills.

Others so good he doubted whether he’d arrested the wrong person, misinterpreted the evidence.

This young man was clearly bad at hiding his emotions.

“The lock was on the inside—meaning someone opened the door for them. Two people were inside. You weren’t hurt. Your boss was robbed and severely injured. Do you think that’s coincidence?”

The apprentice was drenched in sweat, trembling slightly, feeling both hungry and desperate to defecate; he still tried to defend himself: “Maybe… we just forgot to lock the door at night.”

Officer Lu Ka laughed: “The bread you wrapped for them—they forgot to take it. Your fingerprints are on it. Theirs are too.”

Watching the apprentice go completely blank, Lu Ka shook his head—disturbing his sleep for such a simple case was ridiculous.

He yawned, utterly uninterested: “Write down their names. Write down how you planned it. I’ll plead for leniency with the judge—you’ll get maybe two or three years.”

“If we investigate and find this was a violent home invasion, that’s a serious crime. If they say you masterminded it all, you could face over ten years.”

“This case has no ambiguity—even if you don’t talk, I’ll check your social circle and find these people.”

“I’m saying this not just because you’re young, but because I don’t want to waste police time and resources on your little case.”

“You’ve already committed a crime!”

The apprentice sat motionless for a long while, his mind stuck on one question: weren’t police supposed to be idiots in movies and books?

How… how had he been caught in less than an hour?

After two or three minutes, his body suddenly tensed—then relaxed. He lowered his head and began naming the others and his motive.

When he heard the apprentice had orchestrated the whole crime just to learn his boss’s recipe and techniques, Officer Lu Ka’s mind struggled to catch up.

In the end, he looked at the apprentice’s signed statement, rubbed his eyebrows—even with cooperation, it was still over five years.

Legally speaking, he was the mastermind, the planner—the others were merely executors.

The law despises masterminds far more than executors!

He gave the apprentice one final pitying look: “I hope this teaches you a lesson, kid.”