The next morning, Captain Thomas Matthews rushed to the homicide department.
When he opened the door, he only found Masuka talking with Ángel while they sipped coffee, but Larry was nowhere to be seen.
"Has the forensic doctor Luk not arrived yet?"
Ángel quickly stood up from his desk and said, "Dr. Luk is here. He just stepped outside for a smoke. Do you need me to leave him a message?"
"No, just remind Luk not to act recklessly in his investigations. Later, he'll realize that some of the things he does might not be entirely legal."
"Are we talking about Luk?" Masuka thought for a moment but couldn't recall Larry ever acting improperly in his investigations. In fact, as the chief forensic expert, his mental state was considered abnormal, but that was normal for people working in forensics.
"Understood." Ángel, on the other hand, thought that Captain Thomas Matthews was here because of what they had done the day before with Amanda's hand.
Now that he thought about it more clearly, if, for some reason, that woman really had her entire hand, the trouble they would have faced would have been far greater than they could imagine.
"By the way, how's the progress on the case you're working on?"
Ángel finished eating the doughnut he had in his hand and nearly choked upon hearing that question. He blinked several times and looked at Captain Thomas Matthews with a perplexed expression.
"Which case?"
Captain Thomas Matthews was so angry that his old eyebrows trembled slightly. Holding his forehead, he asked, "Which case?! Weren't you working on the Christmas case? Do you not even remember what cases you've handled?"
"Holy God..." Masuka murmured, thinking that his captain, on the verge of retirement, might be suffering from some memory issues.
Ángel, who understood shortly after what his captain was referring to, took off his hat and said, "Well... You mean the Christmas case with the successful man, right? The case was solved last night, and the suspect confessed. For a moment, I thought our department was working on another huge case."
"I thought the same. I assumed he was talking about the prostitutes' case," Masuka joined Ángel's conclusion as he finished his cup of coffee.
Captain Thomas Matthews' angry expression shifted to one of surprise. "The case was solved?"
"Mmm!"
"None of us would have thought that a criminal profiler was what we needed to speed up our work. While we're out in the field, Larry takes care of the primary investigation."
"Yeah, well, I'd prefer if they left control of the pathology department to me," Masuka still feared that his position might be given to Larry after he had demonstrated his potential.
Captain Thomas Matthews didn't dwell on Masuka's nonsense; instead, he focused on the Christmas case.
Less than forty-eight hours had passed from the moment the crime occurred to the moment the suspect confessed.
Since then, Lieutenant LaGuerta's report had indicated that the description of the killer given by forensic doctor Luk was quite accurate.
But when Matthews had gone to rest, nothing had happened yet, nor had he been informed.
And now, it turns out the case was solved, and he was the last to know.
"I wasn't informed."
"Well, that was supposed to be Sergeant Doakes' job..."
It could be considered a miracle that a murder case with no leads was solved in forty-eight hours. All the homicide detectives thought the same as the captain.
But for those who had worked with Larry, they knew this was no miracle.
The captain nodded, trying his best to smooth the wrinkles on his face.
"That lieutenant trying to bypass me again, damn it."
After Captain Thomas Matthews finished speaking, he didn't wait for Ángel to respond and quickly left the office.
Except for the team investigating the Christmas case, all the other detectives were in the department. This room was large, shared by all the other detectives, with desks close to their colleagues, meaning everyone had heard exactly what had happened.
"Well, I'll pretend I didn't hear any of that and keep eating my doughnut," Ángel said as he started talking about other things with Masuka.
"Yeah, I'll do the same."
…
Twenty minutes later, Larry had returned from the evidence vault to finalize details of his investigation.
On his way to his desk, Larry ran into Dexter in the hallway. He nodded slightly and stepped aside to let him pass.
Dexter, however, didn't rush as he usually did. Instead, he raised his hand to help Larry with his large investigation files.
"Dr. Luk, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner last night."
Larry, who had originally been in a hurry to send some files to a friend, paused and said, "Well, you'll be able to attend another gathering."
"Well, this time, I'll have to invite you." Dexter looked at Larry, who had a calm expression, and patted him on the shoulder.
Larry observed Dexter's expression and asked, "So, is your specialty blood spatter analysis?"
"Yes, I do something similar to a criminal profiler, except instead of investigating, I just receive the data and reconstruct the crime scene to find details that were previously missed."
Larry smiled and said objectively, "Unfortunately, as forensic doctors, there's not much we can do. Everything depends on the criminal police. Whether or not they catch our target is entirely in their hands."
Dexter chuckled and said, "If we're fast, the detectives will finish their job even faster."
On their way back, Larry chatted with the peculiar Dexter, who now seemed more interested in talking to him than on any other day.
To Larry, Dexter Morgan was a methodical, organized, and highly intelligent man. His work as a forensic analyst specializing in blood spatter at the Miami Metro Police Department allowed him to navigate crime scenes with ease. At first glance, he appeared to be a reserved individual, with dry humor and an impeccable professional attitude. However, certain traits in his behavior caught Larry's attention.
Dexter exhibited an almost inhuman level of emotional control. He showed no signs of stress or anxiety in situations where most people would feel some degree of discomfort. His ability to remain unshaken by violent scenes—even seeming to enjoy them at times—suggested an unusual emotional detachment.
His social interactions are correct but forced. Larry then realized that it was evident Dexter had learned to replicate expected behaviors rather than experience them genuinely. His relationship with his sister, Debra Morgan, at the station was peculiar. There was undeniable affection, but Morgan's expression was awkward and lacked real emotional depth.
With this in mind, Larry had no doubt that Dexter followed a similar pattern in his romantic relationships: he acted as expected, but with an underlying disconnection.
However, the most intriguing aspect was his life structure. Dexter was a man of strict routines. He always arrived at work at the exact same time, avoided abrupt changes in his daily life, and maintained an almost obsessive control over his free time. He left no room for improvisation, indicating an extreme need for control.
Despite these traits, there was nothing about him that suggested a particularly conspicuous hidden agenda. Perhaps he was simply a man with emotional attachment issues, or someone who, due to his job, had developed a natural insensitivity to violence. A possible childhood trauma could explain his emotional disconnection, but without additional information, pinpointing its origin was impossible.
In summary, to Larry, Dexter Morgan was a peculiar individual but not remarkable enough to obsess over. He was efficient, solitary, and meticulous. Maybe he was just a man who had learned to survive in a world he didn't fully understand.
When Larry returned to the homicide department with Dexter, both went to their respective workstations after finishing their conversation.
"Do you have your report ready? The captain seems to be in a bad mood today."
"Well, he can wait a bit, can't he? Weren't we fast enough?" Larry didn't understand the captain's impatience.
Ángel and Masuka's expressions darkened instantly.
"Well, Dexter told us he'd be treating us to dinner tonight." Like a pack of lone dogs, Masuka, Ángel, and Max lit up at the thought of not having to pay for another meal.
"That sounds great."
…
Hours of hard work later, the sun had set.
The beach near the bay was filled with barbecue stands, selling grilled seafood, barbecue skewers, and ice-cold beer.
There was no doubt that business was booming.
As night fell, more and more people arrived at the beach.
This time, a trio of men sat around a round table, enjoying grilled seafood and cold beer.
Oysters, with half of their shells cracked open, were placed on the grill. As the fire roasted them, they shrank and bubbled slightly.
Larry picked up an oyster, used a knife to gently peel away the adductor muscle attached to the smooth inner surface, dipped it in a bit of seafood sauce, and popped it into his mouth.
"This reminds me of…"
"Don't mention it, or we'll get kicked out of this place. Damn it, we agreed not to talk about work outside the department," Masuka interrupted Larry before he could say anything strange.
"Now that I think about it, we're all forensic specialists at this table," Dexter said, looking at Masuka, who was already quite drunk.
"Well, it's a shame Ángel's daughter got sick. I hope the girl gets better." Masuka felt so bad about it that he downed the rest of his beer.
"Yeah, I hope she gets better," Larry said, his eyes fixed on the waves of the sea.
"What are you looking at?"
"I'm just picturing jellyfish…"
Masuka looked at Larry, then at the ocean, and said, "Well, when I look at the sea, I imagine big-breasted mermaids. Damn, every illustration of a mermaid looks like something out of an adult magazine."
"Haha, keep your voice down," Dexter said, feeling the stares of the people around them.
Larry, on the other hand, murmured, "I like jellyfish…"
Regretting his own initiative, Dexter started thinking of a quick way to end what had become an increasingly out-of-control work dinner.