CHAPTER 85: CHAPTER 81: THE UNUSUAL FOREMAN_1

"How did Anthony do it?"

Dean glanced at the chaotic construction site, then at the time on his cell phone screen, his face betraying a sense of life’s absurdity.

Except for the killer. Dean didn’t believe anyone could predict the exact moment of a person’s death to the second!

Just a lesson. Anthony wouldn’t be that depraved... right?

Dean stroked his chin, deciding to call the police. He also made a personal call to Holz, who had finished his shift, asking him to bring some detection equipment and come over quickly.

Since it was a lesson, Dean didn’t want to delay.

He put away his phone, clipped his detective badge to his chest, and walked towards the construction site.

The site had been operational for over half a month, and its framework was mostly constructed. The remaining workers were mostly electricians, laying cables and installing other equipment.

The security guard at the gate, having heard the commotion, had already left his post and rushed in to see what was happening.

When Dean arrived, he saw a middle-aged man with a big beard and a potbelly scolding the gathered workers, "I’ve already called the ambulance and the insurance company! Everyone, clear out!"

Someone asked hesitantly, "Boss, shouldn’t we call the police?"

"Are you an idiot?" The bearded foreman rushed up to the man who had spoken, grabbed his collar, and roared, "This is just an accident, asshole! Are you trying to delay my construction schedule?"

Seeing the enraged foreman, the workers hastily scattered in fear.

The young man who had just spoken, also extremely nervous, stuttered, "I-I just mentioned it casually. The thing is, the insurance company will also require the police to conduct an accident assessment."

"I’ll handle it!" The foreman released the man’s collar and swept his gaze over the crowd. "I don’t want any fuss about this getting out. Otherwise, you can all get lost!"

With that, he picked up his phone, walked over to the motionless body, and started making a call as if no one else was there.

Dean: "..."

He felt as if he were seeing the killer beckoning to him.

Just then, the dispersed workers suddenly noticed Dean. Among them was the site’s security guard.

He drew a stun gun from his waist and pointed it at Dean. "Buddy, I’ve never seen you before. You shouldn’t be here!"

Hearing the commotion, the foreman turned his head and also spotted Dean.

Cursing under his breath, he quickly ended his call, aggressively snatched the stun gun from the security guard, walked up to Dean, and activated it. The stun gun emitted a loud CRACKLE. "You’re in the wrong place, asshole!"

Dean pointed to the badge on his chest and cocked his head at the bearded man. "How do you know I’m an asshole, buddy?"

The next moment, under everyone’s gaze, Dean kicked the hefty, bearded foreman, who weighed at least two hundred pounds, sending him flying four or five meters. The foreman crashed heavily onto the dusty ground, kicking up a large puff of white ash.

The kick was delivered with remarkable skill.

Though it didn’t seriously injure the foreman, it left him curled up, his face contorted in agony, struggling even to breathe, let alone scream.

For a moment, all eyes were fixed on Dean—some curious, some fearful.

But notably, none were angry.

It was clear that this big-bearded foreman was not popular among the workers; not a single person was willing to stand up for him.

Calmly, Dean took a transparent bag from his pocket, placed the stun gun into it in front of everyone, and then announced loudly, "I am Detective Dean from the Homicide and Robbery Division. This man attempted to assault a police officer with a stun gun and has been subdued. Now, everyone, gather here!"

The young security guard glanced at the bag containing the stun gun in Dean’s hand, swallowed hard, and mustered his courage to say, "We need to see your identification."

Dean shrugged. "No problem."

After scrutinizing Dean’s detective badge and making a call to confirm his identity with the police, the group obediently formed two loose lines.

The officers on duty from the precinct, the forensics team, and the Fourth Squad had yet to arrive, so Dean began the questioning himself.

Excluding the foreman and the deceased, there were a total of twenty-one people at the scene. Seventeen of them were electricians, three were general laborers, and the remaining one was the site’s night-shift security guard.

The big-bearded foreman was named Dam. He was not only the foreman but also the person in charge of this construction site. These men were all Dam’s subordinates. They usually worked as casual laborers; whenever Dam secured a project, he would call them in to work.

The deceased was named Jerry. He was 32 years old, also an electrician, and was currently in charge of cable installation and drilling. He was generally well-liked, had been divorced for many years, and had a daughter.

Before his fall, no one had noticed anything unusual about Jerry.

After Dean had briefly questioned everyone, two police cars with flashing lights arrived at the construction site. Four officers came from the precinct, led by a burly, middle-aged Black officer.

Dean went up to greet them. "Fellas, I’m Detective Dean from the Homicide and Robbery Division. I happened to be passing by, so I called it in."

"Detective Dean, are you from the Fourth Squad?" A young white officer standing next to the middle-aged Black officer asked, looking at Dean curiously.

Dean nodded with a smile. "Buddy, you’ve heard of me?"

"Yes." The young white officer explained to his colleague, "Hawk—the bald one—spoke highly of Dean. He praised his competence and, crucially, said he’s a stand-up guy who doesn’t forget his friends when credit is due."

"Wow."

The precinct patrolmen immediately looked at Dean with much friendlier expressions.

The middle-aged Black officer in the lead also smiled. "Detective Dean, it looks like we’re in luck today."

"Yes, fellas," Dean said confidently. "I reckon your bonuses next month will be quite a bit bigger, and you’ll add a nice commendation to your records."

That was the power of reputation.

The entire Homicide and Robbery Division, with its four squads, only numbered about fifty or sixty people. The rank and file at the precincts knew very well who was good and who wasn’t.

Thanks to Hawk’s reputation, these four patrol officers were very cooperative with Dean.

Before long, the identities of everyone present had been recorded. The area around the deceased, as well as the watchtower from which he had fallen, were cordoned off with police tape.

Just as Dean was preparing to go up the watchtower to examine the environment where Jerry had been before his death, the irate, bearded foreman charged over again. The middle-aged Black officer leading the precinct team, who was standing nearby, subtly signaled to Dean with his eyes.

Dean understood immediately. This foreman, Dam, being able to secure construction contracts for the prison, must have a background that wasn’t so simple.

"Fuck you, bastard! How dare you hurt me! I’m gonna—" Dam’s intimidating bluster vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

The cold barrel of Dean’s gun, stuffed into his mouth, was enough to make most people switch from furious rage to perfect calm in an instant.

Dam was no exception.

"Cooled down?" Dean asked, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

Dam nodded obediently.

"I don’t care what your status is or what your background might be. The fact is, you assaulted an officer. That’s backed by solid evidence and numerous eyewitnesses. If you don’t want me to press charges, you’ll cooperate with me fully. Understand?"

Dam nodded obediently again.

Looks like he really gets it now, Dean thought.

Dean withdrew the gun barrel, wiped it disdainfully on the front of Dam’s shirt, then turned to the middle-aged Black officer, who was looking at him with admiration. "Buddy, I’d like to have a word with him alone."

"No problem." The officer gave Dean a thumbs-up and stepped aside.

As soon as the middle-aged officer stepped away, Dam, the foreman who had been so aggressive moments before, immediately began to plead, "Detective Dean, I’m so sorry. Someone died down there, and I... I just got a bit carried away."

Dean pulling his gun like that had clearly terrified him. Most people are like that, actually. They’ll walk all over good people, but they’re scared of those who are truly ruthless.

Dean smiled, took a cigarette from his pocket, slipped it into Dam’s still-trembling mouth, then took out a lighter and lit it for him. "Don’t be nervous, buddy. As long as no one tries to deceive me, I’m generally an easy guy to talk to. Just tell me why you didn’t want anyone calling the police, and I’ll let the matter of you assaulting an officer slide."

Generally, for projects involving the government, all workers must be insured before starting work. This is to avoid subsequent problems that could tarnish the government’s reputation. An insurance company would cover the costs. So, even if someone accidentally fell to their death, it shouldn’t have resulted in a financial loss for Dam.

His reaction earlier was far too abnormal!