met free Chapter 1138 The Corpse in the Culvert
Chapter 1138 The Corpse in the Culvert
“I grabbed his arm and pulled him this way. His body was very heavy, and I used all my strength.” He made a pulling motion with his hands, and the muscles on his arms bulged slightly from the force. “His head kept hitting the ground with a thud, and his clothes rubbed against the cement floor, leaving a dark mark.”
At the corner of the wall at the end of the track, there was a 15x20 cm abrasion mark. The shape of the mark was exactly the same as the clothing fiber residue on Zhang Jianguo's back, perfectly matching the scope and shape of "extensive abrasions on the back" in the forensic report. The fiber residue on the ground was tested and found to be the cotton-polyester blend of Zhang Jianguo's work pants, and the degree of wear on the fibers showed strong dragging characteristics.
"What did you use to wipe the steel pipe?" Xiao Wang pointed to a blue rag in an evidence bag not far away. The edges of the rag were blackened, and it was stained with large patches of machine oil and dark red stains. Li Xiaodong's gaze fell on a metal bucket in the corner of the warehouse. The bucket still contained half a bucket of murky liquid, with a layer of oil floating on the surface. "I used the water from that bucket to wet this rag and wipe it," he said, pointing to a dark stain in the corner. "After wiping it, I threw the rag here. I was too flustered at the time and didn't notice where I threw it."
The technician picked up the rag and, under the ultraviolet light, it immediately showed a pale blue fluorescence, perfectly matching the bloodstains on the steel pipe. The oil composition on the rag, compared with the oil on the warehouse floor, was the same type of mechanical lubricant. Trace amounts of bearing steel powder remained in the fibers—the same powder found in Li Xiaodong's work pants pocket, and also perfectly matching the bearing steel powder found under Zhang Jianguo's fingernails.
As Li Xiaodong walked to the corner of the warehouse, beneath a ventilation shaft, he suddenly looked up, his gaze falling on the rusty iron fence. Two wires of the fence were bent in a V-shape, a small piece of dark blue fabric dangling from their tips, fluttering gently in the breeze. “That’s how I reached in and cut the surveillance power cable,” he said, opening his palm to show a width of about 15 centimeters. “The gap between the wires was just enough to fit my hand. The scissors were stolen from Li Jun’s toolbox; there was even a small nick in the blade.”
The technician used calipers to measure the spacing between the wires. "15.2 centimeters," he reported precisely, almost identical to Li Xiaodong's description. The fabric scraps on the fence, upon testing, were found to be from Zhang Jianguo's work pants, perfectly matching his statement that he was "snagged while being dragged." On the ground below the ventilation vent, there was a shallow footprint; the pattern and size of the footprint were exactly the same as Li Xiaodong's work shoes. Several strands of cut electrical wire were scattered next to the footprint, the clean ends matching his description of "notched scissors."
On the cement ground at the warehouse entrance, several size 43 diamond-patterned shoe prints were clearly visible. The edges of the prints were somewhat blurred due to the roughness of the cement, but it was still evident that the wear on the left forefoot was more severe than that on the right. "You came in wearing these shoes?" Xiao Wang took out the pair of work shoes found in Li Xiaodong's rented room from the evidence bag. The diamond pattern on the soles perfectly matched the shoe prints on the ground, and the wear on the left forefoot, measured by instruments, was 12% more severe than that on the right—exactly matching the results of the on-site investigation.
The technician shone a UV lamp on the shoe prints on the ground, and a pale blue fluorescence immediately appeared around the prints, perfectly matching the cement residue left in Li Xiaodong's shoe seams. "Stride length 72 centimeters," he measured the distance between the two prints with a tape measure, "Based on the stride length, your height is about 170 centimeters, which perfectly matches your height." Li Xiaodong lowered his head, looking at his own shoe prints on the ground overlapping with the other prints at the scene, and suddenly let out a suppressed sob.
The identification process lasted for a full three hours, until the midday sun shone through the warehouse's skylights, casting clear patches of light on the ground. Li Xiaodong's confession, along with the details of the on-site investigation and forensic autopsy, fit together seamlessly: from the location where he climbed over the wall to the method of cutting the surveillance camera, from every movement during the struggle to the way the murder weapon was used, from the dragging trajectory to the details of wiping the murder weapon... every link was supported by conclusive evidence.
When he finally pointed out the location of the bed board where he had hidden the bearings, Li Xiaodong suddenly collapsed onto the cold cement floor, ran his hands through his disheveled hair, and let out a desperate wail: "I really didn't mean to kill him... I just wanted to steal some bearings to sell and pay off my debts... If he hadn't stopped me, I wouldn't have..." His voice grew softer and softer, until it became a mumbled, indistinct whisper, "I was bewitched... I'm so sorry to him..."
Hearing his cries from outside the police cordon, Liu Guiying suddenly stopped struggling, staring blankly at the warehouse entrance, tears streaming down her face like broken beads. She slowly raised the portrait in her hand, making Zhang Jianguo in the photo "look" at the murderer who killed him, her lips moving as if she were speaking to her husband. Sunlight streamed through the warehouse's transom window, illuminating the outline of the bloodstains on the ground. Those previously scattered clues—the bloodstained bearing, the worn shoe prints, the broken power cord, the blood-stained steel pipe—now revealed their most gruesome forms in the light of the truth.
As the officers put Li Xiaodong back into the police car, he suddenly broke free from their grasp, glanced back at the gloomy warehouse, his eyes filled with fear and remorse. The warehouse's iron gate slowly closed, creaking as if drawing a heavy curtain on this tragedy caused by greed. The sirens echoed through the empty factory area, gradually disappearing into the distant mist, leaving only Liu Guiying's figure, clutching the portrait, looking particularly lonely in the sunlight.
The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, and the culvert on National Highway 339 resembled a dark, gaping eye embedded beneath the roadbed. As Li Ming's police car pulled up at the culvert entrance, the crunch of its tires over gravel startled several sparrows perched on the culvert wall. The complainant, Zhang Tingfeng, squatted outside the police cordon, his work pants stained with mud at the knees, clutching a rusty shovel, chunks of mud still dripping from its tip.
“He was right inside,” Zhang Tingfeng’s voice trembled slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I came to clear the drain at six in the morning. As soon as I lifted the stone slab at the culvert entrance, I smelled something. I shone my flashlight in… and there he was, floating in the water, his face all white from being soaked.” Zhang Tingfeng suddenly turned his head away and started gagging at the roadside weeds. The acid in his stomach made his eyes red.
This guy was terrified.