Gotham Police Department, Morgue.
"Time of death was approximately 24 hours ago. Based on the fluid accumulation and pollutants in the lungs, they indeed drowned.
But drowning victims usually have peaceful expressions or occasionally exhibit a spasmodic smile. Not like this… uniform. Unless someone controlled their thoughts."
Nygma took off his gloves and picked up a report from the desk. "If it were a cult, they would usually be on drugs…
These girls show absolutely no signs of sexual assault, and the toxicology reports are clean—no hallucinogens or stimulants found. Several of them haven't even smoked marijuana."
He sat in his chair, deep in thought. "Also… their stomach contents are highly similar. They all ingested the same dessert and black tea about four hours before death. This doesn't seem like something a group of girls with diverse backgrounds would coincidentally do…
Under the current circumstances, it can only be attributed to a master hypnotist capable of deep hypnosis on at least fifteen people simultaneously, controlling them to jump into the water and commit suicide."
"That's too mystical." Jay rubbed his hair vigorously. "Do you believe in hypnosis? Isn't that just shills for magicians?"
"No, hypnosis does exist. However, if the hypnotist and the subject are unfamiliar, and the subject is resistant to commands, the failure rate is very high. But there is one thing you might need to pay attention to…"
Nygma pointed to the victims' clothes set aside. "See those clothes?
Although the victims look different, their image is extremely uniform: bright blue puffy A-line dresses, white aprons, long blonde hair with black headbands, white stockings, and black Mary Jane shoes. What does that remind you of?"
"Huh? Uh… uh…"
Jay also felt a sense of familiarity but was completely clueless. Just as he was about to give up, the barking of a stray dog outside flashed through his memory like lightning.
"I know! The Wizard of Oz!"
"Um…"
Nygma sighed. "Think again, Jay. Here's a riddle: Why is a raven like a writing desk? Remember?"
"A raven? I know in the East, magpies can be used to build bridges. Can American ravens be used as writing desks?"
"No, Jay. It's Alice. Alice in Wonderland."
"Mmm… I know it, it's quite famous…" Jay looked at him blankly. "But I've never read it! Don't look at me like that; it's just a cultural difference. I bet you've never read Journey to the West or anything."
"No, actually, I have." Nygma shook his head with a calm smile. "And the Chinese version at that."
"Holy shit! I really can't take this kind of stimulation! What don't you know?" Jay sighed. "Alright, let's change the subject. Where do we start?"
He remembered there was a villain related to Alice, but he couldn't recall the name or what they did.
Jay counted off on his fingers:
"The identity and social relations of these victims; whether there are intersecting animation exhibitions or psychological counseling activities; witnesses to their last appearance; checking clothing stores for bulk purchases; checking practitioners at psychological clinics… Did I miss anything?"
"No," Nygma shook his head. "That is not the most important thing."
He walked to the pile of blue and white dresses and picked out two.
"Please note, among the fifteen victims wearing the same style of clothing, twelve have relatively rough tailoring, stitching, and materials. And they were clearly made by the same hand.
Only three appear more refined, consistent with the characteristics of commercial assembly line products."
Jay: "?"
"Hear me out," he waved his hand to interrupt Jay, who was about to speak. "You might want to say this is a sign of the suspect's financial constraints. But in my opinion, this is his obsession with personally crafting his own perfect Alice.
He is practicing, and getting more skilled. As for the last few, perhaps he ran out of time."
"If he is also in this game… then… who are you?"
Nygma pulled out a piece of paper and drew a large question mark on it. He looked up at Jay, about to speak, then flashed a look of disappointment.
"The Queen of Hearts is keen on chopping off everyone's heads; Alice is just one of the objects that angered her. The Cheshire Cat appears and disappears unpredictably, maintaining a distance from Alice. The March Hare…? No, Alice brought it panic and trouble.
So… who is most obsessed with Alice?"
He rambled on to himself, writing a name on the paper.
"I caught you, Mad Hatter."
"Uh…" Jay scratched his head. "What… does that mean? Are we going to arrest a perverted tailor?"
"It means I will try to create a profile of the suspect," Nygma said while continuing to write on the paper. "Top hat, dull eyes… possessing childlike logic, trapped in stagnant time… This means…"
He paused briefly, then continued writing. "He may have obstacles in social interaction. Or… in some aspects, he feels like a child who never grows up, and physiological defects cannot be ruled out, such as abnormally short stature or simply being a dwarf."
"So… the murderer is a square root of 2?"
"√2?"
"The square root of 2 is approximately 1.4 meters — if that were his height."
"…Interesting nickname."
The two of them discussed the case for a while longer.
"Go, Jay. Maybe he'll hide the hat, but he definitely has one." He shoved the note to Jay. "Go catch him and show me."
"FUCK. You picked up two pieces of clothing, looked at the stitching, and knew what the suspect looked like. How the hell did you connect these two things?!"
Jay looked at him in shock. "This world is too different from what I imagined. After finishing this case, I must go take an IQ test and then apply for disability benefits."
"Ha!" Nygma smiled somewhat smugly. "Go quickly, Jay. I believe you're not bad either!"
"Thanks, Ed. Sorry to trouble you to sneak into the morgue with me in the middle of the night." Jay jumped up. "I'm going now.
But seriously, I am getting a promotion next month. Are you really not coming to the East Precinct?"
"Uh… I… Congratulations, Jay. I… but right now I…"
"OK, I know. It's okay to have concerns now. I'll set up the forensics department in the East Precinct first, and then ask you again next time we meet, until you agree."
"…Thank you, Jay. Honestly, I feel like I'm being swayed by you." Nygma smiled a bit shyly. "Next time, I think next time…"
"Next time I'll have Wilson teach you Michael's moonwalk. Lots of girls love that." Jay yawned. "I'm going to investigate the case first. See you later."
"See you later," Nygma whispered with a smile at Jay's retreating back.
After Jay left, he stood up and executed a smooth string of dance steps like flowing clouds and water. Finally, he spun elegantly and bowed deeply to the row of bodies in the morgue cabinet.
"Jay, the moonwalk? I know it too!"
…
"They have almost no intersection. Except for two who were classmates, the others are cheerleaders, corporate clerks, punk girls, students, and even streetwalkers. Family situations range from wealthy middle class to heavily in debt."
Gordon downed the coffee in his cup amidst the noise of the Central Precinct. "If it were a serial killer, they wouldn't dispose of bodies in batches like this. Harvey, what do you think?"
…
"I think I'm dying of sleepiness. Do you guys want more tea?" Jay refilled the teapot, watching Allen also yawning while flipping through files. "I'm going to apply for a McDonald's for our precinct."
"That would be great, Sir. It must have toys. Look here…"
Allen pulled a sheet from a thick stack of documents. "Last year, someone reported their daughter missing.
But two days later, her daughter returned home on her own, dazed. No injuries, no ransom, no sexual assault, just changed into a set of blue dress, white socks, and black shoes.
The girl recovered about a week later but could never remember where she had been."
He handed the police report to Jay. "Sir, will this… be useful?"
…
"Of course it's useful! Let me tell you what a man's intuition is." Harvey Bullock spat out the cigarette butt in his mouth and lined up the victims' photos on the table. "Look, what do you see?"
"All female? Appearance… at least by my standards… not all are beauties," Gordon lay on the table, looking carefully. "Stop keeping us in suspense, just say it."
"They are all the sweet, approachable girl-next-door type—of course, some aren't beautiful, but their appearance still seems innocent and cute." Bullock took two donuts out of the microwave and handed one to Gordon.
"I'm afraid that guy Nygma was right; this really is a guy obsessed with Alice in Wonderland. But hypnosis is pure nonsense. If you ask me, we should call Narcotics. It's probably some new type of hallucinogenic stimulant."
…
"You're right, this stuff really works." Jay circled a spot on the map. "The last report was near Crime Alley, the one before that…"
He circled a second location. "North suburbs of Gotham. This time the bodies drowned at the mouth of the Trident Bridge."
Jay circled the locations one by one. "Will this guy be hiding in the middle of these locations? A dwarf…" He looked at the paper Nygma wrote for him. "Find out if any of them know a dwarf who wears a tall hat!"
…
"We can't just wait without news." Gordon put away his notebook and checked his pistol. "We have to ask informants. Did the officers checking psychological clinics report back?"
"No, not yet. Those so-called psychological counseling experts usually bill themselves as social elites with insight into the human heart.
But as soon as they hear it involves a murder case, they immediately rush to admit that their hypnosis is all a scam for money." Bullock put his feet up on the table. "Being so anxious will only alert the enemy. Don't worry. There will be results."
…
"Sir, big trouble."
Anna hung up the phone and sighed at Jay. "That cloaked weirdo appeared again, beating people up on the street."
"Oh, FUCK! He went… Wait, you said he's beating people on the street?" Jay paused. "On the street, not at some Falcone establishment?"
"Yes, witnesses say they saw that guy interrogating a lot of thugs near the Trident Bridge with fists and cash, and even asked if there was an informant reward for calling in."
"Heh! I bet those homeless guys called in themselves." Jay curled his lip. "So… he's probably also following this case… Does this count as extra manpower? But honestly, I don't have much hope."
"Sir, don't be so pessimistic; that's not your style. Have some snacks to cheer up?"
"I'm serious." Jay pushed away the chips Anna offered. "If the investigation direction is correct now, a dwarf master hypnotist in a hat—better hope he doesn't use Force Choke.
If we successfully catch the suspect, of course, there are plenty of ways to make him confess. But the premise is we can't catch the wrong person.
Besides, there are at least tens of thousands of people in that area. If we check them one by one, the suspect will be alerted long ago."
"So what do we do next?"
"Next…" He looked at the expectant eyes of Allen and Anna, closed the map and notebook. "Go back to sleep."
"Huh??"
"Don't 'ah' me!" Jay pointed a finger at the two dumbfounded officers. "Since there is no suitable direction, exhausting ourselves here won't make the criminal turn himself in. Go sleep for a few hours. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to see an old friend."
——————
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