“You must be wondering. Why would the culprit commit such a heinous act? What benefit did he gain by swapping the bodies?”
Speaking of such brutal matters, I declared firmly.
“All of that is explained under the premise that the Grand Duke’s Son is Taylor John.”
The opposite case was the same.
Taylor John’s elusive killing spree could only be explained by this body swap trick.
Five years ago, the murdered woman swapped at the photo studio.
She was Taylor John’s third victim.
Around that time, Taylor John must have been feeling pressure.
Three murders.
That was enough numbers to narrow down the suspects.
To continue his crimes without being caught, he needed to manipulate his alibi more meticulously.
Thus, he came up with the body swap trick.
“Did you know? Those who request post-mortem photography are usually the poor and powerless. They have no remnants of the deceased from their lifetime, so they resort to post-mortem photography.”
Therefore, they share one characteristic.
They do not hold funerals where the body’s face is displayed and mourned inside the coffin.
Customarily, such funerals involve clearing out a large room in the house, decorating it for the deceased, and having acquaintances visit—but they don’t have a large room to vacate for the body.
“After post-mortem photography, the body is buried as is. I believe the culprit used this point to devise a new trick, and it hit the mark.”
Afterward, the culprit’s trick evolved more cunningly.
“I don’t know exactly when, but the culprit bribed a forensic examiner at the National Police Agency. Then, posing as a mortician himself, he obtained the bodies of unclaimed persons without going through the photo studio. He even acquired a mortician’s carriage, which wouldn’t draw suspicion for transporting bodies.”
“So then!”
Sir Albrecht shouted, as if out of breath.
“What trick did the culprit use?”
Ah… I unintentionally mimicked Charlie.
I smiled awkwardly, apologized, and continued.
“I will explain from now on.”
First, the culprit selects a target.
It must have been a very meticulous task.
He could only target noblewomen with similar body types and similar hair color to the unclaimed corpses he had secured.
But the Grand Duke from the Eastern Region was of a status suitable to socialize with numerous nobles.
If he had a sharp eye, selecting and killing an appropriate target wouldn’t have been that difficult.
Afterward, the culprit swapped the unclaimed corpse with the noblewoman’s body and changed their clothes.
Then he discarded the unclaimed corpse, dressed to look like a noblewoman murdered by Taylor John’s hand, somewhere.
“Remember? The sites known as Taylor John’s crime scenes—where the bodies were found—were, in most cases, places only accessible to nobles.”
At first glance, this seemed foolish.
It was practically revealing his own status. Yet, there was a reason he had to do so.
It was to implant in the witnesses the perception that the victim was certainly a noblewoman.
“Noblewomen often cover their faces with veils or shawls when going out. And looking into that face is considered a great rudeness.”
The discovered body would have been identified by its clothing and belongings.
The family seal, a custom-made dress.
And the testimonies of those around that the person had suddenly gone missing some time ago.
It wouldn’t have taken long for the false identity of the body to be revealed.
“And if a police officer checks the face of the body?”
“What use would that be?”
I retorted to the sculptor’s question.
“The police officers wouldn’t have seen that noblewoman’s face before anyway.”
The police examine the body’s rigor mortis to determine the estimated time of death. And at that time, the culprit always has an alibi. The culprit smoothly escapes the police’s investigation net.
“But… wouldn’t the victim’s family recognize their own family’s face?”
“Indeed. But when exactly would they get to see the family’s face?”
Only after the forensic examiner completes all examinations.
Back in the distant past, Chairman Peterson tearfully thanked me for solving the case, allowing him to recover his son’s body from the police forensic team.
“It’s simple. Taylor John bribed the police forensic examiner, and he has both bodies secured.”
When handing over the body to the bereaved family, he only needs to give them the real noblewoman’s body.
A grand funeral will be held, and those close to the noblewoman will be able to see her face, but the police officer who discovered the actual body is not included.
Because he is not of that class.
“This is murder using class disparity.”
A sneer formed.
In fact, this case could have been solved much more simply.
When the entire Imperial Capital was buzzing with talk of Taylor John about noblewomen being murdered, if just one person had consistently paid attention to the continuously disappearing bodies of unclaimed persons and spoken up.
Or, if just one of the many bereaved families of the murdered victims had invited the police officer who recovered their family member’s remains to the funeral.
At least, if the numerous bodies hadn’t been buried without proper graves.
Then Taylor John’s crimes wouldn’t have continued this long.
“…That’s all. Are there any more questions?”
The hall was silent.
I could clearly feel that people’s gazes toward the Grand Duke Eduard’s family were not the same as before.
‘…It’s over. I won.’
With just two photos, I had succeeded in proving the body swap trick that occurred five years ago in a small photo studio.
I had revealed that this body swap was only the culprit’s first attempt at alibi manipulation, and that he was now using a more advanced method.
I had already uncovered the unusual coffin, the black carriage, and the mortician’s identity used in the crimes, so there was no room for debate.
All of this had piled up to form a great tower—what sophistry could topple it?
Taylor John was finished.
“That was truly an impressive account.”
Finally, Sir Albrecht spoke to me.
“I was asked to mediate this case, so I tried to view the situation as objectively as possible… but no matter how I think about it, I find no flaw in your story.”
“Thank you.”
“However, there is one thing I must confirm before closing this case…”
He said to me.
“Can I see the photos in question with my own eyes?”
“Ah, of course.”
I must have been too flustered.
I hadn’t even thought to take out the photos until now.
Due to the distance, others might not see them, but the sculptor standing beside me would have no trouble examining them.
‘Should I suggest that the others come forward one by one to check the photos?’
Photos weren’t like Photoshop—they used uneven silver particles, not ink, making manipulation difficult.
Just seeing the photos would clearly prove that my words were true.
“Charlie. Would you hand the photos to Sir Albrecht?”
“Sure!”
Charlie promptly pulled out the two photos, as if he had been waiting.
Fearing the culprit might attack me, Charlie had been holding onto both photos.
“Here, take a look.”
“So these are the photos…”
Albrecht held the photos up to the light with a careful eye.
“Indeed, just as I heard earlier—”
At that moment, something unbelievable happened.
whoosh!
“What?! Gah!”
Startled, Albrecht flung the photos away.
“What is this…!”
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The photos, the photos were burning.
“H-Hey!”
“Hayes!”
I didn’t think; I acted.
The next moment, I scooped up the burning photos and frantically beat them against the floor to extinguish the flames.
Even though my hands were on the fire, I couldn’t even feel the heat.
My fingertips were chillingly cold.
ssssss…
Black smoke rose.
The fire that started in an instant went out just as quickly.
But…
I slowly looked down at my hands.
They were entirely black.
Hands covered in soot.
Charred paper, blackened.
And ashes scattering in the air.
The first photo, the size of a business card, was completely burned.
It had been in my hand, but not even its shape remained—I couldn’t tell which part of the black soot was the photo.
The second photo, the size of a frame.
This one at least retained its shape, but that was it.
It was entirely scorched black, unrecognizable.
I tried to rub the soot off with the back of my hand, but the photo crumbled.
“……Ah.”
Slowly, I registered the situation.
My
The foundation of all logic
The only physical evidence that could prove Taylor John’s crimes…
Had completely burned away.