Treasure Hunt of the dead?

“Come in, number two. I repeat, come in, two, we have a dead body on 32nd Avenue. We need back up.” Robert revs up the police car, “Ready Partner?”, he asks. James confirms, “Ready.”‌
‌They arrive at the crime scene. A man, brutally murdered, with a missing arm is found. As they move closer, they see a note in the man’s shirt pocket. “Your first clue will be waiting for you down at the alley.” Robert runs towards the alley while James scans the surroundings of the body. He picks up the note very carefully and asks for it to be taken to the forensics.
Robert finds a cleanly severed arm. The hand is holding an ID, presumably belonging to the Jane Doe, and another note. “So you found the first clue, congratulations. For your next clue, go to the pizza place nearest to you.” Robert announces on his walkie-talkie that he needs James to reach the nearest pizza place and that a team should be sent down to the alley to collect this hand. Robert had figured it out by then. The killer had to be The Red Slayer.
He had been the most popular serial killer until a few years ago but he had gone MIA 2 years ago when he had almost been caught. The police stations still have a sketch of him. He had a scar on his chin, dark brown eyes, and a deep cut under his right eye. He was 5 feet tall, walked with a limp. This was his way of killing: the treasure hunt, the cutting up of one of the body parts and spreading them around within a 3-kilometer radius, the illogical obsession of hiding clues at pizza places.
Robert receives a text message, “By now you may have figured out who I am, so this is your last clue. Catch me if you can.” Just then, Robert receives a call from James. “It’s him, Robbie. I found the red ribbon with a ‘slayer’ written on it. And we know where he goes after the pizza place. Come on, let’s catch this guy.”
There he was, they could see his shadow. He was sitting, leaning against the pillar of the abandoned building opposite to the pizza place. They moved closer to him with their guns ready in their hands. They walked until they were facing him. There he lay, cold and cut up. He had killed himself. The note in his shirt pocket says, “I did the world a favor. You would’ve never caught me so I killed myself to save you the trouble. I had to do it in my style, one last time.”