MIAMI, March 31 — The victim, a 26-year-old male, lies face-down in his bowl of Cheerios, livid garotte marks visible around his neck. He’s the sixth such body found in Miami in the past three months, the work of an unknown killer or killers. Horatio Caine, lead detective for the Miami Police Department’s crime scene investigation unit, pauses to read the back of the bright yellow box before slowly putting on his sunglasses.

“Someone,” he says, with the weary practice of a man who sees death every week, “made serial killing a part of their balanced breakfast.”

Amid an unprecedented nationwide crime wave in major cities from New York to Las Vegas, Miami has achieved a grisly notoriety. In the past three years, it’s played host to more serial killers than the rest of the nation combined, leaving police on the edge of burnout and city officials unable to explain the swath of killings.

The more infamous names in Miami’s bloody recent history include Dr. Quentin Costa, a.k.a. The Carver, who raped and mutilated more than half a dozen victims before meeting a violent end, and the still-uncaptured Ice Truck Killer, who left the bodies of several young women immaculately dissected, packaged, and drained of blood last summer.

“I can’t even imagine what goes through these people’s minds,” said Dexter Morgan, a police blood spatter analyst who worked on the Ice Truck Killer case. “It’s… it’s monstrous, really. Miami’s such a beautiful city. Still, more serial killers means plenty of work for Miami’s finest, and personally, I like to stay busy.”

“The city’s really changed since the ’80s,” said former vice detective Sonny Crockett. “Back then, there was none of this serial killer stuff. It was all drug dealers and Cuban mercenaries. And speedboat chases, sometimes.”

The spate of killings has even begun to drive major businesses away from Miami, leaving city officials scrambling to improve Miami’s image and shore up its tax base. Plastic surgeon Christian Troy, both a former coworker and victim of Dr. Costa, said his firm, McNamara/Troy, will move from Miami to Los Angeles next year.

“I don’t know how these people think, and frankly I don’t want to,” said Dr. Troy, idly tracing the faint, almost invisible scar running from the corner of his mouth up one of his cheeks. “I just know I’ve had enough of this city in general. Too many bad memories. L.A. still has plenty of people who don’t like something about themselves. They’re just less likely to chop you up and leave you in a dumpster.”

At Horatio Caine’s CSI unit, detectives and analysts have worked double shifts for months, attempting to keep up with the deluge of killings. Crime has taken a personal toll on the detective; Caine lost his wife in a shooting last year, and one of his technicians was killed in the line of duty three years ago.

“I try not to let any of it get to me,” Det. Caine said in a measured monotone. “You come to work, you say your piece, you pick up your paycheck, and you try not to care about it.”

He paused before stepping out into the harsh glare of the midday sun, and slowly donned his sunglasses again. “I guess it’s just the way things go in Miami,” he said. “Everyone wants to make a killing.”