Ch.120Request Log #012 – Night of the Mafia (1)

I swallowed the memorial day with a week’s time, like swallowing a pill with water. Fortunately, no one took their own life this year.

While the Rat-Catcher’s death made us fear what might become of us, the poet’s death reminded us that there was still hope.

Life is always stronger than death. Hope is always stronger than fear. And we were all members of the Argonne Invincibles who somehow survived and returned, though we all deserved to die.

The bar owner in Washington, who had one leg only up to the thigh and the other only to the ankle, willingly served us drinks. He said just one thing: “I saw it too.” That was all.

Now it’s time to pull myself together and return to New York. The air hasn’t changed since I’ve only been gone for a few days. But counting the time spent in Washington, I’ve rested for about two weeks, so work will probably be scarce for a while.

In a city full of people who think I’ve quit my job if I rest for just a few days after getting some money, they’ll probably think I’m dead after two weeks. I’d like that.

Then I’ll have to pound the pavement again to find work. Come to think of it, when I called Giuseppina’s restaurant last time to thank her, she did mention she might have work for me.

As I park my car in the apartment parking lot after keeping it tucked away in Pennsylvania for a while, I notice a familiar car in the lot. Judging by the bull ornament on the hood, it’s The Morrígan’s car.

As I open my door and get out, the other car’s door opens too. From the driver’s seat emerges Gancan, holding his own head in one hand and a double-barreled shotgun like a pistol in the other.

An unworshipped goddess bringing along a driver. I give a brief nod as the head in his hand blinks slowly, as if greeting me.

Gancan opens the rear door, and The Morrígan steps out. Dressed entirely in black like someone attending a funeral, with a wide-brimmed hat and veil, she looks just like a widow.

She speaks. Her voice is uncharacteristically gentle. Without emanating the scent of the Argonne Forest, she whispers:

“All warriors deserve a proper memorial.”

“That’s quite an entourage just to deliver one line. What’s this about?”

She gestures briefly, suggesting we go upstairs to talk, and I lead her up to my office-cum-home. My place rarely has the warmth of human presence.

I open the door, toss my luggage into my personal space, and draw the curtain separating my office from my private area before letting The Morrígan in. It seemed better to maintain at least minimal courtesy.

Perhaps because her veil covered her face, I didn’t see any unpleasant visions. Ravens gathered in front of the window, so I closed it. I had no intention of being manipulated.

“After all this trouble, I hope you’re here to offer me work, Morrígan. Someone who didn’t even listen to the God-President’s eulogy probably wouldn’t want to hear yours.”

She sat quietly, making a calming sound like breathing. Her black hair visible beneath the veil fell to her shoulders. It fell to her back. It flowed to the floor, rippling.

Another visual hallucination. Despite the closed window, I could hear ravens inside the house. It was uncomfortably comfortable. With each of her breaths, the comfort grew slightly.

I didn’t lose my mind to the comfort. The Morrígan was a goddess who had chosen to be respected rather than worshipped. The fact that she could produce such visions meant she had accumulated authority.

I slammed my fist on the office desk, making a heavy sound that brought me back to my senses. The comfort faded, and The Morrígan’s hair appeared at its original length again.

“You’ve got trouble with the other mafia groups. On the brink of conflict, aren’t you? A god’s power comes from authority. Seeing you pull these tricks again when you survive on respect rather than worship means you’ve accumulated authority. The only thing that would give a gang leader that much authority is conflict.”

I didn’t specifically point to the Italian mafia. I shouldn’t show that I had information from the Italians through any channel. I needed to act as if I was hearing about this for the first time today, right now.

One way or another, New York’s peace couldn’t even last a month. The Morrígan smiled at my words spoken through gritted teeth.

“I told you he was a reliable man, Gancan. That’s right. I want to hire you. Not as a gunman, though. I want to hire you as a detective.”

When dealing with the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn, I could at least resolve things through dialogue since the daughter of the Forest’s Firstborn was there, but if I took this job, I’d have to be prepared to get shot.

First, I needed to know which side was telling the truth. I might still be being deceived. If I wasn’t careful, I could end up doing someone’s dirty work only to be discarded like a dog.

“For a goddess of war and death, you seem averse to conflict. What do you want me to investigate? I’d welcome investigating something that happened on your side, but if you want me to spy on another organization, that’s problematic. I told you not to expect miracles from me, Morrígan.”

It was probably the scene the Proci branch boss mentioned last week, and of course, they wouldn’t have called the police. It would be more ridiculous for mafia members to call the police when attacked in the middle of the night.

However, I should abandon any hope that the scene would be intact. The chances of salvaging anything from a scene mangled by the clumsy hands of the trolls was nothing short of miraculous.

There wasn’t much a detective could do in such a situation. Even a truckload of angels wouldn’t change that.

What I was hoping for was The Morrígan’s Italian mafia informant. If I could just find out who that was, it wouldn’t be difficult to deduce the situation.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I just want you to investigate something that happened at one of our establishments.”

So she’s not trying to make me investigate the Italian trolls’ establishment. What the hell is going on? There were two scenes to be suspicious of.

By coincidence, they had both prepared false flag operations to attack each other, and by coincidence, the timing overlapped, and by coincidence, the fervor for conflict had become too intense—the probability was extremely low.

Events with two coincidences were more likely to be true than those with just one, but events with three coincidences were generally false. I wouldn’t completely rule it out, but it was better to set it aside for now.

I answered without much hesitation. I moved the possibility that The Morrígan had come here without knowing anything about the state of the Italian trolls to the top of my list. Assessing the situation.

“Which establishment? Tell me why you want it investigated too. Without knowing that, you’ll just be wasting your money hiring me.”

“Bavan’s clothing store was attacked by trolls. Bavan was seriously injured, and Selkie’s Rons rushed in to barely save her, but the store burned down. But when we looked at the scene, the first shots missed.”

Trolls, especially female trolls who would be assigned such tasks, were weaker than orcs but stronger than humans. It was strange that such a troll would miss the first shots because she couldn’t handle the recoil.

“How many shots were fired in total?”

“Two. Isn’t that strange?”

“Yes, it’s definitely strange. It’s unusual for a female troll to miss the first shots because she couldn’t handle a pistol’s recoil. And the fact that Bavan survived after being hit once suggests it wasn’t a large caliber either.”

Even trolls, if they’re rookies, might fear shooting a person. But Bavan was The Morrígan’s branch manager. They wouldn’t send rookies to target such a fairy.

Or maybe they didn’t have suitable operatives. In Giuseppina’s Proci branch, they didn’t even have proper operatives, so Giuseppina herself led the attacks.

If this was done by another branch with more resources and better financial standing that could train or hire better operatives, it would indeed be suspicious.

Someone was pushing dancers onto the stage and starting to play music, but we didn’t know who was playing the dance tune. We might end up having to dance a dance we didn’t want.

“But how are you certain it was trolls who came? Did Bavan testify?”

“Bavan is still asleep. Instead, quite a few children reported seeing two trolls driving around in a car in my Little Eire on the day of the attack. And they said the car fled when the store caught fire. Even after hearing that, I don’t think you’re close enough to say, ‘Oh, those trolls must be innocent.'”

It wasn’t conclusive evidence, but it wasn’t strange to suspect trolls. Still, it was ambiguous. I’d need to see the scene first before making any judgments.

I would take the job. The situation wasn’t comfortable enough for me to refuse work from The Morrígan at a time like this. I still had some money left, but it was better to save it for when something like this happened again.

“Alright. I’ll take it. Even though not all my connections are good ones, I do have some with the trolls, so I’ll look into that side too. You won’t suspect me of betrayal, will you?”

The Morrígan shook her head readily. When doing this kind of work, arousing suspicion was the worst thing possible. Guns are held by people, but triggers are pulled by suspicion demons.

“I trust you. I can’t even imagine you switching sides.”

“Whose side do I seem to be on?”

The Morrígan lifted her veil and smirked. The Argonne Forest still flickered in her eyes.

“You don’t seem to be on anyone’s side. You’ll do the job if paid, but you don’t take sides. How can someone without a side switch sides?”

“Your insight is accurate. My fee remains the same. $20 per day plus expenses. Just tell me the location of the attacked establishment, and I’ll prepare and go investigate. Do you want to come along?”

The driver named Gancan, who had been standing quietly behind The Morrígan, was about to speak, but The Morrígan, without even looking back, raised her hand and made a fist, silencing him before speaking.

“If I had come in Gancan’s car, I would have given you a ride, but I came in my own car. Gancan doesn’t like being seen working. My car doesn’t have a partition. The address is here… I’ll tell the children too, so just say you’ve come to handle something The Morrígan asked you to do. They’ll welcome you.”

She wrote down an address and stood up. While waiting to see if she had anything more to say, I asked the driver named Gancan, who was still standing like a statue behind The Morrígan.

“How many do you think will die in this matter?”

He was probably a death fairy. The very idea of attaching “fairy” to death was ridiculous. Since there was no more information I needed to know, I decided to try my luck at fortune-telling. It was mere curiosity.

Gancan, who had been holding his own head in one hand, briefly placed it on the desk. He touched the note with the address on the desk with his fingertip.

“I don’t know either. I know no more than what’s written on this note. Even last time, I barely figured out that the troll would die at the very last moment, detective.”

With those words, Gancan picked up his head again and left my room with The Morrígan, who had lowered her veil again. Fortunately, this time there was no late-arriving Giuseppina talking about betrayal or anything like that.

I could sort out the possibilities on my way to the address. I took off my suit, put on my holster, and wore only a light outer garment over it. I also changed into pants that were a bit easier to move in.

I neatly arranged the uniform I had used during my trip to Washington and hung it in the closet. Since it was newly issued after my house burned down, I didn’t feel that much aversion to it.

I grabbed my pistol, and since this was mafia-related, I also took two spare magazines and tucked them on the opposite side of where I holstered my gun. Just one more check and I’d be ready to go.

I sat at my office desk and picked up the phone. Once again, I dialed the number of the restaurant run by Giuseppina. The call connected before it even rang several times.

“Trattoria Proci. If you have business…”

“Connect me to the Proci branch manager. Just tell her it’s the detective, she’ll know who it is.”

There was no need to explain everything to a low-ranking member. The noisy background sounds subsided, and after the creaking sound of something heavy walking across a wooden floor, Giuseppina’s voice came through the phone.

“It’s unusual for you to call first, detective. Since the Godmother said to forget it, I won’t call you a fucking traitor.”

What a warm greeting. I responded in kind.

“Right, right. Since the Godmother said to forget it, I also didn’t call you a useless blockhead who lost seven of the Godmother’s daughters to a single operative. Anyway, it seems like you need me. You should keep your low-ranking girls in check, Giuseppina. I’ve already heard about your establishment being attacked.”

It was quite amusing to see her growling after she was the one who provoked first. However, after hearing what followed, I felt smug. Her tone suggested she didn’t even realize what was important.

“Ah, I was allowed to talk about that, detective. It’s not important anyway.”

There was no need to spell out my strategy every time. I’ll do what I always do.

“Right, the important thing is that the Irish half-breeds struck first. You know I’m a man with many connections, Giuseppina.”

The growling stopped immediately. I heard the sound of a deep breath from the other end of the line. Giuseppina clicked her tongue and replied.

“You fucking bastard. Would it kill you to concede even one point? You seem to know how things are going… Don’t betray us this time, detective. We were attacked first this time. Whatever happens from now on is all those mongrels’ fault. You like this kind of justification, don’t you? That’s why you took the reporter’s side last time.”

Whatever happens from now on. A troll like Giuseppina wouldn’t care about every single word she said. She was the kind of troll who would say whatever came to mind unless the Godmother ordered her to keep quiet.

It was clear that one of them was lying to me. No, it might not be clear. They could both be right, or they could both be wrong. Narrow-mindedness kills a detective.

“Don’t talk like you have a crush on me, Giuseppina. I took her job because she came to me first. Nothing more, nothing less. Anyway, call me later if you want to give me work. I just got back to New York from Washington today, so I’m quite tired.”

After that snide remark, I hung up. That’s all I needed to do from home. Now it was time to go out.