Ch.122Request Log #012 – Night of the Mafia (3)

I emerged from the building, which could barely be identified as a clothing store from the charred remains of wooden hangers blackened by fire. At least it wasn’t as badly burned as my house, so they probably hadn’t doused it with oil.

The watchful eyes from outside had disappeared by now. Judging by the busy sound of washing machines from the laundromat, they must have returned to attend to customers. I climbed back into the trolls’ car.

This unwanted outing was bad enough, but now I had to go somewhere even less desirable. Once again, I sat in the back like a master and ordered:

“Drive to the main street in front of the Little Eire casino and stop at the building guarded by security. I’ll let you go after we make that one stop… drive.”

The trolls looked somewhat relieved. Since they were the type to easily spill information when prompted and couldn’t hide their thoughts, they probably hadn’t heard anything about this matter, so there was no reason to suspect them further.

The car started moving. They seemed to want to drive recklessly but suppressed their impulses, making the car shake quite a bit. They might not be able to control their temper, but at least they knew this wasn’t a place to lose it.

Again, I didn’t need to take the wheel as we arrived at Bar Reno. I showed Reno’s invitation to the doormen, clicked my tongue twice, and pointed at the car I’d arrived in.

“Those are trolls I brought along. Don’t mess with them. They’re not smart enough to scheme anything here anyway, and I need to use them to approach the Italian trolls if I’m going to investigate what happened to you. You wouldn’t want to interfere with a job I got from The Morrígan, would you?”

The two doormen quietly nodded. They were more polite than last time, probably because they’d seen me leaving after spending time with The Morrígan. This time, they were even courteous in the way they opened the door.

I entered and briefly greeted the bartender at Bar Reno. I wouldn’t be drinking. I headed straight to The Morrígan’s office behind the bar. The corridor was filled with red-eyed ravens.

This alone gave me some idea of The Morrígan’s intentions, but I needed to hear it properly. I entered the open office door and briefly greeted The Morrígan, who was quietly seated at her desk.

“Seeing you again so soon, Morrígan. I’m here to give an interim report and ask a few questions.”

The Morrígan stroked her own nape and smirked. I sighed at the sight and said what I needed to say. I wasn’t here for personal time.

“Let me ask first. Which do you prefer: conflict or peace?”

The Morrígan properly opened her eyes that had been smirking. I felt as if the Argonne Forest was spreading around us, with the smell of ozone, gunpowder, blood, and flesh, making me clench my teeth.

That atmosphere soon subsided, and The Morrígan smiled again. I didn’t sigh. There was no need to be shaken.

“I won’t speak the words hypocrites use for persuasion. I only want prosperity. If there’s conflict, both organizations will be shaken, and someone else will try to rise to power. I don’t want such changes. I only wish for my Little Eire and my children to prosper. Is that answer enough?”

The Morrígan didn’t claim that having her relatively rational Irish mafia remain in New York would be better for the city’s security and peace. I didn’t want to hear such talk anyway.

Whether The Morrígan or the Godmother, they’re all just thugs in the end. If asked who should remain, the answer is simple: no one. It would be better if none of them remained.

I didn’t say this out loud either. It wasn’t something to say from my position of coexistence, accepting jobs from anyone as long as they didn’t bother me or cross a certain line.

In that case, it would be better to speak properly rather than saying the culprit was a male troll. It would be better to mention even the elves who could be ruled out.

“Right. There was a small window in the corridor leading from the clothing store counter to Bavan’s office. I couldn’t fit through it, but male trolls, goblins, or elves could have. Any other species that small could be suspects too. The bullet holes left in Bavan’s room were at their shoulder height, so it’s certain.”

“If I had said I wanted conflict…”

“I would have said the Italian trolls cunningly used male trolls to handle the job. If you had said that, it would mean you weren’t interested in the truth, and simply wanted an operative to come confirm that trolls did it. I’m someone who gives clients what they want.”

The Morrígan nodded briefly. She seemed quite pleased with the fact that I would have told the necessary lie if needed. Since she was pleased, now I’d be pushed into danger.

I continued my report. There was still information I wouldn’t have needed to share if she had wanted conflict.

“First, we can rule out elves as suspects. The only organized elves would be the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn, and you know they were recently crushed.”

“I don’t doubt it. I too have seen old trees fall and new sprouts sucking only the good things from the old trees to grow.”

It was about the reporter. There was no need to keep monitoring that woman anymore, so I hadn’t been carefully reading the newspapers, but her story must have caused quite a stir for a while.

“Goblins aren’t really interested in conflict. They’re probably busy bribing the Yankees or something like that.”

Goblins were only interested in money. Or at least they tried to appear that way. I personally disliked them for being heavily involved in fixing sports matches, but they had no reason to suddenly cause trouble like this.

However, saying there was no reason meant they were hiding their reason. If a detective from the opposite side of New York knew the reason, then that reason was just a deception. There was no reason to remove them from the list of suspects.

“Goblins… Aren’t goblins unlikely too? They only band together when someone tries to trample them, otherwise they mostly mind their own business.”

“There’s no guarantee that now is ‘otherwise.’ Well, I should also visit the Eastman gang.”

When visiting new gangsters, I needed to use new methods. As always, I’d have to lead with my head. I was getting tired of sneering about having many options in my line of work.

The Morrígan let out a small laugh and finally rose from her office chair to sit on the sofa across from me. Her hair appeared its normal length, but occasionally ravens flickered around before disappearing.

“I could at least contact their boss for you. Would you like that?”

If they were the culprits, even letting them know who I was working with would be a bad move. I considered whether I should tell The Morrígan that the Italian mafia had been attacked.

She had said she didn’t want conflict. Even if The Morrígan had ordered the attack on the trolls, it would be better to tell her to make it seem like I trusted her completely.

“No, this time too, I’ll barge in while the guards are on duty, knock them down, and say I’ve come to talk. I told you I have connections with the Italian trolls too. They were also attacked. So there’s a high chance a third party is responsible, and from what I’ve found so far, goblins are the most likely third-party candidate. I intend to hide who I’m working with.”

The Morrígan made an ambiguous expression. It was hard to tell if she was puzzled by my trust in her or if she genuinely knew nothing about it.

That expression soon disappeared. The Morrígan lightly tapped the armrest of the sofa with her fingertips and said:

“Trolls… To be honest, I’m not sure if there are any among them smart enough to work on us while also laying groundwork for themselves. Don’t you think?”

For the Proci branch, that statement was true. It was a branch that operated on charisma instead of leadership, instinct instead of intelligence. However, it was unlikely that all branches were like that.

“I need to look into that more. For now, I plan to go ask the branch leader I have connections with. The trolls in that branch are indeed such fools, but if they were all like that, they would have collapsed long ago, which means there must be some more capable ones.”

I casually dropped the hint about which branch leader I had connections with. A client was not someone to be trusted, but rather the first person to be suspected.

The Morrígan clapped her hands once, seemingly pleased, and nodded. I had given her more than enough information.

“Excellent for an interim report. Yes, I’m very pleased. Then, next time, can I expect evidence of who did it? Honestly, I don’t care why they did it. The fact that they tried to mess with my Little Eire and tried to harm my Fianna is reason enough for revenge. Ah, when the job is done, I’d like to buy you a drink, and I trust you won’t refuse that.”

The Morrígan wasn’t a gang leader for nothing. Only such types say they don’t care about the reason.

“After the job is done, perhaps.”

I left with those words and stood up again. Now I needed to visit Giuseppina… Damn, I was running around as much as that reporter. It seemed unlikely that I could finish this job in a day.

I left Bar Reno and got back into the trolls’ car. The destination I mentioned this time would probably reassure them a bit. It was a place familiar to those trolls.

“To Trattoria Proci. Oh, if you’re going to report to Giuseppina, I’ll do it. I don’t want to see you fumbling around, reciting every place I went and every word I said.”

I lit another cigarette. Although I was using these trolls as drivers by threatening them, people being threatened never become friendly toward their threateners. It would be a problem if they added strange stories.

Besides, they couldn’t refuse this request since I had a history of revealing things that shouldn’t be revealed when my temper was provoked. The troll nodded, though clearly struggling internally.

The streets were peaceful. The day was the same as yesterday. However, I noticed suspicious glances watching each other. The thin familiarity that couldn’t be called trust had been broken.

Whoever wanted it, they did a good job. The car soon entered the slum, stopping on a somewhat orderly street under the influence of the mafia. Leaving them behind, I got out of the car first and headed into the restaurant.

The two-story restaurant was still full of trolls, and Giuseppina was in the innermost part. Her face contorted with what might have been a sneer or anger. She growled.

“Look who it is, the detective. I thought I heard you were taking the day off. Seeing you come all the way here…”

Again keeping my gun tucked away, I approached her table and sat down. Sitting in the quite cushioned chair, I lowered my head to meet her gaze and snapped at the growling Giuseppina.

“Next time you want to have someone watched, don’t send your branch trolls—ask the higher-ups for personnel, Giuseppina. You can’t keep embarrassing the Godmother like this. Because of you, your Godmother had to bow her head to that reporter’s father. That alone is a mistake other branch leaders would make once, if at all, but this is now your second time.”

There was no reason to push further. If provoked more, Giuseppina would immediately attack to avenge the insult. I naturally softened my tone and voice.

“Still, we exchange favors, don’t we? I can cover up this mistake. I just came from Little Eire. I received a job from them. Want to hear what it was?”

The implication was that I would tell her myself, so she shouldn’t rush me. Giuseppina calmed down too. Someone who has betrayed once won’t hesitate to betray again, but she momentarily forgot that fact.

“They asked me to investigate an attacked establishment because they were attacked too. When I went there, it was indeed done by a troll. But not a female troll. They sent a male troll through a window in the corridor to shoot the branch leader, but being a male troll, his grip was weak and he missed the first shot. He couldn’t even aim the second shot properly.”

I whispered information that might be shocking to her and might provoke her anger. After revealing much more than she had wanted to know, I continued as usual.

“Work is done by females and men, right? What’s the point of using males and women for mafia business? Is that how the Daquila branch always handles things?”

I knew nothing about the trolls of the Daquila branch. I only vaguely knew what Giuseppina’s troll had mentioned—that they made a lot of money—but I bluffed as if I knew everything.

Giuseppina growled. As she raised her fur and growled—being much larger than the average female troll—well, I wasn’t particularly impressed. If she wanted to bite, she would have bitten instead of growling.

“You’re saying we did it first? Daquila sent people to Little Eire after we were attacked. Whether that woman took revenge or whatever, we were attacked first. Are you betraying us again? Do you think you can confess to betrayal right in front of me, in my branch, and continue living like last time, detective?”

So in chronological order, the trolls were attacked, then the Daquila branch sent trolls to Little Eire, and then the Irish gang was attacked. The picture was becoming clearer.

I would need to visit the Daquila branch, but it was now certain that whoever planned this knew the Italian trolls would send people for revenge after being targeted first.

A well-laid plan. Was there a spider web under my feet too? There were still many ways to avoid getting entangled in this affair. I felt a signal that it was okay to continue.

Now I decided to pay a little attention to Giuseppina in front of me. I met the eyes of her protruding snout. All I could see was the face of a beast.

“It means there’s a third party, Giuseppina. They knew you would immediately send people to Little Eire looking for ways to take revenge, and although the evidence is a bit lacking, there was a third party who knew this would become a conflict. Both you and the Irish mafia are being entangled. If you engage in conflict, you’re playing right into their hands. You’re embarrassing the Godmother again.”

Giuseppina put all her effort into gaining the Godmother’s recognition, almost like a child suffering from attachment issues. Whether she wanted to become like the Godmother or wanted to remain a branch leader forever, I couldn’t tell.

After that, I softened my voice once more. I made her think I was on her side.

“So, connect me with the Daquila branch leader. You can sit here gnawing on rotten meat, and I’ll handle everything. I told you not to betray me, Giuseppina. This time, I’m willing to listen to you a bit. Have you ever seen me fail? Is there another operative besides me who has successfully attacked a reporter, protected a reporter, shot and killed your branch members, and made the Godmother take her hands off the reporter?”

I subtly mentioned her subordinates who had failed. I emphasized the fact that they had failed and I had succeeded. Like turning down a gas lamp to narrow the field of vision, I made it seem like I was the only option.