Ch.144The Fourth Entanglement – Elegy for the Vigilantes (5)

Rose headed to the red-light district with Willem. Since Rose only knew about the place from hearsay and didn’t know its location, finding the way was entirely up to Willem.

It wasn’t as embarrassing a place as she had imagined. In fact, it looked like an ordinary shopping district. The only peculiarity was that most shops had large glass windows completely covered by curtains.

Perhaps it would be more fitting to call it the street of curtains rather than a street of prostitution. It was clear that many people frequented this area. Otherwise, there would be no need for curtains.

Shops with interiors that couldn’t be seen and signs that didn’t indicate what they sold—Rose felt she would never get used to this street. Yet she could imagine Carmen walking here.

She would have walked with light steps, as if strolling along a street. That was how she walked everywhere.

It wasn’t difficult to find the sign for Pandemonium written in the elegant script Rose was familiar with. The building was constructed like a luxury mansion, though its interior was similarly concealed.

Another difference from ordinary shops was a door with a peephole. Willem took the lead, approached Pandemonium’s door, and knocked. Soon, only the peephole opened.

The voice from inside wasn’t gruff. It wasn’t rude either. People who deal with customers seem to be the same everywhere.

“Sorry, but Pandemonium isn’t open for business yet. We’ll probably open at six, so why don’t you have a coffee at the cafe about two blocks from here? Oh, if you’re not customers, I can hear what brings you here. We operate legally, so we have nothing to hide. Which is it?”

Willem knew what tactics these people used. Judging by how confident this Pandemonium employee was, the establishment itself probably just rented out rooms.

They simply claimed they didn’t care what customers did in those rooms, making it difficult to link the establishment to prostitution. People never really change.

Willem naturally pretended to know things. It was a detective’s virtue. Appear larger than you actually are. Act as if you can do what you cannot, as if you have eyes that can see through secrets to the truth.

“Would you let us in if I told you that the shop across the street closing down might be related to the current serial killings? I came because I thought the owner of this establishment might know something.”

At Willem’s words, the Pandemonium employee, whose only visible feature through the peephole was their eyes, made a displeased expression. “Please wait a moment,” they said before going inside. Soon, the peephole opened again.

It seemed they had called someone higher up. Through the peephole appeared a woman who looked to be in her late twenties. Though likely a prostitute, she had a certain dignity. She spoke in a voice that seemed sweet.

Half-breeds of demons and humans were generally like this. The substance they emitted was seductive. If one got used to it, it would feel even weaker than the base notes of perfume.

“Please don’t take our suspicion personally. Our establishment isn’t located in the safest area. Are you a private investigator?”

“That’s right, I’m a detective. Currently working with a journalist lady. Where’s my card… Ah, here it is. Is this enough to earn your trust?”

Willem took out a business card for Straessen Private Investigator and Police Consultant Office from his wallet and handed it to Pandemonium’s madam. After examining it, the madam briefly closed the peephole.

She was probably having someone verify it. It seems they have some kind of operator. Willem and the journalist stepped back to wait for the situation inside to resolve.

The door must have been well soundproofed, as Rose couldn’t hear any conversation from inside. Then again, no one would visit such an establishment expecting sounds to leak out.

The card the madam had taken was handed to a detective who followed her out. The detective examined the card front and back. Though he hadn’t worked with them before, it didn’t look like a fake card.

“Well, it doesn’t seem to be a lie. It’s up to you whether to let them in or not.”

The detective’s words also implied that he could handle any situation that might arise. The madam, who could usually be persuaded with a single affirmative answer, seemed anxious now.

The ledger had disappeared. The madam had clearly handed it over to the elf police officer who came here that day, but even after some vigilante group started committing murders, there was no mention of the ledger anywhere.

Moreover, the madam remembered one name in the ledger. An executive of a fairly famous food company was listed in that ledger, and he had been shot dead three days ago.

It was certain that the killers were acting based on that ledger.

After realizing this, she hired a detective, but he didn’t produce any results either. He only confirmed that the ledger wasn’t in the police evidence warehouse or anywhere else. She needed to know what was happening.

“What if they think we handed the ledger to the killers, honey? I mean, that would cause trouble for Pandemonium too. You should stay back. What if they’re the ones who—”

The detective grabbed the madam’s shoulder. Looking her in the eyes, he spoke. He had dealt with anxious clients more than enough times.

“You know they won’t recognize me. Haven’t you seen how the news articles are completely off track, saying it was done by an orc vigilante group from factory workers? No one knows. If a detective with good instincts has come, the best approach is to let them in quickly and say we don’t know what happened.”

The detective returned the favor the madam had shown him. He could at least do this much, since he had been able to get some decent sleep surrounded by Pandemonium’s succubi.

He didn’t find it ridiculous to live each day just to end it. The madam, now somewhat calmer, opened the door rather than just the peephole.

Willem entered with a light tip of his hat, and the journalist following him saw the detective standing behind the madam. Their eyes met.

Neither was startled. The detective made an expression of weariness, while the journalist innocently waved her hand. It wasn’t entirely innocent. Revealing what one knows is always provocative.

“It’s been a while, Mr. New York. I thought you’d be working somewhere by now. Really!”

The detective, annoyed at being entangled again, leaned toward the madam. After the madam cast a sound-blocking spell, releasing a slight smell of ozone, he whispered.

“She’s a journalist I know. Seems she hired a detective to get here, but she might think I did it. Should we change our approach?”

The madam whispered back. The detective didn’t feel the sweetness. He was probably too accustomed to succubi by now.

“That would be troublesome… Let’s stick to the plan, honey. Even if she knows, I don’t think she’ll bring it up directly.”

Only after their whispering ended did the journalist step forward and hand her business card to the madam.

Rose Leafman, journalist for Golden Age Press… The detective introducing her as a journalist had increased the madam’s anxiety somewhat, but fortunately, Golden Age Press was a small newspaper that the madam had only heard of.

“Please come to the office in the back. I don’t know what you want to talk about, but we can listen. If you know the detective I hired, I might be able to trust you.”

The madam naturally used the title “detective” to maintain distance from him. Even when whispering earlier, she had answered without looking him in the eyes. She naturally pretended not to be very close to him.

Even revealing who you’re close to or comfortable with can be a weakness. The only people she needed to appear close to were her patrons.

The madam turned toward the office first, and as the journalist’s group was about to follow, the detective immediately stopped Willem. With a nod, he pointed to the left side of Willem’s waist where a gun was holstered.

“Why don’t you leave the gun before coming in?”

Good eye. Willem, without protest, drew the revolver from the holster naturally attached to his side. Holding the barrel to indicate he had no intention of firing, he placed it in a basket beside the door.

Having heard the madam call him “detective,” the detective also pretended to be nothing more or less than a detective and client. A detective was someone who made judgments for clients rather than trusting clients’ judgments.

It was full of lies. The four people passed through Pandemonium’s lobby and entered the office behind the counter, sitting across from each other on sofas. To prevent an uncomfortable silence, the journalist spoke first. It was a lie.

“Well, we’re currently writing an article about unsolved cases. The most recent unsolved case would be the mysterious closure of a brothel in the red-light district. With help from my sources, I came here because I think that case might be related to the serial killings happening now. It seems Pandemonium is involved.”

The detective extended his hand to prevent the madam from answering and spoke immediately.

“It would be better if you told things in the right order. You’re not someone familiar with terms like ‘red-light district.’ You wouldn’t even think to look into such places first. But you are interested in cases. You came snooping around here because you were investigating a murder case and thought it might be related to an unsolved case in the red-light district. Isn’t that right?”

Before Rose could find a retort, realizing that her thoughts had been precisely penetrated when she thought her lie would work this time, the detective continued.

“Besides, I saw Carmen Thayer passing by here with the owner of Amber Room a few hours ago. She’s your source, isn’t she? They seemed to be going to a cafe for a chat. The Amber Room owner has a nasty temper but a loose tongue, which is a problem. There’s no woman better than Carmen Thayer at extracting information. So…”

The detective knew quite a bit about Rose. At least, the parts he wanted to know. She began to fumble for words. The detective’s method was always the same: shake them up, then strike.

Willem now looked at the detective. Not only had he demolished the excuse his client had prepared, but he had also figured out how they got here as if it were completely simple.

This man is definitely a detective. Willem naturally intervened to protect his client, just as the detective was protecting his client.

“Is that a problem? I mean… Oh, we haven’t introduced ourselves. I’m Willem Straessen. What should I call you?”

Willem first broke the flow. Flow was important in conversation. He had to prevent the journalist from being unable to make judgments, from being shaken and then hit with a question she couldn’t answer.

“Michael Husband.”

The detective answered briefly. There was only one reason to ask for names at this point, especially between operators rather than the parties involved. It was to interrupt his speech and take control of the conversation.

What an annoying person. For someone who looked like he cared more about grooming his beard than his work, his responses were quick.

Does that woman always have a talent for finding the people she needs? The detective glanced at the journalist and stepped back for now.

“Thank you. Now, please listen to me for a moment. So… is that a problem? If a journalist investigates false information and comes up empty-handed, it’s ultimately the journalist’s responsibility. There’s no need to completely silence her. Ah, madam, you’ve hired a good detective. Not many have such a sense of responsibility.”

He naturally created an atmosphere where the journalist could speak, even adding some banter. From Willem’s perspective, those two seemed closer than they appeared.

They were just pretending to have an employer-employee relationship so the journalist wouldn’t be suspicious. Since few detectives would get angry on behalf of their employers, the detective probably wouldn’t block the journalist anymore after saying this much.

When they first clashed, they had each penetrated the other’s weakness. The journalist, having calmed her surprise at the detective’s words, bowed her head to the madam. Not letting the atmosphere Willem had created for her go to waste, she confronted them directly in her own way.

“Well, Mr. Willem is right, but it’s also true that I lied. I’m sorry. I thought it might be burdensome if I said I came to investigate a murder case. So I tried to approach it from a side angle… but from what Michael says, I shouldn’t have done that. I want to know what happened at Pandemonium. Would you be willing to be interviewed?”

Everyone was weighing their options. Was this journalist trustworthy? That is, it was still unknown whether she could help find the ledger that had leaked from Pandemonium.

It was Pandemonium that had handed the ledger to the police, and it was Pandemonium that had protected the children from the brothel across the street. If that ledger was being used for murders, it would be troublesome for them.

The madam had absolutely not stolen the ledger, but people would all think she had. The madam cared for children, and what mattered more than the truth was people’s assumptions.

If a detective’s job was to sell trust, then a place like Pandemonium sold comfort. It provided people you could feel safe with, even in a dark room.

People who visited such establishments could never trust a place that sometimes used escorts but other times used killers. Pandemonium had to be protected. The madam tested the journalist with a single remark.

“For something like that, wouldn’t it be faster to check with the police? The police must be trying to catch the perpetrator of that case too, and you could learn more from them than from a place like this.”

“Of course I’ll ask them too. But there must be things that only this establishment knows and the police don’t! You’re the only one who knows what happened when the children came here before the police arrived.”

She was direct. Subtly revealing that she knew about the involvement of children was a bold pressure tactic. She might be worth trusting.

The madam placed her fingertips on the detective’s fingertips beside her. It meant to stay put. Then, the madam naturally leaked a bit of information.

“Call me Madam, honey. I wish we knew something useful… but that’s not the case. I protected the children when they suddenly ran to Pandemonium, and I handed over a ledger that someone had thrown in with the children to the police. That’s all. The men who kept the children in the brothel are probably in trouble. That’s all I know.”

The journalist clenched her fist again at the confirmation that there really was a ledger. She briefly smiled triumphantly at Willem. The madam continued.

“Still, it’s good that our goals align. I’ll lend you my operator too, so will you investigate together? We’ve had fewer customers since the murders began. Our business will improve once the culprit is caught.”

The madam tapped the detective’s fingertips with her own. It was a signal not to forget their original purpose.