Ch.19003 Investigation Record – Justice of a Bygone Era (1)

“Miss Rose, I hate to say this, but…”

It seems this article was a failure. The editor-in-chief isn’t someone who apologizes easily, yet here he is saying such things. I can’t help but shrink a little.

“I think it might be good for you to clear your head for a few days. Yes, just a few days. I appreciate your enthusiasm, and it’s true that dwarves have been acting strange lately. But you can’t write an article based on one incident you experienced, especially when the victim was a goblin who commissioned the piece. Don’t you agree? How do you think the dwarves who’ve been labeled as racists would react?”

I thought I was doing the right thing while writing the article, but apparently not. It seems facts don’t always equal truth… I quietly nodded.

“Didn’t you also mention that on the day you brought that article, you met the Cowboy of New York in person, and it wasn’t even for an advertisement? Why don’t you focus on interviewing him for a few days instead?”

He could have just sent me on vacation, but he’s giving me a second chance. That old Cowboy must be busy tracking down his fugitive, so it would be good if I could help.

Yes, I can make up for failures as many times as needed. As long as I don’t give up. I clench my fists tightly. Is my head still full of flowers? No, it can’t be.

If I fail with one article, I’ll just write an even better second one. I nodded firmly to the editor-in-chief.

“Yes, I’ll go work on that! I know New York better than… well, better than that old man does, and I also know the South where he’s from. We’ll make a great team!”

If I could always smile, things might get better. I might still be naive, but I’m trying to stay hopeful. Paulina offers some joking encouragement.

“I don’t want to lose my position, but I guess I don’t need to worry about that?”

“Of course not! No matter how nice someone is, could they be as good as Paulina? To find someone closer than someone who saves my life almost once a week, I’d have to nearly die twice a week…”

Seeing me regain my spirits, the editor-in-chief seems a bit relieved and even sees me off with a “have a safe trip.” My weekly pay will probably be reduced this week, but I’m not short on money.

I got the phone number of the motel where the Cowboy is staying last time, so I leave the building and make a call right away. The public phone in front of the company always has less static.

After a few rings, the call connects. Since I got the correct room number, it should be him answering, right? I speak in my usual voice.

“Hello? This is reporter Rose Leafman from the other day! Ah, haha… I just happened to have some time and thought I could help you track down that fugitive!”

His voice sounds muffled at first, as if he’s holding the phone awkwardly, but soon comes through clearly.

“Hello there, partner. I’ve been trying to investigate on my own, but it’s hard for someone with no connections who doesn’t know anything. Having a reporter help would be more useful. Can you come to the motel?”

“Of course! I’ll be right there!”

After ending the call neatly, I get into Paulina’s car again. She sighs, seemingly concerned about my still overly excited expression.

“Rose, Rose? Listen for a moment.”

The car, sized for ogres, was as big as a bus to an elf like me. I turned to look at Paulina.

“Yes, Paulina. I’m listening!”

“I think you might be misunderstanding something, so I want to clarify in advance. That old man is trying to have a shootout with his nemesis, a wanted criminal. Do you realize this is different from your usual reporting assignments?”

The car starts moving. Even though she worries, she never refuses to do what I want. She’s the type of person who looks for solutions rather than saying something can’t be done.

“Of course I know that! But Paulina, your mythril shield can block even pistol bullets, right? And you’ll protect me. I’m not worried because I trust you.”

She lifts the shield she had placed under the passenger seat for driving. Paulina’s shield was light enough for me, an elf, to carry, but extremely sturdy. It even blocked bullets last time.

Paulina looks at me for a moment with doubtful eyes. She nods.

“I will protect you. But in a fast-moving situation, even I can’t be certain I can protect you perfectly. People can’t outrun bullets. I’d need to grab you and hide behind the shield before they shoot, and obviously drawing a gun from the hip and firing is much faster than I can move.”

If something happened to me, my father would be furious, but Paulina was one of the few people I knew who worried about me more than they feared my father’s anger. I nodded briefly.

“I’m not planning to lead the way without a gun. I’m just helping, and it’s the Cowboy’s job to restore the justice of the bygone Western era. Is that good enough?”

“No, don’t make such promises. If a fight breaks out, make sure to hide, don’t peek out from cover… and don’t hide behind wooden boxes. Only concrete walls provide proper protection.”

…So she was talking about more practical safety measures! Of course, mindset alone can’t solve everything. The problem with elves is that we sometimes try to solve everything with just the right attitude.

“You’ve been saying those things since the first day you came! Even when you were much stiffer back then, your stiffness was kind of cute…”

The motel where the Cowboy was staying wasn’t far from the newspaper office. Actually, our newspaper company wasn’t wealthy enough to afford a building in the center of town, so we were located in the outskirts where motels were common.

“I’m being serious, Rose. Being pure is good. Being innocent isn’t bad. But being naive is bad. Do you understand?”

I nod vigorously. She still looks unconvinced, but we still get out of the car together. My hair is still messy as if I just woke up.

We head to room 203 of the motel where the Cowboy is staying. After knocking twice, footsteps can be heard from behind the poorly soundproofed door.

The Cowboy checks us through the peephole and opens the door. The room smelled strongly of cigarettes, but it seemed he had ventilated it somewhat knowing I was coming.

“If I’d known I’d be letting an elf into my room, I would’ve aired it out earlier… Are you alright, partner?”

I should be grateful for this much. Trying not to breathe through my nose, I enter the room. Paulina fans the air with her shield once, pushing fresh air into the room, which makes it a bit more bearable.

“Just the fact that you ventilated at all is something! Last time, the room was so gray with cigarette smoke that I couldn’t even go in, and Paulina had to do the interview for me.”

Even though I wrote down all the questions and their intentions for her, Paulina was quite good at interviewing. Is it because she’s a lawyer and good at gathering and compiling information? I couldn’t really tell.

“Glad it’s not that bad. So, do you know how we might find this fugitive? I don’t have a single clue or lead, and the city is too complicated to figure out.”

I think he was just wandering around Fifth Avenue hoping to run into the fugitive by chance.

Fortunately, I could help him. Among my sources, there was someone who kept a bounty hunter as a bodyguard.

“Luckily, I have quite a few sources. They’re my father’s connections, but… anyway, one of them has a bounty hunter as a bodyguard. I’ll contact them!”

Somehow I felt like I’d become an informant, and it was quite thrilling. A glimmer of hope appeared on the old Cowboy’s face. I was happy to use any connections I had to help someone.

The phone wasn’t of great quality, but I approach the motel phone to make a call. Using a local call should be fine, right? Most places prohibit long-distance calls because they cost so much.

Again, after a few rings, the call connects. The deep voice that answers sounds like it belongs to the bodyguard.

“Who is this? If you have business, please call back after 11…”

“Hector, it’s me! Rose Leafman! So, are you still working as a bodyguard?”

Hearing my voice, his rigid tone softens a bit.

“If it’s you calling, I should put you through. Are you calling to set up another dinner appointment? I believe she has plans today…”

“No, I don’t need to speak to Ysil, I have business with you. You still spend your days off bounty hunting, right?”

Hector was quite an impressive bounty hunter. With his strong orc physique, he once broke through a thin motel wall with his shoulder to capture a bounty.

Ysil is… my father’s ex-wife, but we don’t have a bad relationship. She said she was glad I didn’t take after my father, though I actually resemble him quite a bit, so I’m not sure what she meant.

“Of course. It’s pocket change compared to my salary, but there’s something intoxicating about chasing criminals and seeing the fear in their faces. Are you planning to interview a bounty hunter?”

“No, not an interview. I was hoping you could find some information about a fugitive for us. Do you have a list of wanted posters?”

I take the wanted poster the Cowboy had kept. What was his name again? I just saw it a few days ago, but I couldn’t remember. My brain doesn’t just forget useful information… no, it forgets all information quite equally.

Right, Enrique Ramos. Charged with robbery and murder of a family of four. After confirming this, I continue.

“The fugitive we’re looking for is… Enrique Ramos, who allegedly killed a family of four and fled. Ugh, that’s not a word I want to say…”

There’s a sound that could be either static on the phone or pages turning, and then Hector’s deep voice returns.

“Ah, found him. After arriving in New York, he was confirmed to have visited a barbershop and a tailor shop in the southern part of the city, but there’s no information after that. He’s old, and he’s already killed four people, so there aren’t many bounty hunters after him.”

Hearing the voice on the other end of the phone, the Cowboy approaches me with the distinctive sound of his spurs hitting the floor and extends his hand. Does he have good hearing? It wouldn’t be strange for someone his age to have hearing loss.

I hand him the receiver. It would be better for him to speak for himself rather than me talking about him to convince Hector.

“Would it make sense if I said I was a cowboy working for that family? I’m just… the Cowboy, getting help from Miss Rose now. Anyway, because of him, I lost the life I was living day by day, though it wasn’t wealthy, and I lost my job too. I’m looking for him to avenge the ranch owner who was like a benefactor to me. Can you help?”

The Cowboy’s voice wasn’t particularly impressive. It was old, half-hoarse, and cracking. But it had a certain gravity to it. The kind of weight that could convince even Hector.

The Cowboy soon handed the receiver back to me. Did Hector agree? As soon as I take it back and say “Hello,” Hector’s voice returns.

“You’ve found yourself a proper story this time. Anyway, since he seems to want to handle it personally, I’ll look around for a day or two and call you back. Ah, could you give me the phone number there?”

“Of course! Oh, and say hi to Ysil for me. Tell her I’ve got an amazing story and I’m helping someone too. She likes that kind of thing, right?”

Hector’s laughter rolls slowly. He was Ysil’s Paulina. He was loyal like Paulina, close like Paulina… well, not as pretty as Paulina.

I take out a note with the phone number from my pocket and read it to him. With his “Yes, yes” and “Got it all written down,” it’s confirmed that he’s taking the job.

“She certainly does. Well, I’ll call tomorrow or the day after. If you want to investigate in the meantime, you’d better check the tailor shop rather than the barbershop. The shop’s name is… Posner Tailor Shop. Paulina probably knows it. They make suit linings with armor for lawyers.”

After confirming the spelling of the Posner surname and writing it down, I finally hang up. Somehow I felt like a detective. I mean, like the righteous detectives I’ve read about in books.

“Well, our friend Hector said he’ll investigate for a few days and then contact us, but we can’t just sit around doing nothing! Let’s start with the tailor shop that Enrique visited as soon as he arrived in New York!”

The Cowboy seemed amazed that things were progressing so smoothly and stroked his chin with his hand.

“I should have asked reporters for help sooner. Alright, let’s go. Which tailor shop did you say?”

“Oh, he mentioned Posner Tailor Shop… He said Paulina would know it. It’s a place that makes suits with armor linings. Do you know it?”

Her suit had a mythril chain mail lining that functioned like a shield. I heard there are also suits with plate armor linings, which makes lawyers truly the knights of the 20th century.

Paulina takes out her notebook, checks it briefly, and then nods.

“I do know it. But it’s not specialized in the chain mail lining I wear, so I only know the name and address. Is that okay? Someone with no prior relationship going there and asking for information… they probably won’t cooperate.”

Somehow I felt like my detective instincts were shining. The more information, the better.

“Then what kind of lining does Posner Tailor Shop specialize in?”

“Plate armor. As you know, private lawyers like me generally use round shields and chain mail linings to appear less threatening…”

She lightly flicks her mythril shield with her finger, creating a pretty resonance. No, no. Focus, focus.

“Lawyers hired by large firms that serve corporations tend to use plate armor linings more. Haven’t you seen lawyers wearing suits with plate armor linings and carrying rectangular scutums surrounding corporate executives?”

“Of course I’ve seen that. It made me wonder if that’s what they mean by ‘legion of lawyers.’ Anyway, more importantly! Does that mean this fugitive might be wearing a suit with plate armor?”

It seems I’ve pointed out something good for the first time. Even Paulina seemed to have missed it while focusing on the tailor shop, which makes me doubly proud.

“That’s right, Cowboy. If he’s wearing a suit with plate armor lining, it would be difficult to kill him before he kills you with just a pistol, unless you shoot him properly in the head. I don’t think you have a rifle… do you?”

“Ah, don’t worry about that. This old man has a gun that suits him.”

The Cowboy took out a lever-action rifle wrapped in cloth from his luggage. It was as old as the Wild West era, but it was well-maintained, with metal parts still shining.

Yes, to talk about Western justice, you need at least this kind of gun!