Ch.20003 Investigation Record – Justice of a Bygone Era (2)

I felt an overwhelming desire to touch the gun that looked like it belonged in a museum, but I knew better than to reach for something I didn’t know how to handle.

Biting my lip to resist the temptation, I eventually had to look away. As someone who loved cowboys as a child, it was too difficult to keep staring at it!

Hmm, if nothing else, a gun like that had decent power. If one could shoot without trembling, it might send someone to their grave with a single shot, even if they were wearing a suit with metal lining.

Would it be better to leave such a criminal to the law, or let this old Cowboy handle it? Perhaps it would be better to let the Cowboy finish things with his own hands.

We made a promise to the God-President. A promise to trust the law in exchange for him avenging us against those who wronged us.

However, that wanted criminal escaped. If he couldn’t avenge us, then it would be natural for us to do it ourselves. The omniscient one would know we were thinking this anyway.

He carefully wrapped the gun in cloth and slung it over his back. Anyone could tell it was a gun… but it was covered well enough, so it should be fine. Probably!

“Well then, let’s head to Posner’s Tailor Shop! I might feel like a detective rather than a reporter, but don’t worry—I’m not excited about it!”

With the right purpose and right actions, there was nothing to fear. I had Paulina, and now this old Cowboy too. His hands gripping the cloth-wrapped gun seemed to exude years of experience.

Paulina was in charge of driving again. The Cowboy would probably be more comfortable with a carriage or horse, and I… embarrassingly, didn’t know how to drive. Without Paulina or a taxi, I’d be stranded.

I should learn to drive. Being unable to get around on my own makes me feel too incompetent. With these thoughts, I watched the scenery pass by.

New York was a city bordering the sea. You could see the ocean after just a short drive, and the sunrise from Long Island was exceptionally beautiful.

However, the inside of the city wasn’t as beautiful as its scenery. No one lives thinking there might be a murderer in their city. I became a bit sentimental.

The sea that was briefly visible disappeared behind buildings as we crossed two bridges and headed to southern New York. A bit further on, we found an old tailor shop with a sign reading “Posner’s Tailor Shop.”

Though the sign looked old, the interior fixtures were well-organized and new, with logos of various law firms displayed like medals on the glass door. Was this advertising that they supplied to such important clients?

Paulina opened the door first and entered. A dwarf who appeared to be the shop owner recognized Paulina’s attire and approached us.

“Ah, you must be a private attorney. Have you moved to a bigger law firm? Law firm Marius takes most of our metal-lined suits, but quite a few others… Wait a minute. Hey, you. This place is for lawyers. No guns allowed.”

After recognizing Paulina as a lawyer and starting to speak freely, he pointed accusingly at the Cowboy. Apparently, the wrapping wasn’t enough to fool anyone. I thought it looked well-concealed!

The Cowboy quietly set down the gun he had slung over his back at the shop entrance. I wondered if the wanted criminal might suddenly burst in… but when I looked back, there was no one outside the door.

The tailor quietly looked us over and tilted his head as if completely confused.

“What kind of combination is this? A slick lawyer, an elf who looks like they didn’t even brush their hair, and an old… cowboy? What’s your business? Are you here to buy that gentleman a suit?”

An elf who didn’t brush their hair… That’s too harsh for someone whose hair naturally looks like they just woke up no matter how much they brush it! I glared a little, but it only made my eyes sting.

Paulina was the best at handling these situations. She tightened her shield strap and said:

“You should know what it means to insult a client in front of their lawyer. Is this how you always conduct business?”

The dwarf seemed a bit flustered. It seemed neither the old Cowboy nor I looked like people who could afford to hire Paulina, so she must really be impressive.

We could have pressured him more, but I didn’t like that approach. I gently moved Paulina back and approached the tailor shop owner.

“Paulina, that’s enough. It’s okay. Even I think Paulina is honestly too good a lawyer for me! I’m Rose Leafman, a reporter. And this is… Mr. Cowboy!”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t even heard his name yet. I should ask him later… Had I thought something similar before? I couldn’t quite remember. I probably had.

The dwarf very easily and gratefully accepted my forgiveness for his careless remark that might have offended a potential future customer.

“Thanks for being so understanding. I’m Ralph Posner. But isn’t it about time you answered my question? This is my shop, and I think I have the right to ask why you’re here.”

I smiled with satisfaction at his much more polite tone. You could pressure people with words to extract information, but that seemed… a bit too much. Most people can be reasoned with.

Besides, being friendly seemed like a better way to get information. Not many people respond well to threats.

“We heard that a wanted criminal used this tailor shop. His name is…”

“Enrique Ramos. When he came here, he used the name Jose Ramos. Bounty hunters have already ransacked the place, and even they said they’d rather leave serial killers to the angels. Why are you after him?”

He spoke freely without resistance, as if making up for his rudeness. I guess my approach wasn’t wrong after all.

The answer to his question belonged to the old Cowboy, not me, so I stepped aside. He moved forward with heavy steps and spoke.

“The dead man was my ranch owner, and the killer was my fellow cowboy. I don’t think I need any more reason than that.”

Again, his voice was heavy and cracked with age, but substantial. Dwarves typically liked voices like that.

“Looks like I’m about to have a part in a western that wasn’t in the cards for me. I don’t know much. If he’d bought a metal-lined suit, I would’ve checked him out more thoroughly, but all he did was get one suit tailored—he had more money than he looked like he had.”

He spoke freely, as if there was no need to maintain any courtesy or obligation toward a customer who was now a wanted criminal. There seemed to be something else to dig into here… Ah, yes!

“A tailored suit must have taken quite some time. Didn’t you make a delivery? If you delivered it, he must have given you an address.”

It would be good if we could find the delivery person. I didn’t see any employees besides the owner in this tailor shop, so he must have hired someone, and finding that person would lead us to the next clue.

I was starting to feel a bit more useful. I can’t be useless and hold everyone back. I need to stay focused!

“Ah, yes. There was a delivery. He asked me to send it to a hotel nearby, so that’s all I did. I assigned the delivery to someone who works here… but it happens to be their day off. Do you want to go find them?”

Great, the trail continues! I nodded enthusiastically. He wrote an address in a nearby residential area on a note and handed it to me.

A note with a real name and address! I thought only detectives received things like this! After calming my excitement with a deep breath, I bowed my head to the dwarf tailor.

“Thank you for the information! If I write an article, I’ll be sure to include a line about you! Really!”

I handed the note to Paulina. The old Cowboy, who had been quietly observing until now, spoke to her in a comfortable voice. It seemed less cracked than usual, and while not handsome, it was a voice with human warmth.

“You’re a bright young lady. Work must be enjoyable.”

“People who can make more friends than enemies are rare these days. And you seem to be following a woman you’ve only met and talked to twice.”

The old Cowboy burst into hearty laughter. I thought the two of them might be getting a bit closer now.

“And how many years have you been following her?”

“Three years now. At least in those three years, I’ve never been led anywhere bad, which is why I’m still taking on these jobs. Miss Rose generally points in the right direction.”

“Even if the helmsman holds the wheel, it’s the sailors who move the ship. Isn’t that right?”

Paulina, who somehow drove well despite her hair covering her eyes, curled up just the right corner of her mouth in a smile. Actually, I sometimes wondered how she could see ahead.

“Even if you don’t acknowledge it, Miss Rose says something similar about twenty times a day, so it’s fine. She’s quite forgetful, you know.”

I say such things twenty times a day? I looked up at her with round, surprised eyes.

“Do I really repeat myself that much?”

“See? You don’t even remember how many times you say things. That’s why remembering is part of my job.”

I couldn’t argue with the driver! Sometimes it felt like I was dancing in Paulina’s palm. She was the type who would never bring up the same topic again if asked not to, so I couldn’t even tell her to stop.

After driving for a while, we arrived at a nearby residential area and parked. Let’s see, Marcus Street number 17, Marcus Street number 17… While I was staring at the streets and signs, Paulina gently tapped my shoulder.

“It’s over there, Rose.”

I was late again, it seemed. I followed Paulina and the old Cowboy, who were already a step or two ahead, toward an ordinary house. When we knocked on the door, an elf came out.

The elf looked about sixteen or seventeen. It’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow elf in this city who’s at eye level with me. I smiled warmly and said:

“I’m reporter Rose Leafman! I’m covering the Cowboy who’s chasing a wanted criminal… I heard you delivered a suit to the fugitive.”

The elf shuddered as if getting goosebumps. His expression suggested he had no reason not to tell us, though it must have been an eerie experience to think back on.

“You came because Mr. Posner told you about me, right? Well, at least it’s good there are two… four? Anyway, many bounty hunters trying to catch the murderer. It still gives me the creeps thinking about it. First of all, he won’t be at the hotel. I did go to deliver to the hotel, but the front desk gave me an address, saying the customer had asked them to redirect any suit delivery there. I thought the job had gone sideways.”

Two? Could Hector have been here? Hector was quite a capable bounty hunter, so if we were following his trail, it surely meant our investigation was successful.

This elf was probably speaking so freely because he had already told everything to Hector. I should thank Hector and Ysil later. Yes!

“So I decided to just charge it to the customer and took a taxi. It was an area around here with many vacant houses. He told me to leave it at the door as if he didn’t want to show his face to the delivery person, so I left it at the door. The address is… But, do reporters usually do this kind of work? Isn’t this what the police should be doing?”

“A reporter must be willing to do anything for a good story! And this definitely counts as ‘anything’!”

The elf made an expression suggesting he thought I was somewhat cool. It had been a long time since anyone looked at me that way, so it was a good opportunity to recharge my confidence.

Things were going smoothly. Thanks to the dwarf’s rudeness, getting information from him was easy, and with this elf, information came quickly because a bounty hunter had already visited.

Once again, I received a detective-like prop—a note with an address written on it. It seemed likely the criminal would be there, but while we had been rushing headlong until now, I thought it would be dangerous to continue that way.

“It seems the bounty hunters haven’t really investigated properly! There’s so much information, yet no one found out. But you’re not going there right away, are you?”

The old Cowboy nodded. His expression suggested that things were happening too quickly for him to keep up mentally.

“Now that we know where he is, there’s no need to rush. He’ll certainly have enough for hotel expenses, and since he robbed the ranch owner’s house, he’ll have enough to buy a house… My friend always used to say he wanted to buy a house in the suburbs of New York or Washington and spend his later years there, so he’ll be there. I can tell. How could people who roamed the same ranch not know each other?”

I got into the car and looked at him with an attentive expression. Yes, this person still seemed to have something he wanted to say.

We all have the desire to say something. And a reporter is someone who listens to that something. That fact didn’t change even if we weren’t holding cameras.

I didn’t judge. I didn’t add comments. This was his story, and I felt that if I said something, it might taint that pure and volatile story.

“We were mostly similar. The difference was that he wanted to escape that backwater by any means necessary… As for me, well, I would have been happy just continuing a life of shaking rattlesnakes out of my boots. If I had known it would come to this, I would have given him the money I saved from my cowboy work.”

I could sense his regret, but I didn’t want to intrude on his story… No, that’s not right. What’s in front of me isn’t just a story, but a person. Looking at him properly, I said:

“No matter how well you know someone, you can’t know them perfectly, right? You didn’t know your friend harbored such feelings. So, not being able to stop something you didn’t know about isn’t your fault. It’s strange when innocent people atone while those who did wrong don’t reflect on their actions.”

The Cowboy raised his hand to his hat and, with a very stylish gesture, flicked his finger to lift the brim and look directly at me.

He was an old portrait of a man, as if carved by the dry winds of the wasteland. Yet his face proudly claimed not to have lost an ounce of strength.

The Cowboy smiled with a very comfortable expression. It was hard to believe he was the same person who had been flustered by others approaching him.

“Didn’t you say you were a reporter? You must have a camera, so wouldn’t it be good to take a picture? Even if this matter is personal, it would be more accurate to say it’s our business now.”

This was the first time I had picked up my camera today. I boldly stepped into his story and raised my camera.

I gathered mana at my fingertips. The mana collected in my fingers activated the camera. With a short click sound, this moment was etched onto film.

Somehow, even the dejected feeling from writing an incorrect article seemed to fly away with this single shutter sound.