"Things aren't too bad; at least we've got one of them," Captain Kappa said, lighting up a cigarette.
"I should have only pierced the unlucky devil's right lung. Call a doctor to stop the bleeding; he shouldn't die from this. As for whether he can survive a subsequent infection, I can't say," Cook waved dismissively. "Had it not been for the hostage and the carriage in the way, I could have taken down all four by myself."
"Let it go, as long as the man is confirmed, that's enough. Write up a lengthy report for the chief tomorrow. For now, put out an all-points bulletin. Next, Cook, go find a doctor on the street to help this unfortunate soul stop bleeding. Elyon, check the apartment to see what's left inside."
Elyon pushed open the door to the apartment, where four overturned teacups suggested a hasty escape. In the living room, a cloth bag lay abandoned on the floor. He lifted it; it was heavy. Inside were neatly bundled notes of various denominations—undeniably the loot from the robbery. The bedroom door was ajar, the window shattered, with a stone conspicuously out of place amid the broken glass. A crumpled note lay on the bed, which Elyon picked up and read. In blue, sloppy handwriting, it said:
The police are outside, getting ready to make an arrest. Don't take anything, just run!
Clearly, someone had wrapped this note around the stone and thrown it through the window to alert the apartment's occupants. Elyon pocketed the note and conducted a thorough search of the bedroom, discovering another bag of money.
With a bag in each hand, Elyon strained to carry the loot out of the apartment. Onlookers had gathered around the entrance, and a man in a white coat was diligently working to stop the blood flow from Wolff, surrounded by blood-soaked alcohol swabs.
"Find anything?" Captain Kappa asked as Elyon approached.
"Two bags of cash, and this," Elyon dropped the money bags next to the captain and handed him the note. Captain Kappa read it and sighed deeply.
"It looks like we'll need to invite this so-called unaware Miss Loran Dale back to the station."
After about ten minutes, two horse-drawn carriages arrived. Seven or eight uniformed officers jumped out, the middle-aged man leading them seemed to be well acquainted with Captain Kappa and greeted him from a distance.
"Messed up?"
"Not exactly. We got the money back, and there's one barely alive. Someone tipped off the others, who got away. Issue a city-wide manhunt for the former bank manager David and the two Wolff brothers."
"As long as the money's been recovered, that's good news. Anything else to handle?"
"That man lying half-dead over there, please take him to the hospital. When he wakes up, interrogate him. I'm taking the rookie to bring in a lady for questioning, and I'll submit a full report to the precinct tomorrow. And, by the way, pay the doctor over there for his medical services."
"Alright. You guys, help him onto the carriage, and for the doctor... the payment should be enough," instructed the middle-aged officer, as several policemen awkwardly loaded the unconscious man into the carriage. Then, he tossed a gold coin to the doctor.
"That's more than enough, especially since I shouldn't be charging for helping the police," the doctor claimed, though he didn't hesitate to pocket the coin.
"Let's go. We're off to the church to find Miss Loran," Kappa announced, leading them into the church. The earlier gunfire had drawn a crowd of spectators at the entrance. Loran stood there, expressionless, watching the three men approach.
"I know what you want to ask, and I'll tell you right now—I don't know anything, gentlemen."
"Then you'll have to join us back at the station," Kappa said, with no further discussion. He hailed another carriage, and the four of them returned to the precinct.
"You're done for the day. I'll handle the questioning with Garrick," Kappa announced as they alighted from the carriage. To Loran, he said, "You might want to come out, miss. Looks like you might be spending the night here."
"I won't say a word until my lawyer arrives, gentlemen," Loran asserted as she stepped down and walked into the precinct. Elyon checked his watch – 5:30 PM. Another half-hour of unpaid overtime. He sighed, collected his coat from the office, and prepared to head home.
Across from the National Bank port branch, the landlord couple of the terraced apartments, Marlen and Gist, had recently come into fortune. Mr. Gist, a small-time corporate employee, and his wife, who lived in the industrial quarter in the north, had inherited the property from a distant aunt. It was a duplex apartment, right across from the bank.
After some discussion, they decided to split the apartment and build an external wooden staircase for the second floor, allowing them to rent it out for additional income. Last month, three brothers rented the apartment. They were generous, accepting the listed rent of three pounds a month without haggling and asked only that they not be disturbed except when rent was due. Mr. Gist was only too happy to have such low-maintenance tenants, who mostly kept to themselves, venturing out only for essential supplies.
On the night of July 24th, after dinner, the Gists were busy. They had been at the seafood market at the port when the bank robbery occurred. Neighbors said the robbers, four in total, wore masks and took a considerable haul. Mr. Gist was grateful that his savings were hidden at home, not in the bank. The couple decided to retire early after their meal.
But late into the night, loud banging noises from the apartment above and the sound of something dragging across the floor woke Mr. Gist. After about half an hour, the noise ceased. Mr. Gist resolved to inform the upstairs tenants to keep it down at night, so he could get some rest.
The next morning, Mr. Gist complained to his wife over breakfast.
"Dear, you have no idea. Last night, those brothers upstairs must have had a party or something. They were banging about all night long."
Mrs. Gist, busy washing dishes, turned and said, "You're going up there? Try not to start an argument. Tenants who pay six months' rent upfront are rare. Grab the cheapest bottle from your wine collection and visit them."
"Now I have to offer them wine, too? Fine, I'll see if there's any bad rum," Mr. Gist replied, ever indecisive and usually following his wife's lead. While renovating the apartment had depleted their savings, it provided a steady income. Less than a year later, they were already recouping their investment.