Mrs. Laina was wearing a black coat, a pair of expensive women's leather shoes, and a round-topped hat adorned with a feather of unknown origin.
In her forties, with a full figure, her frame exceeding the average size of most women, she appeared quite robust.
As for her makeup, one could only say she did her best; the merciless hands of time had taken their toll.
Wayne considered himself someone who didn't judge by appearances, but if this woman were to bat her eyelashes at him, he'd have to admit, aside from judging by appearances, he had no other flaws.
"Pleasure to see you, Mrs. Laina."
"The pleasure is mine, Wayne."
Mrs. Laina removed her gloves, arms outstretched, seemingly about to give Wayne a hug. The gleam in her eyes indicated that once she grabbed hold, she wouldn't let go.
Wayne gracefully declined the enthusiastic embrace, ushering Mrs. Laina to take a seat and regretfully informing her that the commission had not been completed. He had spent a significant amount of time and effort but hadn't found any evidence of Dr. Laina's infidelity. He suggested that Mrs. Laina seek another, more skilled detective agency.
Mrs. Laina didn't seem bothered by this and didn't accept Wayne's returned deposit. She expressed her belief in Wayne's professional abilities and was willing to wait a few more days.
"That might not be feasible. Time waits for no one, and if Dr. Laina has evidence of your infidelity, delaying could only result in losses for you."
Wayne tried to persuade her a bit more before engaging in small talk with Mrs. Laina and personally escorting her out of the detective agency.
"Wayne, was that lady just now the client?" Veronica descended the stairs, her attention to appearance causing her not to notice the dust on her nose and cheeks.
Scars were the badges of warriors. Wayne saluted inwardly but didn't say anything, nodding as he replied, "Mrs. Laina is a client of the detective agency. She commissioned a family dispute investigation some time ago, but due to some unforeseen circumstances, she didn't receive the investigation report today. My abilities are limited, so I advised her to seek another detective."
"It's just a family dispute; we can handle it completely. There's no need to leave business idle."
"That's easier said than done. The situation is quite complex, and it's not something that can be explained in a few words..." Wayne muttered vaguely, trying to skirt around the topic.
"What did you find out?"
Veronica narrowed her eyes, unwilling to let go of the opportunity presented to them.
"Um, well, why don't we continue with the spring cleaning, and then..."
Swish!
Wayne's hesitant words were taken by Veronica as an opportunity to bargain, and she promptly handed over two banknotes with the Queen's portrait.
Wayne accepted the money in silence, considering it a delightful misunderstanding, and hoped Veronica would continue next time.
"So, here's the situation. Dr. Laina commissioned... and this afternoon, Mrs. Laina... I conducted surveillance on both of them. Since Dr. Laina arrived first, I gave both reports to him as a gesture of thanks, and he voluntarily paid..."
Wayne recounted the sequence of events: "The professional ethics of a detective don't allow me to sell investigation results to both parties. I have principles and wouldn't accept another commission from Mrs. Laina, hence advising her to seek another detective."
"..."
According to her education, the term 'professional ethics' wasn't used in this context.
Veronica rolled her eyes beautifully. This morning, she had looked through the diary placed on the desk. Since reading someone else's diary without permission was equivalent to invading privacy, which was unethical, she asked Wayne about it.
At that time, Wayne was asleep and didn't respond.
Silence meant consent!
The diary contained highly commendatory remarks from clients about Wayne, praising the young man's professionalism and moral standards. The trivial details recorded also indicated that Wayne was an actively upright outstanding youth.
He followed the law, he was helpful, he injected positive energy into the decaying society, he was a benchmark for contemporary young people to learn from.
Veronica was deeply impressed after reading the diary, and her impression of Wayne changed significantly. She felt ashamed of misjudging Wayne's character and asked William to cook something delicious to compensate for her intrusive behavior of reading the diary without permission.
Now she understood why such a private thing as a diary wasn't locked away but left on the desk within easy reach.
It's terrible; the young woman felt like she was being toyed with by social trash!
"Continue. Regarding Mrs. Laina, what did you find out?"
Veronica handed over another banknote, the smell of death emanating from Mrs. Laina. Wayne had been in closer contact with the deceased, so by following this lead, they could quickly find the hidden target.
"According to the investigation, Mrs. Laina is somewhat famous in the dockworkers' circle and the struggling artist circle due to her philanthropy. She has quite a network of contacts..." Wayne, true to his profession, disclosed everything without a guilty conscience.
From a work perspective, it was logical and reasonable for a detective to inform their assistant of the investigation results.
From a business perspective, he hadn't sold the information to Mrs. Laina, thus maintaining his professional ethics.
"Specifically, who are the painter and the dockworker?"
"Why do you need to know?"
Wayne frowned, "Assistant Veronica, don't make things difficult for the boss. I received payment from Dr. Laina, and our detective agency won't provide investigation services for Mrs. Laina."
"It's unrelated to Mrs. Laina. I'm commissioning you for the investigation." Veronica shook the banknotes in her hand.
"Please have a seat."
"..."
Couldn't you struggle a bit?
Lundan City could be divided into five districts based on political and economic factors. The central area, also known as Inner Lundan or Lundan City, was the political, economic, and cultural center of the entire Windsor Kingdom.
There were the best universities, hospitals, the largest securities market, museums, theaters, etc., all firmly controlled by the newly minted capitalists who had transitioned from the aristocracy.
The western and northern districts were hubs for the middle class, while the eastern and southern districts, with the largest area and the poorest resources, were concentrated with ports, industries, and warehouses, primarily inhabited by the laboring class.
The port dock.
Sailors untied ropes, and the melodious sound of the ship's horn set sail. The blazing sun, the vast sea, and the curses wove together a narrative unique to this place.
In the eyes of different people, the view of the dock varied greatly.
To the upper class, the dock was romantic. Amidst the serenade of seagulls, sailors sang songs of courage and adventure, sailing through the wind and waves to foreign lands. They pursued the essence of life, explored unknown routes, bringing wealth and civilization. Everything seemed to step out of an oil painting.
To the lower class, the dock was dirty. It was filled with noisy seagulls, cold seawater, and workers exhausted from toiling for a livelihood, covered in dirt and sweat.
If this were to be considered an oil painting, it would surely be painted with the dirtiest feet, dipped in the foulest mud and grime.
As a former powerhouse of capital, the industrial facilities and supporting infrastructure of the Windsor Kingdom were outdated, inevitably declining into low productivity. Coupled with economic downturns, wars, and other factors, the once prosperous docks had lost their former glory.
Approaching tea time, Veronica, holding her black cat Monica, sat in a restaurant enjoying afternoon tea. Wayne and William split up to search for the dockworker, Bruto.
Bruto was one of Mrs. Laina's bedmates, known for his physical strength and brute force.
Wayne searched for any traces of Bruto as usual but found no one. According to his coworkers, Bruto didn't show up for work today; he might be in the warehouse district or at home sleeping.
En route, Wayne unfortunately encountered William, who became spirited upon seeing him, grabbing onto him and lamenting.
"Wayne, I just met a young bankrupt nobleman; he's deeply in debt and had no choice but to come to the docks for work..."
"I suggested to him that since he's in so much debt, he might as well use his assets to repay it, but he refused. It's a pity; I wonder who will benefit in the end."
"Then I looked for a few others, but none were as handsome as that bankrupt nobleman."
Wayne: "..."
What's this, the gay version of Aquaman, the refuge of ships, the legendary gay dock?
Wait a minute, you've been chatting for so long and haven't done any actual work!
Wayne refused to engage further with William. After finding Veronica, he explained the situation and asked whether they should continue searching for Bruto at his home or visit the failed art student's apartment.
"Let's go find the painter."
The failed art student, named Abel, was a young artistic man with unwavering artistic principles, having failed multiple exams yet maintaining a firm artistic vision. Due to years of patronage from wealthy women, his youth had been squeezed dry. Without youth, there was no patronage, and without patronage, there was no income. Unable to afford the rent in the affluent North District, Abel had moved to the East District.
Mrs. Laina wasn't Abel's first benefactor, nor did she have the best physique or appearance, but Abel, accustomed to being exploited, found Mrs. Laina comparatively gentle and kind.
That's character development!
"Abel planned to pursue art and earn a living in the East District. Once his health improved, he intended to return to the North District. He's not one for hard work but is capable of enduring hardship..."
In the taxi, Wayne delicately explained Abel's situation to Veronica as he sat in the front passenger seat, while Veronica, Monica the black cat, and William sat in the back.
Occasionally, Wayne glanced back, puzzled by the indifference in Veronica's expression. Clearly uninterested in this commission, yet insisting on investigating it thoroughly—what was her motive?
The taxi stopped at the street corner, and Wayne, familiar with the route, led them to the third floor of an apartment building. The wooden floor creaked underfoot, and there was plenty of rubbish piled up along the corridor.
Rats darted swiftly, disappearing into cracks in the wall, indicating Abel's life had plummeted as low as his health.
Last time, Wayne went through the balcony; this time, they took the stairs. Just as Wayne was about to knock on the door, William pushed him aside, his fists the size of pots pounding on the wooden door.
The door swung open, revealing Abel in a thin shirt, wrapped in a blanket. He looked puzzled at first, casting a glance at the extraordinary Veronica, then intimidated by William's dancing chest muscles, quickly shut the door.
Too late.
William barged in, almost knocking Abel to the ground.
"Mr. Painter, our Miss wants to discuss long-term patronage business with you."
Was there such a good thing?
Abel was ecstatic; with Veronica's conditions, he would do it for free.
Such a spirited young girl, just a touch could inspire countless creative ideas. Thinking of this, Abel felt his body filled with strength.
He made a move!
The scene shifted, and Abel found himself tied to a chair, a cloth stuffed in his mouth.
Wayne: (_)
Such skilled interrogation techniques. If he had refused last night, would he have faced the same fate?
"Don't be afraid; we're not good people. As long as you obediently answer our questions, we won't harm you and will even pay you a handsome reward."
William smirked, gripping Abel's right hand tightly, a glimmer of light flashing as a black inverted triangle symbol slowly appeared on the back of Abel's hand.
This symbol represented death and was the mark of a follower of the goddess of death.
Wayne looked on in astonishment at this scene, feeling a surge of heat in his chest. The desire he could only see but not obtain suddenly expressed itself in the moment of illumination.
He wanted it!