It was noon in Backlund, and the fog was no longer as thick as in the morning, but the pungent and choking smell still lingered in the empty streets.
After asking for the specific address in the bar and finally being forced to have lunch there, Klein and Mike were strolling down the street not far from the dock union.
This is one of the areas with the most concentrated labor force in the East District. A large number of dock workers will spend the whole day here to earn a meager salary, while the remaining unemployed workers and homeless people will also wait on the edge of the nearby road, waiting.
Ask the foreman to select coolies to serve as porters.
"If that bastard bartender didn't lie just now, old Verdu should live nearby." Mike, whose belly seemed a little bloated, said harshly.
Originally, he planned to leave the bar after asking for general clues, but he didn't expect that the bartender was very difficult to pry. In the middle of a step-by-step chat, he quietly induced Mike to "actively" order two portions.
A big lunch.
At least I was very full after eating one sole of lunch... Klein, who was following Mike, did not cater to him. Instead, he touched his belly with satisfaction and felt a warmth.
Considering the possible gangster power behind the bar, Mike and Klein had no intention of taking action even if they knew that the other party wanted to sell or buy by force.
Fortunately, after paying the money honestly, the bartender actually gave the specific address of Old Verdu, which was on the street directly opposite the dock union.
This is a small brick building with the outer wall peeling off and looking slanted. Although it has three floors, judging from the messiness of the corridors, there are not many residents.
Following closely behind Mike, Klein slowly climbed the stairs. Without saying a word, Klein carefully looked at the doorways of the rooms on the stairs, his eyes gradually becoming serious.
The wooden doors in each room here are not obviously gathering dust like those in empty houses. On the contrary, judging from the door axis, these doors are often used.
But will the residents of the East District really not occupy any open space in the corridors? I remember that even in the Lower Street of Tingen, various low-cost apartments would have residents occupy additional open space in the corridors...
In doubt, Klein subconsciously turned on his spiritual vision. Looking at the empty gray in front of him, he couldn't help but frown.
The wall here was thicker than he thought, and ordinary spiritual vision alone was not enough to see what was behind the door.
Klein concentrated his mind, and his spirituality gradually spread, and the delicate spirituality slid all the way to his right hand.
In silence, the "stand-in" disguised as an ordinary glove quietly opened, and the illusory and hazy dark thin lines separated from the air and gradually became clear.
This is the "spiritual thread" perspective that can only be mastered by the "Puppet Master"!
With the help of the vision established by the "double", the entire three-story building, which is not too tall, is almost completely included in Klein's field of vision. In most of the rooms where the doors were opened and closed just now, there are no spiritual threads. There are only
On the top floor here, a non-load-bearing wall has been opened. In a room that is wider than everyone else, the two spiritual body lines almost overlap, and the corresponding bodies are almost glued together.
Klein, who was silently observing the situation, suddenly frowned, and immediately closed the perspective of the spiritual thread, with a touch of livid color on his face.
The good news is that he found old Verdu. The bad news is that he doesn't know what kind of treatment Mike will face when he knocks on the door later.
Interrupting other people's good things is easy to be resented.
Sure enough, Mike followed the guidance of the note in his hand and walked up to the third floor. After a while of identification, he knocked on the closed door of the room.
"ah!"
Suddenly, a faint scream was blocked by layers of walls, followed by an inarticulate curse. Mike was so frightened that he stopped and subconsciously looked at Klein behind him.
.
Don't look at me... Klein, who had probably guessed what was going on in the room, resisted the urge to look away, controlled his expression, and tried to appear innocent.
About five minutes later, the door to the room, which had stopped making noises, finally opened. A bearded man who looked to be in his forties, with a relatively strong build, dark skin, and messy clothes, who looked like he had just put on a suit, opened the room.
Door, his face gloomy.
Mike, who had seen a lot, was not frightened, but he still adjusted his position, quietly moved back a little, and then imitated the East District's communication method and said:
"Are you Old Verdu?"
"I was introduced by Fitch from the Boomerang Bar."
Fitch is the name of the bartender just now.
Verdu's cheeks were bulging after his good deeds were forcibly interrupted, and a hint of dark red appeared on his livid face, making his already dark skin even darker.
He opened his eyes wide and stared at Mike, who was half a head lower than him, for a long time. Then he looked at Klein, who was standing behind him with calm eyes and a mature temperament. Then he slowly suppressed his anger and cursed secretly before falling silent.
said:
"It's me. I know that bastard Feiqi won't let me idle."
His voice sounded like it was being suffocated in a bottle of wine.
"Tell me, what's the matter with you?"
"Hey, I want to know about the business." Seeing the drama, Mike quickly put on a knowing expression on his face and lowered his voice.
Verdu, who had calmed down and had blood flowing back to his brain, looked at Mike standing at the door with strange eyes, with no intention of letting him in.
Not to mention that it was noon, his business was not open at all, and the man in front of him didn't look like he wanted to "order".
"Ha." He sneered, his tense movements gradually relaxed, and his strong arms skillfully took out cigarettes and matches from his trouser pocket.
As a little spark passed by, the pungent smell of tobacco leaves slowly dissipated. Verdu took a deep breath with satisfaction and said to Mike with a smile:
"You're not here to find a street girl, are you?"
As he spoke, he glanced vaguely at Klein, who was standing in the corridor and looking around.
His former gangster career told him that the man standing behind this suspected reporter was the real thug who could be a threat.
Mike obviously did not expect that he would be exposed so soon, but he was just stunned for a moment, then quickly reacted and complied:
"Yes, but I am also a customer."
Verdu, who was in a good mood today, looked like he didn't care much. He took out his slightly crooked pants with his free right hand and asked casually:
"Are you looking for someone to interview, or do you want me to introduce someone to you?"
Mike, who was ready to pay to solve the problem, suddenly froze, his expression slightly frozen, and he looked at the vulgar pimp in front of him in disbelief.
He actually saw through his purpose directly, and even acted very casually, as if he had done it many times?
As if feeling Mike's surprise, Verdu, who was smoking a cigarette, shrugged unceremoniously, arranged the messy clothes on his body with both hands, and said vaguely with a cigarette holder in his mouth:
"This is nothing unusual. Ever since the 7 damn Ripper cases happened, reporters have been trying to interview us. Since they are all making money, why not make money?"
"Anyway, I believe you won't want to offend most of the gangs in the East District. You will keep it a secret, right?"
As he spoke, Verdu, who was leaning against the door frame and very lazy, suddenly glanced at Mike and Klein, and his tone was sparse and normal.
Feeling the threat from the other party, Mike smiled dryly, immediately asked for the specific price, and handed it to the other party.
But even so, Verdu didn't even intend to let them into the house. He just put out his cigarette at the door and recalled it carefully.
"You want to ask Alvin, the news is so fast, it turns out that the unlucky guy who had his internal organs dug out was her in the newspaper."
Based on the information about the deceased that Mike gave, Verdu didn't waste much time in giving the real name of the deceased and filled in a lot of information that the newspaper could not get.
"Oh, she was originally from here. She is good-looking. I didn't make things difficult for her. But in the past two weeks, after she took a job from the dock union opposite, she told me that she wanted to quit."
"Oh, I suspect that the record-keeper recently added by the dock union said something to her. This kind of woman always likes to think nonsense."
"I really didn't expect that she died so quickly. It's quite a pity." In the end, Verdu sighed quite hypocritically, but the corners of his mouth were raised high.
Standing at the door, Mike frowned instinctively. His mind subconsciously recalled the wooden doors he had just seen, and his mood became even darker.
But for the sake of smooth investigation, he immediately relaxed his brows and asked with a slightly curious tone:
"Is that all? Are there any more powerful revelations?"
During the conversation, he even used common words that would be used by third-rate reporters from tabloid newspapers.
Verdu, who was leaning against the door frame, smiled and said nothing, but the sarcastic smile on his face said nothing.
With one hand in his pocket, Mike subconsciously clenched his fist, remained silent for two seconds, and then calmly counted out the "once" price Verdu said and handed it to him.
Weighing the weight in his hands, Verdu nodded with satisfaction and continued to say in an unserious tone:
"I don't know much about the rest. After all, there are so many people. Even if she is good-looking, all I care about is her face."
Seeing Mike's face gradually turn purple, Verdu smiled evilly and changed the topic:
"But I can tell you that the last customer she took before, some Patrick in the dock union opposite, the new record clerk, should be called this word, you can definitely find it if you ask."
Mike, who was silenced by Verdu's tall shadow, nodded stiffly, while behind him, Klein subconsciously looked in the direction of the union.
That Miss Ivan should really be just a low-sequence Extraordinary. After all, except for the "Witch of Joy", no Extraordinary needs to use this method to act, let alone be reduced to such a life.
But if she only became an Extraordinary recently, then the source of her potion, or the opportunity to obtain the potion...
Sherlock Moriarty's ice-blue eyes cast a gaze through the round hole-shaped window in the corridor that was not blocked by glass, to the dimly visible small house opposite where the dock workers' union was located, and his eyes narrowed little by little.