Old days, dice and investigator's manual

The carriage traveled through several streets and alleys before the Palmer Bank building came into view.

Palmer Bank is located on the east side of the city center square. Steps lead to the main entrance, which is supported by four stone pillars and decorated with ornate reliefs. It looks quite impressive.

However, at this moment, the grandeur was somewhat diminished by the crowd outside. There were about twenty or thirty men and women gathered on the steps, all well-dressed, the men carrying canes and the women carrying handbags.

These people are clearly not ordinary depositors; those who can rent private safe deposit boxes at Palmer Bank are basically from the middle class or above.

These usually reserved gentlemen and ladies gathered at the entrance, some talking with grim expressions, others questioning the staff who were trying to maintain order. A middle-aged man with a mustache, presumably acting as a representative, was waving his arms at a tall, thin man who looked like the bank manager, shouting things like, "Have you done anything right to us?" The scene was chaotic.

After getting off the carriage, Isaac, carrying his suitcase and bedding roll, was about to take a step when he noticed several other carriages parked not far away. The sides of the carriages were painted with family crests, belonging to several of Palmer's famous lords.

It seems that not only the middle class, but even the nobility have been alarmed. I wonder if this will make the city police investigate more thoroughly... Isaac withdrew his gaze.

Just then, a voice came from beside him: "Even a blanket isn't very safe to store in a bank at a time like this."

"Hmm?" Isaac turned his head and saw a young man of similar age standing a few steps away, looking at the roll of bedding in his hand with great interest.

Seeing that the other party did not make any further statement, Isaac had no time to pay attention to such gossip. He quickly climbed the steps and struggled to get past the agitated gentlemen and ladies to reach the manager.

The manager was busy comforting a lady when Isaac waited a moment, then seized the opportunity when the manager caught his breath and said, "Excuse me, I've rented a safe from your bank and would like to check on the situation."

Upon hearing this, the manager looked at him, his gaze lingering for a few seconds on the suitcase and rolled-up bedding in Isaac's hands. Isaac quickly gave his name, and the manager flipped through the register again, glancing at a list before stopping.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Lessing, your safe was also among those stolen," the manager said.

Isaac's heart sank. Although he had a premonition, hearing the news with his own ears still made him almost faint.

Seeing that Isaac's reaction wasn't as agitated as the others, the manager breathed a sigh of relief and reminded him, "The officer will arrange for a registration later. Please make a list of the items stored in the safe. If there are any leads, the city police will notify you immediately."

Isaac wanted to ask for more details, but before he could speak, a man squeezed in beside him: "Sir, my master is waiting outside, could you please hurry..."

The manager was grabbed by him and had no choice but to nod to Isaac before being pulled aside. Several more people surrounded him, and Isaac had to step back and make room for them.

The commotion continued. Several police officers in black uniforms came out of the hall, seemingly wanting some fresh air. Upon seeing the crowd on the steps, they immediately turned and walked back.

Isaac stood by the pillar, switching the rolled-up bedding to his other hand, hesitating whether to find an opportunity to ask more questions, when the voice rang out again: "If I were you, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to queue."

Isaac turned around and saw that the young man from before had followed him and was looking at the busy police officers in the hall.

The man looked to be about the same age as Isaac, with dark gray to almost black eyes, light gray hair that was slightly disheveled by the wind, his hands in the pockets of his gray trench coat, and a loose maroon tie tied around the collar of his shirt.

Isaac didn't respond, and the young man didn't seem to care, continuing on his own: "This recovery operation is a big project for the city police department. If they can't give us an explanation, they're finished. That's why you see, they don't even dare to leave the house."

"What do you want to say?" Isaac looked at the guy's casual demeanor and guessed that he hadn't lost anything too valuable, or even anything at all. He was probably up to no good.

The young man shrugged: "It's nothing, just a friendly reminder that not everything is suitable for the city police to help recover."

Isaac frowned slightly. The young man withdrew his gaze from the hall and gestured with his chin toward the carriages painted with heraldry: "Some orders follow the order of arrival, while others follow the order of social status. If you intend to wait in line, I'm afraid you'll have a hard time."

Isaac followed the gaze to the carriages and understood their meaning. The city police force had limited resources, so naturally they would prioritize serving prominent owners. If the safes of nobles were damaged, they would receive the highest priority, followed by respectable individuals with connections to the city police force or those who could exert pressure on them.

As for someone like Isaac, who has neither connections nor background, even if he registers, he will only receive a number and be placed in a long waiting queue. If he is lucky, he may hear back after a few months; if he is unlucky, he will simply disappear without a trace.

"You're telling me all this out of kindness, surely not out of good intentions?" Isaac placed the suitcase and rolled-up bedding at his feet. "May I ask who you are...?"

The young man smiled and said, "Well, I'd say I'm a private investigator, and isn't this the perfect time to promote my business?"

"For those who are behind the city police but are in a hurry to lose something, a private investigator is a good option." He took his hand out of his pocket and spread it out. "The fees are flexible and the efficiency is high. At least you don't have to wait for the city police to finish the nobles' cases before dealing with theirs."

Isaac glanced at the rolled-up bedding at his feet: "Do I look like someone who can afford a private investigator?"

"Doesn't seem like it." The young man was straightforward, then pointed to the well-dressed gentlemen and ladies on the steps. "Logically speaking, these people should be more suitable as my clients. As for you, you don't look like a poor wretch, but hiring a private investigator is a luxury for you. You'll probably be stingy, and you'll spend ages negotiating the commission fee."

Hey, don't be so stingy with my words... Isaac's lips twitched, thinking to himself, is this really what a self-promoting private investigator should say?

"But the problem is, they might not be willing to commission me, and I might not be willing to accept their commissions." The young man changed the subject, "After all, what I lack now is not money, but something else they can't afford—employees."

"Huh?" Isaac thought he misheard. How did the sales pitch suddenly turn into a job posting?

The young man slowly pulled a business card from his pocket and waved it in front of Isaac. Isaac could only make out the name printed in the largest font: "Carlo... Schuster?"

"Yes, that's me." Carlo Schuster put the business card back in his pocket and said.