The carriage Wayne was riding in quickly merged into the street's traffic, which was noticeably busier than usual.
Not long after entering the Cathedral, he saw Tom Hagen alive.
The good news was that he didn't seem to be under house arrest, and his previous treatment didn't appear to have been downgraded.
But the bad news was that the situation inside the Cathedral indeed seemed like "something big had happened."
Not only did the guiding monk appear cautious and spoke little, but almost everyone along the way had serious expressions and hurried steps.
And Tom Hagen was currently "packing up" in his office, seemingly preparing to flee...
Wayne's mind raced, and a thousand words condensed into one sentence: "Is the news in the newspaper true?"
Tom Hagen was clearly in a bad mood at this moment; his hands kept moving, and he nodded slightly: "In a sense, that is the 'fact,' you don't need to doubt it."
Two large boxes of items in the room were already packed, and there was an open suitcase on the desk.
Wayne looked at a not-so-thick document bag inside, recalling past events, and tried to ask, "So, His Grace the Bishop...
"The funeral is planned for seven days later, mainly to await Bishop Jonathan Crownz to preside over the ceremony, followed by the election of the new bishop and the ordination ceremony the next day."
Tom Hagen spoke very directly, then paused slightly, "I had my last meeting with His Grace the Bishop this morning, and I'll probably depart for Springfield the day after tomorrow."
Compared to the Holy See, funerals for Holy Spirit Church clergy are generally simpler and more modest, but at the level of a Bishop, no matter how "simple," it can't be too simple.
At least many prominent figures and main priests within the archdiocese will gather, and from viewing the body, chanting scriptures, holding memorial services, and offering blessings, all the way to the final burial in the cemetery, everything will be carried out surrounded by people; ordinary folks don't even have the right to stand in the closest circle of people.
Given Tom Hagen's relationship with Bishop Corleone, even if he wasn't scheduled to give a eulogy at the ceremony, he normally shouldn't miss even the final farewell ceremony...
Wayne's nerves tightened; many things suddenly clicked into place.
Tom Hagen's appointment had been discussed long ago, and his current statement largely aligned with what Father Tyrrell had said previously, both roughly indicating that, at least as of this morning, Bishop Corleone could still speak independently. Thinking this way...
"What happened last night... was it planned by you all along?" Wayne asked.
"How should I put this? Actually, I'm not clear about the specific situation last night."
Tom Hagen seemed a bit downcast, but quickly perked up, "But you don't need to worry; my departure is at His Grace the Bishop's behest, and I have matters to attend to. Moreover, from my perspective, Father Tyrrell still finds you useful, and unless there's another major change, the situation in Virginia should not significantly change for at least one or two years. If you're interested then, you're welcome to visit."
Hmm...
Considering the current situation of the Church, despite being in a private space, speaking in the Cathedral might still not be very convenient.
Wayne and Tom Hagen chatted for a while longer, and finally, only able to ponder the meaning of his words, Wayne temporarily took his leave, "I'll see you off then."
...
Stepping out of the Cathedral, the adjacent square was still incredibly congested.
Normally, the best place to get gossip is a bar or tavern, but it was clearly too early for that. Wayne decided to visit City Hall and the Police Station, and along the way, check if there were any new newspapers, as there might be updated news there.
Looking towards the square, the empty spot Sanders found wasn't ideal; a quick glance showed only car roofs or people's heads in between.
The carriage probably wouldn't be able to get through anytime soon, so Wayne simply walked over himself. However, he had barely taken a few steps after descending the Cathedral's steps, just outside the range of the church guards' vigilance, when a throng of people surged towards him.
"Sir, do you have any latest news regarding last night's incident?"
"Would you be willing to disclose your identity? If you have any valuable information, we can discuss it privately in detail."
"Mr. Wayne, I'm a reporter from The New York City Sun. Has the Church once again commissioned you to investigate the case?"
"Wayne? The recent Great Detective? Does commissioning you to investigate mean that the Cathedral has completely lost faith in the Richmond police?"
"Can you share your thoughts on last night's incident? Some say it was a rebellion initiated by large landowners in collusion with local clergy. How do you think such malicious conspiracy theories should be criticized?"
Goodness,
So many voices simultaneously poured into his ears, some clearly mixed with personal agendas, making his head spin.
What high-fidelity, full-surround stereo noise...
Wayne had not eaten pork but had seen pigs run; he pushed through the crowd, saying "I have no information, no comment" all the way, just wanting to escape this dreadful place quickly, not even daring to say "no comment" which could easily be twisted and misinterpreted.
Fortunately, reporters of that era still had some integrity; at least they stopped pursuing once they reached the square area—there were guards here too, and the people standing by many of the outer carriages didn't look like pushovers either, all with an air of "get too close to the carriage and you'll regret it."
Although equally crowded, there was at least a basic social distance between people in the square; at least no one was blocking the way.
However, it wasn't much better here either. Soon, a figure emerged from between the people, approaching. Wayne turned his head and recognized the face: the Detective Agency's current top patron, Mr. Russell's butler.
"Mr. Wayne, I wonder if you are available now? Mr. Russell would like to invite you to a meeting."
Are you kidding me? What invitation, it would be more accurate to say "catch one if you can"...
"I have no knowledge of last night's events; I entered the Cathedral just now for something else," Wayne said truthfully.
The butler smiled politely and nodded, but clearly didn't hear a word: "Mr. Russell specifically arranged for us to extend this invitation here; it won't take up too much of your time, if you don't mind..."
Looking at the gentleman in front of him, who seemed to be in a "temporarily not understanding human language" state, and with several other figures, also looking like butlers or personal valets, gathering around, seemingly "queuing" according to some strange etiquette,
Wayne accepted his fate. Anyway, it was still early to go to a bar, and he still had to give some face to his patron. So he simply raised a hand and pointed into the distance, "My carriage is parked over there."
In the end, Wayne was politely "escorted" by the butler all the way, as if he was afraid he would run away...
Two carriages, one in front of the other. Fortunately, this time Wayne wasn't led to Mr. Russell's estate, otherwise, it would have wasted a lot of extra time going back and forth.
Entering a club through a side door, whose name he didn't quite catch, Wayne finally saw Mr. Russell seemingly conversing with several people of similar status in a small hall that wasn't too spacious but felt like even the carpets were made of wool.
Glancing at the butler who led Wayne over, Mr. Russell quickly turned around and formally introduced him to the people nearby:
"This one you should all be familiar with, Wayne Constantine, the Great Detective who's been making waves in the newspapers lately. We are long-term partners."
Aside from sounds of surprised inquiry, questions of "what kind of cooperation" soon followed, and one gentleman seemed to have other questions he wanted to ask.
Unfortunately, Wayne didn't even get a chance to advertise the Detective Agency before Mr. Russell, smiling, had already stopped the other gentlemen, who also looked like potential patrons, behind him.
One of his hands was now half-resting on Wayne's arm, looking like a benevolent elder affectionately treating a much-watched junior in the family, but in reality, it seemed like he was half-pushing, not wanting Wayne to continue interacting with them.
Mr. Russell's face was bright, and he seemed to deliberately show a bit of pride for those around him: "Wayne, let's talk alone in the reception room."
Please, I really don't have any inside information...
