Gangs are usually the type where if you hit the young, the old will come out.
Although Wayne and his team didn't follow the traditional steps this time, capturing the leader first, some things, even if the order is disrupted, the plot seems to remain largely similar.
Inside the carriage, after Wayne realized that this guy was indeed informed, he had just finished stating his name and hadn't had time to ask for specifics when several similarly “bruised and battered” individuals rushed out of the house where the person had just been caught.
He turned his head and saw, good heavens,
They looked like murlocs whose nests had been blown up, filled with righteous indignation, shouting “waaaah!” and carrying lever-action rifles, which were not allowed to be openly possessed in the city.
It seemed they had just pulled out all their family's possessions from somewhere, ready to chase after Wayne's side and “perish together.”
The list Father Tyrrell provided should not have been reported to the Police Station; the Detective Agency's investigation of the assassination case was considered semi-official “public business” at the time, but strictly speaking, what they were doing now was “private work.”
Therefore, even though there were also lever-action rifles in the carriage, and Wayne had a better bolt-action rifle under his seat, he still tapped the carriage partition twice, signaling Sanders to drive away and not engage with these guys carrying long guns.
The Dock Area is crowded and has many eyes, so the Detective Agency didn't need to openly violate gun control regulations; at the very least, they should first lure the people to a more secluded place before dealing with them.
This would make it easier to explain to the familiar faces at the Police Station later.
— “Controlled firearms” are sometimes like a toilet; what you do in private is one thing, but using them in public during the day is somewhat impolite.
After hearing the gunshots earlier, nearby residents and pedestrians quickly went indoors or took cover, but many still peeked out, as if watching someone carrying a toilet to fight with others, both fearing contamination but also unable to suppress their curiosity.
Wayne didn't want to become famous for something so strange and give others an excuse to gossip.
“Wait!”
The one who urgently spoke to stop them at this moment was the gang leader himself, whose face was slowly starting to swell.
After signaling that he was “harmless” and receiving Wayne's nod, he quickly leaned his face to the carriage window, pulled by someone from behind, and stuck his head out through the door crack, shouting at his subordinates, “I’m fine, go back!”
Seeing that his subordinates were still hesitating, the guy shook his head and repeated, “Go back!”
Only then did the “murlocs” outside begin to stop, some stomping their feet in place, and then one person took the lead, with the rest reluctantly turning around and returning to the house, two of them seemingly still muttering under their breath.
Noticing the situation had improved, Wayne tapped the carriage partition again, and the carriage, which hadn't truly picked up speed, slowly stopped once more.
This guy's performance was quite good, so Wayne's treatment of him also improved accordingly; not only did he have “Soften” untie him, but he also took out his own unused handkerchief and gave it to him to wipe his face.
Being able to establish a small gang himself, this guy named James Damody was indeed shrewd enough.
While trying to move his body slightly in the cramped space between the two men, he actively explained to Wayne:
“Mr. Wayne, I’ve read news about you in the newspaper and know you’re a great detective.
Since you came directly to me with the newspaper, I believe you’ve already basically confirmed the truth; you merely want to understand some of the details—I can tell you.”
After a narration, the case itself was not overly complex:
It was merely “the wrongly accused who happened to argue with the deceased,” “the assassin who took the opportunity to act secretly,” “the careless investigator,” “the self-righteous eyewitness,” and “the jury who thought they had grasped the truth.”
But Wayne's focus was, “Why kill him?”
The small gang leader, who had originally been forthcoming, now spread his hands: “I don’t know either; I was just entrusted by someone.”
“Who instructed you?” Wayne pressed.
James Damody shook his head, “I don’t know.
I never tried to investigate the identity of the person who contacted me, and that person may not even be the true instigator.”
Meeting Wayne's direct gaze, James Damody shrugged:
“Indeed.
Someone delivered the target and the deadline for the act to my bedroom, and also told me in the letter that, in exchange, he could help me settle the lawsuit I was facing at the time, and even grant me a certain degree of protection.
“In fact, from the second day after receiving the letter, the Police Station suddenly suspended the murder investigation of one of my subordinates at the time; we dared not not act.
During this period, many things have indeed not been monitored by anyone.
“I don’t know who the other party is, but they must be a powerful and influential figure—just like you, Mr. Wayne.
You personally came to inquire, and I chose to tell the truth to show my respect for you.
“However, if it comes to court, I would rather plead guilty myself than admit these words again.
According to the law, this case definitely lacks sufficient evidence by now; even if a great detective like you intervenes, at most I'd face long-term imprisonment, and perhaps I could get out in a few years, and by then, maybe the gang would still be there—but I don’t want to die.”
Wayne pondered for a moment, “I can also destroy your gang.”
“Of course.” James Damody seemed to have no doubt about this, “The newspaper introduced your situation.
Your Detective Agency has more staff than many small gangs, and you can even be designated by the Bishop to handle case investigations, so you have a strong background.
Today, you only sent two people and were able to pull me out; the quality of your personnel is clearly much stronger than ours.
“But you meticulously study fingerprints and bloodstains, which shows you are a person who values evidence and respects the law—some people act without ever caring about those things, and no matter how powerful you are, you can’t have my family and subordinates all hanged.
This is not a difficult choice.”
Wayne followed up, “Did the other party threaten you like that?”
A smile appeared on the small gang leader’s face: “People who truly live in the shadows are not scared by verbal threats.
I wasn’t even going to say anything, but actually, along with the letter, there was a severed human ear delivered to my bedside table at the time.
“It came from the leader of another gang that we were in conflict with at the time; I recognized the earring on it.
After they disbanded, their territory is now ours.
I guess those who don’t cooperate will end up like that, and won’t even be given a chance to explain—I don’t mean to belittle you, but you are clearly not our kind of person.”
Damn it, why is it this kind of thing again?
Wayne’s thoughts had already gone further at this point; at least in this case, the information in the list Father Tyrrell provided was accurate, but it was still far from the “truth.”
Is Father Tyrrell hoping our Detective Agency can sever the “tentacles” of certain people, or is he hoping the Detective Agency will dig out the people behind this as well?
If it’s both, then this is simply a huge quagmire.
However, there was nothing more to discuss with this small gang leader.
Wayne looked at the other party's expression and replied calmly, “Such an ecology is not healthy and does not have the conditions for sustainable development.”
