Besides mixing all the raw ingredients into a “paste” according to different ratios, the production of luncheon meat also involves a “water bath heating” process to allow them to solidify.
Given the limited cooking conditions at the restaurant, samples of different recipes could only be cooked one by one.
Aside from what was consumed during the taste test, the remaining portions would likely take the Detective Agency members at least two continuous days to finish.
Inessa, who usually wasn't particular about “deliciousness” and found everything acceptable, luckily avoided this ordeal.
Lina couldn't handle it by the time she tasted sample number six, exclaiming, “I still have to go on a mission with Willie tonight, so I can't eat too much!” and then promptly slipped away.
Doug, who was fortunate enough to participate in the taste test, actually persevered until the very end—to be precise, he only retreated when Wayne also chose to surrender, which was around the twelfth or thirteenth sample.
Chef Parker, at that point, had already produced samples up to twenty...
The rest could only be put to the “public review” stage, for the Agents to evaluate.
Just as the lights at the restaurant were dimming, at the other end of Richmond City, a ball at a manor was still ablaze with music and dancing, bright as day.
Mr. Walter had just finished his last dance.
After escorting his dance partner back to the area where the female guests gathered, he walked directly to the long dining table laden with delicacies.
A servant approached with a tray of wine glasses: “We have conducted a preliminary investigation.
Miss Fisk of the Fisk Family did indeed visit the current base of the Wayne Detective Agency today and stayed for almost an entire afternoon, likely bringing many gifts.
As for Wayne himself, he went to the Dock Area today and had contact with members of a small gang.”
Mr. Walter picked up a glass of champagne from the tray, pretending to quench his thirst, “Tiriel has already said, ‘The investigation into the assassination case ends here.’
Now that Corleone is dead, what is Wayne still investigating?”
“That still needs to be investigated.
That small gang in the Dock Area deals in loan recovery from the poor, and we, as per requirements, do not directly involve ourselves in industries that might provoke public resentment.”
The subordinate, disguised as a servant, first bowed slightly in apology before continuing, “However, that small gang seems to have a certain ‘cooperative relationship’ with Mr. Schwartz’s subordinates.
To avoid suspicion, we did not investigate too thoroughly before…”
“Schwartz, huh…”
Mr. Walter recalled briefly and quickly remembered how Schwartz had righteously attacked him, leading the charge using Bazzini’s incident as an excuse, at a gathering two days prior.
He pondered for a moment, thinking this was one of Father Tyrrell’s “new moves” after confirming he would become a bishop.
A smile involuntarily appeared on his lips, “Since it’s none of our business, there’s no need to follow up.
Let him handle it himself.”
The servant nodded and quickly seized the opportunity to ask, “Then how should we deal with those few peripheral members who were caught by that Detective Agency?
Someone saw that they are now working for Wayne.”
“How much do they know about our situation?” Mr. Walter asked in return.
The servant replied, “They are just ‘thugs’ kept on the periphery.
They shouldn't possess any important secrets, but their skills are quite proficient, and they will certainly remember the things they participated in.”
Upon hearing this, Mr. Walter waved his hand, “You handle it as you see fit.
If there’s a risk of leakage, find an opportunity to deal with them; otherwise, ignore them.
The new bishop’s consecration is imminent, and the previous assassination case was not pursued against us.
We shouldn't rush to show off; for now, observe more and do less.”
“Yes!” the servant said, then quickly left with the tray, avoiding attracting too much attention from the guests.
Mr. Walter, meanwhile, picked up a small sandwich fixed with a thin skewer—between two slices of crustless bread was what Miss Fisk of the Fisk Family had recommended as “luncheon meat” tonight.
He chewed a few bites, his gaze simultaneously sweeping towards Miss Olivia, who still looked radiant among the female guests.
The sauce in the sandwich was good, but the “luncheon meat” itself wasn't particularly tasty; it wasn't as “novel and delicious” as the guests had just praised.
Its only advantage was probably just “easy to chew”...
Could it be that Wayne was truly the future son-in-law of the Fisk Family?
No wonder, even though he had given the order “that night,” and Corleone’s men had swept everywhere overnight, the Detective Agency seemed completely unaffected.
It was not suitable for him to make any major moves for now, so he would let Schwartz try.
As Mr. Walter thought this, he noticed an old gentleman at a slight distance, who was talking to someone but observing his side.
So he laughed and proactively walked towards Mr. Bask of the Beaton Family, intending to sound him out during this sensitive period.
The camera pulls back.
Amidst the cheerful music that resumed in the ballroom, the two, surrounded by others, began their conversation.
They looked like “old friends” with a close relationship.
...
The next morning, Wayne yawned as he walked to the dining table in the restaurant’s ground floor hall, preparing to join the Agents in randomly tasting the “sandwich blind boxes” made by Chef Parker using different versions of luncheon meat, hoping to select the most popular version.
Lina, beside him, casually pushed a stack of items that had already been placed on the table, piling them all in front of Wayne.
Wayne looked at the large pile of paper products and instantly felt wide awake, “What’s going on? Why are there so many?
I asked you to find the secret letters hidden by that small gang leader.
You didn’t bring back all the love letters he secretly wrote but never sent during his youthful days, did you?”
Lina rolled her eyes, “I put that stuff in the common room on the second floor.
Peter is still guarding it; you definitely didn’t go look before you came down.”
Wayne was even more surprised, “Then what is this pile of stuff?”
Inessa was kind enough to explain, “The letters inside were handed over by the Police Station this morning.
Some were previously sent to different newspapers, and their content is mostly refutations or academic discussions of your ‘fingerprint’ theory, as well as fan mail.
The remaining few are invitations, delivered by several people who seemed to be butlers.
You weren’t awake then, so Doug received them on your behalf.”
Wayne then began to open these items.
He opened the first one and quickly scanned it; it had a lot of exclamation marks, likely a nitpicking one.
It wasn’t suitable to read something that could raise his blood pressure so early in the morning, so he didn't read it.
The second one was much better.
The handwriting was beautiful cursive.
Upon closer inspection, it said, “Regarding the study of ‘fingerprints,’ there is currently no conclusive consensus in academia, and it seems unsuitable as guiding evidence for case investigations”—Tsk, it’s just that academia is slow; you need to catch up.
Since two letters in a row had nothing good to say, Wayne simply decided not to read them for now.
Based on the thickness and elegance of the envelopes, he quickly picked out a few invitations from the pile.
“Why are they all invitations to balls? And some dates even conflict.
The Beaton Family is a familiar acquaintance, and Mr. Russell is even the Detective Agency’s patron… Who are these others?”
Inessa’s good memory proved very useful at this moment.
She took the invitations Wayne had opened and translated them one by one, “This person is described in the newspaper as a local large estate owner, mainly dealing in tobacco and cotton.
This one is a member of some ‘Industrial Alliance,’ likely an operator of large factories.
This one seems to be a wealthy person; there have been gossip news about him in the newspapers.
As for this one… you don’t recognize this one either?”
Wayne leaned over and glanced again, “No impression.
Should I know him?”
Inessa seemed unsure how to comment, her gaze slightly helpless as she looked over, “He is the Mayor of Richmond.”
Oh,
The guy who even managed the Dock Area in a mess.
