Chapter 159 Landlord
Louis continued:
"I'll have someone deliver those three things to the Golden Rooster Inn later."
"How much?" Lumian planned to give Louis a little extra hard work fee.
Louis shook his head:
"The Baron said that you don't have to pay. Your improvement in strength means that our Savoy Party will improve its strength."
Baron Brinell didn't need to explain it specifically, Louis could see that he was trying to win people's hearts. It was less than 10 fergins anyway.
According to the Baron's statement, I can also ask him to reimburse me for the materials I need to upgrade to "Arsonist" later? Lumian muttered inwardly.
Louis took a sip of pomegranate soda and saw a group of people walking in at the door of the Breeze Ballroom.
The leader was very tall, over meters, with short, soft light yellow hair that stuck to his head like the surface of high-quality velvet.
He had a large nose, light blue eyes, a bumpy face, and extremely rough skin. He was wearing a tight black suit and a wide-brimmed round hat on his head.
Louis' expression gradually became serious. He put down the soda bottle in his hand and said to Lumian:
"I must go to the Baron."
At this time, the tall and sturdy man in his thirties led several followers who were suspected to be gangster thugs, entered the stairs and went to the cafe.
"What is that?" Lumian did not hide his curiosity and confusion.
Louis stood up and explained casually:
"Simon the Giant who runs the dance halls in Nightingale Street."
"Isn't he also a member of our Savoyard party?" Lumian asked.
Louis nodded:
“But his relationship with the Baron is not very good. He has always said that since the Baron is in charge of the loan shark business, he should hand over the Breeze Ballroom.
"I went up there, and I didn't know what he was doing there."
Louis took two steps and saw from the corner of his eye that Lumian was sitting at the bar, motionless.
He couldn't help but sigh in his heart:
"You don't know how to seize the opportunity. Shouldn't you take the initiative to follow me and stand next to the Baron? If Simon the Giant really says something unpleasant, just glare at him and point a gun at him. Only then will the Baron slowly trust you.
"Well, even though he's ruthless, crazy, and very powerful, he's still just a country boy who knows nothing."
Of course, if Lumian really wanted to go upstairs to the cafe to maintain appearances for Baron Brinell, Louis would refuse him. After all, the Baron and the "Giant" Simon would probably talk about some confidential matters within the Savoy Party, which was not suitable for a new member to listen in.
Lumian was thinking at this time:
“There are also many contradictions within the Sava Party…
"If a conflict breaks out between Baron Brinell and Simon the Giant, and one of them dies, and the boss behind the scenes wants to find someone with enough strength to shock the crowd to succeed them, then wouldn't I have a chance? At that time, as long as I can pass the test, I will have completed Mr. K's mission.
"Apart from those leaders, there should be no one else in the Sava Party who can kill Maggot alone...
"The question now is how to make Baron Brinell and Simon the Giant fight each other without people suspecting me..."
As his thoughts turned, Lumian ordered a glass of absinthe.
Before he finished drinking the glass of dreamy green liquid, he saw the "Giant" Simon and his men coming out of the stairs with a tense face.
You don’t look very happy... Lumian nodded and looked away.
He was in no hurry to put his ideas into practice because he still knew too little about the Savoyard Party.
In the evening, Lumien had just returned to the Golden Rooster Hotel when Mrs. Firth, who was sitting at the front desk, stood up and said to him:
"Mr. Efe is here. He's waiting for you in the restaurant on the first floor. Take the seat by the window."
Not bad, you came pretty quickly... Lumian nodded slightly and walked into the small restaurant on the other side of the lobby.
Mr. Efe had heard people describe Charles's peculiar and fashionable hair color. When he saw him walk into the restaurant, he stood up with a smile on his face:
"Mr. Charles, here."
He was a man in his late 50s, with some blond hair that had turned white and was combed fairly neatly. He wore a dark suit that had been washed to a bleached color and a pair of chestnut tweed trousers. His eyes were blue without any cloudiness, and he had a sparse beard on his face.
Glancing at the cane leaning against the dining table, Lumian walked over with a smile:
"Good evening, Mr. Eff."
After both parties took their seats, Efe signaled to the waiter that the meal could be served.
"I'm sorry, I've been too busy lately and didn't come to visit you until today," Eve said apologetically.
His accent was typical Trier.
Lumian deliberately asked back:
"You own more than one hotel?"
What else are you busy with?
Ev was speechless for a moment. He didn't expect that the other party couldn't hear that what he said was just a polite remark.
He hesitated and said:
“There is some other business, but not much and not very good.”
While the two were chatting, the waiter brought dinner, one for each person:
Bean soup, pork sausage, Fenetport rice and a thin sauce that filled a fifth of the plate.
"This is their specialty meat sauce," Efe introduced enthusiastically.
That's all you ordered? Lumian had a new understanding of the landlord's stinginess.
He didn't care too much about it and ate the Fenet rice with the sauce that had a hint of meat, pepper and a certain amount of vinegar.
After a few seconds, Lumian raised his head and asked Mr. Efe with a smile:
"With your stinginess, why would you be willing to provide sulfur in every room?"
He deliberately did not use the more benign word "thrifty", and his tone was full of sarcasm.
Mr. Efe's face instinctively darkened and he looked unhappy.
He immediately restrained his emotions and smiled bitterly:
"There are so many bedbugs in the hotel that no one would stay there unless they gave them extra sulfur."
Really? As long as the price is cheap enough, poor people don't care whether there are bedbugs or not... Lumian cut a piece of sausage and put it into his mouth nonchalantly.
He chewed for a while before saying:
"Why not hire two regular cleaners to clean every day? That would effectively reduce the number of bed bugs."
"Two regular cleaners would earn 130 to 150 filgins a month, while a major cleanup once a week only costs 18 filgins," Mr. Efe said with a distressed look on his face.
Lumian smiled:
"I mean, why don't you just do the cleaning yourself and take your kids with you?"
That would save even the weekly expense of 18 filgins.
Mr. Efe looked interested, as if he thought this was a good idea.
After more than ten seconds, he sighed and said:
"What a shame. I have other things to do with them."
What's the matter? Lumian didn't ask any more questions.
He had already determined that this was a pure miser.
Mr. Efe glanced at Lumian and said carefully:
"I used to pay Maggot 20 Felkins a week. What day of the week do you want it?"
Lumian sneered:
"No need to give it to me. Just do one more big cleanup every week."
Mr. Efe was a little surprised, but he didn't object. After all, a big cleanup would only cost 18 filgins, and if it was done twice a week, he could bargain.
Lumian finished the food on his plate and asked:
"Do you know where the previous tenant of 504 went?"
He was referring to the guy who put up the portrait of Susanna Matisse in Charlie's room. It was said that he was a frequent visitor to places like Wall Street, Breda Street, and Nightingale Street, but later moved away for some unknown reason.
Lumian had asked Mrs. Fels about this before, but didn't get any answer. After all, Mrs. Fels only cared about whether the rent was paid enough and whether anything in the room was damaged. She didn't care where the tenants went afterwards.
Mr. Efe was stunned for a moment, looking at the remaining food on the plate and said:
"I don't know who you mean. I seldom come to the hotel, and I don't know which room is occupied by which person."
This reaction... seems a little guilty... Lumian raised his eyebrows slightly, and without asking any more questions, he watched Mr. Efe finish the plate, without leaving a grain of rice or a drop of sauce.
He waited nearly twenty seconds after Mr. Efe left before walking out of the hotel, following the landlord from a distance.
He followed him to the middle of Market Avenue and watched Mr. Efe enter a beige six-story apartment building.
Judging from some details that Mrs. Firth mentioned before, this should be Mr. Efe's home.
Lumian was in no hurry to "visit" her. After all, some things were more convenient to do late at night. He was not sure whether the official Beyonders were still investigating Susanna Mathis's case and whether they also wanted to find some clues from Mr. Efe. It would be awkward if the two sides bumped into each other at that time.
In that case, Lumian could only quickly find a nearby "crack in the ground" to crawl into.
Under the light of the yellowish street lights, he walked around Mr. Efe's apartment and observed the surrounding environment.
What impressed Lumian the most was that diagonally opposite the apartment, on the other side of Market Avenue, there was a renovated brick-red three-story building.
It has a pillared foyer with a sign above it:
"Old Pigeon Cage Theatre".
At this time, people kept pouring in, and applause and music could be heard from inside from time to time, making it seem quite lively.
As far as Lumian knew, this was a drama theater that offered low ticket prices and targeted the general public, and it had no qualified competitors in the Honest Market District.
It’s a great place to escape pursuit... Lumian recalled the stories that happened in theaters in various novels, smiled, crossed the street, and entered the foyer of the Old Pigeon Cage Theater.
There are some posters here, depicting the plays that are currently or will be performed soon, as well as a few classic moments in the past.
Lumian, who was investigating how to use the theater, stood there and looked at the photos, drawings and texts carefully.
Suddenly, he saw a familiar face on a poster in a corner:
The extra who was acting as the background had grayer blond hair, blue eyes and a sparse beard. It was none other than Mr. Efe whom he had just been following!
(End of this chapter)
