"I've never heard of him."
"Okay, ma'am."
If the most ridiculous thing happened after tonight's wine tasting festival, it was the incident in the harbor area where three or four men repeatedly stopped several passers-by to ask ridiculous questions.
"Sir, do you know who Stritch Mansard is?" Dutch stopped another man and asked.
"Sorry, I don't know." The gentleman first raised his head, and after answering Dutch, lowered the brim of his hat and left in a hurry.
Fantasy, who was following Dutch, took out a cigarette and started smoking it. During this time, he had missed many passers-by. Seeing the depressed Fantasy, Dutch felt a little angry but dared not speak.
At this time, John, who was supposed to be on another block, came over. "Dutch, it's not feasible to ask passers-by so boldly. Stritch hid his traces very well."
"You're probably right, John. Even though I've been here long enough, I still can't find anyone I don't even know."
"Yes, although this Stritch has attached himself to the mayor early, it can be seen that his status in Saint-Denis is not bad, and his connections are worth pondering, but you should listen to other people's opinions and not be so stubborn. ." John went on to say that Dutch was a little determined to have his own way tonight, and he didn't want and couldn't let the entire plan be ruined by Dutch's stubbornness.
Dutch spread his hands to express his helplessness and complained: "Saint Denis is so big, I can't think of a precise way to find a guy!"
At this time, Miller next to John interjected: "We should learn to look for some clues. Since this Stritch ignores the law and sells bootleg liquor, he is most likely to be in places where he is engaged in dirty business in this city, and It’s related to alcohol, so where can it be?”
"Is it the black market?"
Dutch sat down on a bench in front of Luji Manor.
"It shouldn't be so abrupt. Let me think about it."
Miller straightened his tie, walked over and sat on the other side of the bench, keeping his distance from Dutch: "Why don't we go to the pub to try our luck."
Dutch suddenly raised his head as if he was electrocuted, and his eyes slowly looked at Miller, his eyes full of surprise and even a little jealous. Regardless, he thought it was a good idea.
"Miller, you're a smart boy. Guys! We have something to do tonight!"
When it comes to taverns, people in this city seem to prefer them to taverns. There is nothing more common in Saint-Denis than taverns. This cheap way of anesthetizing nerves has won the favor of the citizens. This entertainment method nourishes the suffering lower class people in the hazy Saint Denis. In a sense, the widely distributed taverns on the street have become the public guesthouses of Saint-Denis, a good place for people to discuss business, and also connect the black market.
So, at the corner of a three-way intersection in the northeast of Saint Denis, Dutch pointed to the door of a tavern.
John pushed the door open and saw a bartender-looking person at the counter greeting him.
"Hey, look at them! Friends, you must be new customers."
"Hey, Monell's old bar hasn't had any new people in years. It's just us unkempt old men who just hang out. Old man Condesi can still attract customers outside. I don't want to believe it." A black man said, His right arm was supported in a triangle shape on the dilapidated wooden table of the bar. His eyes were staring at the people walking in and at the bartender.
"I would rather believe that old Condesi still has some remaining charm. You see these gentlemen are dressed formally. They may come from the rich land in the north." The bartender poured himself a glass of wine.
Dutch didn't pay much attention to the discussion between the two people, lowered his head and quickened his pace, passing John who went in first, and walked to the bar.
"Give me a little whiskey," Dutch said.
The bartender blinked funnyly, forming an O-ring with his mouth, and took a bottle of amber liquid from the shelf behind him, then uncorked it and poured some into a small cup.
"Sir, this is the 'little' I understand. Do your friends also want to do the same?"
"Come on." John, Miller and Fantasy replied in unison.
Dutch looked at the surrounding environment while turning the glass with only "a little" whiskey in his hand: "You have opened this tavern for many years. You must be more familiar with the city of Saint Denis than us outsiders. I Thought you would know someone.”
John thought that Dutch was not going to go around in circles anymore and cut to the chase directly. The next step was to see what the tavern owner had to say.
"Sir, I have to point out your mistake. I don't open this tavern. To be honest, I was just invited by Monell Rodriguez to help him guard the tavern with a monthly salary. If your There are places in my hometown where a lot of people gather to drink, and you will understand, sir, that getting money to do things is the most common way."
"Hahahahaha!" the bartender's reply earned a burst of laughter from the audience.
Dutch shook his head and said, "That's not the point. Do you know Stritch Manstar?"
Upon hearing this name, the bartender's originally funny face suddenly froze, and paleness crept up his cheeks along the protruding tendons of his neck. It took him a while to regain his color - it seemed that he was quite frightened.
The bartender's tone became unfamiliar to everyone: "Are you... sent here by Mr. Manstar? Please tell him - I have already paid this year's premium..."
Dutch saw the drastic change in the bartender's attitude and became interested.
"Then, your warm hospitality just now was too unreserved. If Stritch is really such a big deterrent, you should be careful about your life and wealth and keep your tail between your legs from the moment you see several people coming in."
The bartender looked at Dutch timidly, with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"So, gentlemen are not... from Manstar?" he asked carefully.
"No, but it is more dangerous than Manstar, so you'd better be more vigilant and save yourself from gossiping that makes us unhappy. Now, I want to ask you where is Stritch Manstar?"
"I... don't know, every time Mr. Manstar just sends his men to withdraw money - I have never seen him in person!" The bartender was trembling, with a look of lingering fear on his face.
"Why!"
Dutch turned his head and waved to John and others to retreat.
"Let's go! It's a waste of time. Try another one."
Dutch looked at the price clearly marked on the wall, took out five cents from his pocket and put it on the table. Just as the tips of his leather boots were about to step on the threshold of the door, a voice came from the gaming table behind him.
"I can tell you where Stritch is, but I have conditions."
This voice forcefully pulled Dutch and the others back. John turned around and saw a fat man in a red dress lying peacefully in an easy chair, with a pair of small eyes under a tall hat looking at them.
"Oh? You know what? Well, what do you want me to do?" Dutch said.
Mr. Top Hat twirled his shiny thin beard and said: "What I'm going to ask you to do is ridiculous, and you have to do it according to my rules, because I have leverage-I know where Manstar is."
John knew that Dutch didn't like being provoked, but for the purpose that he had insisted on for so long, Dutch could only swallow his anger.
"Tell me what your conditions are."
"Oh, sir, just sit here. Yes, there are two empty seats. Sit here. Sit down and play a game of cards with us - Texas Hold'em. You will know where Stritch is. It's so difficult not to be a very good person. A good deal?”
"Okay, I'll accompany you." Dutch replied.
When he heard that someone wanted to play cards with him, Mr. Fat's enthusiasm increased: "Yeah, sir, shouldn't there be two of you? Isn't there a chair here?"
The atmosphere suddenly became awkward. John and the other two looked at each other in confusion. None of the three people knew who should step forward to participate in the card game, until Dutch's eyes looked at John.
"John, come on! I believe your poker skills and luck are very good."
