Chapter 57: Reporter

Chapter Fifty-Seven
Reporter

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Holding the revolver rented from Cragg Club in one hand, Klein pulled the trigger repeatedly and struck the target with precision. Even his worst shots landed above the eighth ring.

After being fed a great many bullets, and after becoming a Clown and gaining bodily control surpassing ordinary people, his marksmanship could already be considered quite good.

If I keep practicing like this for a few months, I can be called a sharpshooter…

Satisfied, Klein opened the cylinder and shook out the cartridge cases. Amid their ringing clatter as they fell to the floor, he turned his head toward Talim Dumont and asked with a smile, “Satisfied?”

“Very good.”

The equestrian instructor Talim had taken off his black woolen coat and light-gray sweater. Assuming a boxing stance, he said, “Come. Let me learn your standard of fighting. I can tell you frankly that I received squire training from childhood, and I have never let it fall into disuse afterward.”

As a Beyonder, if I cannot even beat an ordinary gentleman who has only received training, then—then I will stop being human!

After inwardly mocking himself, Klein did not remove his double-breasted frock coat. He put away the revolver, sidestepped twice, and made a gesture to Talim indicating that he could begin.

He had originally wanted to crook a finger and stir the atmosphere a little, but when he thought of the other party’s strength, he was too lazy to waste the energy.

Talim was rather excited by this. He bounced lightly in place several times, then abruptly rushed forward and threw a right hook.

Klein blocked and caught with his left hand. Following the momentum, he lowered his body, twisted at the waist, extended his right palm, and smoothly executed an over-the-shoulder throw.

Thud. Talim flew out and landed on his back. Klein had not exerted force at the end, merely using inertia to fling him away from his body.

“Impressive!”

Talim quickly stood and gave him a thumbs-up.

“As expected of a famous great detective. Your marksmanship and fighting ability are both outstanding.”

I only defeated a weak chicken like you. Where exactly did you see that my fighting level is high?

Klein lampooned inwardly, then asked with a smile, “Since you have already understood my abilities, can you tell me what commission your friend wishes to entrust to me?”

“Heh. He will arrive at the club shortly. You can discuss it yourselves,” Talim said, rubbing the side of his back with one hand. “As for the exact commission, I do not know. Ah, right. He is a reporter, a news reporter for the Daily Observer, named Mike Joseph. He probably hopes to obtain short-term protection.”

“All right.”

Klein asked no more questions and continued practicing shooting. This time, not only with the revolver, but also with shotguns, single-shot rifles, and repeating rifles. He wanted to ensure that if he ever ran into a situation in the future, no matter what firearm happened to be nearby, he could get started with it quickly.

Close to noon, he returned to the first floor, entered the buffet restaurant, and took a portion of roast chicken, a pan-fried short rib, and the club’s limited daily offering: lobster baked with cream cheese.

After setting down those dishes, Klein also fetched Feynapotter seafood rice, fruit salad, oyster soup, and Marquis black tea.

Facing this abundant lunch, he could not help swallowing and silently praising the Goddess in his heart.

If I ate this outside, the meal would probably cost three soli…

Alternating among silver knife, fork, and spoon, Klein ate with great satisfaction.

When he had almost finished the food on the table, Talim Dumont led over a man in a heavy coat and half-top hat.

“Detective Moriarty, this is my friend, Mike Joseph.”

“Mike, this is the detective I recommended to you.”

Mike Joseph was nearly thirty years old. His facial features were rather ordinary, but his beard was extremely striking, having been deliberately groomed into a pair of charming mustaches. It was quite obvious that he liked it very much and cared deeply about it.

Compared to other reporters Klein had seen, this Daily Observer reporter’s attire was not overly formal. His black suit was only passable, and his dark-red bow tie was slightly crooked.

“Nice to meet you.”

Mike extended his right palm and gave a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you.”

Klein stood and responded politely.

“Why not sit down and talk directly?”

Talim looked around and said, “I have already eaten. I will not join you.”

After watching the equestrian instructor leave, Mike Joseph took a seat opposite Klein and asked the waiter for a cup of steaming hot coffee.

“I heard from Talim that your shooting skills are excellent and your fighting is quite good?”

He examined the detective across from him with interest.

“I believe you have seen the answer to that question from his condition,” Klein said, smiling faintly.

Mike was first stunned, then let out a laugh.

“You are more humorous than he described. He only said you were a gentleman with profound literary cultivation.”

Mr. Talim truly is my friend… I am almost embarrassed to tease him…

Klein picked up the cup and drank a mouthful of Marquis black tea.

“What commission would you like to entrust to me?”

Mike leaned back against his chair, looked around, and organized his words for several seconds.

“I am a news reporter. You should already know that. Hm… I have been following the recent serial murders. You know—the ones where several women were killed and their internal organs removed?”

I do know. I even passed by one…

Klein nodded silently.

“The serial murder case that supposedly involves demon worship?”

He added deliberately.

“Yes. A lot of newspapers have already turned it into something strange and terrifying.”

Mike sighed.

“According to the police department, the murderer has already killed eleven women. Eleven!

“This does not even include those victims that may not have been discovered. And those eleven were all women who wore bright-colored dresses and were engaged in related industries. Their ages ranged from sixteen to fifty-five. Apart from that, they did not share any common features.

“The murderer took organs from their bodies. Some had only one removed, some had many. What’s even more terrifying is that the parts taken from different bodies can be pieced together into a complete person!”

Mike described the victims with some hatred, and with a trace of fear he did not conceal.

“The killer is performing an evil ritual.”

Klein gave a “professional” judgment.

“Yes. The police department and many reporters think the same.”

Mike took the coffee and blew lightly at its surface.

“After a period of investigation, I discovered that of those eleven women, seven were streetwalkers. Ah, I heard that there are more than twenty thousand streetwalkers in Backlund. Some experts believe the real number is several times that—perhaps fifty or sixty thousand.

“Four of the seven lived in the East Borough, three in the Backlund Bridge area, while four worked part-time. Two were textile workers, one was a sewing machine operator, and one was a matchbox maker.”

Seeing Detective Moriarty’s slightly surprised expression, he explained a little.

“Textile workers, female workers operating sewing machines, and matchbox makers all earn very little. They often have to work more than fifteen hours a day, yet their weekly salaries are only around four to six soli. Even the widely admired female typists and junior tutors earn only between nine and fifteen soli a week. In addition, they may be harassed and violated by bosses, managers, and male workers, causing them to lose their jobs and fall into extreme poverty. And streetwalkers can earn one to two soli per occasion, sometimes even more. They do not need to be illiterate or poorly dressed.”

“…So, as long as they are in the lower and lower-middle levels, and as long as they are not especially ugly, they can all become part-time streetwalkers?” Klein could not help asking in return.

His earlier surprise had not been because women taking up such work possessed other professions, but because it was not easy to discover the matter.

Perhaps in the whole world, apart from the Demonesses who brought calamity and pain, no one would want to say that they were once streetwalkers. But Mike Joseph had relied on his identity as a reporter to uncover at least four cases.

That is truly impressive. As expected of a reporter…

Klein quietly sighed with emotion.

Mike lifted his coffee and drank a mouthful.

“Your description is not especially accurate. It mainly refers to women in the prime of their lives.

“In the East Borough, you can even buy a lady, ah, a streetwalker, for five pence or even three pence. Most of them are factory workers, such as textile workers. They usually have husbands, and are usually sick, extremely thin, and parched, basically unable to receive business. They can only use that to supplement their family income, buy a little food, and buy a little coal.

“Really, what a hard life. Who can imagine the noble ladies in the West Borough and Queen’s Borough wearing gowns worth hundreds of pounds? Who can imagine them buying a hunting dog worth four hundred and fifty pounds?

“Life is truly the greatest irony.”

Miss Justice, lying down and taking the shot…

Klein mocked inwardly while sighing and asking, “Do you wish to request that I help you investigate who the murderer is?”

“No, no, no. This sort of dangerous matter should be left to the police department. We are ordinary people. We must believe in the police department’s ability.”

Mike immediately shook his head.

“I simply discovered certain things and want to follow those clues in depth. I am worried that I may encounter danger. So I hope you can provide me with protection for a short time.

“Please be at ease. I am not risking my life, not going to provoke the killer. I know I am an ordinary person.”

“What did you discover?” Klein asked thoughtfully.

Mike set down his coffee cup.

“I discovered that there are several comparatively wealthy streetwalkers who once saw different victims with some men before the crimes occurred.

“I suspect the killer has accomplices. Of course, this needs to be confirmed. The police department and quite a few reporters are all investigating this.”

“How did you know those women were once streetwalkers? They do not carry labels on their bodies. You would need an in-depth investigation to discover it,” Klein said, posing one question that puzzled him.

“As expected of a great detective. Perhaps this itself is a clue,” Mike Joseph answered, not surprised.

No. If it is a Beyonder of the Demon pathway, then his selection criterion may be those who look as though they had fallen, but had not entirely fallen. And they should possess a keen intuition toward corruption. Perhaps they can directly see some corresponding deeper “color.” Add to that the trigger of brightly colored dresses, and the target is basically locked on…

Klein answered his own question inwardly, then asked, “Then what else do you want to investigate?”

Mike nodded.

“Among those eleven cases, ten ladies once worked as streetwalkers. But one did not. She was still a prostitute at the time of her death. Mm, the youngest one, only sixteen years old—Sibel. That seems very strange. Very strange. I want to go to Golden Rose, which is the place where she, uh, worked, and conduct an in-depth investigation to see if anything can be found.

“I worry that questioning people will anger those there, so I plan to hire you to protect me briefly. You do not need to teach them a lesson. You only need to protect me and help me escape at the most critical moment.

“If nothing happens, I will pay one pound. If there is a fight, it will rise to five pounds. What is your opinion?”

Klein smiled.

“I will go wash my hands before answering.”

He bowed politely, slowly walked to the washroom, then tossed a coin and obtained an affirmative answer.

Note 1:
This refers to statistics regarding London near the end of the Victorian era.