"Who's there!"
Faulkner asked warily.
Immediately, a somewhat familiar voice came from downstairs-
"It's me, Hunter.
I've got good stuff!"
The first sentence was spoken in a normal voice, but the second was lowered.
Immediately, the image of a patrol officer with curly brown hair, fleshy cheeks, and a thin build surfaced in Faulkner's mind.
After a brief hesitation, Faulkner answered.
"Coming!"
Having killed that fellow, Faulkner had no intention of fleeing far away.
He already owned property in South Los. Even with an unexpected windfall, he would not choose to leave such a stable life.
Therefore, he had to maintain good relations with people like patrol officers.
After putting away the golden cane, Faulkner headed downstairs-this was Xilin Street, a middle-class neighborhood near West Merck Avenue, much like Garden Street. However, Garden Street was on one side, while Xilin Street was on the other, requiring a walk along the entire length of West Merck Avenue to reach it.
Most buildings here were the two-and-a-half-story houses most popular in South Los. Each stood completely detached, separated by its own small yard. In this respect, it resembled Kirk Street, though it was nowhere near as spacious. Still, it was a neighborhood many middle-class families aspired to live in.
After buying property here, many middle-class families would have a wife or eldest son with a particular skill open a family-run workshop or shop.
The sign Faulkner had hung outside, for instance, read "Handcrafted carving workshop."
Thus, apart from a desk and two chairs, the ground-floor room was filled with piles of assorted stones and unfinished plaster statues.
Faulkner passed through a series of arrangements he had set up himself and cautiously opened the door a crack.
Only after confirming that Hunter was indeed alone did he open it fully.
"Good afternoon, Officer