The carriage passed through several streets and alleys, and the Palmer Bank building came into view.
Palmer Bank stood on the east side of the city center square. A flight of steps led up to its doors, four stone columns stood at the entrance, and an ornate relief was carved above the lintel. It was an imposing sight.
At the moment, however, the crowd outside somewhat diminished that impression. Some twenty or thirty men and women were gathered on the steps, all respectably dressed. The gentlemen carried walking sticks, and the ladies had handbags.
These people were clearly no ordinary depositors. Anyone who could rent a private safe-deposit box at Palmer Bank was generally middle class or above.
These normally reserved gentlemen and ladies had gathered at the entrance. Some spoke with grim expressions, while others questioned the employees trying to maintain order. A middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache, apparently acting as their representative, waved his arms at a tall, thin man who looked to be the bank manager, shouting things like, "How could you do this to us?" The scene was chaotic.
Isaac got out of the carriage with his suitcase and bedding roll. Just as he was about to move, he noticed several other carriages parked nearby, their sides painted with family crests. They belonged to several well-known lords of Palmer.
It looks like more than just the middle class have been affected. Even the nobility have been stirred up. I wonder if that will make the City Police Force investigate more diligently... Isaac looked away.
Just then, a voice spoke beside him. "Even if it's just bedding, it's not very safe to leave it at a bank right now."
"Hm?" Isaac turned to see a young man about his age standing a few steps away, studying the bedding roll in his hand with interest.
Seeing that the other man had nothing more to say, and in no mood for idle chatter, Isaac hurried up the steps. It took him considerable effort to squeeze through the agitated gentlemen and ladies and reach the manager.
The manager was busy reassuring a lady. Isaac waited a moment, then seized the chance when the manager paused for breath. "Excuse me. I rented a safe-deposit box at your bank, and I'd like to check on its condition."
The manager looked at him, his gaze lingering on the suitcase and bedding roll in Isaac's hands for a few seconds. Isaac hurriedly gave his name. The manager leafed through a register, ran his finger down a list, and stopped.
"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Lessing. Your safe-deposit box was among those robbed," the manager said.
Isaac's heart sank. Though he had a premonition, hearing the news in person still nearly made him black out.
Seeing that Isaac's reaction was less agitated than the others', the manager breathed a sigh of relief and reminded him, "An officer will arrange to take your statement later. Please make a list of the items you kept in the box. If any leads turn up, the City Police Force will notify you immediately."
Isaac wanted to ask for more details, but before he could speak, a man pushed in beside him. "Sir, my master is waiting outside. Could you hurry..."
The man took hold of the manager, who could only nod to Isaac before being pulled aside. Several more people crowded around them, so Isaac had no choice but to step back and make room.
The clamor continued. Several officers in black uniforms came out of the hall, apparently hoping to get some air. The moment they spotted the crowd on the steps, they took the hint and turned straight back.
Isaac stood beside a column and shifted the bedding roll to his other hand. He was hesitating over whether to find another chance to ask about the situation when the voice sounded again. "If I were you, I wouldn't be in a hurry to get in line."
Isaac turned and saw that the young man from before had followed him over at some point. He was watching the officers at work in the hall.
The man looked about Isaac's age. His eyes were dark gray, almost black, and his light gray hair had been tousled by the wind. Both hands were tucked into the pockets of his gray overcoat, and a dark red tie hung loosely at his shirt collar.
Isaac said nothing, but the young man didn't mind and continued on his own. "Recovering the stolen goods is a big job for the City Police Force. If they can't produce results, they'll be in even bigger trouble. So, as you can see, they don't even dare come out the door."
"What are you trying to say?" Seeing how relaxed the fellow looked, Isaac guessed he hadn't lost anything too valuable. It was even questionable whether he had lost anything at all. He probably had another reason for approaching him.
The young man shrugged. "Nothing much. Just a friendly reminder that not everything is suited to having the City Police Force recover it for you."
Isaac frowned slightly. The young man looked away from the hall and tipped his chin toward the carriages with crests painted on them. "Some queues are first come, first served. Others depend on rank and standing. If you're planning to get in line, I'm afraid you'll have a hard time."
Isaac followed his gaze to the carriages and understood what he meant. The City Police Force had limited resources and would naturally prioritize serving prominent victims. If those lords' safe-deposit boxes had been hit, their cases would naturally receive top priority, followed by respectable people who had connections with the City Police Force or could put pressure on it.
As for someone like Isaac, who had neither connections nor backing, even if he registered, he would merely be given a number and put in a long waiting queue. If he was lucky, he might hear something in a few months. If not, the matter would disappear without a trace.
"Surely you didn't come over to tell me all this just out of kindness." Isaac set his suitcase and bedding roll at his feet. "And you are...?"
The young man smiled. "Me? You could call me a private detective, and isn't this the perfect time to drum up business?"
"For people the City Police Force puts at the back of the line, but who are anxious about what they've lost, a private detective is a good option." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and spread them. "Flexible fees and high efficiency. At least they won't have to wait until the City Police Force finishes the nobles' cases before it gets around to theirs."
Isaac glanced at the bedding roll by his feet. "Do I look like someone who can afford a private detective?"
"No." The young man was blunt. He gestured toward the respectably dressed gentlemen and ladies on the steps. "By rights, they should make better clients for me. As for you, you don't look like a pauper, but hiring a private detective would still be quite a luxury. You'd probably pinch every penny, and we'd have to haggle over the fee for ages."
Hey, now, you don't have to make me sound that stingy... The corner of Isaac's mouth twitched. Was that really something a private detective trying to sell his services should say?
"But the problem is, they might not be willing to hire me, and I might not be willing to take their commissions." The young man changed tack. "After all, what I need right now isn't money. It's something else they can't pay me with-an employee."
"Huh?" Isaac thought he had misheard. How had a sales pitch suddenly turned into a job advertisement?
The young man leisurely pulled a business card from his pocket and waved it in front of Isaac's eyes. Isaac only managed to catch the name printed in the largest type: "Carlo... Schuster?"
"That's right, the one and only," Carlo Schuster said, slipping the card back into his pocket.