Chapter 589: Suspicious

Some things are path-dependent. When faced with such a bewildering situation, Wayne's first reaction was to 'seek divine help'.

Lina's answer was also straightforward: “It’s not difficult to seek revelation from the Sage; a moon cycle has passed since the last time.”

Unfortunately, Lina thought for a moment longer, making it seem like things weren't so easy:

“However, Connal’s identity items are still stored in the Georgeberg headquarters, so we’ll have to go back to retrieve them. And we need to clarify the specific question first: do we want to confirm ‘Is Connal still alive?’ or ‘Where is Connal currently?’”

Upon hearing this, Inisha immediately asked, “Connal is likely wearing a Hunter Association emblem. Will that cause any issues?”

Lina seemed unsure: “Normally, it shouldn’t. Hunters’ emblems seem to only serve for identity confirmation, and the influence of order usually doesn’t affect this aspect… But if the distance is too great or there are other deities influencing it, the Sage might not give a clear revelation.”

Hmm…

For now, let's consider more realistic methods. After all, judging by common sense, with Connal’s skill, most Extraordinary People who encounter him would likely be bullied… At the very least, he should be able to escape.

Wayne pondered for a moment, “Doug, contact Georgeberg. There’s no need to open the safe. Have them send someone to pick out two of the most suitable items from Connal’s personal belongings left there and send them over. Also, confirm the situation at the headquarters and the office, and remind them.”

“Yes, sir.”

His gaze turned to Inisha; matters related to Hunters certainly required her opinion.

Inisha was as calm as ever: “It’s still uncertain if something truly happened, but just in case, you need to be informed promptly. I’ll go to the Richmond Police Station and the Exorcist Association later to inquire. If there’s no news, staying vigilant for now will suffice; there’s no need to overreact—after all, it’s impossible to find someone immediately.”

Lina, still full of energy, said, “It’s still early. I’ll go find “Soften” and his group and have them check out the bars tonight. With Connal’s skill, if he truly encountered an attack, even if no one witnessed the scene, it would be difficult for there to be no commotion nearby.”

So I’m staying home?

Everyone split up. Willie and his team investigating the case hadn't returned yet, so Wayne left a note and instructed the restaurant to close as soon as possible, and for the staff to go home early if they needed to.

In a sense, Connal being out of contact wasn't something to be particularly nervous about.

If it was just a false alarm, there was no need to be nervous, but if someone could control him through brute force, then being nervous alone wouldn't help.

—There were organizations capable of acting; the church and local Agent organizations were all suspects.

Originally, opening a new store and having it be popular was quite enjoyable, even if a bit tiring.

Someone bringing new hands to the Detective Agency was another kind of joy.

But with this sudden addition, it wasn't pleasant at all.

Back at the workshop, the restaurant was already open. The stock of luncheon meat was temporarily sufficient, but the work for tomorrow morning still needed to be done.

Wayne gave instructions for a while, and everyone, armed and ready, didn't need to stay up late if they weren't on duty. The owl circled a few times overhead, found nothing unusual, and then perched on the top of the mill.

…

Although “no news might be the best news,” once a person starts to feel uneasy, it’s hard not to feel a bit unsettled.

Early the next morning, the workshop started work before dawn. Although the Plantation slaves helping with transportation were generally reliable, the Detective Agency quietly added a “covert poison testing” step to the process—which basically involved dropping a silver coin in to test it, then Inisha taking a quick look, and the chef even tasting a sample.

Inisha and Lina had returned last night. Richmond was so large that without specific clues, there was actually a lot of miscellaneous information.

After an initial screening, the relatively reliable information currently available was still the approximate range marked out along the steam train line, based on the pigeon's flight speed and the content Connal wrote on the small note.

The absolute distance wasn't too far; a carriage could travel straight through it along the railway in about half a day.

But “that circle” on the map looked almost as large as Richmond's urban area. Even if all the people from the Richmond Police Station were called in, a complete search would take more than a few days.

The minced meat and supplementary sauces were transported to the restaurant again. Lina was on duty at the restaurant today to promptly gather information from “Soften” and the informants.

Inisha temporarily commandeered Willie and the Agents under him, all according to her arrangements, to first search for and confirm Connal's whereabouts.

Wayne continued to guard the workshop. After the semi-finished products that needed to be “freshly made” were taken away, the work here was not yet finished.

After the slaves in the Plantation completed their part-time work and took their wages, the remaining tasks of simmering sauces and making recycled cheese were relatively easy. The chef, with a few Agents, didn't need to rush and could complete them systematically—they could even find time to read newspapers and magazines.

Compared to meat and cheese, which had long been factored into the cost, the restaurant's oil consumption turned out to be a major expense that Wayne had previously overlooked.

In this era, America primarily used animal fats—lard, beef tallow, and butter. Each had its own unique flavor and wasn't unusable, but the restaurant had almost turned its oil into petroleum after just one day. If they were even slightly conscientious, just regularly changing the oil wouldn't be cheap.

No wonder it's said that many industries actually ride the tide of the times. Trying to bring some things out ahead of schedule can indeed easily get “backstabbed” by the “era” in strange places…

Peanut cultivation was not yet widespread, Wayne knew nothing about corn oil, and olive oil already existed, but it had to be imported from the Old Continent and was more expensive than butter.

Wayne pondered for a while amidst his worry for Connal, thinking that he still had to start with cottonseed oil—the South's cotton production was so high, and the cottonseed oil pressing industry hadn't yet emerged. Nowadays, cottonseed was mostly discarded as trash, making it perfectly suitable.

In modern society, cottonseed oil is a significant commercial frying oil. With its low cost, high smoke point, lack of odor, and stable properties, it is a model of comprehensive utilization.

The only minor drawback is that if it's purely physically pressed, it has natural toxicity that cannot be removed by heating and filtering alone; chemical methods are required.

So, in this era, cottonseed oil was mainly used as a lubricant for mechanical equipment.

Wayne only had a rough idea of how to detoxify cottonseed oil; it seemed feasible in his mind, but actual production would likely still be quite troublesome.

So, with nothing else to do, he simply wrote a letter, intending to send it to Professor Maisel at the academy, stating that he had made a small unexpected discovery regarding the non-toxicization of cottonseed oil and wanted to ask the professor to help find experts to see if it could be commercialized for mass production.

Professor Maisel was in charge of mathematics and likely not very proficient in chemistry. A more suitable person in terms of specialization would actually be the professor in charge of basic science or scientific principles courses at the academy.

However, Professor Maisel had a virtue: he was principled and stubborn in his conduct. With his help overseeing things, Wayne wouldn't have to worry about being completely sidelined after achieving results.

After finishing the letter, Wayne heard the occasional crow cawing outside the window suddenly stop. He leaned out slightly and, sure enough, Inisha had returned.

These little black birds could, to some extent, truly serve as watchdogs. Familiar people could distinguish different situations just by listening to their sounds.

For example, Inisha disliked noise and would occasionally scatter some treats, so these birds would temporarily quiet down after seeing her; if the cawing suddenly became as chaotic as a marketplace, it was probably Lina teasing the birds; if it sounded fierce, like a pack of mad dogs barking, then it was likely they were fighting with someone again—perhaps an owl or a peregrine falcon, or even Emma or Liam, but definitely not Peter the Spider.

“Any new news?” Wayne asked.

It wasn’t even dark yet; if there were no new developments, Inisha probably wouldn’t have returned so early.

Inisha’s expression seemed hesitant. “I’m not sure… but I did find something suspicious.”