Having a general understanding of tax matters and, more importantly, having “met people,” Wayne had accomplished one of his pre-set goals for attending the ball tonight.

Then, taking advantage of the mayor and several distinguished guests having discreetly disappeared, Wayne temporarily paused his socializing with the veterans and walked over to the long table laden with food, intending to get something to eat first.

The Tax Officer Quinn, seeing that Wayne was also an invited guest and seemed to have entered the view of the mayor and the Beaton Family, had also made promises regarding these matters, probably along the lines of “if you encounter problems, you can come find me then.”

The next small goal was to find someone from the Police Station and see what their views were on the gangs in the Dock Area; if it truly was a “no-man’s-land,” then the Detective Agency, besides handling legitimate cases, could also “ambush” people when vying for territory.

However, Wayne always felt that the Detective Agency should exercise restraint in this regard; if they really opened that door, then according to the slippery slope theory, the Detective Agency would sooner or later turn into a new gang.

It was better to try and stick to the righteous path first; in a situation where everyone wasn't playing dirty tricks, Wayne was confident he could win in the competition—at least the Detective Agency currently had “relatively friendly relations” with the Church, the City Hall, and the Beaton Family, so Wayne wasn't worried about being captured by a couple of low-level gang members.

No matter what, the path of “supporting industries” was always more upright, legitimate, and sustainable than routes like “collecting protection fees.”

Even Amway says direct selling is more legitimate than pyramid schemes; the key is still whether you have your own products and industries.

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Wayne? May I have your autograph?”

Wayne, while thinking and piling food onto his plate, heard a voice and turned his head to see an unfamiliar young lady holding a drawing board she had obtained from somewhere.

According to Southern etiquette of that era, young men and women privately conversing alone at a ball was a bit “out of line”—the proper etiquette was for family members or elders to make introductions, or for the man to first invite a dance and then seize the opportunity to converse—the young lady also had two companions not far behind her, who were both watching the spectacle and serving as witnesses in a sense.

Seeing Wayne hesitate slightly, the young lady quickly explained, “I’ve been reading a lot of reports about Mr. Wayne in the newspapers recently, and I even looked up some older ones. I greatly admire a righteous great detective like you and think that fighting crime is an incredible thing.”

He hadn’t expected to have a fangirl, but the things in the propaganda might not be worth believing too much…

Wayne was not too resistant to this sort of thing; he nodded readily, even showing a good service spirit:

“No problem. Do you need me to write something like ‘To Miss So-and-so’ or other remarks?”

The young lady's cheeks were already flushed a bit; from a personal preference standpoint, the reserved and conservative atmosphere in the South, closer to the Windsor Kingdom style, actually suited Wayne's aesthetic more than the “passionate and unrestrained” style of the West in some ways—though sometimes “passionate and unrestrained” was clearly more enjoyable.

Facing Wayne’s gaze, the young lady quickly shook her head, “I’m already very satisfied with just your signature. If you don’t mind, I might even create a few portraits of you, which might then be published in the newspapers.”

Hmm…

This felt like it had pros and cons. Wayne thought for a moment and didn't completely refuse, “That’s fine. But for professional reasons, I hope your portraits aren’t too realistic. If the likeness is too accurate, it might hinder my future investigative work.”

Limited by the printing technology of the era, newspaper engravings were mostly in a sketch style, though there were also very skilled ones, but the cost of engraving them was also high, so not all of them would be.

If it was just a not-too-realistic engraving, it actually wouldn’t be that easy to recognize someone, otherwise wanted posters wouldn’t include so many additional physical descriptions.

“Ah…” the young lady exclaimed softly, “I hadn’t considered that. I’ll pay attention to that. Actually, I only thought of drawing portraits because I saw so much news in the newspapers recently, but it was all just text.”

“It’s okay,” Wayne reassured her slightly, “just don’t draw it too realistically. By the way, you can also add some artistic flair, for example, draw a deerstalker hat on my head, or have me holding a magnifying glass, or wearing a monocle would also be good.”

As soon as the blank drawing board with the signature was handed over, the few girls watching in the back were already whispering and cheering. The young lady, blushing, was about to bid farewell when a figure walked over.

This time, it was a familiar face. Sheriff William first lightly reprimanded the young lady, “Harley, this is improper. Hurry back with your friends.”

Then he turned his head and apologized to Wayne, “She is my aunt’s daughter, my cousin. She’s used to being mischievous at home. I hope Mr. Wayne doesn’t mind.”

“It’s fine, Miss Harley just wanted an autograph, which is just a small favor for me,” Wayne replied, both responding and explaining, “We really didn’t do anything.”

Sheriff William was well aware of this and nodded upon hearing it.

No matter what, they were still in the ballroom. He must have just seen them and come over directly, probably mainly thinking it “looked bad” rather than worrying about “something happening.”

And it was good that the Sheriff had come. Wayne was wondering where to find someone from the Police Station; although Sheriff William’s stance seemed a bit odd, he was still professionally relevant.

Wayne even imagined that the young lady holding the drawing board and slipping away with her companions was named “Harley.” He wondered if her surname would be “Potter”?

He had been careless just now and hadn't checked if she had a lightning-shaped scar on her forehead.

So the “cousin” could leave, but the “cousin” had to stay.

Wayne then continued to converse with Sheriff William, “It’s good that you’ve come over. I’ve been investigating matters in the Dock Area recently, and there are some things I wanted to ask the police about.”

“The Dock Area?”

Sheriff William first mumbled slightly. To avoid drawing too much attention, he also picked up a plate, pretending to choose food, and casually asked, “Mr. Wayne, have you already started investigating new cases? What do you want to know?”

There’s a lot I want to know… For example, the police deployment in the Dock Area, the standards for daily patrols, and how they handle situations like “gang fights”—these are all practical details that only insiders would know.

However, Wayne pondered for a moment and decided to satisfy his curiosity first, “Perhaps this question will seem a bit strange and impolite, but I actually have a more legitimate reason—is Miss Harley’s surname ‘Potter’?”

Sheriff William seemed to have completely unexpected Wayne to ask such a question. He froze for a moment upon hearing it, then shook his head:

“No. Actually, Mr. Wayne, you were just talking to her father, that’s Tax Officer Quinn over there.”

That’s a pity, couldn’t make a wizarding world reference…

But wait a minute,

The name “Harley Quinn,” why does it sound familiar too?