0012 Settlement of accounts

 With a helper familiar with the local area, Lorraine could no longer resist the urge to save the day.

 Even if Lek's stupid slash had made it difficult for him to even walk, even if he was now unarmed and didn't even have any clothes.

 Saving lives is like putting out fires, he's been in a coma for two days now, and if he drags it out any longer, Lek will really be dead.

 The hot midday sun.

 Lorraine dragged her feet and was assisted by Haina down the hill into the harbor area and into a dirty end alley.

 He waited there against the wall, counting to forty-seven, and Hina, in her dirty smock, threw in a drunken corpse of a sailor.

 He wore a dirty blue-and-white striped sweatshirt with baggy blue bondage pants underneath and a blue bandana tied around his head.

 Lorraine couldn't help but deflate, "I don't like the color blue."

 "This is land, you don't mix with sea water."

 "It seems ... to make so much sense."

 The two stripped the sailor clean, and before long, Lorraine was the standard fallen sailor, staggering along looking shaped like a hangover.

 The two parted ways.

 Lorraine walked down the long street and found the sign for [Grass-flavored Foie Gras] by a ruin with oak trees lying diagonally across it.

 Business at the store was bad, and even though it was lunchtime, I couldn't find a single customer.

 He gently pushed open the swinging door, chose the first seat on his left, and rang the waiter's bell on the table.

 Ding bells! Jingle bells!

 Mr. Pete, who had been fuming behind the counter, was so surprised that he scurried to the back kitchen in a few giant strides, and in a few moments rushed out a blonde woman in her mid-thirties, with mid-range good looks.

 The woman walked with a wiggle and reluctance in a maid's outfit that was cut to cover only key areas.

 "Sir, our specialty today is butter fried foie gras and lettuce salad. The foie gras is fresh, plump and juicy ..." Here, she paused for a moment, struggling to squeeze out a wintry smile, "just like me ..."

 "I don't like foie gras that's too old."

 The woman's face changed, "Sir, please pay attention to ..."

 "For the way you are dressed, I don't feel I need to watch my words." Lorraine casually flipped through the menu without lifting her eyes, "A salad and a glass of Bordeaux, and a little more dress when you serve it, please."

 Accompanied by the back kitchen's incessant bickering and complaining, the salad and wine were soon brought to Lorraine by the dressed waitress.

 Lorraine picked up her fork and took a small taste and smiled, "As a friend told me, you have the freshest lettuce in Black Haven."

 "Yes, sir!" The waitress perked up, "Our lettuce is picked from Plymouth, with a special shipping channel, and it's next day fresh!"

 "Yes?" Lorraine took another small taste and pursed her lips with an expression of enjoyment, "Fresh vegetables are always a good companion for a sailor. Ma'am, may I thank Mr. Chef in person?"

 For a restaurant on the verge of bankruptcy, thanking the chef in person would make their reputation and word-of-mouth go farther than Mr. Pete could turn down, an invitation he couldn't refuse.

 Mr. Pitt, in his chef's hat, soon stood at Lorraine's table, his eyes smiling and his manner serious.

 "This gentleman, I heard from Caroline that you would like to offer your valuable input on our salads."

 "Almost sort of ..." Lorraine said as she ate her salad to herself, "Ms. Caroline ... might as well call Mrs. Pitt, it's more polite. "

 Mr. Pitt's face showed a hint of shock㤉: "How do you ..."

 "It doesn't matter." Lorraine took a sip of red wine and pushed the plate away to cross her fingers, "Mrs. Pitt just said that your lettuces are fresh every other day, but as far as I know, because of the wind, it took four days for them to get to Black Harbor, and by now, it should be six days."

 He looked up and grinned at Mr. Pitt, "My captain told me that reputation is the root of a businessman, and fraud ... will bankrupt you."

 Pete finally recognized Lorraine.

 His pupils snapped to pinpoints and he asked in a trembling voice, "You ... you're the one ..."

 "The Artis Chamber of Commerce, Lorraine. Drake sends his regards."

 "I thought you were dead! I heard rumors, rumors that ..."

 "Seeing is believing." Lorraine pointed at Pete's eyes and slowly made a gouging motion.

 Pete was terrified.

 He backed away in terror, tugging at Carolyn, wanting nothing more than to run for the door.

 But Lorraine added, "If I were you, I would not dare to leave my daughter in the presence of a mob."

 Pete and Caroline, who had already run to the door, froze for a moment.

 He mechanically seemed to twist his head around and viciously looked at Lorraine's back, "What do you ... want!"

 "For the time being, I just want to taste the lettuce back home and try some French wine on the side ... not so much."

 Lorraine looked at the desk clock on the counter and said slowly, "I've heard that your daughter likes to play a bit of piano on the second floor every evening at six o'clock, and it's only one o'clock ... I sincerely hope she's looking at the wrong time today."

 Only after his words fell, the pleasant sound of a zither suddenly rang out from the second floor.

 The tune is G.B. Martini's famous "The Joy of Love," except that the player falls slightly short of the mark, and not much joy can be heard in the melody.

 But this is enough.

 Lorraine contained a smile and made a gesture of invitation, "May I ask you and your wife to be seated? It's a gourmet meal, but there's always a time for a check."

 An hour or so later, Lorraine, having changed into a decent new shirt and wearing a slender bayonet at her waist, joined Haina in the carriage and drove out the back door of the diner.

 Hina drove on with a frown, "Why didn't you kill them?"

 "Why did you kill them?"

 "They'll probably notify Thomas and old Barry."

 "No they won't." Lorraine leaned back lazily against the wagon, playing with a pocketful of clinking, crunching gold pounds, "They're not friends, or even partners. Pete didn't get much out of this plotting against the Captain, and in a sense, he was forced into it."

 "You think he's innocent?"

 "There's no doubt he's the culprit, or at least one of them."

 Lorraine smiled playfully, "It's just that for a businessman who has been tormented by bankruptcy for a long time, making him truly bankrupt is far more cruel than killing him. Killing is a good way to solve problems, but not necessarily a good way to take revenge as well."

 "So you ransacked him and made him sign a hundred-pound note that was impossible to honor. All in retaliation?"

 "Forty seven pounds and sixteen shillings and threepence is what he paid the captain for his groceries, and that IOU is the retaliation ... By the way, have you any tradesmen with whom you are acquainted? For five pounds I can transfer the IOU."

 ...

 Five pounds for three white slaves and a not-so-small property was a deal that required no finesse, and Haina had no trouble transferring the note to old Hansa.

 As a token of appreciation, Hansa allowed them to stay in the tavern's private room until late at night.

 Not only did they enjoy a free dinner, but they also got a good wound medicine for three pounds as well as a few small things that Haina needed to use.

 The cool, special ointment made Lorraine's wounds comfortable after only one afternoon. Although he still couldn't use much strength, at least he became robust in his movements, and looked no better than a normal person.

 This is important to Lorraine.

 They're off to old Barry's warehouse next, and unlike Pete, Barry keeps ten thugs.

 "Ten thugs ... "Lorraine shook his head and muttered, "He only sent eight men when he robbed the ship, I didn't think ... that our Mr. Barry is actually a cautious man."

 "This is not ... getting me in trouble ..."