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Victorique’s Dream Interpretation – Part 07

It was early in the morning, and early risers, mostly elderly folks, would typically be entering through the back door of the church along the main street of Little Italy, but today, sensing the presence of gangsters, none arrived. A priest in his nightwear cautiously peeked inside before hastily retreating upon spotting the gathering.

Gang members, the culprits, Victorique, Kazuya, and Benjamin were having a discussion.

“If Dr. Boleid hypnotized you while you were asleep,” Victorique said, “wouldn’t Nico, who was beside you, have noticed? He didn’t mention anything, did he?”

“Oh, now that you mention it. But Nico wasn’t entirely sure what happened towards the end. He might have fallen asleep too.”

“Then, that means either you or Nico may have been hypnotized to commit murder.”

“What?!”

Just then, the front door creaked open, and John Smith entered, wearing a grumpy expression.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” he grumbled, eyeing Detective Benjamin. “Who’s this weirdo with the teddy bear?”

“I’m Benjamin… a detective from the NYPD!”

“A detective? That’s even more strange. What the hell are you doing here? Gray Wolf, explain this nonsensical situation.”

On behalf of Victorique, who was crossly smoking her pipe, Kazuya, still handcuffed and standing rigidly upright, explained that Dr. Boleid’s target was likely the presidential candidate Mr. Goldsworthy. He also mentioned the possibility that either he himself or his partner, the photographer, was the fifth culprit hypnotized by the doctor.

Following Victorique’s demand for the phone, John Smith gave his subordinate an order. Detective Benjamin, Kazuya, and a visibly displeased Victorique walked down a corridor to use the church’s phone.

Detective Benjamin dialed the NYPD. “I’m telling you! I got a tip suggesting that Mr. Goldsworthy might be assassinated at today’s rally.” He turned to the others. “It’s no use. My boss is not taking it seriously.”

He contacted Mr. Goldsworthy’s office next, but after a thorough explanation of the situation, they too dismissed him.

“They said it’s impossible to cancel the rally based on unreliable information. They receive such tips frequently, and the man will never run away.”

“Hmm…”

“Basically, Mr. Goldsworthy will proceed with his speech as planned, without any special security.”

“Ugh…”

Meanwhile, gang members sent by John Smith returned, shaking their heads. They had been searching for Dr. G.I. Boleid.

“Dr. Boleid is not in his clinic. Probably hiding somewhere until this blows over. Damn it!”

The group searching for Nico also returned empty-handed.

“He’s not back at the Roma Café yet. We woke up his stepsister to ask her where he was, and she said he often goes out at night, so we combed through every joint in Little Italy, but there was no one that matched his description.”

“Hmm,” Victorique muttered grimly. “Time waits for no one. It’s already Saturday morning.” She turned to John Smith with a doubtful look. “I’ve done my work. We’ve determined that Dr. G. I. Boleid is the culprit of the gang serial murder case you asked me to solve.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’ve done what Garbo Boss asked me to do, no? As agreed, I want you to return Rokushou to the Mushanokouji family. His mother must be waiting anxiously.”

“Hm.”

“I’ve held my end of the bargain.”

“Very well.”

Then, Victorique continued in a somewhat unsure tone, “Afterwards, we simply do what good citizens of New York should do. Namely, the prevention of a despicable murder that would change the future of the United States.”

John Smith nodded wordlessly.

On the fourth floor of the Italian Furniture Sculpture Import Association, tables dotted the space, and sculptures lined the walls.

One of the gang members ascended the stairs and approached a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man sitting comfortably on the sofa, leaning in to whisper something.

The man gave a small nod and said, “All right,” and the gang member rushed back down the stairs.

The man remained silent for a while, smoking his cigar. Then, he rose leisurely, gazing down from the large, dull-glassed window like a king surveying his domain. The light of daybreak shone on his face.

Eerie eyes resembling gun barrels. Thick lips. Prominent nose. Pockmarked, dark brown skin.

It was the profile of the Godfather, Garbo Boss, well-known in the media.

He stared at Victorique standing alone on the sidewalk, next to Kazuya. His lips were drawn into a tight line. Victorique’s silver hair billowed, dyeing the morning sky magically.

Garbo Boss let out a deep sigh, lighting his cigar slowly. “It’s just as I thought. Detective Gray Wolf, huh? When I heard rumors about you, I had a hunch.”

As the wind picked up, Victorique’s hair and headdress swayed wildly.

“My esteemed ancestors… My grandfather, a first-generation immigrant who crossed the ocean and came to the New World. Since childhood, I’ve heard countless stories of curious creatures from the Old World.”

He took a drag.

“Dwarves, fairies, primitive yet dazzling goddesses. And above all, the legend of the Gray Wolf, said to inhabit a hidden village deep in the mountains, was particularly wonderful. The tale of the nameless village of philosophers in fur coats, wise and beautiful, persecuted throughout history.”

Victorique’s hair danced wildly. A loving smile appeared on Garbo Boss’s lips.

“As a child, I dreamt of getting my hands on the most beautiful and rarest animals in the world and admiring them. Now, I am the Godfather, having acquired money, power, and women. And yet, that childhood dream has resurfaced after so long, stirring my heart.”

He chuckled.

“Never did I imagine that such a rare creature was hiding in this great city!”

Sensing his gaze, Victorique raised her chin abruptly, and stared back with a dangerous gleam in her emerald green eyes.

“Proud ancient wolf… Your meager existence as a stray in the corner of the city is but temporary! Before long, I will welcome you into the steel cage of my mansion and let you live a blissful second life as a very fortunate servant. Just wait for me, Gray Wolf!”

Garbo Boss’s laughter grew louder and louder. Outside the window, a fierce wind gusted, stirring Victorique’s silver hair, glistening like a noble mane, even more violently.

The sky was already bright. A car stopped outside. Victorique and Kazuya, along with Detective Benjamin, hastened out to the street.

The rear door of the black car, resembling an armored vehicle, opened slowly, revealing Rokushou curled up like a squirrel, sleeping. Kazuya let out a sigh of relief.

A touch of color returned to Victorique’s pallid face. “Thank goodness.”

“Yeah,” Kazuya agreed, sharing her sense of relief.

They settled into the back seat, with Detective Benjamin joining them after being unceremoniously dragged in.

The driver glanced back. “Greenwich Village, right?”

“Yes, this child’s mother—my sister—is waiting,” Kazuya replied, exchanging nods with Victorique.

The car sped away, with John Smith and the gang members’ car trailing behind. Little Italy and its colorful signboards faded into the distance, replaced by the elegant streets of Greenwich Village lined with stately buildings.

The car stopped in front of an imposing building. Hearing the noise, Ruri rushed out. Her eyes widened when she saw Kazuya stepping out of the car carrying Rokushou, and she scrambled down the stairs.

“Ruri! It’s okay. He’s just asleep,” Kazuya reassured.

“Rokushou! Rokushou!” Ruri cried, tears streaming down her face as she held her son close.

Rokushou opened his eyes a little. “Ah, Mom!” he wailed. He rubbed his cheeks against his mother’s.

Victorique observed the emotional reunion silently, a sense of relief washing over her.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Ruri, Rokushou,” she mumbled softly.

As she discreetly turned away, Kazuya fell in beside her. Meanwhile, Detective Benjamin, still clutching the teddy bear, stumbled along every time he moved.

John Smith stepped out of the car behind them. “Are you going?”

“Yes.” Victorique regarded the man skeptically. “We don’t know who Dr. G.I. Boleid chose as the perpetrator, my servant or his partner. We need to head to the rally venue and stop anything from happening. It’s also to protect the perpetrator.”

Victorique glanced back to confirm Ruri and Rokushou’s safety.

“We still don’t know if the presidential candidate, Mr. Goldsworthy, is the ideal leader for us, the young people living in the New World after the two storms. But…”

“But?” John Smith prompted.

“I feel a strange resistance against the sinister hand trying to change the future through assassination.”

“Is that so? It’s none of the Mafia’s concern. Presidents and the underworld don’t mix.”

“Whether it stays that way in the future remains to be seen.”

As they turned the corner, a convertible approached, carrying exuberant flapper girls on their way home from a night out. The car shone in different colors.

Detective Benjamin jumped in front of the convertible, pulling Kazuya with him onto the road. “NYPD! I need to commandeer this vehicle.”

The still-drunk young driver hesitated, but when the detective revealed their destination, he said, “The rally in front of the Empire State Building? We’re heading there too!”

“We want to hear that hot man’s speech!” the girls chimed in enthusiastically.

“Come on, let’s go together!” The guy pulled Detective Benjamin’s arm, dragging him and Kazuya into the car.

The girls sat Victorique on their laps.

“She’s as cute as this doll I saw in my dreams.”

“I wanna rub my cheek against hers!”

The convertible revved its engine and raced through the streets of Greenwich Village, making its way towards the towering Empire State Building in the center of Manhattan. Other cars cleared the way for the reckless driver. The engine roared ominously.

Victorique and Kazuya exchanged uneasy glances and nodded.