New Gods of North America.

Chapter 733 "Visiting the Grave"

To be honest, even in the original "Wayne's" memories, his impressions of his mother's relatives were almost completely blank.
Even if Wayne racked his brains, he could only recall snippets of conversation that Mrs. Constantine had occasionally made, such as "My father also liked this and that" or "My brother was like this and that when he was a child."

The Constantines passed away too soon. They were both still young and far from the age where they liked to "reminisce about the past." Naturally, Mrs. Constantine didn't have time to pass on that blood-related affection to Wayne.

Please translate.
They are both "Wayne" and neither of them actually has any feelings for their relatives over there.

However, after learning from the old man of the Basque family where he was staying, Wayne hesitated for a moment before leaving the Beeton family estate, and then turned around and went to the "Golden Rose" Hotel in Richmond.

I plan to meet that so-called "cousin" as a sign of respect.

Wayne's respect was primarily reserved for the original owner of this body and Mrs. Constantine. Although even Mrs. Constantine's smile in the original owner's memories was beginning to blur, those limited memories still seemed to radiate a warm and comforting hue.

When outsiders see these, it's like opening someone else's faded diary; it's hard not to be moved by the lost emotions revealed between the lines.

Therefore, Wayne was actually going to "visit the grave" on behalf of the original owner of the body.
As for the cousin who came from afar, in a sense, he is like a memorial displayed in a memorial hall—people are willing to pay their respects or express their remembrance to him not because they value the memorial itself.

Hotels in those days weren't for ordinary people, and the "Golden Rose" Hotel, even in Richmond, was considered one of the top hotels. True to its name, it was all about opulence and extravagance.

A quick inquiry at the front desk revealed that the Auster family were considered "VIPs" among eligible guests. They had booked several adjacent suites and didn't encounter any outsiders on their floor. This wasn't something that could be achieved simply by having "connections," but also by being "willing to spend money."

So the process of waiting for the meeting is quite complicated. The hotel's duty manager has to first confirm with the person in charge there, and then they'll probably have to ask the owner's opinion before the message is relayed back.

Anyway, Wayne sat in the lobby for almost half an hour, finished reading a newspaper, and brought his coffee to a temperature where he could "chicken it down in one gulp" before a middle-aged female manager who looked like she was from the other side came over.

Upon reaching the suite area upstairs, Sanders was stopped by servants in the hallway, who also demanded that Wayne temporarily hand over any weapons he might be carrying.

Wayne, being a guest, went along with the host's wishes, took off his coat, turned around, and handed Sanders the gun holster under his arm and the spare bullets, instructing him to wait there for a while.

The middle-aged female steward remained blocking the path to the main suite, her smile a standard but distant one: "According to our security procedures, guests are subject to a body search upon entry. And your attendant will likely need to wait downstairs." Two male servants nearby also stepped forward slightly upon hearing this.

“I understand.” Wayne finally saw through it all. He smiled and nodded, taking the gun holster from under his arm and putting it back on, while pulling a business card from his coat and handing it over.

"What's this?" The middle-aged female manager, somewhat bewildered, took the business card with both hands and looked down at it.

Doug has been in charge of printing the business cards lately, and even Wayne glanced at the address on them: "This is the address of our detective agency's workshop in Richmond. You are welcome to visit or stay here for a short time when you have time."

The detective agency has some knowledge of etiquette in different regions; they even give face by not handing over weapons at gang meetings, let alone conducting body searches.

Wayne isn't new to this world; he's met everyone from senators and state secretaries to key members of wealthy families like the Fisk and Beaton families, but he's never seen anyone so troublesome.

If you don't welcome me, fine, I'm too lazy to visit this grave anyway.

Mrs. Constantine's proper grave is in the church cemetery in Blackrock, or rather, Wichida. Even if I openly carried high explosives to her grave, no one would stop me like that.

Moreover, to be fair, these days, spending so lavishly on hotel stays might be something to be envied by the middle class or the slightly wealthy.
However, given the prevailing customs in the South, the fact that this cousin didn't stay at someone else's manor suggests that he wasn't actually that close to the local upper class. He was either putting on airs or being secretly ostracized; in short, he was keeping his distance.

Anyway, Wayne has already followed etiquette by both visiting and inviting them, so let them do whatever they want.

After going downstairs and entering the hotel lobby, Wayne was about to have Sanders drive to the front entrance when the middle-aged female manager came chasing after him, panting.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Wayne, I was rude just now. I apologize for our offense, and please come back upstairs. My master is waiting for you in the reception room.”

That's more like it. Even if your family is wealthy and powerful, the amount that actually ends up in the hands of "outsiders" is probably only a tiny fraction. It's hard to say whether it can even match the detective agency's annual revenue. Besides, it's not like I'm the one fighting with these cousins ​​over the inheritance. If you have a temper, take it out on the "old man" instead of arguing with me.

Wayne glanced at the middle-aged female manager with a hint of helplessness and sighed slightly: "In that case, please lead the way."

……

"You're Wayne Constantine? How can you prove your identity?"

Upon arriving at the suite's private reception room, Wayne finally met his cousin, who turned out to be a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a melodious voice. Her clothes and jewelry were relatively simple in style, but their extravagance was no less than that of Miss Olivia in her everyday life.
It both amazed Wayne and gave him a sense of sudden realization based on certain stereotypes.

However, according to Wayne's aesthetic sense, if beautiful women were compared to masterpieces, then women like Inessa, Lina, the former candidate partner who was also a part-time theater star, and Miss Olivia in her finest attire would be the type that Wayne would want to see again after seeing them once.
The cousin in front of him was quite good-looking, but for Wayne, she was the kind of person he would "admire if she was at an art exhibition, and not feel any regret if he never had the chance to see her again in his life."

The main problem was the bad first impression.

Wayne hadn't seen such pure "looking down on people" in a long time.

It's quite interesting,
Theoretically speaking, the South has plantation owners, ordinary free people, and slaves, making it the side with a more distinct class system. However, at least in Richmond and Georgeburg, Wayne doesn't often see wealthy people bossing around free people. On the surface, they are quite kind to their servants and waiters (although they don't seem to care much about things like the lives and safety of the dock area residents).

The two people Wayne truly encountered who were "snobbish" were Captain Joffrey from Kansas and his cousin. Their daily lives were probably more like those of "free states," yet they were even more arrogant. I don't know why.

Wayne's answer was also straightforward: "I was already studying at the academy and running a detective agency in the area long before you arrived in Richmond. There are quite a few people in Richmond and Georgeburg who know me, and you can easily verify that with them."

The beautiful blonde, blue-eyed young lady remained noncommittal and didn't dwell on it: "I heard you haven't been to class for almost a few months and have been dealing with gangsters in the downtown area lately. To be honest, I see absolutely no trace of the Auster family bloodline in you."

Ah this...

Wayne was truly speechless, especially regarding the first point, which Professor Maisel had recently written to him about...

But are we that close?
Talking to me like that on our first meeting? Don't I have any dignity?

The young lady didn't care whether Wayne was embarrassed or not, and continued, "I just announced the news about the will at the ball yesterday, and you came here today. I suppose you must be very eager for wealth."

“But I must warn you first, no matter what your grandfather is thinking, don’t even think about taking advantage of the Auster family’s vast wealth. Neither my uncle nor my great-uncle will tolerate outsiders taking a share of the property. Your only hope of getting paid is to cooperate with me.”

Wayne pondered for a moment: "How many brothers did your father have?"

"two."

The young lady took a sip of hot tea. "Grandpa had four children in total. Besides your mother and my deceased father, there was an eldest uncle and a youngest uncle. But you can learn about these things gradually later. Since you are so eager, I plan to return next week. Pack your bags as soon as you get back. I don't have the patience to let people delay my trip."

Wayne quickly filled in the blanks in his mind: "I'm just here to visit my cousin. I'm not interested in the property or 'cooperation' you mentioned, and I don't plan to leave Virginia anytime soon. However, you're still welcome to visit my workshop."

Are you kidding me? Their eldest son is still alive. What are you, a junior, fighting over the inheritance for?
Even if it's just in case, only senior family members are more willing to pay. You probably can't even get a security contract.

The detective agency doesn't take on those other random, miscellaneous cases.

(End of this chapter)