1960: My uncle is the FBI Director

Chapter 230 Generous Bernie

Bernie got out of the car and separated the two, preventing the conflict from escalating further.

He made a gesture to 'Ant' Marino that Theodore couldn't understand:
"Marino, take your friends and leave. Don't cause trouble."

Marino, nicknamed "Ant," understood the gesture.

He stood there silently for a few seconds, then grabbed the canary and turned to walk back.

Back among the girls, he turned and gave Walter Pritchett a deep look, then suddenly raised his hand and slapped Canary hard across the face. He then walked down the steps and into the bar, surrounded by the girls.

Walter Pritchett, unable to bear the provocation, tried to charge forward, but Bernie stopped him again:

“Listen, buddy, I know what you’re trying to do, but our job is to listen, not to alert them.”

"You almost made everyone in the room mute just now."

"Put your fists back and open your ears, understand?"

After Bernie's persuasion, Walter Pritchett gradually calmed down.

He wasn't a stranger in this area; some people were already curiously looking in his direction.

Walter Pritchett then remembered his mission and Stan Watson's warning.

He gave Bernie an awkward smile, pretending everything was normal, and prepared to call everyone to head to the bar.

Bernie stopped Walter Pritchett, his expression serious:
"Buddy, it's not the right time for you to go in."

He pointed in the direction of the bar:
“You just had a conflict with the ‘ants.’ If we go in now, we’ll become the most eye-catching group in the room.”

Walter Pritchett couldn't even manage a smile anymore.

Bernie called Billy Hawke out and reassigned tasks:

"I'll go in with Theodore."

"Billy, how about you and Walter check out Eddie's bar?"

Walter Pritchett was reluctant, but unable to argue.

He now deeply regrets his impulsive actions.

Billy Hawke nodded to Theodore and Bernie, then walked over and patted him on the shoulder:

"Let's go, man."

Bernie took out his car keys, thought for a moment, then bent his elbow and handed them to Walter Pritchett.

Billy Hawke withdrew his outstretched hand and looked at Bernie.

Bernie avoided his gaze, patted Walter Pritchett on the shoulder, and whispered a few words of comfort.

The Chevrolet was started and slowly drove out of the block.

Bernie and Theodore then walked up the steps into the Terminal Bar.

The terminal bar not only offers drinks, but also a wide variety of snacks and main meals at affordable prices, with generous portions to keep you full.

Pimps are used to bringing their girls here to fill their stomachs before starting work.

It's more like a restaurant than a bar.

Its decor and layout are completely unrelated to a bar.

The walls were covered with yellowed beer ad girl posters and outdated boxing match posters.

Upon entering, you'll find rows of dining tables, with a row of booths at the far end.

The bar and food serving area are on the right, and the kitchen is behind it.

Theodore suspects the correct name for this place should actually be "Terminal Station Bar & Restaurant".

The business here is booming; the tables are almost full.

Pimps would lead their girls to a table, where they would smoke and chat with their colleagues at the next table.

Some of the girls were eating, but most were putting on makeup and getting ready for work.

Theodore and Bernie, the two men, seemed out of place here.

There was no need for 'Ant' Marino to say anything; the moment they entered, they attracted everyone's attention.

A burly man with a mane of hair sat in the doorway, kindly reminding them:

"Guys, you're too impatient. The girls need to eat well to have the energy to work."

Marino, the 'ant' sitting inside, reminded him:
“Leo, they’re not here for fun.” “They came with the Vestibule Police.”

The bar gradually quieted down.

Bernie wore a smile that Theodore found awkward:

"Everyone, relax."

"That's right, we are police officers, but we're not here to raid anyone, nor are we here to disturb your meal."

Theodore glanced at him.

To be precise, they were not police officers.

The bar was briefly agitated for a few seconds before quickly returning to silence.

The prostitutes who were putting on makeup also looked up and glanced in their direction.

Bernie, who was the center of attention, remained calm and simply raised his hands and pressed them down.

"Listen up, guys, we're looking for someone."

He briefly described the deceased's information, then pointed towards the booths:

"My partner and I have been busy all morning and haven't had lunch yet."

"I heard the lunch here is good, we're planning to try it."

"Anyone who wants to provide information anonymously can tell the bartender, or write a note and have a waiter bring it over."

"We don't want to disturb anyone's business; we just need information."

"So we won't ask your names, we won't write down your license plates, and we'll forget everything we see here today as soon as we walk out this door."

Bernie paused, then waved his hand:
"Bring another round of drinks to every table, it's on me."

He walked to the bar, reached into his pocket, and his smile gradually froze.

He turned to look at Theodore.

Theodore stared at him; Bernie looked like a stranger to him.

A few seconds later, he understood what Bernie meant and took out a few bills and placed them on the bar.

Bernie pushed the bill to the bartender, then quietly inquired about the bar's specialties.

The bartender, a man of wide experience, glanced at him and looked at Theodore as he introduced several dishes.

Bernie ordered the signature braised beef, gravy cheese fries, and a grilled beef sandwich.

Theodore replaced the gravy and cheese fries with fish and chips.

Neither of them had lunch yet.

The fries came first, followed by sandwiches, and finally the stewed beef; the whole thing took less than twenty minutes.

Theodore tried it and found it tasted good.

This made him even more suspicious that this was a restaurant rather than a bar.

The bar gradually returned to its usual bustling atmosphere.

The pimps were still talking, and the girls were still putting on makeup.

It was as if Theodore and Bernie had never been there at all.

Only when someone occasionally leaves their seat will they immediately attract everyone's attention, and the people around them will unconsciously slow down their conversations.

But no one ever went towards the booths.

Halfway through the meal, a waiter quietly walked over with an empty tray.

There was a tissue on the tray with a few words scrawled on it in lipstick.

Theodore glanced at it and found that apart from the uncertain name that seemed to be a nickname, not a single word was spelled correctly.

Bernie didn't look closely, put the tissue in his pocket, and continued to work on the stewed beef.

Several more slips of paper were handed over, just like the first one, with crooked handwriting and all sorts of spellings.

Bernie accepted it all.

(End of this chapter)