Chapter 10: Knock at the Door

After briefly tidying up the room, William had visitors. The place where he lived now was an old four-story building facing the street. The first and second floors were occupied by a small bar, while the third and fourth floors were ordinary residences.

Many hotels or taverns rented out rooms on the second floor for short stays, three to five days, or a week. The shortest leases could be for a single day, more like an inn or hotel.

This model had first been discovered through drunks. The tavern boss would give them a bed, then charge them an extra fee. Soon, most taverns began doing the same thing. No one complained about digging money out of a drunk.

Alcohol was a very special thing. It could leave some people unconscious and tossed into a “high-class” room for the night, paying extra money for the privilege. It could also make some people simple and direct. That was why every bar, every tavern, needed rooms.

This also meant the place William currently lived could not be some remote, deserted suburb. People came and went here. Whether day or night, plenty of pedestrians passed by.

The police said they had found no witnesses and that it might have been a seasoned repeat offender. In truth, there could not possibly have been no witnesses. Whether the other tenants on the second floor, the bartender behind the bar counter downstairs, or the scattered handful of customers, it was impossible that no one knew anything.

But they would not speak. First, William had no direct interest tied to them. Second, there was no need to draw the attention of the IRS over someone they did not know and had nothing to do with. Everyone chose silence.

Yet that happened to make the police misunderstand certain things, and later gave them room to maneuver.

He had just finished straightening up the messy room when someone came to the door. It was several newspaper boys.

The cowhide satchels slung across their bodies were bulging. Each of them looked strained, their faces flushed, partly from the heavy satchels and partly from excitement.

The news boss had promised them that as long as they delivered this money and remembered some details about the room, they would receive an extra reward this month, no less than fifty dollars each.

That money mattered a great deal to children their age. In two or three years, they would have to start living independently. Before that happened, they had to save something to face society. The chance was not easy to come by, even if it was only fifty dollars.

Before closing the door, William glanced outside. The little tavern where he lived sat right beside the main road. Outside the door was a corridor, and beyond the corridor railing was the street. From where he stood, he could see most of what was outside at a glance.