North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 589 - 333_1

Dean and Carlo embraced warmly, slapping each other on the shoulder. "How have you been lately?"

Carlo's poker face broke into a light chuckle. "Alright, pretty relaxed. Just feeling a bit less accomplished. It's not as cool as when you were around, boss. Back then, it was both money and a sense of achievement."

"HA HA!"

Dean laughed heartily.

This kid, always so frank.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Old Hunter looking over as if Dean had stolen his girlfriend, sour-faced and jealous. He quickly changed the subject. "Take a seat. Captain Hunter, you're here too. I haven't been back in a long time, so let's enjoy ourselves today."

Old Hunter waved his hand and found a spot to sit down. "We still have cases to work on, Dean. If there's nothing else, Carlo and I will have a couple of drinks and then leave."

Carlo had been fed up with Old Hunter, this oily old fox, for some time now. Not waiting for Dean to speak, he snapped back, "We are indeed quite busy, like door-to-door umbrella salesmen, knocking on doors day in and day out. Sometimes, when an old woman answers, she asks right away if we're offering 'extra services'."

"We are conducting visits!" Old Hunter was getting anxious.

Isn't this just me fumbling in the dark, resorting to dumb tactics? he thought. Does this kid not understand how to give his leader a way to save face?

"Visits?" Carlo arched an eyebrow, looking directly into Old Hunter's uneasy eyes and said with contempt, "You mean the kind of visits where you wear a uniform, carry a badge, and can add extra charges?"

Getting paid to slack off wasn't really an issue, Carlo thought. But ever since this old hack took him and Harry on, they'd hardly solved any cases. They'd swallowed all kinds of humiliation—if Harry hadn't kept saying that Big Boss Dean would be back soon, Carlo would have split long ago.

"You..." Old Hunter hadn't expected Carlo to turn so brazen in front of Dean.

His previous indifference to my attempts to win him over was one thing, but now he was directly attacking me, his leader, trampling all over my dignity, Old Hunter fumed internally. Do I have no dignity left?

Just as Old Hunter was struggling to save face, Lawrence gave him an out. "Captain, Carlo is just upset because the cases have been stagnant. He's still a rookie. You're the captain; be more generous and don't take it personally."

Old Hunter rolled his eyes. So, he *does* remember I'm the captain!

But Lawrence's words were akin to saying: He's just a kid, and you're the adult. If you're not magnanimous, it means you're petty and small-minded...

With those words, it was now really hard for Old Hunter, who cared about his reputation, to lose his temper. He could only redirect his frustration at Dean. "Dean, why do I feel like you inviting me for drinks today isn't just for fun?"

"Of course, it's for something good!" Dean smiled and poured Old Hunter a drink. "Captain Hunter, since I've been back, I heard that Squad Four hasn't been doing so well. The case closure rate has plummeted, and now Lawrence has been suspended. You must be under a lot of pressure lately, right?"

Old Hunter, looking at the drink pushed toward him, fell silent.

How could I not be under pressure?

In fact, since Dean left, the once-thriving Squad Four had become sluggish. Squad Four hadn't been established for long. Its members, though somewhat capable, had just begun to mesh when the squad was split into two, and many new recruits were added. Dean, who had quickly risen to detective, was then suspended, causing an entire unit to come to a standstill. To make matters worse, Squad Four began handling an increasing number of cases.

Only Old Hunter understood the bitterness of the situation. Every time he went to headquarters for a meeting, it was like returning to his childhood, getting berated by his mother until he shivered, his face feeling covered in her spit, unable to talk back, lacking the confidence to do so.

If this continued, Old Hunter even doubted whether his fragile heart could hold out until retirement.

He extended his hand, flicked the glass filled with ice-cold beer, raised his head, and said earnestly, "Dean, I know you can't let go of Squad Four. If possible, I wish more than anyone for you to come back, and Lawrence could return to duty as well. But you both should know that your departure and Lawrence's suspension were Monet's doing. I can't decide anything about that."

Old Hunter knew his own limitations. If I truly had the skills, I wouldn't have muddled along for so many years, only to luck into the position of acting captain. If only it were possible... I wish more than anyone for Dean to return. But I don't have the authority!

...

Watching Old Hunter's open-hearted demeanor, Dean chuckled and shook his head. He leaned back into the sofa, swirling the drink in his glass, and said lazily, "Old Hunter, you've got it all wrong. Your vision is confined to Los Angeles because your abilities only allow you to get by in the familiar streets of LA. In another place, perhaps you'd be just another nobody. But I'm different. In a new place, I can still shine like the brightest star! The position of a detective... I couldn't care less about it."

Old Hunter nodded noncommittally. "So you called me here today just to show off how great you are to this old man?"

"No." Dean sat up straight again and said earnestly, "I just don't want Squad Four, into which we've poured our hearts and souls, to become a laughing stock of the detective bureau because of Monet, that old dog who panders to the Japanese."

He put down his glass, slowly got up, and spread his arms. "Everyone gets into this line of work for something: money, fame, power, or their own ideals... But look at us now. What's the point of this mess? Old Hunter, I know you don't want to offend anyone because you're about to retire, but have you thought about whether Squad Four, in its current state, can even last until you retire?"