North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 77 - 75: Promotion_1

Monet’s office was very simple. The only valuable thing was probably the broad office chair, which looked comfortable.

After sitting down, Monet first turned on the computer to check Dean’s case report application, then adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and spoke in a kind tone, "Dean, it’s been almost two weeks since you joined the Fourth Squad, hasn’t it?"

Dean nodded.

It was quite miraculous. He had arrived in this world around mid-October, and now it was November 5th—only about twenty days had passed. In that time, he had already closed five cases and stained his hands with the blood of nearly fifteen people, far more thrilling than his previous life. He didn’t know if the United States was just too free, or if he was just too lucky.

Just as Dean was wondering what good news Monet was referring to, Monet pulled out a document from a drawer and pushed it towards Dean, his expression becoming serious. "Detective Dean, in light of your excellent performance since joining the Fourth Squad, and with the approval of Deputy Chief Teague from the Homicide and Robbery Division, your probationary period will officially end starting mid-November. Simultaneously, your rank and corresponding benefits will be increased by one level."

On the document was Dean’s promotion notice, stamped with the seal of the Los Angeles Police Department. Officially, Dean had finally shed his rookie status.

Dean had anticipated this, but he still showed a pleased expression, accepted the document, and said earnestly, "Thank you for your recognition, Captain."

He didn’t care about the small salary increase that came with the promotion. However, this speed of advancement would undoubtedly make his record look impressive. That was a good thing.

"You’ve earned it," Monet replied with a faint smile, taking a cigar from the drawer and toying with it. "Dean, very few detectives bypass the probationary period directly. Even excellent officers transferred from other precincts find it difficult. But when I presented your achievements to the Deputy Chief, he stamped his approval immediately."

He sighed, put down the cigar, and looked at Dean seriously. "Actually, before you arrived, I was quite troubled. The Fourth Squad was newly established, and I went to great lengths to assemble the current team. However, I haven’t promoted old-timers like Lawrence to a higher detective rank. Dean, do you know why?"

Dean simply shook his head.

He knew the reason, but he couldn’t voice it himself.

Monet, however, had no such reservations, a look of concern on his face. "Harry is too inexperienced, and his temperament isn’t stable enough to command respect. As for Lawrence, if he took the lead, I’d even doubt how long I could remain Captain. And Phoebe..." Monet’s expression grew even more troubled. "I originally had the highest hopes for her. But Dean, can you believe it? The reason Phoebe wants to be a detective is simply because Los Angeles detectives often get opportunities to handle cases involving Hollywood stars..."

The atmosphere had reached a critical point. Dean realized Monet was about to make him some grand promises.

Indeed, Monet sighed twice, then said with satisfaction, "Thankfully, God sent you to the Fourth Squad. Dean, I have great hopes for you! I hope that by this time next year, I can personally present you with the promotion letter to Lead Detective!"

"I will work hard!" Dean responded graciously.

Next year? If he couldn’t outmaneuver Monet by Christmas next year, it would be his own incompetence! Of course, in Dean’s plan, if he could take over Monet’s position peacefully, that would be ideal. Otherwise, he’d have to find a way to send Monet off to be a ’salary thief’ somewhere else.

Monet’s gaze lingered on Dean’s face for a few seconds before he nodded with satisfaction. "Very good, I believe in you. Oh, and this is another benefit I’ve applied for on your behalf."

He reached into the drawer again and pulled out a small red booklet.

Dean looked down and saw it was an invitation. In the top-right corner was an eagle emblem, with a line of small English letters underneath: FEDERAL, INVESTIGATION...

This was an invitation from the FBI!

Dean looked at Monet with surprise. Previously, when Anthony first showed signs of wanting to recruit him, Monet had been extremely nervous. And now he was directly handing him an FBI invitation? What on earth?

"Open it and see." Monet didn’t explain, instead saying with a smile, "I went through a lot of trouble to get this invitation for you."

Dean opened the invitation and discovered it was for a spot in a two-week FBI training camp.

"Both the FBI and CIA have their own specialized training camps for developing talent. There’s one near Los Angeles, and a few spots were made available to the Police Department. I thought this might help you, so I snagged one," Monet explained, overtly emphasizing his efforts, clearly worried Dean might not appreciate the gesture.

Dean had no choice but to show a touched expression. "Captain..."

"Alright, Dean, go enjoy the thrill of your promotion," Monet said with a wave of his hand, smiling.

Once Dean stepped out of the captain’s office, he rubbed his cheeks. Acting sure was tiring. Besides, with Anthony as a strong backer, he had no desire to attend some FBI training camp. Unfortunately, he was still a nobody. To avoid trouble, he could only temporarily accept this unnecessary kindness. Luckily, the training camp wouldn’t start until December 1st, so it wouldn’t affect his immediate plans.

Back at his desk, Lawrence hurried over, while Phoebe and the others cast curious glances.

"Dean, why did the captain call you in alone?"

Everyone’s ears perked up. Gossip is human nature, after all.

Dean pointed to the invitation on his desk. "The captain thinks I’ve been putting too much pressure on you all, so he’s decided to send me away for two weeks next month."

Lawrence skeptically picked up the invitation, opened it, and swore, "Damn! It’s an FBI training camp invitation! Buddy, this is an opportunity many people dream of!"

"Lawrence, I thought you didn’t like those guys?" Dean looked surprised.

Robert, also a newcomer, said with a hint of envy, "That thing is like a diploma from a prestigious university. Once you’ve trained at one of those camps, it’ll be a big plus for you in any department you go to later."

Lawrence and Phoebe nodded in agreement.

"Alright then," Dean pulled out his promotion letter. "I care more about this. Guys, I’m officially off probation. You pick the place tonight, and we’ll go celebrate."

"Wow, Dean, you’ve been with the Fourth Squad for less than a month, right?" Phoebe said, her voice full of admiration.

Lawrence beamed with pride, sharing in the joy. After all, Dean was nominally his apprentice!

Robert grew even more envious. "Dean, this is great news! How about we invite more people tonight and go to Sea Palace? I hear it’s nice there."

Sea Palace was a large offshore cruise ship with a high per-person cost.

"No problem!" Dean agreed with a magnanimous wave of his hand, which made poor Robert feel considerably more at ease.

He decided to skip lunch! He was determined to eat Dean, the bastard who had made him feel invisible, out of house and home!

「Later that evening.」

Dean had invited not only everyone from the Fourth Squad but also Holz from Forensics and Hawk, the bald patrol officer from the precinct. He also called over Sheila and the others to share in his glory.

During the celebration, Sheila quietly wiped away tears in the ship’s corridor. It was both pride and worry. She was very concerned that Dean would meet the same fate as his father.

Dean was enjoying the adoring gazes of his younger siblings when he suddenly caught sight of Sheila standing in the corridor. He sighed internally. He knew Sheila was overwhelmed by the familiar scene. For the first time, the thought of avenging the father of this body he now inhabited arose in Dean’s mind. However, now wasn’t the time.

「Meanwhile.」

Far away in Texas, Harry stared in horror at the man who had appeared in his bed.

FUCK! Where’s my girl? How could such a big woman just vanish?