Part 4: Tooth 4. Another Schnitzel, or Goddamn Chicken-shit.Tooth 4. Another Schnitzel, or Goddamn Chicken-shit.
: After the humiliation at the graveyard Edgar crawls back to the agency.
: That'll do for today. Go wait for me in the bar right on the corner, we'll get to know each other better.
: The bar meets us with ship paintings and a repeating rumble of waves hitting the shore... Edgar tries to shake it off by examining the piano.
: I wonder if there are shows here. I'd like to hear that jazz music everyone's talking about. It would be a change from my mother's Caruso records.
: Actually, the only other thing worth investigating, apart from the barman, is the sign on the bar in front of him.
Poster > Observation 
: There's a holy image crossed out on this sign. There's some text right below... 'Dear clients, please note that we do not offer credit, the Byzantine icons will not be accepted as payment, and that American dollars will only be accepted as a last resort.' Byzantine icons?!
: We definitely have some questions for the barman.
Barman > Talk
: What a chatty fellow. Let's start with something easy, the Small talk.
: That's quite an accent you've got there. Scottish?
: What do you suggest?
: If you've got time, and a good liver, I suggest the 'Captain package'. It's a long beer journey ending in Belgium. But first, you have to visit Montreal, Ireland, England, Denmark and Germany.
: Looks pretty good, but wouldn't you have a 'ship's boy package'?
: And one warm local brew for the little guy!
Talk > Sign
: Tell me Mister, is this sign some kind of a joke?
: Do I look like I'm joking? There are many things I'd accept as payment. ...golden teeth, watches, animals if we must! But I don't know much about antiques, so when the two morons offered me a Byzantine icon I threw them out!
: Two morons?
: Yes, twins. And I don't think their combined intelligence reaches the level of a squirrel.
: Could you describe them?
: Two bloated Italians filled with polenta. They wear a horrible little mustache, just like that jerk I met in Berlin... ...Bitter? Zitter? Middler? A real ass. Anyway: two Italians, fat and wearing a mustache. They come here pretty often.
: Thank you.
: This unexpected lead is better than anything provided by Kid Butterfly.
Talk > Piano
: Do you ever have shows in here?
: Oh yes! I hired this genius who just arrived from Louisiana. Too bad he's rarely available.
: He plays a lot around town?
: No, he's in a black rights defense thing.
: You mean he's a black man? That's interesting. I've never seen one. So what does this group do? Demonstrations?
: Considering the police repression, jail time is essentially what they do.
: Oh, I see...
: Ah, the glorious twenties.
Talk > Sea
: It might sound crazy but I have the distinct impression I'm hearing sea waves!
: That's a record. Sometimes I get depressed not living on the sea anymore. It's a kind of therapy.
: I see.
: A video record of the barman's accent.
: Right, it's time to ask for some juicy gossip about our boss before he comes.
Talk > Gaspard
: I suppose you know my boss, Gaspard Lemaotre?
: Of course I know him! That's what I'd call a good customer, very distinguished! He often set sails on the 'Captain package' And then he starts saying strange things.
: What kind of things?
: He speaks of his ancient life, but you know, he's not really easy to follow, considering he's totally nuts. What I can say is, a guy of this stature... ...you don't see that every day.
: Could you be more specific?
: Just ask him! It's not like I'm taking notes here!
: Gah! From this angle Gaspard looks nothing like himself from the front.
: I want one of you sitting in front of me, and the other one coming up with two glassed of Bordeaux. I'll let you distribute the roles.
: Gapard's beard probably has more hairs than his scalp ever did.
: I'm not sure... It might be a bit too early. We'll have other opportunities.
: I don't understand.
: I'm not asking you to understand. I simply want to prepare you for certain possibilities. For example, if something ever happened to me... Oh well, another time maybe...
: Talking to the boss is the only option here, so Edgar is going to explore it fully.
Talk > Small talk
: How long have you been doing this work, Boss?
: A long time.
: Twenty years? More?
: I don't know. I usually repress these things with the help of alcohol.
Talk > Bar
: I've never been in an establishment like this one before. I find it rather pleasant. As for the innkeeper, he surely is interesting.
: Listen, if this guy ever tells you he had lunch with the queen of England, you can be sure he's the heir's father. His life story is bigger that a Jules Verne novel.
Talk > Jeannine
: Tell me about Miss Jeannine. How long have you been working together?
: The day I rented our office, she was already there. She asked me if I needed a secretary. I said no, because I didn't have the means to hire her. (VA: didn't have a cent) She simply said: 'Alright, simply put my desk over there, it will be perfect.' She hasn't moved since then. She's like a mother to me.
: Which means Isaac is your brother of some sorts.
: Not bad. If I had any capacity to laugh, I would.
: Hasn't Jeannine taught you to laugh yet? She's good at that.
Talk > Report
: Would you like me to read my investigation report for you?
: Tuesday, July 20th, circa 1924. Interpreting the evidence provided by the client, I pay the Roger hotel a visit. There, making use of proven psychological methods, I extract from the incorruptible clerk the lovers' geographical location. Then, fearing nothing, I climb the rusty fire stairs to their room. My camera held tight, I shoot vice in its love nest. (Gaspard's VA: "I hunt down the love nest, and with my camera I shot the vice.") How do you like it?
: Very good, James Joyce, but here's my version. 20/07/1924: Roger Hotel. Data extracted from desk moron. Climbed fire escape. Took shots of lovers in filthy room. Basta.
: Well, I have an appointment elsewhere. I've got the feeling we'll be doing good work together. See you tomorrow, Kid, and don't forget to wash behind your ears.
: Must have been food poisoning.
: What better way to start a career?
: We haven't met half of this crowd yet.
: Well, isn't it sad to lose your job only 40 years before retirement?
: No! I don't want to be unemployed! Who will protect me from Jeannine and Isaac?
: Gaspard's demise and dancing, the video.
: How about leaving your room?
Lockers > Keys
: 'A new life where papers cling together! Today, the Fire of God paper clips offer you this free sample! Cherish it, because Fire of God paper clips hold your paper better!' Exactly the kind of change I needed in my life!
: Let's see how what's left of the agency is doing.
: It's ten already!
: I only came to take my... Why did you say 'Boss'?
: I know it's ridiculous, but there ain't no mistake. Well, according to the will, you're running the show, now. In fact, the notary's here to tell you all about it.
: Jeannine's VA is going all-out here.
: But that's crazy! I don't know anything about this job!
: True. Poor Gaspard, he was probably experimenting with some new drugs when he wrote that.
: I'll go tell the notary I can't...
: WHAT?! You Goddamn chicken-shit! Gaspard put his trust in you and this is how you thank him? And you think that I want to go and find another job at my age? Tell me who's going to pay for Isaac's orthodontics!
: I really don't want to cause you any trouble but...
: I know somehow you could be reasonable. You're a good kid after all. Now go see the notary, he's waiting.
: Just one point after all this?
: Goddamn chicken-shit, the video.
: On the other hand, he specifies that the agency will go to his assistant. Considering your recently signed contract you are just that. He also left you this briefcase which he kept locked in a bank.
: Alright then, congratulations of your promotion. I'll leave you my card if you ever want to get in touch with me.
: So, here's all of Gaspard's legacy.
Briefcase > Search
: No, wait... There's a piece of paper in there.
: '- Another schnitzel? - With apple pie, bitte.' That doesn't make any sense! Unless... it might be a code!
: The real Carte Blanche starts here.