The Mafia Empire
Chapter 52: Chapter 52 Suspicion

With an innocent expression, Colt explained, "Just one hundred cases... and Uncle, who knows? You might even make that money back!"

It wasn't a small amount, but Colt wasn't wrong. Once the money was given to Graf, and they traced it back to his supplier, neither Graf nor his supplier would need to stay alive, and the money would naturally replace its way back into Wood's pockets.

Switching to a larger checkbook, Wood wrote a check for six thousand and tossed it to Colt. "This is the deposit. Do you really think I've never done business myself?"

Colt smiled obsequiously, not daring to argue. He took the check, flicked it with his fingers, and happily tucked it into his pocket. At the same time, he stepped out into the hallway, pulling on a cord. On the other end, behind the bar, a bell rang. Every time Colt pulled the cord, the bell would chime, signaling the bar staff to come over.

Before long, a short young man hurried over, wiping his hands on a towel. "Mr. Colt!"

"Find any Guar out on the street and tell them to inform Graf that Wild Rose Bar needs one hundred cases of alcohol. I'll provide enough of a deposit." Colt pulled two fifty-cent coins from his pocket, placing one in the young man's hand. "This is your tip for running the errand." He then placed the other coin into the young man's hand as well. "This is for the Guar.

They won't run errands for you for nothing. Got it?"

The young man nodded excitedly, clutching the coins as he ran out the door.

Most of the Guars lived on King's Avenue, which wasn't far from here. Despite the grand name, King's Avenue was no rich district but rather a slum, where the city's poorest residents lived. Those who lived in the slums knew most of their neighbors, at least by reputation.

In contrast, the wealthy residents of neighborhoods like Malt Garden often didn't even know how many people lived across the street from them.

The richer you were, the colder you became—a universal truth in all parts of the world.

The young man quickly found a Guar, offering him twenty cents. "Please tell Graf that Wild Rose Bar needs one hundred cases of alcohol."

When Graf heard from a snot-nosed child, barely seven or eight years old, that Wild Rose Bar needed a hundred cases of alcohol, he had a strange feeling, as though someone might be trying to trick him. After asking a few questions, he learned that an adult had paid the child five cents to deliver the message. Fortunately, the kid had some sense of duty. Otherwise...

One hundred cases were no small order, worth nearly sixteen thousand dollars. Graf was puzzled, as he had only delivered fifty cases recently. Had they really sold out in just three or four days? Something didn't seem right.

...

"Wild Rose ordered so much stock at once, I think there might be a problem."

Graf stood beside Julian and voiced his thoughts. He had checked, and the alcohol was delivered three days ago. In just three days, fifty cases of alcohol were sold? That's way too fast! Maybe the enormous profits from selling high-proof bootleg liquor were making Graf, a big guy as sturdy as a bear, feel nervous.

Julian had his own perspective on Graf's concerns.

First of all, it's not accurate to say fifty cases of alcohol were sold in just three days. That's a misconception. No experienced merchant would wait until their inventory is completely depleted before thinking about restocking, so the Wild Rose Bar should still have some stock left. In the business world, there's a well known but unspoken rule: when inventory drops to 30%, it's time to restock.

This means the Wild Rose Bar probably still has about a dozen cases of alcohol.

Secondly, Graf made another mistake. The fifty cases of alcohol were actually split into two different categories, so it's more accurate to say there were twenty-five cases of each, making fifty in total. Based on different customer preferences, the sales volumes of each category could vary. If each type sold about a dozen cases in three days, while exaggerated, it's not impossible.

That's around thirty or forty bottles a day per type. Calculating five servings per bottle, that's less than two hundred servings.

Julian wasn't sure how many customers the Wild Rose Bar hosted daily, but if we assume each customer drank two servings, and two hundred customers chose their drinks, the restocking demand wouldn't be that surprising.

While these numbers might seem a bit exaggerated, it's not impossible. Besides selling drinks by the glass to customers on-site, the bar also sells bottles for customers to take home. If someone really liked "First Love" or "Snow Elf," they might buy a bottle or two to drink at home or purchase several bottles for a party.

With that in mind, the Wild Rose Bar's sales figures don't seem unreasonable, and there's nothing particularly suspicious going on. At most, it means the bar's positioning is excellent, and both types of alcohol have a broad appeal among its customers.

After explaining this to the muscle bound giant Graf, Julian sent him off to handle the delivery. Julian believed that as the new flavors of high-proof fruit liquor continued to sell and resonate with customers, the supply would only increase. This meant buying a truck needed to be prioritized. After all, they couldn't expect the guys to carry two cases each and run to make the delivery, right?

Even using carts or horse-drawn wagons would carry risks.

Julian thought for a moment and knocked on the bell at the corner of his desk. The sharp sound pierced through the air, and the office door immediately opened. Over the past three days, a simple renovation of the first floor of No. 117 had given it a slightly more commercial feel.

Dave pushed the door open and stuck his head in, "Boss?"