The Story Of Red Dead Redemption

Chapter 57: Special Guest at the Hotel

Arthur left Strauss at the Downes farm to handle the acquisition and returned to Valentine.

Recently, Arthur's focus had been on the town. His plan was to establish a base here.

Fortunately, the camp had been quiet lately, with no one causing trouble. Initially, only Davey was recovering, but now Javier and Bill had joined him. For a while, even if Dutch wanted to stir things up, he wouldn't have enough people to do so. So, Arthur could finally concentrate on his own matters.

His schedule was quite full today. Since he had made a last-minute trip to the Downes farm, many of his subsequent plans were delayed. He needed to catch up to finish everything according to the original plan.

Arthur took out his diary to confirm today's original arrangements. Well, next, he needed to find Blake.

Closing the diary and putting it away, Arthur suddenly thought he should have an assistant. Otherwise, he had to personally handle everything, and time was really not enough.

Arthur arrived at the Saints Hotel. Blake was, unsurprisingly, at the front desk. Seeing Arthur, he started complaining.

"It's later than the time you told me, Mr. Morgan."

"Come on, get to the point. Once you're done here, I have to go to the next place. So, stop complaining and tell me, what do you need my help with?" Arthur was straightforward, indicating he was busy and wanted Blake to get to the point.

Blake knew Arthur had been busy running around lately, so he didn't say anything else and directly stated the problem he was facing:

"We have a long-term guest at the hotel, staying for about eight or nine years. Originally, he lived on the second floor, but after the recent renovation, he moved to the first floor."

Arthur frowned and couldn't help but urge him.

"Get to the point. If there's an issue with the guest, just compensate him with some money and ask him to move elsewhere. Problem solved."

Arthur didn't think this was a big issue and felt Blake was wasting his time.

"Listen to me. Mr. Presley has a special disease. In fact, he can hardly leave the hotel. Well... I could tolerate it, but Frank came to me complaining that during card games at night, they could hear a creepy, painful moaning sound. They suspected the place was haunted, and many wealthy guests have complained that the sound affected their card game strategy, causing them to lose... Anyway, don't rush. To summarize, I want Mr. Presley to leave, but he refuses, so I need your help."

After listening for a while, Arthur finally understood the situation.

"He's been staying at the hotel for so long, is he a wealthy man?"

"Indeed, Mr. Presley comes from a wealthy mining family. To cure his illness, he even hired countless doctors and experts at his own expense to hold seminars here."

Arthur scratched his head and said, "Can't we just throw him out on the street?"

"Maybe not now. He threatened me, saying that if we insisted on making him leave, he knew he wouldn't be able to maintain his dignity outside the hotel. He wouldn't disgrace his family. He threatened to expose the gambling on the second floor... You know, it wouldn't be a big deal if it got out. Not many people in town don't know by now. But there's one thing: our business has never paid taxes?" Blake said helplessly.

Oh boy, Arthur remembered. Mr. Presley was the man he had mistakenly seen sitting on the toilet in agony when he entered the wrong room on the second floor. Arthur had previously sympathized with him, thinking he had a severe hemorrhoid problem.

"Alright, I understand the situation. I'll try talking to Mr. Presley first," Arthur said, rubbing his head in frustration.

Arthur pondered the situation. He felt a bit at a loss. Throwing Mr. Presley out would definitely cause a scene, and while his casino was semi-public and protected by the sheriff, the gambling on the second floor of the hotel was not open to just anyone.

The wealthy guests didn't want this place to become widely known. So, he needed to think of a better way to handle it. If Mr. Presley were to cause a commotion, the consequences would be unacceptable to Arthur.

With a headache, Arthur went to room 1A and knocked on the door. Coincidentally, Mr. Presley wasn't busy on the toilet at the moment. He opened the door.

"What is it?"

"Hello, Mr. Presley. I'm the owner of this hotel and came to discuss your check-out..." Arthur was interrupted by Mr. Presley, who was visibly angry.

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! Don't you know why I've been here for nine years? Since I contracted this strange illness, I can hardly leave the toilet..." Mr. Presley's expression changed drastically, and he slammed the door shut. Immediately after, Arthur heard the painful moaning from inside the room. It sounded very painful.

Seeing that the conversation couldn't continue, Arthur started guessing outside the door. Was it gastroenteritis? But this kind of diarrhea? And for nine years?

Once Arthur figured it out, he didn't believe it could be true. It wasn't scientific. If it were true, Mr. Presley would have died from dehydration long ago and couldn't have lived until now.

Arthur tried the door handle, and seeing it was locked, he kicked the door open with force. Inside, Mr. Presley was sitting on the toilet, and the moaning abruptly stopped.

Seeing Arthur kick the door open, Mr. Presley started shouting for him to leave. Arthur ignored him, kicked Mr. Presley to the ground, and took a look at the toilet. It was spotless, with nothing inside.

Arthur had a clear understanding and walked to Mr. Presley, who was pulling up his pants on the floor.

"Forgive my rudeness, Mr. Presley. I don't know your reasons for hiding here and pretending to be sick for nine long years, but I don't care. I just want you to move to a different place. Isn't that a simple and reasonable request?"

Arthur wasn't interested in Mr. Presley's secrets and just wanted to resolve the issue quickly. He had other things to attend to.

"I, I, who said I was faking illness! I will not leave here. Get out of my room," Mr. Presley, now wearing his pants, said angrily.

Seeing Mr. Presley's stubborn attitude, Arthur threatened him.

"Don't force me to tie you to the post outside and prove to everyone that you're faking illness. I don't know where you found your so-called experts and doctors, and I don't care about your reasons. None of that matters to me! Understand? I just want you to leave. This is my final explanation of my request."

Faced with Arthur's ultimatum, Mr. Presley was at a loss. It wasn't that he wanted to stay, but he had overplayed his illness act. It had even made the headlines, and unfortunately, the doctors in the reports unanimously believed his condition made it impossible for him to leave the hotel.

"Alright, alright. I have a reason! Listen to me!" Seeing Arthur about to grab him, Mr. Presley hurriedly said.

"As long as you don't force me to leave, I'll give you a large sum of money!"

Arthur, now interested, pulled up a chair and sat down, gesturing for him to continue.

Suddenly, Arthur felt that the rest of the matter could be delayed a bit. Money, it seemed, could make him spare some time for it.

***

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