The World of American Drama: From the Los Angeles Patrol

Chapter 251

At the entrance of the "Stay" bar, Jack glanced at the small parking lot, almost all of which were old pickups.

Although Montana has the reputation of "the state of wealth" and "the state of luxury cars", but because of the geographical climate and insufficient population, the level of economic development is relatively average, and the per capita GDP ranks last in the United States.

Therefore, in this state, it is rare to see expensive luxury cars, but all over the United States, luxury cars and antique cars with Montana state are everywhere.

The name of "The State of Wealth" comes from the state's rich mineral resources, but the most indispensable thing in North America is mineral resources. The inconvenience of transportation and the lack of labor force lead to the fact that agriculture in this state still occupies a dominant position.

As for the "luxury car state", it is very interesting, because Montana is a tax-free state, and the state's laws stipulate that buying a car in this state does not require annual inspections and inspections for emissions.

Also in California, if you buy a new or used car worth 3 yuan, you will have to pay a consumption tax of 2-3 thousand yuan. Those luxury cars with a price of millions of dollars, the tax of more than [-] yuan makes those rich people very painful .

So some people will register a company in Montana, buy a luxury car in the name of the company, and hang the license plate of the state. Usually, as long as it is not too much, the IRS will not keep an eye on it.

This led to Montana once becoming the state with the largest number of luxury cars in the United States.

Of course, all of this has nothing to do with these locals living in distress. From this old-fashioned bar, it can be seen that this so-called "militia" is almost similar to a mutual aid organization that hugs each other for warmth.

This can be seen from the way they helped Diana Goring drive her husband out of the hands of demons.

They may not be well-educated, have radical thoughts, discriminate against minorities, live a poor and conservative life, and blame everything on the damn federal ZF, but Jack still wants to try to communicate with them.

After all, no one knows the local situation better than these people, especially when that Francis Goring was once one of them.

Jack walked into this bar, which was not very big, and there were only a dozen or so people.

"Hello, give me a local beer."

Jack walked to the bar and showed a business smile to the bartender aunt. The dimples on the baby's face made the aunt look dazed for a while, and she involuntarily reached for the empty wine glass beside her.

"I want this cup, as a thank you for saving that unfortunate woman. I heard that she almost died, but please leave as soon as you finish drinking. Federation accomplices are not welcome here."

There was a voice from the small table beside him, and Jack looked for it. An old white man with thinning hair, about five or sixty years old, but looking very capable, was watching him.

"Thank you. It seems that I should drink slowly. After all, I still have a few questions to ask. Are you Harris Townsend?"

Seeing that no one responded, Jack still smiled, took a sip of the beer handed over by the bartender aunt, and it tasted quite good. It should be a private brew with barley as the main raw material.

"Can I have cranberry pie? This is my first time in Montana. I heard that this is a must-try food here. If possible, it would be even better to have another steak. I am so hungry now that I can eat it The next whole bison."

Jack said and handed out a few banknotes.

"Hey, boy, don't push yourself too far. Harris said that you are not welcome here." Opposite the old white man who spoke before, a strong and big man stood up and stared at Jack with an unkind expression.

"Well, Bobby, we're not rude savages."

The old white man also stood up, pressed the strong man's shoulders, and then looked at Jack's waist.

"Glock 22, very practical guy, but European."

As he spoke, he patted the revolver pinned to his waist, "Smith & Wesson, a pure American product, I'm wondering which one is more reliable."

Jack smiled and opened his coat, revealing his underarm holster.

"Actually, I like this one better. FK7.5, Eastern European. Not long ago, I used it to kill a guy who was wearing body armor and a bulletproof helmet from 45 yards away."

The atmosphere in the bar froze instantly, and everyone stopped talking, looking nervously at the two people who were confronting each other.

"In fact I have come to ask for help. An hour ago we dug up the bruised and innocent bodies of three innocent people in Francis Goering's rose garden, each of whom had suffered long-term trauma before dying. Months of brutal torture."

"You must have seen the news when they disappeared, and now Francis' accomplices are still at large. If you choose to shut up out of fear, I can understand, and even I can leave without finishing this delicious beer."

"Enough, Francis and his follower are the real cowards!" The old white man shouted angrily.

"I'm Harris, Lily, give this bastard something to eat, I want to hear what he wants to say."
-
After half an hour,

When Jiejie rushed to the bar in a hurry and pushed open the door of the bar, she was dumbfounded by the scene in front of her.

There was a mess of glasses and plates in front of Jack, and his mouth was full of oil. The fat bartender was smiling and refilling the glass in front of him with beer.

"Aha, here she is. This is Detective Jennifer Jeange. She is the real hero who saved Angela Miller."

Jack's cheeks were flushed, and he raised his wine glass to greet Jie Jie who still had gauze on his face.

"Respect, Ms. Rangre!"

"Respect, Ms. Rangre!"

Everyone in the bar raised their glasses of wine.

Jiejie looked dazed, completely confused about what happened here before, and was stuffed with a full glass of beer.
-
"I don't really know who Francis' associate is, I've only seen him once, and it was in a telescope."

Harris Townsend blushed from drinking, leaned shoulder to shoulder with Jack, and said solemnly.

"I went hunting with a few guys, and I happened to bump into those two beach boys. At that time, that trash Francis Francis had already been kicked out of the 'militia' by us, but none of us thought he would be the murderer. If I had known, I would have known."

Harris drank the remaining beer in one go, put the thick beer glass heavily on the table, and continued.

"The guy was in his early twenties, very thin, pale, followed Francis like a follower, and kept whispering."

"I'm sorry, that's all I know, but my guys and I will all be dispatched to assist the sheriff in their search. Once I find that bastard, I want"

"Anyway, thank you, and Lily, your cranberry pie is really good." Jack shook hands with Harris, gave him a business card, and kissed Lily, the bartender present.

(End of this chapter)