The clerk listens closely and seems to get the jist of what you're saying, though not the particulars. He shakes his head.
"I can't give. You get your friend here, he tell me right name and address I can help. Anything more?"
Amadeus smiles in a flustered, embarassed sort of way. "I can't, you see. He's in New York, the lout. But you're obviously a man of honor and pride; maybe you could help me out, please?"
Amadeus butters up the clerk for a minute before realizing that what he's really worried about is getting in trouble for letting you into the box. With that, he switches tactics and assures the man that this will stay between the two of them.
Evelyn embraces the "touristy" image, donning a floral-patterned summer dress and a pair of sunglasses. Completing the image is a English-Spanish phrasebook, though it was less a piece of her disguise and more a necessity. Her Spanish, unfortunately, left much to be desired. She just had not found the language particularly useful - it was not as though Latino immigration would boom in a few decades.
As the others kick of their investigation, Evelyn seems to focus more on blending in, checking out the sights in the city.
Since it would seem suspicious for several people to come in pretending to lose a key to a lock box, Dominic will wait nearby... hopefully at an outside cafe, to see if Amadeus is successful, before resorting to plan b. As if we had a plan B
With effusive assurances, the clerk obliges Amadeus and slides him the spare key for the P.O. box.
Within the post office box, you pull out two letters and a postcard before returning the key. Across the street, you tear open the mail and find:
- A power bill for Jonathan Brooks of the Luz Recording Company for an office at 33 Morelos Avenue, Coyocacán, Mexico, D.F. With your Accounting acumen, you can tell that very little power has been used at that address for the past month).
- A postcard from Mérida, Mexico (in the Yucatán) sent by "Domínguez" that reads, simply: "Departing today for the site. Will write again when back in Mérida." The postmark is dated from last week.
- An unopened letter from Samson Trammel in Los Angeles, which reads: "Anticipating another update soon. Where is our product? Where is the new record? Do tell. Hurry. Waiting." The postmark is from August 7th, only a few days before your group arrived in Los Angeles. The letter must have been sitting here for some time.
Freddy points to the power bill. "Looks like nobody has been home for a while. Let's head over there and sneak in, see what we can see?"
Assuming that Freddy shares what was in the box with the others... :-)
"I agree. Let's at least check out the area... Maybe discreetely".
Amadeus nods, studying their finds. "I agree. If that fails, perhaps this Merida site would be fruitful."
You drive a few miles south of Downtown into Coyoacán to find the Luz Records office. Coyoacán strikes you as a lively, bohemian area. Coffee shops are decorated with murals painted in bold colors and several art galleries are open on the main thoroughfare. Parts of the Villa Coyoacán (the original village the town/district is named for) seem to be quite old- you pass a church that must have been built in the 1500s next to imitation colonial style buildings dating back to the 18th or 19th century in close proximity to contemporary buildings. You pass some neighborhoods that look be under redevelopment as well.
The Luz Records offices occupy the whole top floor of a two-storey stucco building with a wrought-iron railing and colorful decorative tile work surrounding Spanish arches and small barred windows. Much like in Los Angeles, access to the upper floor is gained from an outside stairwell and two doors open into the whole of the second floor's indoor offices.
The building stands in a row of four similar buildings, across from a mechanic's shop, a tacqueria, and a shoe-repair joint. Below Luz Records are a few accountants' offices and transcription services. As expected, the office is empty and dark at 2 pm. Giving the doors an experimental push, you find that it's secured by a store model deadbolt.
The PI gets as many of his companions between himself and the rest of the street as possible before going to work on the door. "This key is always sticking on me." Freddy tries to casually work on the lock under the guise of getting his key stuck.
Freddy finesses the deadbolt with the blunt side of his pocket knife, easing it open without any sign of tampering or undue time spent. The street remains quiet with seemingly no one the wiser.
Inside, the Luz Records offices are a single room with plaster-encased posts and wood-and-glass separator walls divide the space into four distinct offices. The place has been all but cleaned out, though. Filing cabinets stand open and empty. A safe in the back office is ajar and clean. Desk drawers are open and empty save for stray staples.
Freddy steps into the abandoned office. "Looks like it was either a planned move or someone beat us to the place and cleaned them out. Let's see if the left anything behind."
The PI will start pulling desks out from walls and checking behind/ underneath them.
Amadeus nods to Freddy and joins him in looking for any discarded or overlooked files. He checks the floors and walls to see if there are any loose floorboards or hidden wall safes.
Freddy searches around and under the desks, finding some loose change, crumpled up note papers and some discarded record sleeve and album pressing catalogs. And he notes the full garbage can.
Rolling up his sleeves, he reaches in and finds a crumpled up invoice under a pile of greasy papers streaked with red, oily stains. The invoice is in Spanish, but he recognizes the names Jonathan Brooks, Leticia de la Luz and an address- Estudio del Mañana, 1220 Morelos Avenue. It's just up the block from the office.
Amadeus nods to Freddy and joins him in looking for any discarded or overlooked files. He checks the floors and walls to see if there are any loose floorboards or hidden wall safes.
Amadeus painstakingly checks the floors, but doesn't find any hollows or hidden spaces.
As Freddy digs through the trash, Evelyn searches for any signs that might indicate that someone else was in the office recently.
Evelyn doesn't find any evidence that someone's been here recently- the stains on the papers Freddy found in the trash aren't fresh but there isn't a lot of dust in the office besides in out of the way spots that would have been dusty anyways. Maybe the neighboring businesses would know more?
"Well if there's nothing else here, we do have a new address to follow right up the road."
Si!
Holding out the invoice, "Hey, anyone know what these blotches are?" Before we go, Freddy will check out the red stains on the paper. Forensics?
Estudio del Mañana is further up Morelos Avenue in a more modern part of town. The building itself is an old single-story office building with the name of the business on a nicely painted sign next to the door. The curtains in the front windows are drawn. Testing the knob, you find it to be locked- kind of odd considering it's about 3:00 in the afternoon.
Holding out the invoice, "Hey, anyone know what these blotches are?" Before we go, Freddy will check out the red stains on the paper. Forensics?
Amadeus takes a look at the oily stained paper and after a hesitant smell he concludes that it's the grease from a chorizo sausage, a spicy sausage common in Latin America.
"Sausage grease. Nothing malevolent, then. Unless you're adverse to spicy sausage." Amadeus adds.
After trying the door, Amadeus turns to the others. "Should we check for a back door?"
A man's voice calls out from inside the recording studio.
[In Spanish] "We're closed today! Studio time is cancelled... the,uh, sound board needs to be, uh, rewired!"
Evelyn flips through her phrasebook, but as she quickly finds out, it was not exactly made for translation.
"What is he saying?" she asks with mild annoyance as she stuffs the book back into her purse.
Freddy shrugs and takes a shot in the dark. "Walker sent us. Open up."
[In Spanish]"Walker? I don't know who you're talking about- look, please, just leave me alone! I- I won't do anything, I haven't gone to the police! I won't say a word!"
Judging from the tone of his voice, he sounds nervous or scared but genuinely confused- he likely has no idea who Walker was.
Amadeus sighs when Joseph or Dominic relays the translation. "Reassure him we're not here to cause him harm. We just want to talk. We're not with the Nectar pushers."
Dominic relates Amadeus's words in Spanish to whoever's behind the door, then adds. "Please open the door. We can't help you if you don't cooperate. I am a priest, and only want what is best".
The door opens a crack and a slightly disheveled but nonetheless handsome Mexican man with excellent teeth opens the door.
[In Spanish]"Really? You're not with- you can help me? I feel like I'm going crazy, Father!", he says, sounding relieved even as his eyes dart around the street and appraise each of you.
[In English]"Come in, come in please.", he says.
You enter a lobby done up in sleek art deco-style wood and carpet, framed traditional Mexican folk art hung on the walls. After you enter, the man locks the doors.
[In Spanish, to Dominic]"My name is Victor Cortez... you don't know Jonathan Brooks or his wife, right? Let's talk in the office."
In the office, Cortez takes a seat on his rumpled couch right next to a pillow in a white pillowcase.
[Spanish]"What, what do you want with me?"
Cortez nods.
[Spanish]"Brooks booked studio time from me for his wife, de la Luz. They recorded a single here months ago, just two duets- they had accompaniment from some weird singer called 'La Boca'. She sang to his recording, they said he was real secretive and didn't go out in public. She was in here singing with a backup band to record a full album weeks ago..."
He puts his hands on his face.
[Spanish]"But that was before Jorge Novo- he pressed the records, Jorge said he wouldn't work for them anymore, I heard him call their music 'evil'. And after that... his factory burned to the ground with Jorge inside!"
He throws up his hands, obviously at the end of his rope.
[Spanish]"I just want to make music, I didn't think it would get like this! I don't want to work for them anymore, but I'm scared they'll kill me if I don't! Last time I was home, Brooks' bodyguard-muscle- whoever Konovalov showed up with a bunch of guys just pounding on my door. I'm sleeping here, it feels safer...."
"Calm down now my son. We're going to make sure that nothing happens to you. Two questions. One do you have an address we can find Brooks, or is he scheduled to record with you again? Secondly do you have a copy of the recording that we could listen to"?
Cortez takes a deep breath.
[Spanish]"I think I have his address in a matchbook in my kitchen at home but I'm not going back there, Father. I don't know who's waiting for me. His townhouse is somewhere downtown, near the Zócalo, but I don't remember where. I wrote it down in the matchbook for El Cochinillo ."
"I've been to de la Luz's apartment once, at Brooks' invitation, but that night devolved into drugs and fighting and I got out of there. Leticia was furious at Brooks for something- I don't know what- and a lot of us slipped out when they went and fought in the bedroom."
At the mention of the recording or appointments, he shakes his head.
[Spanish]"I just have their first single- it's here in the engineering room next door. They started taking the master tapes with them, so I don't have them here. Last time I talked to Brooks and Leticia they bought some recording equipment off me. I think they're recording on their own, now. Where, I don't know. But they used to talk about how they had to restrain themselves here. And they came in and played those 'La Boca' records because they couldn't bring him in to sing directly."
He puts his hands on his face, breathing deeply.
"I imagine the only reason they haven't burned this place down is that they might think they need it. Or me. Ohhh, God!"
Freddy shrugs. [English] "I'm thinking he should lay low for a while, maybe somewhere other than here. If we got in, they can get in.
Let's be honest with ourselves, if this investigation goes like any of the others, we'll have caused so much havoc that they'll probably forget all about Mr. Cortez here. So for now, we can either head to his place and pick up that matchbook or check out de la Luz's apartment."
"Perhaps I can call on Father Dominguez for help once again. I'm sure he would know somewhere you can hole up until we take care of the threat here".
Then turning to Freddy "I think we try to find the matchbook first. Perhaps disguise ourselves as cleaners, or repairmen, as I'm sure his house is being observed".
"Maybe a couple of us can take Cortez to father Dominguez for protection, then we could meet at Cortez's house... warily that is".
Evelyn nods, having spent the last few minutes pacing around the room. "Yes, we need that address."
Victor freely offers his house keys and address to Dominic.
[Spanish]"So... what should I do? Do you know if you were followed? Am I being paranoid?"