"We've been investigating a case for the The First Bank of Long Beach in the US. A Mr. Jonathan Brooks has defaulted on a loan from the bank. They've attempted to contact Mr Brooks as well as his associates and family, but they've gotten nothing back. We were sent to investigate the whereabouts of Mr Brooks, but we found his place of business empty.
We did find clues that lead us to a recording studio and Mr. Cortez however. It seemed as though was having trouble with a former client that apparently had it out for him. He promised that if we retrieved some miscellaneous items from his home, that he would provide information on our missing Mr Brookes. I thought he was just a paranoid kook. Looks like I was wrong.
Anyway, you mostly know what happened from there. We arrived at the residence and were fired upon by the guy on the roof ext door. He tagged me and i knocked him from the roof while we tussled over the gun."
At Freddy's mention of Jonathan Brooks, Detective Gomez grows more interested.
"Brooks you say? Does the name Jorge Novo ring any bells for you?", he asks.
Freddy nods. "He is one of Brooks business partners. I believe he was pressing the actual records for Jonathan. We never were able to get in touch with him either."
Freddy nods. "He is one of Brooks business partners. I believe he was pressing the actual records for Jonathan. We never were able to get in touch with him either."
A half-smile quirks Detective Gómez's mouth before quickly disappearing.
"Really? Your friend the 'medium' couldn't get in touch with Novo? Maybe Mexican spirits aren't as forthcoming."
Freddy matches the detectives smirk and chooses to play coy. "Have you seen the state of him? I think he's had enough mexican spirits to last him a lifetime."
"You're dancing around my question- where is Victor Cortez? Where did you last speak to him? And what did he send you to find at his house?"
"Listen, if Cortez gave you his keys and sent you to his house I need him to corroborate that- you really need him to corroborate that. You could end up with at minimum a manslaughter and accessory to manslaughter charges after this."
"But if I can talk to Cortez, that may go a long way toward clearing this up. I can put him under police protection, you're helping him if you tell me."
Freddy shrugs as though it had just slipped his mind. "Oh, Cortez? He's holed up at a local church. I told you, the guy was scared out of his wits. Father Pizzaro used his church connections to set him up with a safe spot to hide. Here's the address."
Freddy will jot down the address of the place we stashed away Victor.
Detective Gómez takes the address and steps out of the interview room. After a few minutes he returns.
"Okay. I have some uniforms going to get Cortez and bring him in. When he gets here, we'll sit down for a talk and see if he's willing to testify about what he knows."
"In the course of looking for Brooks, have you spotted a maroon four door car? Or a man speaking Spanish in a Russian accent?"
Quite literally put on the spot, Evelyn is at a loss as to what to say; it seemed like nothing they did could bail them out of this situation. And yet, she is even more stunned when Freddy spins his story. She says nothing, this time for fear of contradicting some important detail.
Evelyn wracks her brain... come to think of it, there was a maroon car parked near the post office where you first got Brooks' mail. And one down the street from the Luz Records office. It couldn't have been the same car, could it?
"I... do recall seeing a car of that description, actually," Evelyn finally says, her own silence having given her time to review everything in her head. "Back at the post office, and again near the recording studio. I hadn't given it any thought at the time, but..." She frowns, suddenly very disappointed in her paranoia. If such a thing is even possible. "They must have been following us."
Detective Gómez scribbles down the names of the post office and the address of the Luz Records office.
You're all brought back into holding or cuffed to desks. Victor Cortez is brought in, looking nervous and is then brought into the interview room. Around noon you sit down with Gómez again, a baby-faced uniformed officer standing behind him.
"Cortez has corroborated your story.", the detective says,"And bail has been posted for you all, in addition to the cost of the damage to the cruiser. Lucky for you the stiff's a felon, so this can all be brushed under the rug- but I would look for an attorney just in case. Families suddenly start caring about their deadbeat brothers and sons once an ambulance chaser gets involved."
He gestures to the uniform behind him.
"Officer Blanco here is going to do me a favor and act as your police escort for the rest of the your stay here in D.F. to make sure he's there the next time someone takes a shot at you."
Freddy shrugs, accepting his fate. "Does this leave us the option to head back to the US?"
Detective Gómez nods.
"Leave us an address to reach you if you do, but you're free to leave."
Dominic is a bit taken aback by the whole situation, and his head spins at what has happened so fast.
It is worse than I imagined. Anatoly must have had such a strong resolve. I won't let his memory down.
Suddenly the priest stands upright, and addresses the others. "Let us find rest for the evening and consider our next moves".
In one of the wooden chairs against the wall in front of the duty officer's desk, Janet's pilot Frank Kearns sits with his arms crossed completely asleep. But almost on cue as you walk out toward the exit with the young Officer Blanco at your tail, he wakes and stands to greet you.
"Little run-in with José Law, huh? None of my business, of course. Send Janet a telegram, though, would ya? Want to make sure she knows I didn't run off with her plane and her bail money.", he says, winking for your benefit.
Outside, the late afternoon sun paints Coyoacán in golden hues as you walk to where Blanco indicated in Spanish and broken English your rental car was towed to. You get into the rental, Officer Bianco getting into a patrol car parked right behind you.
Inside the car, Evelyn rifles through the seat cushions and produces the El Cochinillo matchbook from Cortez's house. An address in Downtown Mexico City is scrawled on the inside cover- Brooks' address.
Evelyn lets out a massive sigh of relief when she sees Frank, realizing that they had quite literally been bailed out of their predicament. All things considered, it was quite embarrassing. Still, perhaps it was for the best that they didn't become fugitives.
"Here it is, Brooks' address," she says, reading it off the matchbook. "Looks like it is downtown..." With a grimace, she glances toward their police escort. "I don't know how we are going to get things done with Officer Blanco following us. It's only a matter of time before this 'ordinary' investigation becomes... strange."
"Well we were never told that we had to stop our investigation, so I guess we can keep looking for Brooks. Like you say though Evelyn, things tend to get very strange very quickly on these cases." The PI shrugs. "Maybe we just go and see what happens?"
Dominic eyes the guns nervously. Seems to me that guns are what got us in trouble anyway... still it makes the others feel more...secure?
"I think we finish what we started first. On to Brooks?
You drive out to downtown, Officer Blanco on your tail in the squad car. By the time you've left the green suburbs of Coyoacán and arrived in Downtown D.F. it's evening, around dinnertime. Brooks' building is a ten story brick apartment building, high-end and recently constructed. In the marble art deco lobby, a doorman in uniform waits for tenants and guests at the front desk.
Alright. How does everyone want to play this? Straight forward? Tell the door guy who we are here to see and hope he lets us pass by, or should we go for a cover story?"
"Let's stick with the story you gave the police, if we can," Evelyn says, tidying up her hair after a long day spent in the police station. She had to look like a professional. "We're here on the behalf of a bank. For now, at least."
Officer Blanco parks the patrol car behind your rental, stepping out. He stands on the sidewalk between your two cars, writing down the address of the building in his notepad.
The lobby of Brooks' apartment building is all marble and gold, a sleek art deco design meant to attract the wealthy and refined people living there. The concierge wears a grey suit paired with a bright yellow pocket square and matching tie. His name badge reads Oscar Garcia.
"Hola señors and señora: what can I can do for you this evening?", he says in English.
"Good evening Oscar. My associates and I were looking for a Mr. Jonathan Brooks. We represent a business partner of his, The First Bank of Long Beach. I believe he will be expecting to hear from us. Would you be so kind as to point us in his direction sir?" Freddy gives his most convincing smile.
"Mr. Brooks, the penthouse suite. I'll ring him to get permission to take you up on the elevator.", Oscar says, picking up a phone receiver and pressing a button. For a few moments, he waits with the receiver against his ear, then puts it down with a shrug.
"I'm afraid Mr. Brooks isn't at home. I can take you name and let him know you came by to see him when he gets home?"
"Certainly." Freddy gives the man a fake name, smiles and heads back out to the group.
"Seems like Brooks legitimately isn't home. We do know where he is staying though. Penthouse suite. The problem is that we need someone to get us up there. i'm guessing you need a key to get the elevator to stop there."
Stepping outside for a cigarette while you debate your next move, you notice that there's a fire escape on the opposite side of the building. Of course, you would have to get the ladder down and then sneak up ten stories...
The PI looks up at the fire escape suspended from the side of the building. "Well there is one way up. I don't think our escort would be excited about us using it though. Maybe a last resort?" Freddy scratches his stubbly chin. "Joseph, what do you think about seeing if Oscar in there can be persuaded to let us borrow his elevator key? Maybe some extra cash could fall his way?"
Joseph's magnetic smile wins over the concierge.
"I'm doing quite well, señor and yourself? Well, Mr. Brooks is out at the moment but as long as he's expecting you...", he says, ushering you toward the elevator.
Oscar brings you (and the rest of the 'bank inspectors' and Officer Blanco, taking notes all the way) up to the tenth floor.
"Don't break anything, alright? I'm bending the rules here.", Oscar says as he unlocks the door off the elevator.
Walking into the penthouse off the elevator, you find yourselves in a sizable living room- the decor suggests less a man with a sleek spartan lifestyle and more of a failure to decorate. There are a pair of sofas, a cabinet radio and a high-end record player. To the left off the living room is a master bedroom furnished for two- two lamps and side tables next to the bed, the large closet half full with men's and women's clothing. The walls are bare. The master bedroom has a private bathroom attached to it.
A short hallway adjacent to the living room leads to a guest bathroom and a kitchen with the minimum necessary utensils and no appliances save for a stove, an icebox and a blender. A door on the opposite side of the kitchen leads out onto a large patio.
Amadeus nods at the others, after keeping silent while being watched by the Mexican policeman. He moves into the room and glances around. "What are we looking for here?"
"Anything that will let us know what Brooks is up to, really. Especially if there is anything regarding a mountain opening up during and eclipse or new moon." Freddy gestures at his camera. "If you find anything interesting, let me know and I'll snap a shot of it. Obviously we can't take anything that doesn't belong to us." Freddy subtly nods to Officer Blanco.
Freddy will scope out the record player, see what Jonathan left on it.
Evelyn follows Oscar and the others up to the penthouse, surprised that they were being allowed to enter so easily. Still, she keeps up her facade of professionalism, knowing that Officer Blanco would be having their eyes on them the whole time.
"All right. I'll see if he has any books. There might be some questionable volumes among them," she says, searching for any shelves that might pass for Brooks's personal library.
The record currently in the player has no label and the sleeve nearby is blank. Other record sleeves near the turntable have Mexican folk music, Robert Johnson "Sweet Home Chicago" and "Hellhound on My Trail", Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg "I Love to Sing-a" performed by Al Jolson and Cab Calloway, George and Ira Gershwin's "Summertime" performed by Billie Holiday and other recent hits.
Evelyn looks around the apartment but finds a stark absence of books. Brooks either doesn't read or keeps his cult literature elsewhere.
"A little too quiet in here. Let's listen to some music while we search, eh?" Freddy will put on the blank record.
From the speakers emerges a familiar feminine voice in duet with a sensual, almost slithering male voice. Accompanied by guitar and drums, the wordless crooning is urgently hypnotic, stirring and unlike anything you've heard before.
"Mi boca... mi corazone... mi nombre...", they repeat midway through the record, husky and sensual.
From the recording quality, Joseph can tell that this wasn't made on studio equipment like Victor Cortez's, but rather on high quality home recording equipment. Joseph has no doubt that it's Leticia de la Luz singing, similar to the reel-to-reel that Trammel had back in Los Angeles.