Trouble in LA

November 8th (Thursday)

We divide to conquer once more, following up on our various leads. Chastity and Quincy head back to Long Beach in pursuit of the bank deposit box, whilst Erik & I will head to Filmland Express and then onto UCLA.

Chastity and Quincy, talking to some locals, discover the First Bank of Long Beach suffered trauma from the earthquake of ’33 and continued to have difficulties, eventually being foreclosed upon. The FDIC (a government agency) came through and confiscated all belongings of the bank, including the various bank boxes.

In the meantime, Erik and I caught a taxi to Filmland Express. A far cry from the large and well-oiled machine of the LA Times, the staff here were all far too young to recall the massacre in 1924. One, Marvin Penny, was very helpful, and offered us assistance in return for “the scoop”. We spent much time down in the “archives” and, just before giving up, Erik at last found the article in question. This too mentions the now A-list actress Olivia Clarendon as companion to Mr Spend (“at crazy parties”). She’ll be worth talking to.

The article does list Mr Spend as having been stabbed to death, unlike the mainstream news article, and covers (either misleadingly or unintentionally) the cult activity as a masquerade-gone-wrong (robes and masks). This article mentions at least a dozen other deaths, and questions the hidden personality of Richard Spend.

I question Mr Penny about his tabloid’s access to an actress such as Ms Clarendon. He promises to ask around for me, as well as to look into the author of this old article.

While Chastity and Quincy chase down the bank box, and make an appointment to visit the warehouse tomorrow, Erik & I continued on to UCLA to meet Erik’s friend Vanessa Mallory, an Art History tutor. She’s a very artsy sort, which is apparent from both her dress and her cordial greeting. To my amusement, and Erik’s embarrassment, she makes reference to their time together (mentions of Amsterdam and absinthe), and says she’s quite happily enjoying the Los Angeles lifestyle. After pleasantries have been exchanged, we settled into business. Vanessa introduced us to a Professor MacDunn in the History Department.

Professor MacDunn knows of no George Avery, but there is a George Ayers listed in the directory. Prof MacDunn says Professor Ayers went away on sabbatical for a dig in 1924. He couldn’t say much more, but that Ayers had no leave to take students, and has yet to return. Only recently, his office had finally be turned over to one Miles Roman, and Ayers’ office was packed up and sent off to storage. This lead would soon prove both intriguing and dangerous.

Professor Ayers, who we are now quite certain is (was) the same man as George Avery, specialized in sub-religions, cults, and symbology, and has published papers in the school’s library. Leaving the university to pursue the belongings of George’s office, we say goodbye to Vanessa with a promise to meet her for dinner tomorrow evening.

An initial perusal of Ayers’ boxes upon boxes gave us one gem – his travel itinerary from 1924. Ayers was due to visit Massau/Ethiopia, travelling approximately 22 June through 19 July, 1924. The travel was arranged by Cox & Kings (Agents) Ltd who seem to be based in London (among other international offices). This was all we had time to unearth before the warehouse shut for the day. We returned to the Michelangelo to compare notes with Quincy and Chastity.

We learned of their chase from Long Beach to City Hall in search of the box. During their lunch at the Michelangelo, Quincy noticed a stocky man in a dark suit and fedora possibly watching Chastity suspiciously, and believes he had noticed the man at breakfast as well. To my detriment, I will soon learn his suspicions were well-grounded. The next day, while Quincy and Chastity continued to chase the bank box, and Erik went on to the UCLA library to read up on Ayers’ papers, I returned to the warehouse.

My initial morning search through boxes of books, private writings and notes, flushed out an autographed photograph of Olivia Clarendon signed “thanks for all your help”. Also included was an address book (including an address for Echavarria) and an old campus address for Edgar Job.

While I perused the boxes, and not long into my hunt, I was accosted by (whom I assume was) the same stout man. The man intriguingly “shamed” me for chasing the old case. A very interesting choice of phrase, which will leads me to believe he works for someone involved with the celebrity angle of the case.

I was too forgiving when I saw his shadow behind me. I won’t make that mistake again. Separated from my gun almost immediately, there was little I could do but try to banter my way out. But there’s no reasoning with a common thug. Finally, promising to leave LA as he wished and leave the case alone (which, of course, I have no intention of doing) he let me go. I went around the building and re-entered through a back window, but the warehouse was too big. By the time I snuck back up to the office, he was long gone.

A security officer from a nearby building was there on the scene, helping the guard (whom the thug had knocked unconscious). I told him to call for backup, and asked about the thug, who apparently drove off in a black Chevrolet. The man had no further details – doesn’t he know it’s his job?! Frustrated and uncertain what to do next, and certainly wishing to avoid mixing up my boundaries with the local police, I confiscated the boxes from Ayers’ office and took off in a taxi (promising to check in at the station to give my statement, another promise I’m unlikely to fulfill). The lies come so easily to me these days… my uncle’s influence, no doubt. But, I’ll have to ponder that another time.

For now, it’s time to make this thug – and his employer – think he’s succeeded in driving me away. The taxi took me, and my newfound collection of office files, to the hotel where I packed up and headed – visibly and audibly – for the airport. I allowed myself to look shaken and upset, using the sympathy of the staff to help drive home my façade, and to make the transition swift. I slipped away only once, to leave a note under Quincy’s door (grateful for the extra caution I knew he was inclined to exercise).

Once at the airport, I got in touch with Frank and made my way to the Silver Sable. I filled Frank in on every detail, hoping the others would make contact with him. I didn’t expect to make the dinner reservation, and wondered how Erik would take finding me not only gone from the warehouse, but accosted to boot. It would be a good test to learn more about my associates – about their temperament and loyalties.

Once I was tucked away in the security of the Silver Sable, I found myself quite wired up, even after telling Frank my tale. I spent some time perusing the boxes, searching for anything of significance. I may have put my career on the line for them, so I do hope I won’t be disappointed. We may already have found the only item of significance (the itinerary), but I’m holding out hope that we just might learn a bit more about what that crazed group of cultists discovered and were pursuing. After some hours, I couldn’t say if it were few or many, I drifted off to sleep in the comfort of our new mobile office and temporary home, still contemplating my next move somewhere in the back of my mind….