Session 03 - Marcus Black

Session 3

In the final hours of our time in Savannah, Carter was troubled by the encounter we had been part of with the characters who had threatened the diner patrons.  He came up with the idea of reporting them to the police, expecting that once they were discovered living in the disgusting surroundings of his Oriental counterparts, surely they would be slowed down in their pursuit of us.

After a rather brief phone call to the police we boarded the Silver Sabre on our journey to Los Angeles.  The ride was long yet I had no trouble occupying myself, pouring over the books and journals written by Douglas Henslowe, his mind was clearly broken, yet his words made sense in some strange way.

November 5th 1934.

Los Angeles was an entirely different landscape, the city was buzzing with life and activity, something we had been void of for some time.  We decided to try to blend in as best we could, our first day started early, Carter and I decided to invest in some new clothes, our current appearance made us somewhat out of place, even in this booming town surrounded by tourists.  Our first obvious stop was to the First Bank of Long beach, where the safety deposit box was located, a long day’s work, the drive from Central LA to Long beach taking all morning.

To our surprise, the bank was merely a ruin, its doors boarded up, windows barren of glass replaced by timber planks.  Its steps littered with the homeless who had lost work during the major earthquake of 1933.

We wandered close to the door, our rented car appearing out of place parked against the once centrepiece of the street.  We engaged one of the men located on the steps of the bank, ‘Boils’ as he was known, he told us about a former employee named Jim who resided inside.  We payed him a couple of dollars to watch the car as we ventured inside.

It wasn’t hard to find Jim, he was still wearing his Sunday best, it didn’t take much to find out that what we had been travelling to find was no longer here, the disappointment on Carter’s face was obvious, this was clearly a man who had no patience.

We discovered that the FDIC had taken possession of all the deposit boxes that were once stored in the bank.

Cater made the call, phoning the LA branch of the FDIC, he went into a fuming argument with what I can only assume was a very unhelpful employee on the other end of the phone.

Carter drove us back to central LA, confessing to him that his driving was making me nervous, his speed bordering on insane as he informed me that we had little time to catch the FDIC office before closing time if we ever wanted to see the safety deposit box.

We arrived with just enough time to spare, we were able to secure the services of one Marv Burlington, an older gentleman, easily able to be convinced to help us locate the box.

Marv stated that the box was still in Long beach, at this news, Carter nearly lost his head, he was fuming, not only had we spent the whole day driving, but we have very little time as we were both keenly aware that we were being watched in Savannah and possibly here too.

Marv agreed to contact the warehouse in Long beach to get the box brought to us overnight, in exchange for dinner and a few drinks, and with Carter buying, a few was not the correct term.

We spent the night in our new hotel, a nice place, somewhere that peace could be found, and the opportunity to not worry about those following us for at least one night.

November 6th 1934.

We left the room late in the morning, breakfast was something that we didn’t take for granted as our exploits so far had made meal times unpredictable.  We were notified that a large package had been delivered to us in the night, breakfast was put aside in lieu of this, what could only have been the safety deposit box.

We returned with the box to our room, Carter as if it was Christmas morning was nervously impatient to see what was inside.

I took the key that we had received through Douglas Henslowe’s belongings and sighed in relief as it unlocked the large metal box.

Inside were two items, a large yellowing envelope and a large leather bound ledger.

I passed the ledger to Carter, thinking that it might be more to his liking, I emptied the contents of the envelope, finding within several photographs within.

The photographs were in a word, repulsive, I felt my face shrivel and my hands shake at the images I was looking at.  Without warning my instincts took over and I began to cross myself at the sight of them.

The Photographs were within a wealthy residence, the participants numerous of all ages and genders.  They were engaged in the most fowl and gratuitous acts of sexual depravity I have ever witness and hope never to witness again.  I could not go on, the images were too disturbing, my lack of breakfast did not serve me well as I began to dry heave.

I passed the stack of photos to Carter, his reaction while equally as shocked, seemed less sickened at first glance.

After we had taken a few moments to compose ourselves, we began to analyse the images, the setting was decadent, clearly the home and gardens of a wealthy, high society individual.  Further more we noticed that Edgar Job appeared in some of these images, the same man who had attacked Douglas Henslowe and landed in the Sanatorium in Savannah.

Another man was prominent, a Latin American, a man we could only assume to be Echavarria.

We put the photos away promptly, both of us were unsettled, it was obvious to us both that breakfast would not be eaten.  Carter picked up the ledge we had nearly lost track of, he began trolling through it and discovered it was an encrypted record of accounts, something I knew very little about.  I could see his eyes scanning back and forth over the pages, searching for clues.

As the sun moved towards the sky we decided that our best way to discover any information on these people, as strangers here, the records at City Hall would be the perfect place to start.  Carter mentioned to me that he recognised other people in the photos as famous actors, something I knew very little about, a man named Richard Spend was the first name he said.

I decided that my priority in this was simple, the books and teachings.  Something about the photos had left a horrid feeling in my stomach, I couldn’t focus well on what we needed to give our attention too, my mind disturbed by the images that had made a home behind my eyes.

We received assistance from the records clerk, we discovered the life, death and living family of Mr Richard Spend, very little could be discovered on Echavarria, it was as if he was nothing but a ghost.

I also enquired regarding Edgar Job and his time in Los Angeles, discovering that he was a student at UCLA and that his professor, a Mr George Ayers was still employed there.

That was my new focus, something to take my mind off the vulgarity of the mornings discoveries.

I made some phone calls at the closest phone booth, UCLA was a strange place via telephone, I asked for Professor Ayers and within minutes I had spoken to the Heads of the Mathematics department, the history department and the administration assistants.  After several strange conversations I had managed to make an appointment with Dr Hamish McDunn, the head of the History department and George Ayers superior.

Carter’s first decision was to head to the home of a Miss Yolanda Spenzel, the sister of Richard Spend.  Her address for a short drive away, Carter was convinced that she would know about her brother’s death in 1924 and was wanting to press her hard on the issue.

I put up little resistance, my appointment at the university was not until 5:20 in the afternoon, plenty of time to see if we could piece together what Richard Spend’s involvement was.

We drove to Wilshire, the suburb in which Ms Spenzel was residing, it was a pleasant neighbourhood, filled with the classic large homes no doubt belonging to the LA high and mighty.  Our first reaction was that Ms Spenzel was living well of her deceased brothers fortune.  We reached the address provided by the records clerk and Carter began his routine of investigation and interrogation.

It took us by surprise that this was indeed her residence, a large manor house in suburbia Los Angeles, yet she was allocated to the coach house in the far back corner, she was the cleaner.

Carter did most of the talking when we arrived, all I could take in was that she was of very little information regarding the activities of her brother and Ramon Echavarria.  I was still a bit preoccupied with my own thoughts, still unable to focus.

The drive from Ms Spenzel’s home was a strange one, I was still distant in my mind from the events at present.  Carter seems to be going in all the right directions, I however have not felt this lost for some time.

We drove back to the Centre of LA, Carter had previously engaged the services of the local newspaper clipping agency to do some digging into the demise of Richard Spend and Echavarria.

They had discovered numerous articles on the rising movie stars sudden death, all pointing to the farm, the infamous farm where the nightmare for Douglas Henslowe reached its climax.

The most fascinating of facts that we were able to determine amongst the mainly glorified ramblings of the tabloid press was the relationship Spend had with a woman by the name of Olivia Clarendon, a former low level actress who had risen to huge fame in recent years.  Carter and I both recognised her from the vulgar photographs located within the safety deposit box, the sight of this beautiful actress tainted by the derogatory actions I had witnessed her performing within the images.

Carter was convinced that she needed to be questioned, but how, we would never gain access to one of LA’s biggest stars.

The time of my appointment at the University was upon us, we made our way to the huge Campus of UCLA.  Carter, ledger in Hand decided that he would look into an expert in deciphering the book while I tracked down Dr Ayers.  We agreed to meet back at the car once we were done.

I made my way to the offices of Professor MacDunn, his secretary seemed very strict and bound to her schedule, I was early so she instructed me to wait for the seven minutes I had to spare.  I wandered the corridor vaguely before discovering a large office door with the plaque “Professor Ayers” on the front.  I knocked on the door to discover a voice inside enquiring as to who I was, unable to gain access to the office and the man within insisting he was not Dr Ayers, curiously I withdrew and returned for my appointment.

I made my way into Dr MacDunn’s office, a funny sort of man, his background clearly academic, his eyes busy scanning me as I’m sure he had no idea what to expect as his gaze focussed on my scarred face.

I discussed with him the whereabouts of Professor Ayers and to my interest he produced a telegram that had been sent from Africa, Dr Ayers had been on a self-funded expedition in search of academic promises of great things.  I believed his journey to be funded by Echavarria, however I was not getting any helpful answers from Dr MacDunn.  I asked as to why Dr Ayers still has an office on the premises, only to be occupied by another rather secretive professor.  Again MacDunn’s lack of information and clear distain for my questions was beginning to frustrate me.  The telegram he produced regarding the expedition was odd, it was sent the MacDunn, yet addressed for the attention of Ramon Echavarria, he had discovered volumes of something that were of great importance, something he was sending back to the University.

Again I enquired of the professor as to the where about of the shipment, at this point MacDunn had grown weary of my questions and insisted I leave, much to my dismay, I withdrew to the car in wait for Carter to return.

I informed Carter that MacDunn was not forthcoming and that I was sure he was refusing to tell me what he knows about Ayers.  That seemed to be all the information that Carter required, without waiting, he marched us both past the secretary and into MacDunn’s office, shocked, MacDunn attempted to call security only to find Carter’s fist slamming him in the face.  We also slung false allegations about Ayers at MacDunn, his only reason for keeping Ayers on the books we discovered was to continue the funding to the University that Ayers employment provided.

After Carter was finished with MacDunn, he produced a large archive box from Ayers’ office, filled to the top with paper clippings, note books, journals and all manner of material.  I had my work cut out for me, as I know Carter was not a fan of the written word.

What peeked my interest were the books located in the “Volumes of urgent importance” as described by Ayers in his telegram, the “Lot 18” was here, being handed to us, these books that resided within were going to be my first endeavour, the lavish leather bindings calling me to read them.