Cool Specs (Part 4)
Hikers climbed the top of the mountain and made it in nearly four hours. On their descend one of them caught sight of a body trapped way down below fallen from the saddle cliff. They figured it was a dead body of a woman with black hair, wearing a white shirt and an orange overall. The hikers were unable to reach down there and it was getting colder every minute. They brought photographs and soon it reached the police.
Close to midnight on 16th August, police in San Jerónimo received a call that reported a woman missing. A police car arrived at the venue on Octavio Paz. They thought this single mother, Roslyn Dolores, would be returning by the morning. Next day, 17th August, police arrived for more inquiries because she never returned. Police believed that she abandoned her kids. A search was not called for the missing woman.
On 25th October, this discovery turned out to be that of Roslyn Dolores, the missing woman. The body was recovered by a rescue team and a helicopter flown to the mountain range of Cerro de la Silla.
Reporters took photos of the dead body before the carcass was taken to Guadalupe Medical Centre. Those pictures were aired on television and published on papers, including those photos taken by the hikers. News of the mysterious death of Roslyn Dolores who was missing for nearly three months shocked her close relatives. They gave interviews to media. Police on both sides of the municipalities were not prepared to settle with some of their arguments.
According to the relatives, Roslyn Dolores was a domesticated woman and it was not likely that she would take part in hiking or camping. Again, she never wore pants and trousers.
Guadalupe police later confirmed those clothes, a white shirt, emerald green jeans, a red-orange poncho and dark blue underwear pieces, did not fit her stature and possibly did not belong to her.
The body was kept in a morgue for an autopsy and police anxiously waited for results. The fall caused broken ribs, split both legs, bone and skull fractures. A quick examination suggested possible chances of sexual abuse before she died.
Police in Guadalupe brought seventy year old Lady Cassandra who was believed to be a psychic. This old lady studied the corpse and the clothes. On the face some strange mascara was drawn with a marker around the eyes in form of an ‘8’ still visible faintly. She sat down and meditated. It all happened at the morgue. She sketched out an image on a piece of paper of a cute looking girl with short-cut hair wearing a pair of full-rim, rectangular eyeglasses.
As the sketch was laid on the table in front of the Judicial Chief, Captain Carlos Ramón, he shot his eyeballs and took a deep look. He brought his hands out of the drawer and utterly unaware that he was holding a crack pipe and a lighter.
Officer Rodriguez cleared his throat, “What are we supposed to do?”
“Oh, oh…excuse me! Well, I can’t believe it. Pass it on. I can’t believe it. This young-looking woman tied to a murder! Find her whereabouts…that will do.”
When the dead body materialised and it went viral all over the media, Filipe Escala told the doctor of the presence of Ibañez Trevizo among the performers of Las Escondidas.
“We must arrange for cancelling her treatment. I will see to that personally,” said Dr Mireles. “It’s not venom this time but my powers. It’s going to be Friday the thirteenth.”
Valentina noticed change in Ibañez and asked if anything was wrong. She replied, “Nothing.”
“Then eat up!” cried Valentina.
“I can’t. I’ve lost my appetite,” Ibañez quit the table and walked out into the garden picking a two week old newspaper in her reach.
Valentina dropped her fork and joined Ibañez, “What’s it that bothering you?”
“You can’t believe if I tell you.”
Ibañez was shocked after seeing those photos of Roslyn Dolores. She had gone through them several times. It always brought the red pickup car back on her mind.
“Perhaps it will help. If you know something it is better to say it rather than keeping it inside.”
She dropped the paper on the outdoor coffee table with the page open. It showed bit grainy but clear big images of the corpse. “This is disturbing,” she said, “I was wearing identical clothes when I was taken to the Gleco Hospital in a stretcher, as far as I can remember. See, the blue bra under the white shirt, that red-orange poncho and emerald pair of jeans…I got the same thing. I was changed to pyjamas while I was sleeping. I lost my bags, my clothes, everything…except my specs.”
Valentina stared at the pictures blankly, “What does it mean to you?”
“I don’t know. I’m saying I wore an identical set of clothes. I may be wrong.”
“Let’s call the Gleco and find out.”
Valentina called and enquired.
The operator checked, “I’m sorry, we don’t have a Trevizo, Ibañez Trevizo, in our computer records, not in the past six months. No.”
“Left Wing,” whispered Ibañez.
“Check the Left Wing,” echoed Valentina.
“Left Wing!” the operator replied, “It’s an annex section. It’s closed. It’s not opened.”
Valentina dropped the phone, “Are you sure it’s the Gleco?”
Ibañez said, “Quite sure. That’s what the doctor said. A Doctor Mireles…I saw the Moles Tower…”
“Okay, I believe you.”
Meanwhile, at the Guadalupe Police Station, an officer dropped the phone and cried, “Guys! We’ve got a match!”
All gathered around the facsimile machine as it began to print out the image and roll out the thermal paper gradually. First came the bottom half and there it was an enlarged image of a young woman with short-cut hair and full-rim, rectangular eyeglasses. Three other pages followed; an application form holding the original photo and a police report.
“She’s hot with those cool specs,” commented an officer.
Officer Rodriguez made duplicates of the faxes and entered Captain Ramón’s office. “Excuse me!”
The chief cleared his desk dropping the crack pipe into the drawer.
“This just came in from Cabo San Lucas. Ibañez Trevizo, worked at Rocas del Cabo and left the hotel on 30th June, never heard since,” officer explained, “She’s wanted by the Cabo police on a fraud case, seems like she cheated in credit card collection. She left a daughter and mother in Miraflores. They say she’s gone to Texas.
“This photo…she’s twenty years old. Now she’d be twenty-four. Should we publish?”
“No,” Captain Ramón shook his head. He took a deep look comparing the two images. “Almost identical but this is only a sketch from Lady Cassandra. Nothing is based on a clue. It’s guess work.”
“I suspect something mysterious to link with those eyeglasses and the eyeliner mark on her face.”
“That’s precisely where Lady Cassandra got it wrong. She was stung by a scorpion according to the lab report from the Medical Centre.”
“It could be after her death. In eight hours after death venom could pass to blood cells and tissues.”
“Ah! You are technically very thoughtful. Pass the name, only the name, to San Jerónimo. Tell them we are interested in this subject, may have a connection to the Dolores case.
“The funeral is next week. Juan, be there.”
Dr Mireles unlocked the lobby door at the Left Wing and glanced up at the cloudy sky. It drizzled in the moonlight. He left one panel open and disappeared into the long corridors in dim light. Forty minutes later, someone in a dark raincoat entered the lobby.
Last gig that evening ended around eleven and Ibañez was missing for the last dance. Las Escondidas packed up. Valentina Buscar in a rush collected the cash and called, “Camila, get in the car.”
She rode at high speed in the drizzle like it was the only car out on the streets, “I must find Iban. She’s driving me nuts.”
Camila said, “Aren’t you going to close the top? It’s raining.”
She reached home in less than twenty minutes. Jumped out and staggered in through the door calling out, “Iban! Iban! Ibañez!” She asked the maid, “Did you see her?”
“No, she didn’t come home,” replied the maid.
Valentina returned to the car, “Get in, Camila. That girl is gone. We must find her.”
She drove fast out of the driveway.
Camila asked, “Where did she go?”
“No idea. There are two places I can think of. La Picadura or the Gleco. I’m going to the Gleco first.”
“Yes, she talks about the Gleco and a Dr Mireles she says hypnotised her. Keep your eyes open. Watch for the girl. We are almost there.”
She arrived at the Gleco in fifteen minutes and slowed down in the rain. They were pretty wet since she left the hood open to watch for the girl.
“Shall I go in and ask?”
“Later. It’s the Left Wing I’m looking for. Which side is that?”
“Over there, I think, without lights.”
“Yeah, I’ll make another pass.” Valentina drove slowly passing the entrance a second time.
“It’s almost an hour,” said Camila, “if she left Fiesta Inn she’d be in there already. It is thirty minutes’ walk.”
“You are right.” She turned the hood on. “Stay here. I’m going in to look.” She picked a flashlight and ran across to the lobby.
A single panel was left open. Valentina entered. It was dark inside. She made in through the first access that led to a wide corridor in dim light. She ran to its end. Looked to left and right. She called, “Iban…Iban!” She had to catch her fast. She ran to one end, looked up and down an endless corridor in dim light, “Iban…Iban!”
In a control room, Dr Mireles and Filipe Escala were shocked to hear the echoing voice relayed on the intercom. On one of those monitor screens a figure in a silhouette slowly progressed up a corridor.
Escala tapped on buttons and on another black and white screen appeared a shadowy form of a woman running up a corridor. “Buscar,” he cried.
“Buscar!” uttered the doctor.
“Valentina Buscar. She’s her boss.”
Valentina reached the other side and stared at the scary figure in a silhouette almost reaching the end of the cross-corridor. It sent a shiver down her spine. She saw a figure plodding away gradually, holding her arms high and fingers straight open.
“Ibañez!” her voice reached out in a whisper. She tried again. The flashlight failed to switch on. She ran after the girl and bravely caught her by a wrist. The girl began to scream and showed resistance with such strength. In the dim floor lights buried in glass her face appeared in a scary look with creepy shadows. Valentina caught both of her wrists and pulled hard. She dropped the flashlight to the floor.
Dr Mireles grabbed the beads necklace placed on the metal plate with the tiny skull in the heat of the Bunsen burner. “We’ve lost her.”
Right there the girl turned limp and sober. That allowed Valentina to pull her at ease.
“Why must you do this?” asked Escala in the control room upstairs.
“She is the only one who lived up to the test,” replied the doctor.
“What about the rest?”
“Dead,” uttered the doctor, “If she heads this way I will encounter them.” He watched Valentina pull the girl towards the exit. “She’s taking her out. Let them go.”
Valentina reached the lobby and Camila ran to her aid. They pulled the girl into the car and rapidly drove away.
Twelve-thirty, they reached Dr Gonzalez Clinic in Garza Garcia. Ibañez was admitted and treated.
Valentina asked, “Who is this Dr Mireles?”
“He’s an award winning practitioner,” replied Dr Gonzalez, “very famous around. You never heard of him.”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
“Certainly,” He obtained a book written by Dr Mireles on herbal remedies for the household. There was a photograph on its back. “Keep it.”
“Well, thank you, doctor,” Valentina said, “Make sure she doesn’t leave.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll watch her.”