The following morning, the team gathered for a Hispanic breakfast with Style in the Salon’s private dining room. After finishing a satisfying plate of huevos rancheros, Style checked a notification on his phone.
“I had planned to introduce you to Mr. Franco this morning,” Style announced, “but he just messaged me. He had to fly to Angel City on short notice, so he’s hoping we can reschedule for tomorrow, Friday.”
“That works for me,” Lady News said, setting down her fork. “I have to pick up my brother this afternoon, but my Friday is wide open.”
“Oh, one of the brothers is coming to town?” Report Man asked curiously. “Which one? I’ve always wanted to meet the legendary twelve.”
“The tenth, Lima,” Lady News answered, taking a bite of a mollete. “He and his boyfriend are staying with me for four days. You might just get your chance to meet them.”
“I look forward to it,” Report Man said. He turned his attention back to Style. “I have a meeting Friday morning—my last bit of business before the holiday—so Friday afternoon would be perfect.”
“Friday afternoon works for me, too,” Spion said with a nod.
“Count me in. I have no plans for tomorrow,” Trevor added, finishing his milk.
“It’s settled then,” Style said, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Friday afternoon, we meet here first, then head to his mansion together. So, what’s on the agenda for today? As for me, I have to attend a family party at Lord Schwarzwald’s villa this afternoon—an event I’d give anything to skip.” He let out a long, weary sigh.
“You’re related to Lord Schwarzwald?” Trevor asked.
“His wife, Lady Schwarzwald, is my cousin.”
“I met her and her daughter yesterday at the party,” Trevor noted. He glanced at Spion with a smirk that the others couldn’t fail to notice. “She didn’t exactly seem ‘nice.’ In fact, she looked like she wanted to eat Spion alive.”
Spion ignored the teasing, keeping his head down as he focused intently on his tamale.
“It’s a welcome party for Lord Schwarzwald’s mother,” Style explained. “I’ll try to make my escape right after they light the Natalis Invicti tree. As for Lady Schwarzwald, she is undeniably strict, but I have some sympathy for her. Her daughter, ‘Little Red’—as we called her when she was a sweet child—is now a high-schooler in the depths of a rebellious phase. It’s enough to give any mother a permanent headache.”
“Good luck with that,” Report Man said, finishing his coffee. “Since I’m free today, I’m considering a visit to the Gotham Hotel to investigate the fire. I know the manager from previous business. Anyone want to tag along?”
“I’m in,” Trevor volunteered. “I’m idle all day, though I need to head home and change first.”
“I have things to settle at the Academy this afternoon,” Spion added, “but I should be free after five.”
“We’ll see,” Report Man said. “Perhaps we can all reconvene here tonight. There’s a Natalis Invicti tree-lighting ceremony in the Salon after eight. You won’t want to miss it.”
“I’ll be there,” Spion grinned, finally clearing his plate.
“I can ask my brother to look into the official fire reports if you think that would help,” Style said.
“It definitely would,” Report Man said, finishing his coffee.
“Regarding the investigation…”Lady News said, ” I can’t stop thinking about the drama last night. Did Mr. Franco actually divorce the bride’s mother, Victoria? Does she know his darker secrets?”
“I don’t know much about his romantic history,” Style admitted. “Only that the divorce was finalized a year ago. His new girlfriend, Isabel, was a nightclub singer. She quit the stage after the divorce and has lived with Franco ever since.”
“I couldn’t find much on his personal life online,” Report Man added. “He isn’t a public figure. The only photo of him currently circulating is from the engagement announcement.”
“He keeps a low profile,” Style agreed. “Even at the wedding, he was shadowed by four bodyguards at all times. He’s sensitive—suspicious, even. He actually fought against holding the after-party here, claiming one of the waitresses here had once poisoned an Ambassador. But since he had no other options, and my brother offered to bring in his own servers from the mansion, he finally relented.”
“That explains the new faces and the heavy security,” Spion muttered.
“Victoria must know him better than anyone,” Lady News mused. “And given her fury last night, she might be willing to talk. I’ll see if I can get to her.”
“I can arrange that,” Style promised, “but let’s wait until after the meeting with Franco. That way, you can cross-reference what you hear from her with Isabel’s story as well.”
After breakfast, the group dispersed. Trevor returned to his apartment and opened his laptop to a flooded inbox. He found a forwarded email from Bella regarding Professor Antonius’s diary.
“Julia sent me her father’s diary,” Bella wrote. “There’s so much information here that I can’t digest it alone. Sharing it with your team—let me know if you find a thread.”
It was a link to a cloud storage folder nearly eight gigabytes in size. Trevor clicked through a few files; most were high-resolution scans of handwritten notes in Greek and Latin. He forwarded the link to the rest of the team but decided to save the heavy reading for their next meeting.
Around 1:00 PM, Trevor finished his pizza and opened the Dressrious app. He selected an outfit: a charcoal polo coat, dark jeans, Chelsea boots, and a gray wool cap, hoping the look would project a “modern detective” vibe.
But what to wear under the coat? He felt a pang of annoyance realizing his favorite brown turtleneck cashmere and black suede bomber jacket were still with Master Tailor for repairs after his midnight brawl with a werewolf. It would be at least a month before they were ready.
He kept shaking the app, looking for a new sweater suggestion that was both stylish and warm. The white wool crewneck his sister had gifted him? No, he was saving that for Sunday when he went to pick her up. Then he saw it: a dark gray cashmere he’d bought two years ago. It was a perfect match. With a quick tap, the app provided the exact location: second lower-right drawer, third closet, left side of the dressing room. Trevor walked straight to the spot; the item was exactly where the app recorded it would be.
He pulled the clothes on and checked his reflection in the looking glass. He struck a few poses, adjusted the cap, and nodded.
“Perfect,” he whispered. Detective Edson was on the case.