Chapter 36

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Hi everyone, Alex here. Hope you enjoyed the story so far! Don't worry, I'll post until the story is complete.

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BACK AT MY shop, I looked after everything, caught up with Mrs. Otis, checked messages and orders and told her that I didn't plan to show up for a few days. Again. My business was going down the drain and Mrs. Otis's look confirmed it.

At two p.m., I walked to the gym, a modern affair on PCH near Hermosa Beach. It overlooked a shopping center and had a partial view of the Pacific. While I did the treadmill and watched mothers and crying kids carrying tons of food and shopping bags to their cars, I tried to clear my brain. After half an hour on the treadmill, the sweat started to flow. I fenced off some weak pick-up lines by some of the other members and started with my basics. A small boulder climbing wall provided me with some static exercises, moving slowly from left to right, from right to left, just using the red foot- and finger-rests. After that, I took the easier and much quicker green route, my fingers and feet aching madly from the tension on my limbs. Half an hour later, the ballet room. As it was early afternoon, I had the room almost to myself. I did a wide range of beginner exercises, circling through the Positions and the Devants and Derrieres, and then turned to more complicated combinations. Remembering the sequences and improving the controlled movement of my legs, arms and head, the ballet moves helped me to develop and maintain better command of my body. Useful for a cat burglar, anytime.

After two hours of grueling workout, returning to slow speed, I cooled off on the treadmill. The TV in the workout room, tuned to CNN, ran a news clip on 'The Mex Max,' mainly focusing on the San Diego connection. Meanwhile, just as Lobos had predicted, the affair had started to grow in Mexico City. Several politicians of Mexico's cultural leadership had shown concern about the 'colonialisation crime' bleeding out the national heritage. One politician, clearly in need of some good headlines, even talked about 'looting.' Not too bad, considering no had one ever paid any attention to 'The Max' before we turned up.

Dinner with Mundy, Manhattan Beach, Greek. He came in, sat down, and his look told me I had to spill the whole story before anything else was discussed. And so I did.

He sat through it, not asking a thing, letting me tell it my way. This was unusual, because his reporter mind usually shot ahead with questions during the interview. After I had finished my Mexican tale and my latest theories, he said nothing for several minutes. I had the impression that he wanted to tell me something but couldn't find the right words. He rubbed his face.

"So, my working theory is that whoever has the Maximilian Jewels in his or her possession is responsible for at least one of the murders," I explained.

"And who are today's suspects?" Mundy asked.

"Two main suspects and some minor ones," I said, cleaning my mouth with my napkin and counting on my fingers. "Number one—Andrew Altward. Either seeing his deal endangered or he took some opportunity that got out of hand."

"I see him for Phoebe. But not for her father Wally. But go ahead."

"Number two—the late Mr. Toledo. The man who stole the Maximilian Set from the museum in the first place. I witnessed firsthand how unscrupulous he was."

Mundy wagged his head again. "You could argue that he has the same motive to steal back the jewels as Altward. Either deal derailing or another better buyer at hand."

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