Don Juan’s Information

Don Juan has agreed to the terms, and he has given us the information that he knows. Since getting the information, the confidence in his value may have diminished slightly, but perhaps you will find it useful.

For Moriarty and Morgan, he explained that he believed their echoes would most likely be in California. He believes that Moriarty took out an apartment in San Francisco for a little while that he eventually left, located in 1472 Filbert St., and that Morgan used to visit it frequently as well. He had an idea that maybe one of their echoes was located at the apartments for the time they spent.

Not the confidence I hoped for.

But, far from being the weak point of his knowledge, at least his was well thought out and had the benefit of time. He recommended that we further search a location in Los Angeles – specifically, the Omni Hotel, on 251 S Olive St. This was the location for a… let us say, eventful meeting between all the Cabal members.

As for LeRoux, Don Juan again believes that the Phantoms echo is in New York, and knew of at least one clue to suggest its location: a tabloid article that indicated the Phantom’s activity in Central Park, along with the knowledge that the Phantom had engaged in these vigilante activities. He gave us a copy, which we showed below.

My only recommendation is that you go forth immediately and see if you can find anything at these locations, and start to prepare refictionalization materials. If he has truly given us what we want, jubilations. Otherwise…

As for the other conditions, Jack Vincent has called his family and he has made arrangements for transportation. Don Juan has also given us the painting in fair condition and we have shipped it to the Denver Art Museum. We included a note with our contact information so that we will know immediately when the painting has returned.

We will have to wait and see what else will come of Don Juan.


9 thoughts on “Don Juan’s Information

  1. Dear M. Poirot and Mr. Holmes,

    Thank you so much for sharing this valuable information with us. Below please find my humble attempt at a refictionalization for Don Juan, which you may make use of as you please. I feel I have written him the story he deserves.

    Je suis, comme toujours, votre amie loyale,

    To Don Juan’s complete astonishment, the young lady burst into laughter. He reached forward across the table to clasp her hands in his. “Señorita, I understand your amazement at having attracted my attentions. Such amazement need not be so great, however; you are a woman of exceeding charm–”

    She pulled her hands out of his grip and cut him off. “It’s Señora, if you please. And don’t trouble yourself about my ‘amazement’, Señor; I suspected such was your aim when you first invited me here, and I came to humour you, hoping I was wrong. I have more than my share of admirers, and I’d as soon do away with the lot.”

    At that moment the waiter arrived, bringing their drinks. When the young lady thanked him for his kindness, he lifted her hand in his gloved palm to kiss her fingertips. “Madame, if I can but do anything else for your favour–”

    “Right now, leaving will do,” she answered dryly, returning her attention to Don Juan with a pointed look as the waiter made haste to make himself scarce.

    Juan countered the look with his honeyed voice. “Señora, there is no shame, no need to pretend that you do not wish for this as much, or more, than I do…”

    “I am a married woman,” she reminded him icily, “and you had best remember that.”

    The don chuckled softly. “Of course, of course. Fear not; you husband need never know, nor shall he.”

    “You dare… I’ll have you know that I love my husband. I came here hoping that your hints of a business arrangement were just that, but if you continue in this vein of talk, I shall be forced to… take steps.” She fingered a crystal vial she wore at her throat, in which some clear liquid sloshed around.

    Don Juan glanced with horror at the glass he had been drinking from.

    The young lady sniffed at him with derision. “If I murdered every man who wooed me, I would have quite the criminal record by now, Señor.” She tilted her head in speculation. “Although… it would certainly be a deterrent…”

    The don bridled. “Do you know who I am, Señora?”

    She blinked at him, coldly blasé. “Yes. Yes, I do. The great Don Juan, conquistador of women’s hearts. What, you thought I wouldn’t see through your paper-thin disguise?” She let out a short bark of a laugh. “Well, to me you’re just another name on a long list of undesirable suitors. You’ll have to count me out of your conquests, Señor.”

    Juan attempted to smile at her ingratiatingly. “I see how it is, Señora. Fear not; I am more than just one in the crowd of the hordes of men who chase you. I will spare no effort on this endeavour.”

    “Permit me to ask you, Señor, why so determined? Don’t tell me it’s love that motivates you; the scores of women you’ve had in so short a time disproves that easily enough.”

    The don inclined his head. “Very well; if you insist on putting it in such crude terms, I will admit I do not love you. But surely you know you are an attractive enough woman to excite my desires. And I have never been denied that which I want before; I don’t intend to start now.” He finished his drink in one swift motion, and she followed suit, standing up as she put her glass back down on the table.

    “In that case, Señor,” she said, fastening her coat, “I fear we have nothing left to discuss. I wish you every happiness in your… future.” Her fingers fell from the vial at her throat, which now, he could see, was empty.

  2. We have found Moriarty’s echo. It appears that Don Juan’s information is at least partially true. We’ll keep searching.

  3. Here’s another option for a refictionalization story. I apologize for the length of this comment.

    “What do they see in Don Juan?” Maria said to herself, watching the women on her street as they watched the dapper figure walk along. She’d met Juan a few times, and thought him a decent enough man, but he held some sort of sway over the others that she couldn’t understand.

    Until a week ago, Maria hadn’t even realized any of her friends felt that way about Don Juan. On Monday she’d consoled Sara, who was upset because she’d got the impression Juan was interested in her, but then he’d told her he didn’t think the two of them had any kind of future together. Maria had had conversations of that sort with many friends over the years, so it didn’t make much of an impression. But on Wednesday she overheard a conversation between two other women, one of whom was just starting to become more familiar with Don Juan, apparently at the expense of the other, who was no longer “special” to him, in her words.

    After that Maria started paying attention, and she found that nearly every woman in the area (even some of the married ones) was infatuated with Don Juan. This in and of itself would not have soured Maria to the man, but she also found that there was heartbreak and drama surrounding him on all sides, so she came to believe that he was toying with emotions for his own amusement.

    From then on, when she encountered him she was cold and curt, silently asking him, “How dare you treat my friends with so little regard?” Since the two never had business together, it was doubtful he noticed her attitude. When she saw him on the street she pretended not to notice him, and he either pretended not to notice her or actually didn’t notice her.

    There came the day, though, when Maria couldn’t ignore Don Juan so easily. She was walking home, carrying a bag absolutely overflowing with fruit. She had nearly reached her house when a small hole in the bottom of the bag stretched into a bigger hole, and two apples fell out. One landed right where she was putting her foot down, so she tripped, and not only did she bang a knee and an elbow in the fall, nearly all of the fruit fell out of the bag.

    Who should be there to assist her than Don Juan. Maria actually hadn’t noticed him this time, but suddenly he was gathering the remaining apples and other fruits into her bag, holding it at the bottom to prevent more falling out. When he had finished, he turned to her. “Do you need help up?” He asked, shifting the bag into one arm so that he could hold out the other to her.

    Maria realized that she’d been sitting on the ground the whole time, just watching as Don Juan cleaned up her mess. She shook her head. “No, no. I can get up myself.” She slightly regretted saying this, as her injured knee protested the weight she put on it, but principles meant more to her than pain. When she was standing, she looked up to see Don Juan staring straight into her eyes. It made her uncomfortable. She’d never stopped to really look at him before, and now she did, she began to see what the other women must see in him.

    “I’m afraid most of these are probably bruised, by now,” Don Juan said.

    “What?” Asked Maria, distracted. “Oh, right. Bruised. Well, that doesn’t matter much. They were for jam anyway.”

    “Really? I’d love to try some.”

    “Well, you’ll have a chance to buy it along with everybody else.” She pointed to her door. “I need those right through here,” she said, and limped the few steps to reach her door and unlock it.

    Don Juan followed her. “Do you want me to take this inside for you?”

    Five minutes earlier, Maria would have insisted that Juan stay outside. She would have taken the bag herself, regardless of how much it would have hurt or how much fruit she would have dropped. But a few minutes with Don Juan had warmed her to him, to the extent that she merely shrugged and said “Okay. You can put them down on that table there.”

    He didn’t stay, and Maria was half relieved and half disappointed that he didn’t. She hated overturning her strongly held convictions, but the conversation had been unexpectedly pleasant. She found part of herself hoping that she’d have another opportunity to be forced to talk to him.

    Their next full conversation came when he bought some of her jam. She felt a sort of thrill, knowing that other women would just give him jam, had they made it, but he thought it was worthwhile to pay for hers. She didn’t know if he thought her jam was good enough to pay for, or whether he just liked her enough that he wanted to engage in business with her. Nor did she know which of those she hoped was true.

    She made a flippant comment about his many female admirers, hoping to allay suspicions that she was the same, and expecting at best a small smile and a chuckle at her little joke. Instead, though, his face took on a dour expression.

    “I try,” he said. “I really do try to live a decent, moral, fulfilling life. I know the cost of depravity. I know the hollowness of passion without love. And yet it follows me everywhere.” As he said this last word, he slammed his hand onto the table in front of him. “How could I expect a decent woman like you to hold me in any kind of high esteem, when I can’t even keep out of situations that inspire rumors? It doesn’t matter what I do. The reaction I receive informs the picture people make of me. I’ll leave you alone now.”

    Maria tried to call after him, but he either didn’t hear or didn’t care to turn around. For the following weeks, it seemed their positions had switched and Juan was avoiding Maria. Finally, when she spotted him walking a little ways in front of her, she hurried in front of him and turned to face him. There was an incline on this part of the street, so she could loom slightly over him as she confronted him. “I don’t care what other people think,” is how her speech started. After that she couldn’t remember much of it. It was long and rambling and though she’d though a lot about what she wanted to say, in the moment it all just came straight out of her head and she was worried it didn’t make any sense.

    But Don Juan responded well to it. In the following months they got to know each other better. Eventually they got married, and lived as happily as two people could reasonably be expected to.

  4. Attention, Mr. Holmes: It seems you left a recording device in a public place, where someone picked it up and would like to return it to you. Would you be able to meet with this person in order to retrieve your recorder?

    • Thank you for drawing my attention to it! I had noticed it was missing, but I was too focused on our, err, “babysitting” to go out and look for the item.

      And not to worrry; I have gotten in touch with this Joe, received the email address of the finder, have arranged a meeting to return the recorder in Austin, tomorrow at noon.

      Thank you very much for your diligence – I will leave caring for the Spaniard to Poirot (I do hope he will behave).

      • What do you mean Monsieur Holmes? Your recorder is missing? Why did you not tell me about this? It would have been, as you say, a pressing matter that could have been essential to the case!

        And you arrange this meeting without telling me? What is going on? Pourquoi ce secret?!

        • Hercule Poirot, I would have told you, but in my mind it seemed a little item. The information on the recorder was old, I neglected to use it for a long time, and it had little bearing on the case. I was just going to meet with this “Joe” character at the Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library in the media section, and this simple meeting will allow me to get the recorder back. That is all; it is a non-issue. Will you rest your complaint now?

          • Non! Monsieur Holmes, I do respect you but I must qualm with you. Over the past several days you have been très distant and I am convinced that you are keeping something terrible from me! You say you are just going to visit the museum for this “non-issue” yet I come home from speaking with Mademoiselle Glaser to find your bags are packed? You say that you will be gone for only an hour or so, yet you tell me that I must care for Don Juan and keep my promise while you are gone?! Quel est le problème?! Soyez honnête, pour une fois!!

          • For those who were wondering, I have spoken to Poirot personally and apologized for my purported aloof behavior. I believe he has accepted it, and that we have come to agreement.

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