Chapter 67: The Dead Inspector

Ramon Villareal’s death looked disappointingly ordinary.

That was Alexander’s first impression when Legal finished assembling the available records.

According to the civil registry, Villareal had suffered a sudden cardiac event while traveling outside the city a year after Matteo Mercer’s death. A physician certified the death, the local registrar recorded it, and his remains were supposedly released to a relative for burial.

On paper, there was very little to question.

Which was precisely why Alexander questioned it.

Giovanni sat across from him in the smaller conference room they’d temporarily turned into an archive.

"Who identified him?"

"His older brother. Ernesto Villareal."

"Alive?"

"We’re checking."

"Find him."

"Already happening."

Giovanni looked up.

Alexander returned the look.

"I said we’d do this properly. I didn’t say we’d do it slowly."

That appeared to earn him a small amount of forgiveness for yesterday’s argument.

Small.

Their lawyer had already made the important distinction.

"You have information worth examining," he’d told them. "You don’t yet have proof that an intentional crime caused Matteo Mercer’s death."

"Someone certified unsafe equipment," Giovanni said.

"Potentially."

"And disappeared afterward."

"Which is suspicious. It isn’t proof of murder."

Giovanni clearly hated that answer.

Alexander didn’t particularly enjoy it either.

But it was correct.

For now, they would preserve what they had, obtain the original investigation records, and locate surviving witnesses.

Especially Leonard Arceo.

Giovanni wanted considerably more.

When the lawyer left, Alexander looked toward him.

"No vigilante investigation."

Giovanni slowly turned.

"Do I look like I’m about to break into someone’s house?"

"No."

"Good."

"You look like you’re planning to hire enough professionals that breaking in becomes unnecessary."

The faintest twitch appeared at the corner of Giovanni’s mouth.

"More efficient."

"That’s what worries me."

Giovanni remained unconvinced.

"What if Leonard knew something?"

"Then we find him and ask."

"What if he was involved?"

Alexander folded his arms.

"He climbed into the same basket that nearly killed him."

"That doesn’t make involvement impossible."

"No. It makes speculation cheap."

That stopped Giovanni.

Alexander tapped the report.

"We already have enough strange facts. We don’t need to manufacture more."

Alexander slid the record toward Elias.

"Ramon Villareal."

Elias read the name.

His expression changed.

"That’s him."

Giovanni leaned forward.

"The inspector?"

"Yes."

"You’re sure?"

"About the name? Completely."

Alexander placed another document beside it.

"We found a death record."

Elias looked up.

"Death?"

"A year after Matteo’s accident."

Alexander gave him the date.

For several seconds, Elias simply stared.

Then he frowned.

"No."

One word.

Enough to change the room.

Alexander studied him.

"No?"

"That date is wrong."

Giovanni straightened.

"Why?"

Elias looked again, as though the numbers might somehow rearrange themselves.

They didn’t.

"I saw him."

Nobody spoke.

Alexander’s voice became careful.

"Before that date?"

Elias looked at him.

"No."

A pause.

"After."

Giovanni stopped moving.

"You’re saying you saw Ramon Villareal alive after he was officially dead."

"Yes."

"How long after?"

"I can’t give you the exact date."

"Then give us something we can verify."

Elias thought.

"I was already working for the logistics company."

Alexander and Giovanni exchanged a glance.

That employment had begun well after Villareal’s recorded death.

"After office hours, I usually visit a depot outside the city for recyclable parts."

"And Ramon?"

"I saw him step out of a container van wearing blue overalls and a cap."

Alexander remained skeptical.

"You still remembered what he wore? How do you know it wasn’t someone who looked like him?"

"I recognized him."

"Memory changes."

"I know."

"Then give me something better."

Elias lifted one hand to the left side of his neck.

"He had a birthmark."

Giovanni watched.

Ramon had a distinctive birthmark just below the left side of his jaw, an irregular patch that extended partway down his neck.

Elias traced the path.

"People used to joke about how much he resembled his brother. Ramon would point to the mark and say nobody could confuse them."

Alexander immediately looked at the file. "

"Could you have seen his older brother, Ernesto?"

"No."

"Because?"

"He had no birthmark."

"Have you met Ernesto?"

"Yes. He sells snacks at the Calderon Gate while waiting to pick up Jeremy and Ramon after office."

That made the identification considerably harder to dismiss.

"Did Ramon recognize you?"

"I thought he did, but he stopped to pick up a part and walked past me."

"You didn’t approach him?"

"No."

"Why?"

Elias looked almost embarrassed.

"Because I didn’t think he was a fugitive or a dead man."

Silence.

"At the time, Calderon had already collapsed, and most of its assets were seized by banks.

Your father’s death was years in the past.

As far as an ordinary former employee knew, Ramon Villareal was a person of interest, and if he was walking like a free man, then he was probably cleared of the accusations against him.

Elias had no reason to confront or befriend him.

Alexander tapped the date.

"How certain are you that you were already working for the logistics company?"

"Completely."

"Why?"

Something changed in Elias’s expression.

"Because I’d already met Maribel."

Alexander’s gaze sharpened.

"And you know exactly when that happened."

"Yes."

They’d first met during a delivery to the Sebastian residence.

The company still had records.

The year was documented.

Alexander pulled up Elias’s employment timeline.

Then stopped.

Ramon Villareal’s official death had occurred almost eighteen months before Elias ever met Maribel Ortega.

Alexander checked the dates again.

Giovanni did too.

Nothing changed.

If Elias’s memory was accurate, no ambiguity remained.

The inspector who had disappeared after signing the safety clearance on the equipment that killed Matteo Mercer had later acquired a death certificate.

And then continued walking around in plain sight.

Giovanni looked toward Alexander.

"Someone faked his death."

Alexander didn’t answer immediately.

They didn’t know that yet.

But something in the record was wrong.

That much was becoming difficult to dispute.

Then Elias spoke.

Quietly.

"I can tell you where I saw him."

Giovanni turned.

"Do you remember the place?"

Of course.

Alexander leaned forward.

"Is it still operating?"

Elias swallowed. "I’m not sure, but you can have it checked."

They call the place...

"The Old South Yard."