The Chicken Ranch: Lucky no. 7

As I continue my quest to find the perfect approach to with which to frame Chicken Ranch's story and nail that opening chapter, it occurs to me that at its heart, this is a mystery. Oh, not the back story, the history, but rather the events that everyone remembers, that made it legend. All of the elements are there--one man's heroic efforts in the face of fierce opposition to investigate rumors of organized crime, accusations of government corruption, secret files passed along in the dead of the night on a brothel that'd managed to stay open for more than a century in plain view of the law that, by rights, should have shut it down. Yes, it surely is a mystery:

Mr. Marvin Zindler, who was usually very late in the mornings, save upon those not infrequent occasions when he was up all night, was seated at the breakfast table. I stood upon the hearth-rug and picked up the manila folder which our visitor had left behind him the night before. It was a fine, thick sheaf of papers, creased and shuffled, of the sort which is known as a `unofficial investigation.' Just across the middle was a broad rubber band nearly half an inch across. `To Marvin Zindler, KTRK, from his friends of the DPS,' was written upon it, with the date `1973.' It was just such a stack as the old-fashioned police investigators used to write up - dignified, solid, and reassuring.

As always, this is a work in progress. Feedback is always encouraged. In case you missed 'em, here are my previous installments:
Version 6
Version 5
Version 4
Version 3
Version 2
Version 1

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