• Ep. 1 An Introduction

  • 2024/11/05
  • 再生時間: 9 分
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  • In the sun-drenched streets of Palm Springs, where the days are golden and the nights are rich with desert starlight, few figures were as respected and beloved as Cliff Lambert. He was not just an art dealer; he was a fixture of the city’s vibrant culture, a man who had cultivated a life full of elegance and refinement, a life that he shared generously with those around him. To understand the true gravity of his disappearance, one must first understand the world he inhabited—a world steeped in art, history, and a relentless pursuit of beauty. Lambert’s life was a mosaic of exquisite pieces, carefully arranged and meticulously curated. His home, a beautifully designed property tucked away in one of Palm Springs’ most exclusive neighborhoods, was more than just a house; it was a gallery. Paintings by renowned artists lined the walls, sculptures dotted the garden, and every room told a story of his journey through the art world. Friends who visited knew they were in for an experience, not just of aesthetic pleasure but of warmth and genuine hospitality. Lambert, despite his wealth and influence, never put on airs. He was approachable, down-to-earth, and quick to laugh—a man who believed in the power of art to bring people together. For decades, Lambert had built a name for himself as one of Palm Springs’ most esteemed art dealers. His eye for quality was nearly unmatched, and collectors from far and wide sought his advice and expertise. He had a knack for uncovering hidden gems, for knowing which artists would rise to prominence and which pieces were worth investing in. Yet beyond his professional success, he was known for his generosity, often donating pieces to local museums and supporting young artists. He was, in many ways, a benefactor of Palm Springs’ art scene, a man whose presence was woven into the very fabric of the city. Lambert’s social circle was as eclectic and colorful as the art he admired. He counted among his friends a wide array of individuals: fellow art enthusiasts, architects, local philanthropists, and members of the LGBTQ+ community, which he proudly supported. As a gay man in his late sixties, Lambert had lived through times when being open about his identity was fraught with risk. His resilience in the face of prejudice and his ability to carve out a space for himself in a conservative era were testaments to his character. By 2008, Lambert had not only found acceptance but had become a cherished member of a community that valued his contributions and his unwavering kindness. It was this very kindness, some would later speculate, that may have made him vulnerable. In December 2008, the festive season in Palm Springs was in full swing. The city was aglow with holiday lights, and Lambert, as usual, had plans to attend several gatherings and events. His calendar was full, and friends anticipated seeing him in his usual high spirits. When he missed a dinner appointment, people initially brushed it off. After all, even someone as social as Lambert could make a scheduling error or fall ill. But as days turned into a week and Lambert failed to return calls or show up for engagements, concern began to mount. Lambert’s closest friends were the first to sound the alarm. They visited his house, hoping to find some sign of him. Instead, they were met with an eerie silence. The house was locked up, and nothing appeared outwardly amiss, but a sense of dread hung in the air. They knew Lambert’s habits well enough to recognize that something was very wrong. A man like him, who valued his relationships and commitments, would never vanish without a word. As their unease deepened, they contacted the Palm Springs Police Department, initiating what would become one of the most complex and haunting investigations in the city’s history. The police began their work by searching Lambert’s home. Inside, they found evidence that painted a disturbing picture. The normally immaculate house was in a state of disarray: items had been moved, drawers left open, and personal belongings strewn about in a way that suggested an abrupt and unplanned departure. Lambert’s wallet, phone, and keys were all present, as if he had left without even the most basic preparations. There were no signs of forced entry or a struggle in the traditional sense, but something was undeniably off. The detectives, seasoned as they were, knew that they were dealing with more than a simple missing person case. Interviews with friends and neighbors only deepened the mystery. Everyone described Lambert as a creature of habit, a man who loved his routines and kept a well-ordered life. He had not expressed any desire to leave town or any concern for his safety. There were no known enemies, no threats that anyone could recall. If he had any troubles, he had kept them well hidden. As the days stretched on and Lambert remained missing, the case grew colder, and the once-vibrant community began to grapple with the ...
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あらすじ・解説

In the sun-drenched streets of Palm Springs, where the days are golden and the nights are rich with desert starlight, few figures were as respected and beloved as Cliff Lambert. He was not just an art dealer; he was a fixture of the city’s vibrant culture, a man who had cultivated a life full of elegance and refinement, a life that he shared generously with those around him. To understand the true gravity of his disappearance, one must first understand the world he inhabited—a world steeped in art, history, and a relentless pursuit of beauty. Lambert’s life was a mosaic of exquisite pieces, carefully arranged and meticulously curated. His home, a beautifully designed property tucked away in one of Palm Springs’ most exclusive neighborhoods, was more than just a house; it was a gallery. Paintings by renowned artists lined the walls, sculptures dotted the garden, and every room told a story of his journey through the art world. Friends who visited knew they were in for an experience, not just of aesthetic pleasure but of warmth and genuine hospitality. Lambert, despite his wealth and influence, never put on airs. He was approachable, down-to-earth, and quick to laugh—a man who believed in the power of art to bring people together. For decades, Lambert had built a name for himself as one of Palm Springs’ most esteemed art dealers. His eye for quality was nearly unmatched, and collectors from far and wide sought his advice and expertise. He had a knack for uncovering hidden gems, for knowing which artists would rise to prominence and which pieces were worth investing in. Yet beyond his professional success, he was known for his generosity, often donating pieces to local museums and supporting young artists. He was, in many ways, a benefactor of Palm Springs’ art scene, a man whose presence was woven into the very fabric of the city. Lambert’s social circle was as eclectic and colorful as the art he admired. He counted among his friends a wide array of individuals: fellow art enthusiasts, architects, local philanthropists, and members of the LGBTQ+ community, which he proudly supported. As a gay man in his late sixties, Lambert had lived through times when being open about his identity was fraught with risk. His resilience in the face of prejudice and his ability to carve out a space for himself in a conservative era were testaments to his character. By 2008, Lambert had not only found acceptance but had become a cherished member of a community that valued his contributions and his unwavering kindness. It was this very kindness, some would later speculate, that may have made him vulnerable. In December 2008, the festive season in Palm Springs was in full swing. The city was aglow with holiday lights, and Lambert, as usual, had plans to attend several gatherings and events. His calendar was full, and friends anticipated seeing him in his usual high spirits. When he missed a dinner appointment, people initially brushed it off. After all, even someone as social as Lambert could make a scheduling error or fall ill. But as days turned into a week and Lambert failed to return calls or show up for engagements, concern began to mount. Lambert’s closest friends were the first to sound the alarm. They visited his house, hoping to find some sign of him. Instead, they were met with an eerie silence. The house was locked up, and nothing appeared outwardly amiss, but a sense of dread hung in the air. They knew Lambert’s habits well enough to recognize that something was very wrong. A man like him, who valued his relationships and commitments, would never vanish without a word. As their unease deepened, they contacted the Palm Springs Police Department, initiating what would become one of the most complex and haunting investigations in the city’s history. The police began their work by searching Lambert’s home. Inside, they found evidence that painted a disturbing picture. The normally immaculate house was in a state of disarray: items had been moved, drawers left open, and personal belongings strewn about in a way that suggested an abrupt and unplanned departure. Lambert’s wallet, phone, and keys were all present, as if he had left without even the most basic preparations. There were no signs of forced entry or a struggle in the traditional sense, but something was undeniably off. The detectives, seasoned as they were, knew that they were dealing with more than a simple missing person case. Interviews with friends and neighbors only deepened the mystery. Everyone described Lambert as a creature of habit, a man who loved his routines and kept a well-ordered life. He had not expressed any desire to leave town or any concern for his safety. There were no known enemies, no threats that anyone could recall. If he had any troubles, he had kept them well hidden. As the days stretched on and Lambert remained missing, the case grew colder, and the once-vibrant community began to grapple with the ...

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