by David Sal
Looking around, he noticed a man standing at the edge of the cliff, dressed in a hat, sunglasses, and jacket. He was definitely not a tourist. The man made a gesture with his head. Lorenzo walked toward him and stopped next to him, looking out at the sea. He was a young man, short and somewhat overweight, who would not stop turning his head from side to side, looking in all directions. A few seconds went by without either one of them saying a word.
“So?” asked Lorenzo, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“Thanks for coming,” replied the man, still looking around and examining every person in the area.
“If you really want to help me, I’ll be the one thanking you,” said Lorenzo.
“My name is Edgar. I was a colleague of Doris’ at Pedroza’s company and I’m convinced that she was fired unfairly.”
“Wait a second…what? Fired?” asked Lorenzo while a general chill ran through his body.
It was as if a virtual pause button stopped Edgar for a second.
“You didn’t know? Doris was fired two weeks ago,” disclosed Edgar, to Lorenzo’s shock. Surprises like that were not helping him at all. All he could do was turn his gaze to the rocky ground, given the shame that a total stranger was better informed than he about such significant events in his wife’s life.
“What they’re saying is that she screwed up an important financial report that she’d been assigned. And well, you already know Pedroza’s bad character is legendary,” added Edgar.
“No, I didn’t know,” muttered Lorenzo without raising his gaze.
“But I say she’s innocent.”
“Why?” asked Lorenzo, intrigued.
“It’s impossible that Doris would have turned in a report with so many errors. She’s a chronic perfectionist,” Edgar claimed emphatically.
“You’re telling me,” mumbled Lorenzo. “But nobody’s perfect, maybe she just made a mistake.”
“No. I was able to see part of the incomplete report. Someone replaced it,” insisted Edgar, taking off his sunglasses and slicing the air with his hands for emphasis. When he was finished, he put his sunglasses back on and hid his hands in his pockets.
“Who?” asked Lorenzo, putting Edgar’s theory to the test. Just the idea of it seemed absurd to him, but each question was accompanied by his desire to be convinced by Edgar that it was worth investigating further.
“Someone who was sufficiently threatened by Doris’ presence in the company to take that kind of risk,” answered Edgar, not convincing Lorenzo in the slightest.
It all sounded very interesting to Lorenzo, but Edgar came across as someone with a screw or two loose. Doris was a woman who was not only very attractive but especially friendly. She smiled at everyone and made them feel important. When Lorenzo courted her, he himself had a hard time being sure that she was really interested in him and that she was not just treating him like she treated the rest of the world. It would be inevitable that some people, not able to accept the idea that someone like Doris could commit such a crime, would try to find a way out of the matter for her. Although he himself was one of those people, he did not want to get tangled up in some crazy theory that would derail him from truly helping Doris.
“Look, I appreciate your interest, but this doesn’t improve our situation. Doris is accused of murder, not of making a mistake on a report,” clarified Lorenzo.
“The person guilty of getting Doris fired could very well be the person who committed this crime, too,” replied Edgar.
“Assuming that Doris is innocent.”
“Oh, you’re not sure?” questioned Edgar with surprise.
This was precisely the question running through Lorenzo’s head, like a hamster running on a wheel. He knew that in the very back of his mind he was wondering the same thing, but he had not wanted to go there yet. The fact that Doris hid being fired, along with her other lies, did not exactly fill him with confidence that there was another reasonable explanation.
“Yes, of course,” he replied, skirting the issue.
For a few seconds Edgar’s gaze froze on a man walking toward them. He was still a considerable distance away, approaching them from the opposite side of where everyone usually climbed up to the area. He was a tall man, dressed in black denim, a light blue shirt, and dark sunglasses.
“I think we’d better take off,” suggested Edgar, taking a few steps back.
“What’s going on? Do you know him?” asked Lorenzo, trying to distinguish the man in the distance.
“They shouldn’t see me with you. It’s not safe. Let’s go,” replied Edgar, picking up his pace. As Lorenzo followed him, Edgar took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to Lorenzo.
“Take it. It’s a list of the people that were at Pedroza’s house the night of the crime. All of them would benefit from Doris and Pedroza being taken out of the picture. Alongside each name you’ll find their contact information. Call me if you need additional information,” finished Edgar when his walk turned into a jog.
“Thanks, yeah, but...” Lorenzo tried to say, but Edgar was already running away.
“See you later!” said Edgar, running downhill. He continued his jagged path down the trail until Lorenzo lost sight of him.
Lorenzo opened the paper and examined it briefly. Three names. He was sure he had heard Doris say the names at one point or another. He may have even met them at one of the office functions he attended with her.
He once again fixed his gaze upon the man approaching him who had caused such a fright in Edgar. Now he could distinguish him better. He was running and laughing next to a woman with two little girls. Tourists…without a care in the world, except for making the most of their limited time.
Just then, Lorenzo realized that Doris also had limited time and he did not see how the suspicions of some man with a persecution complex would help her in that respect. The people on that list had certainly already been interviewed by the police or soon would be. Likewise, his attorney would conduct interviews if he deemed it appropriate. Thinking that it was too good to be true, he crumpled up the paper and stuck it in his right pants pocket.
His cellphone rang twice before he could react and answer it. It was the call he had been waiting for from his attorney Alexis Mojica. Alexis and Detective Zayas wanted him at court to meet with the district attorney. Hoping that his doubts would finally be cleared up, he headed over there, unaware that the very foundation of his life would be shaken like never before.
Chapter 4
District Attorney Francisco Cruzado’s office was tastefully decorated and looked very official. Heavy curtains shut out the outside light, leaving the three table lamps to introduce warmth into the space. It was a spacious office, with overstuffed furniture upholstered in refined leather. A dark wine-colored rug imparted the distinguished final touch. Cruzado was seated behind his wooden desk, adorned with large stacks of documents and folders that rose up on either side. He was a man nearing 50 years old with white skin and white hair. With a lot of experience in murder cases unrelated to drug trafficking, he considered Doris’ case a mere formality. He needed to quickly get rid of this obligation to move on to the next one.
Seated in the armchairs facing Cruzado were Alexis and Detective Zayas. With two knocks on the door, Lorenzo made his entrance, greeting each person in the room with a handshake. Cruzado invited him to take a seat.
“Mr. Almeida,” greeted Cruzado without wasting any time on formalities, “we are discussing what action to take with your wife’s case. She is accused of first-degree murder for the death of Mr. Armando Pedroza. Based on the evidence that we have, there doesn’t appear to be any doubt that she’s guilty. I’m very sorry.”
These words were an unexpected slap in the face for Lorenzo. He had truly hoped that everything had been a misunderstanding or a mistake.
“But what exactly happened?” he asked, masking his surprise.
“According to the facts uncovered in our investigation and the witnesses’ state
ments,” Zayas proceeded to explain, “your wife showed up at Mr. Pedroza’s residence around nine o’clock at night, apparently and in a very bad mood. Given that Mr. Pedroza had guests, he decided to deal with her in his private office, adjacent to the room where his guests were being entertained. After a few minutes, Mrs. Almeida left the office crying and fled the premises. Then one of the guests, Ms. Jessica Ronda, went to Pedroza’s office to say goodbye because she had to leave. It was then that she found him lying on the floor next to the murder weapon.”
“What murder weapon?” Lorenzo asked.
“A heavy crystal trophy awarded to the most distinguished employee from the previous year. Your wife’s name was engraved on it and her fingerprints were found on it as well. She had brought it with her to the house and everyone saw it.”
“Yes, I know which one it is,” said Lorenzo, remembering the enormous trophy and how happy and proud Doris was the night they awarded it to her.
“The medical examiner confirmed that Pedroza died from the blunt force trauma inflicted by that trophy,” added Cruzado.
“Clearly,” added Detective Zayas, “your wife went to Pedroza’s residence to let him have it because of her dismissal. It appears that, in the heat of the discussion, she got carried away by her anger.”
“It was obviously a fit of rage,” added Cruzado. “If that’s the case, we need a confession to avoid a first-degree murder charge.”
“Of course,” murmured Lorenzo without making eye contact with anyone.
“It’s advisable that she confess. It’s the best for everyone,” recommended the district attorney in a friendly tone. Lorenzo kept his gaze glued to the floor, nervously rubbing his hands together in silence. All gazes were fixed on him, waiting for his reaction. Finally, Lorenzo raised his eyes.
“But what does she say?”
“She insists that she only had an argument with him. She admits that she hurled the trophy at the floor, hoping it would break but that she then immediately left,” responded Detective Zayas.
“We want you to speak with her and convince her. It’s better that she spend only a few years in jail rather than the rest of her life,” insisted Cruzado.
Lorenzo tried to make eye contact with his attorney. He could not decipher Alexis’ silence. Did he have everything under control? Did he agree with what they were asking him? Or, on the contrary, was he totally lost? Did he not have the slightest idea of how to proceed? Maybe Lorenzo had stuck him in waters that were too deep. With his gaze he asked Alexis’ opinion and Alexis answered him by nodding his head yes.
“That’s fine. I’ll speak with her,” announced Lorenzo to Cruzado’s pleasure, who stood up from his desk smiling and opened the door. With one finger he called the bailiff who was waiting in the hallway and instructed her to take Lorenzo to where Doris was being held.
Lorenzo followed her to the end of the hallway. The bailiff opened the door and let him enter, locking it behind him. In the middle of the room rested a large rectangular table with ten chairs. Doris was seated at the chair closest to the door, with her back to Lorenzo. He sat in the chair directly facing her, looking her in the face. He could see that she was happy to see him, almost relieved, as if his mere presence meant that everything would be all right.
“Oh, Lorenzo, you finally came. Do you know what they’re saying? That I killed Pedroza,” said Doris, laying her hands open on the table. Lorenzo did not answer. He just looked into her eyes.
“And is that what happened?” he asked bluntly.
Doris opened her mouth in astonishment. Looking at him squarely for a few seconds, she shook her head no. She, too, had noticed the rift lately, but Lorenzo’s question seemed to come out of nowhere. She felt utterly alone.
“Is that what we’ve come to? Even you believe I’m capable of doing this?”
“Oh, now I’m the bad guy? I believed you when you went out, you said to work, when you’d actually been let go. I also believed you when you said that you went to the movies last night.”
Doris did not respond. She knew it looked bad. She had lied, and now everything was blowing up in her face.
“I’m sorry. I was too scared to tell you. I thought I could fix everything without you finding out. You haven’t been doing well, and I didn’t want to worry you any more,” she said in a faint, embarrassed voice.
“Don’t use me as an excuse now. Doris, you have to tell me,” he insisted.
She was undoubtedly shattered and Lorenzo wanted her to see that he was the only friend she had. So, he got up, sat down in the seat next to her, took both of her hands in his, and looked her directly in the eyes.
“Look at me. Was it you?” he asked. The question was followed by a pause that felt like an eternity to him.
“No,” answered Doris after a deep sigh and swallowing hard.
“How do you explain what happened, then? They have physical evidence and witnesses. And what were you doing there in the first place?” asked Lorenzo.
Doris shook her head repeatedly, quickly and sharply, out of control.
“Lorenzo, you have to get me out of here. I can’t go to jail,” she said in a shaky voice, sweating.
“Don’t worry. I’m with you,” said Lorenzo, trying to soothe her with his voice. “I don’t want you to go to jail, either, but you have to help. They sent me here to convince you to confess. Tell me how…”
“Lorenzo, you don’t understand,” Doris cut him off quietly. “I can’t go to jail. Don’t let it happen,” she begged him with a tear running down her cheek.
“You know full well that it’s not in my hands. What can I do?” explained Lorenzo.
“Whatever you can so that I don’t end up in jail. I can’t, I can’t go to jail,” insisted Doris, her voice rising to a plea.
“What do you mean you can’t?” asked Lorenzo, confused.
Doris breathed deeply, as if gulping, and raised her eyes toward Lorenzo.
“I’m pregnant. I was going to tell you after fixing everything with my job, but…” Doris broke into a sob. Lorenzo had seen her cry before, or at least he thought he had. But her sobbing was completely different this time. It was a bitter sob, an overwhelming sob that showed deep pain. Her face was so distorted that he felt an unexpected jolt.
Lorenzo tried to absorb the information that Doris just revealed. It was quite possibly the best news he had received in a long time, maybe the best news of his life. Or was it the worst?
“Do you know what that means?” asked Doris, raising her voice between sobs.
“Okay, calm down,” Lorenzo said in a soft voice, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“I’m not going to have my baby in jail! Okay? We can’t allow it! No!” exclaimed Doris, raising her voice to a shout.
“I know, but lower your voice,” said Lorenzo, glancing at the door to see if she had attracted the attention of the guard waiting outside.
“You have to get me out of here! Get me out, get me out!” she shouted hysterically, repeatedly banging on the table.
Just then, the bailiff entered and grabbed Doris by the arms, lifting her out of the chair and taking her from the room while she continued crying inconsolably. Neither she nor Lorenzo resisted the bailiff’s actions. Lorenzo stood up and left the room, watching in silence as Doris was directed down the hallway until she disappeared out of sight, turning left at the end.
Slowly, Lorenzo walked back to the district attorney’s office. Upon entering, he found Cruzado, Alexis, and Zayas each talking on their cellphones. When they saw him, they said goodbye almost in unison and ended their calls.
“So, is it a done deal?” Cruzado asked Lorenzo, smiling.
“No,” answered Lorenzo to looks of disbelief from everyone present. The smile dropped from Cruzado’s face and he sat down at his desk.
“Very well, then it’ll be first-degree murder,” he declared while writing notes on a sheet of paper. He did not look at Lorenzo again. Alexis stood up and shook Zayas and Cruzado’s
hands. He walked to the door and, tapping Lorenzo’s shoulder, signaled for Lorenzo to leave with him.
Outside in the hallway, Alexis followed behind Lorenzo until they reached the elevators.
“I understand why you’re doing this. If that’s your decision, I’ll respect it,” said Alexis, pressing the elevator button. At the same time, he started to draw up a plan of attack in his head.
“Although you may not believe it, this isn’t a lost cause. I’ve been referred to a psychologist who has served as a specialist in other cases and I know that he can help us. A fit of rage can blind anyone and make them lose their sanity. If she does her part…” Lorenzo cut him off shortly, abruptly raising his open hand and looking at him sternly.
“Innocent. Okay?” stated Lorenzo just as the elevator door was opening. He stepped in, leaving his attorney behind, who was still analyzing just how much Lorenzo had complicated the case. When he saw that the elevator doors were closing, he jumped in, just slipping past the doors.
“You know what you’re asking of me, right?” asked Alexis, adjusting his tie. “If we can’t manage to prove that she didn’t do it…”
“Jail, I know. All other alternatives take her there. But there’s one detail that’s compelling me to try everything possible to avoid it.”
“What detail? I need to know everything,” inquired Alexis.
“Doris is pregnant,” confided Lorenzo, swallowing. He was aware that this was not the type of revelation that would make his attorney’s job easier.
“What?!” asked Alexis, dismayed. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I need to have all the relevant information if you really want me to help you guys. I can’t be left in the dark,” he stressed.
“I know. I just found out, too,” said Lorenzo without taking his eyes off the elevator numbers.
“Okay, okay. I’m going to make a few phone calls to see how this affects the case, for better or worse. Leave it in my hands,” requested Alexis, trying to be an oasis in the desert where Lorenzo now found himself. He understood that it could not be easy for Lorenzo to receive so much staggering news in such a short amount of time, especially considering his emotional condition. He needed him to stay out of the matter, for his well-being and for Doris’.