Mystery by the Sea

by David Sal

  “Welcome, Mr. Almeida, you can come in. Mr. Estrada is waiting for you out back by the pool. Follow me,” the dark-skinned woman in professional attire greeted and instructed him. She had obviously been interrupted from some other work activity to attend to Lorenzo.

  “Thank you, miss,” responded Lorenzo, following her through the door.

  Upon entering the mansion, Lorenzo marveled at how the inside felt spacious without being cavernous or insipid. The decor, furniture, and other adornments were wisely placed and reflected an exquisite taste. The immense room’s back wall was pure crystal and afforded an imposing view of the sea from its privileged position.

  When they stepped outside, a strong but pleasant breeze was blowing. A small path, flanked by neatly cut grass, led them directly to the pool. Javier was waiting for him, seated at a crystal-topped table with a white umbrella.

  “Almeida, welcome!” greeted Javier from the table. “Sit down here with me, please,” he said, signaling to an open chair. Lorenzo sat down, and the woman turned around and headed back to where they had come from.

  “Thank you. Beautiful place you have here. Tremendous view, really,” exclaimed Lorenzo, practically without taking a breath. The dominating panorama had a visceral effect on him, but even so, he preferred the view from his own house because he felt it provided him a more intimate connection with the sea. In any case, he tried to take in as much of the view, and the effect it had on him, as possible.

  “Well, thank you. I love the view. It’s the best part of the property,” said Javier with pride. “Would you like something to drink?” he said, referring to some bottles of beer and liquor that he had put away inside a mini-fridge next to the table.

  “Thank you, but I don’t drink,” Lorenzo informed him with a timid smile.

  “What do you mean? They’re cold,” Javier insisted. “Then, a soda or a juice. She’ll bring it right over,” he said, referring to the woman who had welcomed Lorenzo.

  “No, don’t bother the maid. I’m okay,” said Lorenzo, making himself comfortable in the chair.

  “She’s not the maid. She’s my wife,” clarified Javier with a smile.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that…”

  To Lorenzo’s embarrassment, Javier explained, “You would expect otherwise. I know. But she likes to look after the house. She’s enamored with it and she enjoys it. I let her. What can I do?” His wife would not allow anyone to carry out her routine house chores. She spent the majority of her time in her art studio, creating the decor for every corner of every room. After some time had gone by, she would redecorate. It was simply her passion. Javier spoke with pride about that quirk because he knew that it was something unique within the social circle to which they belonged. Some people admired it, others looked at it with disgust. That did not matter to him. He enjoyed seeing people’s reactions and seeing Lorenzo’s face turn beet red from embarrassment. It was also part of his strategy to manipulate the visit.

  “Tell me, Lorenzo…what do you do? What’s your special talent?” asked Javier, feigning interest. Lorenzo did not know how to answer at first. After an uncomfortable silence, he tried to respond.

  “I’m actually unemployed. But I operate heavy machinery.”

  “Oh, good to know, in case we ever do anything with the properties we have here. The people who worked here did wonders. This terrain was filled with rocks and the land wasn’t as level as it looks now. It took quite some time. I think you should buy your own machine and work independently,” commented Javier calmly. Lorenzo was losing patience with Javier’s small talk.

  “I’ve thought about it, but it’s a big investment and things aren’t good right about now. You know.”

  “Yes, the economy is unstable,” agreed Javier.

  “I’m not referring to the economy, but rather the situation with my wife Doris,” clarified Lorenzo, directing the conversation toward what mattered to him.

  Javier took a sip of beer in preparation for talking about the inevitable topic.

  “Okay, I haven’t asked why you’re here because I already know. You want to know what happened the night of the crime. Or, at least, from my point of view, because you should already know the general facts.”

  “I’m more interested in the how and the why.”

  “You can’t possibly believe that Doris didn’t do it?” asked Javier in a way that Lorenzo did not like at all, but he preferred to keep his mouth shut for now. Just then, Javier’s wife showed up with a tray of soft drinks and another tray of light snacks: cubed cheese, sliced ham, and crackers.

  “Thank you, love, but he doesn’t want anything.”

  “I think I changed my mind. I’ll take a soft drink. You can leave it there. Thank you,” said Lorenzo, stretching out his arm to grab one of the glasses. He brought it to his mouth and drank it all in a single gulp. Javier’s wife shot a glance at her husband before returning to the house. Lorenzo caught it but could not quite make out its meaning.

  “Look, I sympathize with your situation, really,” assured Javier. “But, honestly, it’s a waste of your time and energy. I say that with the best of intentions. I know it’s the last thing you want to hear, but sometimes that’s what the truth is: ugly. And in this case I assure you that that’s how it is because I was there and I saw the whole thing,” declared Javier with conviction and resolve but in a condescending tone that bugged Lorenzo.

  “I know, but I want to understand some of the details that don’t make sense to me. For example, why was Doris there in the first place?” asked Lorenzo.

  “Easy, because she was invited. Without an invitation she wouldn’t have been able to come in, and we could all see that she had one,” answered Javier, smiling in satisfaction at batting away Lorenzo’s first concern so easily.

  “Why? For what reason was she invited? She no longer had Pedroza’s trust. He fired her! And why did she accept the invitation?”

  “It could have been a last attempt at getting her job back. If Pedroza invited her, then there was hope,” pointed out Javier while adjusting the towel around his neck.

  “Where does that leave us? On the one hand, everyone tells me that Pedroza had a bad temper but on the other hand, that he invited his subordinates to his house to drink wine, taste cheese, and yada yada. To me that doesn’t add up,” declared Lorenzo, shaking his head, vexed.

  “That’s how Pedroza was. What do you want me to say? In official matters, he was so wrapped up in his job and so demanding that he made you feel like nothing. Like garbage! Sometimes he had fits of rage that would terrify you. You could see his employees hiding in their cubicles to avoid even being seen by him, even if the current problem had nothing to do with them. Then, outside of the office, it was a different story, one of love. Your best buddy. I’m telling you honestly, it wasn’t easy to reconcile his two sides. Maybe that was what Doris expected when she arrived there. If he invited her, there must have been something. Maybe in his house, in a different environment, she could fix things,” argued Javier easily.

  “Another dead-end,” complained Lorenzo, putting a cheese cube in his mouth.

  “The truth is that none of us who were there, aside from Doris, could have done it. We didn’t have opportunity or motive,” Javier said, crossing his arms with confidence.

  “But now you’ll be president,” suggested Lorenzo, fixing his gaze on Javier. He knew he was entering dangerous territory, but he figured he had nothing to lose.

  “Does it look to you like I need to be president?” said Javier, opening his arms wide to his magnificent property. “I guarantee you that I can no longer escape to swim as often as I would like. Being president gives me more responsibilities and fills up my schedule. Besides, why bite the hand that feeds you?”

  “Why let someone else feed you when you could do it yourself?” suggested Lorenzo, pushing his point.

  “You’re grasping for straws, and you know it. Why are you doing this? Don’t you know that it’ll only hurt you? Tell me
, you have to have a reason,” said Javier, trying to show personal interest.

  Lorenzo knew full well why he was doing it. But he did not want to share something so intimate and personal with someone he saw as an annoying task to be crossed off his ‘to do’ list as soon as possible.

  “It’s what I have to do. It’s my duty. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

  “I’d like to think so. But I’d only know for sure if I were in that situation. Allow me to congratulate you on fulfilling your duty,” expressed Javier, patting him on the shoulder.

  “Thank you.”

  “Look,” said Javier, lowering his voice, “I know someone who was on Pedroza’s bad side both inside and outside the office. I don’t know if that will help you with anything.”

  “Who?” asked Lorenzo eagerly.

  “A week ago,” said Javier cryptically while leaning toward Lorenzo, “Pedroza had a bitter quarrel with his attorney over the phone. Pretty ugly. His door was closed, but you could hear Pedroza screaming very clearly, over and over again: ‘You’re finished, I’m going to destroy you!’ And if Pedroza was known for anything, it was that he always, always followed through on his threats. Well, at least until now.”

  “And who was his attorney? What’s his name?” probed Lorenzo.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” said Javier, smiling and leaning back in his seat. “I think I’ve already told you too much. It wouldn’t be a good idea for me to cross that line. You’re the one playing detective. Figure it out.”

  Lorenzo smiled at Javier’s comparison. He also heard the mocking tone that accompanied the supposed inside information. Was he trying to help him? Maybe he wanted to mislead him even further. Or, worse yet, he was just throwing him a bone so he would not bother him anymore. Lorenzo knew it was time to go.

  “I guess I should say thanks,” said Lorenzo, standing up.

  “I have a lot of respect for Doris,” said Javier, opening his arms and displaying his million dollar smile, which Lorenzo felt was the most sincere smile of the entire meeting, even though he knew that of all the witnesses, he was the least close to Doris. Maybe the smile was because the visit was over.

  Lorenzo said goodbye with a handshake. Javier’s wife appeared to show him to the door. She had not smiled once during the entire visit, which shocked Lorenzo. If she was so proud of her mansion and she loved taking care of visitors, she certainly had not demonstrated it this afternoon. Lorenzo expected her to at least give him a smile when it was time for him to head out. While crossing the living room, Lorenzo looked back at the pool through the crystal window one last time. He was able to see Javier talking on the phone while vehemently gesturing with his arm. It made him suspicious that Javier was already on the phone with someone so quickly. Who could he be talking to and why? Lorenzo wondered before Mrs. Estrada opened the door for him. Lorenzo kindly said goodbye, but she did not offer a smile even then.

  As soon as Lorenzo got into his car, he picked up his cell phone to make a call, but he had to put it right back down and put the car in drive because the gate started to open. Okay, they’re kicking me out, he thought.

  On the way back, Lorenzo stopped the car under a flowering Poinciana tree. From there he could see the whole town and the coast. The day was so clear and cloudless that he could see all the way to the area where his house was. That was where he wanted to be, but he felt he needed a few minutes to analyze the information he had gathered up until now.

  He had interviewed the people who were with Pedroza and Doris the night of the crime. None of them seemed particularly traumatized by their boss’ death. On the other hand, there was the annoying fact that none of them, aside from Doris, were physically present with Pedroza in his study before the fatal blow.

  An unpleasant feeling of failure and helplessness began to surface in Lorenzo’s mind. He only had his wife’s word. Nothing else. His wife, whom he had started to feel he did not know very well anymore. The woman who had hid from him that she had been fired and lied about going to the movies and God-knows what else.

  It was of no consolation to him to remember the suspicions and theories of her ex-colleague Edgar. Pure conjectures, but why, all of a sudden, was her dismissal unfair? And what about Pedroza’s attorney? He wasn’t even there. Javier, like the others, redirected his questions and suspicions while also appearing to care for Doris.

  But Lorenzo reasoned that if he quit without turning over every last stone he would forever be left with the burden of knowing that he had not done absolutely everything possible to help the mother of his future child. He had to be able, when the time came, to look his child in the eye and say that he had done everything, that he had fought to the end.

  He proceeded to dial Alexis’ office from his cell phone. His secretary answered and in a few seconds he heard his attorney’s voice on the line.

  “Lorenzo, how are you feeling?” greeted Alexis in a positive tone.

  “I need the name of Pedroza’s attorney and how to get ahold of him,” answered Lorenzo flatly.

  “Do you mean Mr. Centeno? What for?” asked Alexis, worried.

  “Because I’ve been looking into it and apparently he had serious problems with Pedroza. We have a possible motive,” reported Lorenzo, trying to impose an air of importance over his discovery.

  “Lorenzo, wait,” said Alexis, being as diplomatic as possible. “I understand that you want to know the details of the incident and everything, and, like I’ve already told you, I can help you however possible. But I must warn you that questioning other people like that can cause problems for you—or worse if you’re questioning people like Centeno. I’m telling you that it’s off limits. I suggest you stay calm. We’re going to fix this in court. That’s why I’m here.”

  “I appreciate the advice, but don’t worry, I won’t cross the line. I only want to confirm something,” assured Lorenzo, trying to minimize the matter.

  “Lorenzo, we don’t want anything to affect our case. Really think this through. Okay?” urged Alexis, trying to change his opinion.

  “Yeah, okay. Give me the number,” demanded Lorenzo impatiently.

  “All right, you asked for it. I wish you would realize what you’re getting yourself into, but I can see that’s not the case,” said the attorney sadly, proceeding to read off the contact information after adding another unsuccessful dissuasive remark.

  As soon as the call was over, Lorenzo dialed the number provided by Alexis, where a secretary yet again answered and informed him that the attorney was out of the office all day. He was with some clients at the Costero Sports Club. Lorenzo decided to look for him there and so he took off, ignoring Alexis’ warnings.

  Chapter 8

  The Costero Sports Club had all the characteristics anyone could want when looking for a place to play tennis on professional courts, swim in an Olympic pool, train in a modern gym, relax in a spa, or play an excellent round of golf. Of course, what most attracted clients to this club was the ability to enjoy all of these activities surrounded by their equals: people of power, influence, and money.

  Lorenzo did not belong to that group, nor did he want to. But in small towns you always know someone’s friend’s uncle’s cousin. Which is how, with only a few phone calls, Lorenzo found someone who worked at the club who could get him in.

  During his golf cart ride over the golf course’s smoothly manicured green hills, Lorenzo organized his questions and devised a plan of action. He wanted to get as much as possible out of the opportunity to question Centeno. The chauffeur cut off Lorenzo’s analysis to signal a couple of men next to the sixth hole.

  “There’s Mr. Centeno. The one in the blue shirt,” identified the chauffeur.

  The young man stopped the golf cart very close to where Pedro Centeno was playing. He was about sixty years old, tall, and had white hair. His skin had a reddish tint, without a doubt from the sun that had been beating down on him all day. He was accompanied by a young man who was helping him carry his clubs and was driving a golf c
art.

  Alexis’ apprehension that Lorenzo meet with Centeno was well-founded. Pedro Centeno was a distinguished figure, not just in legal circles but in the political sphere as well. He had served as senator for two four-year terms and was an active member of one of the most powerful political parties in the country. It was said that he was the architect behind the numerous resounding failures of his political opponents, whose reputations could never recover from merciless public attacks, paving the way for his overwhelming electoral victories.

  Although Centeno was also the victim of, according to him unfounded, accusations of corruption, he had the support of both his party and his town for another term. Nevertheless, he decided not to run so that he could ‘spend more time with his family.’ Of course, everyone knew that it was really so he could spend more time with his clients who, like Pedroza, were well-to-do and influential. He had made out like a bandit in his private practice and with the political power acquired after eight years in the public eye, even more so now.

  Lorenzo got out of the golf cart and the chauffeur immediately disappeared from the area. Lorenzo looked on in silence, trying not to call attention to himself while Centeno took a swing. The ball appeared to go into the hole but then rolled around the border and popped out. Lorenzo was surprised that Centeno did not show any negative emotion after the failure.

  “Oh, well. Bye, bye, birdie,” commented Centeno, giving up.

  “You’re improving,” hastened the young assistant.

  Centeno moved closer to the ball and in one small stroke put it in the hole. He very quietly said something to the young man, who promptly set about gathering his things and putting them in the golf cart. Centeno then settled his gaze upon Lorenzo.

  “Mr. Almeida,” said Centeno to Lorenzo’s surprise.

  “How do you know who I am?” questioned Lorenzo while walking toward him.

  “You don’t think you could get in here and walk up to me without my knowing, do you?” asked Centeno with a smirk.