Imperfect Truth

by C. A. Popovich

  “Mr. Martinez specifically asked for your help with this, Alex. He’s a huge sponsor of events here, and I told him we’d help him out. He only needs you for a couple of hours, to check in his guests and keep an eye on things. He’s having a fundraising dinner for one of the state senators. It isn’t unusual for our more wealthy clients to ask for assistance outside the hotel occasionally. It’s just part of the job.”

  Alex froze. Why would Miguel ask for her to come to his house? Joe would never allow it. “When is this party, Betty?”

  “Saturday. You’re to be there at six o’clock sharp. I’ll have directions for you tomorrow.” Betty stood to leave.

  At the end of her shift, Alex sat in her car, debating with herself. This job would get her into Miguel’s home, and maybe she could find out how Phillip knew him. If she had proof he was involved in illegal activity or working with a drug dealer, she could turn him in to Joe and save Jennifer some heartache. She would do it for her sake. She should call Joe, but he would never let her go alone. She was on her own with this plan, but she realized she needed some sort of backup. If Martinez was a bad guy and somehow knew who she was, she might not get out of his house alive and could be putting Jennifer in danger. She pulled out a pen and pad of paper from her glove box and composed a note explaining what she was doing and why. When she got home, she’d address an envelope to Joe.

  She took a minute to meditate and made a last-minute decision to stop at the nursing home. She wasn’t sure Debby would still be at work after five, but she had an overpowering need to see her. She rushed to the nurses’ counter and was told that Kelly and Debby had left together a half hour earlier. Together? She pushed aside the unbidden jealousy. It was none of her business what Debby did after work.

  She had just reached the exit when she heard someone call her name. She turned as Debby waved at her.

  “Hi, Alex. What’re you doing here so late?”

  “I was looking for you, but the nurse said you’d left already.”

  “I forgot my lunch pack on my desk, so I came back to get it. What’s up?”

  “You want to get a cup of tea or something?” Alex jangled her keys in her jacket pocket.

  “How about dinner at Pete’s?”

  Relief flooded her at the prospect of not having to go home to her little empty apartment. “That would be perfect.”

  The small diner was crowded when they arrived, but Alex didn’t mind waiting for a table. Her uneasiness about her intended evening at the Martinez house eased as she stood close to Debby. She ached to hold her hand.

  Their server led them to a table at the back of the restaurant and took their orders. Alex unwound as the scent of food cooking and coffee brewing permeated the air, and the quiet chatter of the patrons infused Alex with a sense of normalcy.

  “So, what brought you out tonight?” Debby poured them each a cup of coffee from the carafe the waitress had set on the table.

  Alex measured her words. “I needed a friendly face, I guess.” She weighed her need to talk against the safety of disclosing too much. She studied Debby’s face searching for disinterest and found only concern. “I’ve been given a side job.”

  “That doesn’t sound typical for your position at the Hyatt. Is it?”

  “Not exactly. That’s why I’m bothered by it. I have to go to some rich guy’s house Saturday night and tend to his guest list for a fundraiser he’s hosting.”

  “It doesn’t sound awful. Who is this guy?” Debby sat back as the server placed her salad with grilled chicken in front of her.

  “I guess he’s a big financial sponsor for the events at the showcase, so my boss wants me to cooperate.” She pondered the wisdom of telling Debby his name.

  “Maybe it’ll be interesting. If he’s rich he probably has a huge house, and maybe he’ll offer you a part-time job.”

  Alex winced, thinking about what he might offer her if he knew why she was there. “Thanks for helping me try to put a positive spin on this.” She took a bite of her turkey sandwich.

  “What is it you’re worried about, exactly?”

  “I’m just not sure who this guy is, or why he specifically requested me.”

  “Wow. He requested you?” Debby looked confused.

  “Yeah. I worked the desk the day of his wedding in July, and I guess I impressed him with my stellar desk clerk duties.” Alex shook her head and snickered.

  “Was that the Sunday wedding after Jennifer’s dinner?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was a while ago. You must’ve made quite a good impression. What’s his name?”

  Alex sighed. Debby probably didn’t know anything about the Knights Templar, and it wasn’t like normal people ran into drug cartels on a daily basis, but should she take a chance? She took a sip of coffee, wishing it were wine. “Miguel Martinez.”

  “Huh. That name sounds familiar.” Debby paused and furrowed her brows. “Mrs. Martinez and her grandson. She’s one of our newest residents, and I remember because she suffered a seizure a couple of weeks ago. I think Martinez is a common name, though.”

  Alex stopped mid-chew as she processed the information. That explains what he was doing at the nursing home. She set her fork down before speaking. “You’re probably right. Maybe there’s no connection, or maybe Miguel and his wife were married here because of his grandmother.”

  “Well, I look forward to hearing all about it Sunday at the cider mill.” Debby’s smile calmed her further and gave her reason to hope that she would still be around on Sunday.

  They finished the meal between small talk and chuckles about Leslie, who they’d nicknamed “mushroom woman.” They each finished a cup of tea before leaving, and Alex allowed herself to revel in the feeling of normalcy, even though she knew it was only for a fleeting moment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Good morning, Kelly.” Debby leaned on the nurses’ counter.

  “Hi there. How’s everything going?” Kelly walked around the desk to hug Debby.

  “It’s going well. I’m working on my geriatric certification, and I love it here. I have a question about one of our residents, if you have a sec.”

  “Okay. Who?” Kelly leaned against the counter and waited.

  “Fernanda Martinez. Do you know anything about her?”

  “She transferred here from a home in Florida, and her grandson, Miguel, is her guardian. She doesn’t have an extensive medical record that we can find, but I know she’s had that severe reaction to Cipro. Remember when you were called in to review her meds?”

  “Yes. We got that all straightened out. So, you don’t know anything about her grandson, huh?”

  “Just that he seems especially protective of her and visits daily.” Kelly tilted her head and looked concerned. “Why do you ask?”

  “My friend Alex knows him from work and was wondering about him, so I thought I’d ask. We on for lunch today?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” Kelly returned to her chair behind the desk.

  Alex had said this guy was rich, but instead of looking forward to the possibility of extra income, she had seemed almost fearful about the job. She detoured to Fernanda’s room on her way to the pharmacy.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Martinez. I’m Debra Johnson, one of the pharmacists. We met a few weeks ago, and I wanted to see how you were feeling.” Fernanda looked half asleep, and Debby regretted her decision to bother the elderly woman.

  “Hello, dear. Thank you for the lovely flowers, and I loved the chocolate covered cherries.”

  Debby wondered who she thought she was. “I’m glad to see you doing so well. Maybe those chocolates helped.”

  “Is Miguel with you this morning? I know you two have a long drive to get here, and I appreciate your visits so.”

  She must think I’m Miguel’s wife. “Miguel will be here later. I just wanted to make sure you were well.”

  She quietly left the room when Fernanda smiled and fell sound asleep.

 
; Debby Googled Miguel Martinez and waited. She spent the rest of her fifteen-minute break reading about Mexican actors, a Chilean soccer player, a musician, an artist, and a professor. They were correct in presuming Martinez was a common name. She closed her laptop and put any further thoughts of Miguel Martinez out of her mind. Perhaps Alex was just nervous about doing something different.

  *

  “Of course you’re invited, Jen. I’m making a couple of different soups, a salad, and my yogurt pie. Dad’ll be here about one. You come over whenever you feel like it…” Alex pulled on her jeans while squeezing her phone between her ear and shoulder. “No, he still hasn’t gotten his license back, so he’s bringing a buddy from the program…Willy…No, I don’t know him either, but Dad says he’s solid…Good. I’ll see you then.”

  Alex set her phone on the kitchen counter and began cutting up carrots. Excitement at seeing her dad warred with anger as she thought of her father and the reason he’d lost his driving privileges. He had been doing well after their relocation, going to NA meetings and working for the department of public works in Plymouth. She thought he had cleaned up and settled down until the day he called from the local jail. Now he had a DUI on his record. At least he had been drunk, not high on drugs.

  She had only spoken to him on the phone since then, and she missed him. She allowed forbidden memories to surface, as if they could keep them all safe. Her father had been the one who made their breakfasts and prepared their lunches before taking them to school, while her mother lay curled in a fetal position in bed. He would pick them up from school, often stopping on the way home for an ice cream cone. It wasn’t until years later she found out he was using his lunch hour for that parental duty. She was already in college when her father had turned to drugs after years of dealing with her mother’s mental illness. She had tried to help by balancing her study time with trips home to help her dad search the streets for her mother, who’d begun to wander off more and more. They had usually found her curled up in the corner of an abandoned shack on the beach. The final, futile search had been with the help of the local authorities, and there was probably still a missing person’s report somewhere in their files. Alex shook her head to clear the worthless musing and concentrated on stirring soup.

  She was in the middle of preparing the salad when Jennifer arrived. “I brought sparkling grape juice.” She put the bottles in the refrigerator. “Something smells good.”

  Alex wiped her hands and turned for a hug . “Thanks. Everything’s ready except the salad. Sit and relax. Just push Abby off the couch.”

  “This is fine.” Jennifer sat at the small kitchen table. “So, do we know anything about this Willy?”

  “Not a thing. I’m glad Dad has a friend in the program, though.” Alex finished her preparations and sat across from Jennifer.

  “Me, too. He seemed so lost and remorseful for so long. Maybe he’s ready to be in our lives again.”

  “I hope so. I know I miss him. Even after everything…”

  “Me, too. I think they’re here.”

  Alex answered the door and introduced herself to Willy. He reminded her slightly of Phil, with his clean, scruffy brown hair. His wrinkled shirt and jeans hung on his thin frame, and he wore thick black-rimmed glasses that emphasized his clear dark brown eyes. The wrinkles in his clean-shaven tanned face hinted at a hard life, but his warm smile emitted serenity. He removed his shoes before entering the living room.

  “Hi, Dad.” Alex hugged him and reluctantly stepped away. He looked thinner than when she’d seen him, but his neatly cut hair and clear eyes implied good health and sobriety. “Have a seat. Dinner’s ready whenever we are.”

  “It’s so good to see you two,” her father said. He opened his arms to hug them both.

  “I hope this means we’ll see more of you now.” Jennifer spoke as she filled glasses.

  “You might, honey. Willy has a place close to Novi, and you’re on the way.”

  Alex was pleased to see her father making friends other than drug dealers, but she couldn’t deny a twinge of resentment that he’d only stop by to visit on his way somewhere else. “Just remember that you’re both welcome anytime.”

  The dinner conversation revolved around Willy, the NA program, and their father’s public works job. Alex would have thought it odd if she didn’t know how important it was for her dad to maintain a routine and stick to the program. She thought about her own struggle to make friends and strive for stability. Talking about it made it real.

  Alex lay on her couch with Abby at her feet after everyone left, inhaled, and expelled her bottled-up nervous energy. She relished having her father in her life again and was delighted that he had found a friend to connect with. He had Willy and Jennifer had Phil. She missed Debby.

  She slid her note explaining her reasons for going to the Martinez house into an envelope with Joe’s name in bold print on it and leaned it against the salt and pepper shakers on her kitchen table. She hoped she’d return home to toss it into the garbage.

  *

  Alex double-checked her GPS and then glanced at the map she had printed from the Internet. She had expected Martinez to have a large house, but the mansion that sat atop a hill at the curve of the circular drive was beyond anything she had imagined. She stopped in front of the enormous mahogany doors and gave her keys to the valet.

  She understood the request for formal attire when she was escorted into the foyer by a muscular man who made his tuxedo look a size too small. There were paintings lining the entryway, and a huge Mexican flag hung above the entrance to what looked like an enormous dining room. She read some of the artists’ names as she passed the works. Diego Rivera, Carlos Merida, Rufino Tamayo. She didn’t know a thing about art, but they sounded like Mexican artists, and she presumed they were famous.

  She followed her escort to the corner of the lobby, where what looked like a bar was set up with a chair behind it. There was a gold trimmed guest book embossed with the Mexican flag on a raised podium. A feathered fountain pen rested in a holder to the left side. He knows I’m left-handed. She swallowed and took a deep breath.

  “Is this where I’ll be stationed?”

  The giant grunted and nodded while he waited for her to settle into the surprisingly comfortable chair and then disappeared into the dining room. She reviewed the list of names printed on the linen paper in the book. She recognized a few as prominent business owners and a few politicians. She formulated a plan to go in search of the restrooms later, so she could look for Phillip.

  “Alex. Welcome to our home.”

  She pasted on her desk clerk smile before replying. “Good evening. You both look fabulous tonight.” She didn’t have to lie. Miguel was dapper in his black tux, white shirt, black cummerbund, and red carnation. Rosita looked like a model in a slinky black evening gown and glittering jeweled earrings with matching necklace and bracelet. Her hair was pulled up into a French twist, showing off her slender, pale neck.

  “Please help yourself to a beverage and some hors d’oeuvres. I believe all the guests will arrive by six thirty. Thank you for doing this tonight. Please let me know if there are any problems.” Miguel and Rosita retreated to the dining room to await their guests. Neither his words nor his actions suggested he was anything more than professionally interested in her, and the weight on her chest eased a little.

  Alex could only see one table from her corner and the more she thought about it, the more she guessed that Phil probably wouldn’t be here as a guest. When she had seen him with Miguel at the state fair, he had looked like one of his bodyguards. She would investigate when all the guests were checked in.

  Well over an hour later, when she checked in the last guest on the list, she closed the guest book and strolled into the dining room. She stayed close to the outside wall as she ambled past the tables. She kept the location of the restroom in her sight in case she was stopped and needed an excuse for her wanderings. She smiled and nodded at several people as she passed.
She had reached the opposite side of the room and debated whether to return or continue, when she saw him. She recognized Phil when he turned and she saw him in profile, talking to Miguel. They were standing close enough she could hear Miguel’s distinct accent and saw his animated gestures as he spoke in hushed tones. She ducked behind a huge plant next to a back exit to the room and eased closer to listen.

  “I want you to personally take care of it.” Miguel’s manner indicated he was upset about something.

  “I’ll see to the shipment. You don’t have to worry. I’m leaving now to supervise the loading and select a driver. You stay and enjoy your party.” Phil turned to survey the room and Alex pushed back farther into her corner.

  “See that nothing goes wrong this time.” Miguel moved away from Phil to join a group at a nearby table.

  Alex waited until she saw Phil leave the room before venturing away from her hiding place to the restroom. She hurried into the expansive washroom, locked the door, and tried to calm down. She leaned on the marble counter and tipped her head back. So, Phil was involved with Martinez. She wanted to confront him and tell him to leave Jen alone, but she was sure he had left the house, and she had to consider how to handle it so she didn’t put her in any danger. She washed her hands, retrieved her valet ticket, and walked out the front door. As far as she was concerned, her job here was done.

  Alex wrapped her arms around herself to still her trembling. Her warm coat kept away the October evening chill, but her emotional response to seeing Miguel and Phil had her shivering on the inside. She couldn’t let a dirty cop take advantage of Jen, but she had to figure out how to protect her. She grabbed Abby’s leash as soon as she had gotten home and now she stood on a grassy area on the edge of the parking lot waiting for her to find a spot to pee.

  “Come on, Abby. It’s getting cold out here, and I need to call Joe.”

  She reset the thermostat higher when they went inside, tossed the note in the garbage, and cuddled on the couch with Abby for a minute before making her call.