by David Sal
“What else can I do? My hands are tied,” said Lorenzo with resignation.
•••••
Dad. The word, idea, and concept refused to leave Lorenzo’s mind for the rest of the day. Seated on the balcony of his house, he could not stop thinking about the possibilities and consequences that the news brought. He always expected that finding out something like this would fill him with an indescribable joy. Well, he definitely felt something indescribable because he really could not figure out what he was feeling or how he should feel.
After ten years of marriage and repeated attempts to have children, he had come to think that they would never conceive. He thought that maybe there was something physical that was stopping them. But they had not sat down to talk about the issue and they had not sought professional help either. Over the past two years he had actually harbored the hope that they could get pregnant, with the hope that it would put their fizzling relationship back on the right path. He acknowledged that it was not a praise-worthy strategy, but at least he had tried. And now he could see the results. It happened; they were going to be parents. But under the worst possible circumstances. If the outcome of the entire trial was that Doris go to jail, Lorenzo did not even want to imagine what that would do to Doris and the baby.
Throughout the world, pregnant women have always enjoyed special privileges: they do not have to wait in long lines, they can use reserved parking spaces, and, as a general courtesy, they are respected and protected. But not so in jail. A prisoner is a prisoner. A pregnant belly will not open the gates or reduce one’s sentence. And no one will satisfy your pregnancy cravings, either. Visits to the obstetrician will be within the penal institution. And when you finally give birth, the cutting of the umbilical cord will have a larger, more heartbreaking meaning. There will not be many opportunities to exercise the rights of a mother, like breastfeeding. You will have little or no say in decisions about your little one. You will not be able to pick out baby clothes or a crib. And you can say goodbye to preparing the room or giving your baby a kiss goodnight. You will watch your child’s growth from afar and in stages, losing many of those small moments that make being a mother such a special experience.
Lorenzo did not want that for his baby. Or for Doris. He did not want his family to be broken from the very beginning, not at all. His baby deserved an intact family. A family that would offer the love and support necessary for healthy development. He was ready to do whatever was necessary to improve Doris’ situation and be a better husband, leaving all of his problems behind and devoting himself to giving his best to his family.
He felt really good having set such resolve. But only until reality came back with a vengeance, shattering his thoughts. I don’t know what to do. What can I do? he argued with himself. Frustration started to settle within him. Until he remembered the paper with the names that Edgar had provided him.
He walked into the house and went straight to the bedroom, where he searched the pants he had worn during the day. He took out the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. On it were three names: Irma Alfonso, Jessica Ronda, and Javier Estrada. Next to each name was a phone number. He supposed it could not hurt to hear their versions. The three of them were present the night of the incident. Talking to them would at least help give him a clearer picture of what had happened. That knowledge would not only help him to better understand Doris, but it would help him with something much more important…believing her.
Chapter 5
Irma Alfonso walked toward her luxury car parked in the company lot. Her walk was confident; her clothes, elegant. She was in her mid-forties, but she had the energy and youthful appearance of someone in her twenties. She had been part of Pedroza’s company since the beginning. She started as a secretary in the sales department and climbed the career ladder step-by-step until reaching the trusted position of Operations Manager. She was proud of having achieved it through hard work and not through family or political favors like other people did. No, she did not want anything handed to her. Her life was her own and no one else’s. She did not owe anything to anybody and she did not allow others to be in debt to her either. Sometimes her serious and dedicated nature created problems between her and her co-workers and subordinates. Being efficient in her job entailed squeezing out every last drop of productivity from her team.
Irma only responded to Pedroza and to her own self-imposed standards of quality, by which she conducted herself professionally. It annoyed her to see others, also in positions of responsibility, dragging their feet and delaying the company’s progress.
Married and with two children, Irma juggled being able to fill both roles to her satisfaction. That is exactly what had made it impossible for her to take on a higher-level position, like vice-president or member of the Board of Directors, to which she had an open-ended invitation whenever she wanted to accept it. Although she loved her family, her perfectionism was the main motivation behind keeping them balanced so that they could serve as an example for others. Giving the impression of a close and happy family would not suffice; it had to actually be that way.
The sudden and tragic death of Pedroza had placed a cloud of uncertainty over the company and, as a result, over her life. She had a lot on her plate and the company would certainly need her to take a higher position to keep the ship afloat. It was time to make a well-thought-out and planned decision. Others acted on impulse and their results showed it. She, however, did not. She could not afford to risk being careless and getting stuck harvesting rotten fruit.
Irma was approaching her car when a male voice caused her to jump.
“Hi, excuse me. Sorry for scaring you,” Lorenzo said as calmly and meekly as possible, seeing that he had made her jump. Irma smiled slightly and fixed her hair, trying to hide the effects of the scare.
“No, no, don’t worry about it. Can I help you with something?” she asked in a more formal tone. Lorenzo’s face seemed familiar to her, but she could not remember where she had met him.
“My name is Lorenzo Almeida. I’m Doris Almeida’s husband,” said Lorenzo, introducing himself with a smile.
The interest that Irma had shown to this point disappeared and was replaced by an expression of uneasiness.
“Oh, really? What do you want?” she asked with a lack of interest, proceeding to press the remote control button that she carried in her hand to deactivate the alarm.
“I know that you were at Mr. Pedroza’s house the night of the…,” Lorenzo cleared his throat, “…incident. I just wanted to ask you a few questions, if you would be so kind.”
Irma got into her car, sat down, and buckled her seat belt. For a few seconds she did not move at all, until she turned to look at Lorenzo.
“Look, I’m very sorry about what happened,” she said. “I’m sure you’re going through a really rough time, but I already answered all of the questions from the police and I don’t have anything else to add. Besides, it would make me late for lunch,” she said, grabbing ahold of the handle on the car door and pulling it toward her to shut it. Lorenzo stuck out his hand to stop the door from closing.
“Let me take you to lunch,” Lorenzo suggested in a desperate attempt to convince her. “It won’t be another interrogation, I promise. I just want to know exactly what happened. But from the mouth of someone who was there. It would be very helpful, please.”
Irma looked him in the eyes and could see the anxiousness with which Lorenzo was asking for her help. She did not want to seem indifferent. After all, he was the husband of one of her colleagues.
“I thought very highly of Doris. She was a great colleague. We miss her at the office,” Irma said, looking at Lorenzo.
“Tell me where you were thinking of going for lunch and I’ll take you,” offered Lorenzo, opening his eyes wide and raising his eyebrows.
“No, you invited me, but I’ll take you. Get in,” ordered Irma as if she were speaking to one of her employees. Lorenzo did not wait but instantly obeyed.
D
uring the ten-minute ride to the restaurant they barely exchanged a few words. It was mostly Lorenzo praising the luxury German car in which they were riding and Irma answering his questions about the car. Lorenzo had never understood the high prices for certain types of cars. But after riding in one he could feel the reason. The comfort of the seat’s high-quality leather and the smooth, reliable ride were some of the qualities that most impressed him. It also impressed him when Irma parked in front of Mirador del Rincón, one of the most expensive restaurants in the area. How expensive? No idea, but he was about to find out.
They were both led to a table on the terrace with a view of the bay. Lorenzo thought that if they charged him for the view he would end up washing dishes to be able to pay for lunch. He decided to put all of the rules of etiquette he knew into action in an effort to ensure success. He saw the occasion as a business lunch where his goal was to obtain as much information as possible. He got ready to pull out Irma’s chair so that she could sit down, but she discreetly turned him down. At business lunches men and women are considered equals, so any show of chivalry is set aside. Evidently, Irma also considered the meeting to be a business interaction.
Once seated, the waiter, a young man dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and vest, welcomed them and handed them menus. Lorenzo became alarmed when he saw that the prices for the dishes were not even printed on the menu. I guess it’s time to get out the credit card, he thought in defeat. Before getting to the restaurant he did not think he would eat much, but the fact that he could potentially hear specific details about what happened with Doris calmed his anxiety and awoke his appetite. The waiter asked them if they were ready to order.
“Yes. I’ll have this,” chose Irma without hesitating, pointing to one of the items on the menu. A dish she had certainly already tried.
“The fish, perfect. And to drink?” asked the waiter while jotting down a note about the order.
“Just water, thank you.”
“And the gentleman?” he asked, turning his attention to Lorenzo.
“I don’t know what to order. I want everything,” admitted Lorenzo, smiling and slightly ashamed. He wanted to order something that would satisfy his hunger but would not put his credit card at its limit.
“Can I bring you the special?” suggested the waiter.
“What’s in it?”
“Shrimp with…”
“Yes, yes, that one,” said Lorenzo without letting him finish. “I love shrimp. Bring me that. I’ll have water to drink, too, thank you.”
The waiter picked up the menus and left. Lorenzo let out a sigh and stretched out his arms. An uncomfortable silence fell over them for a few seconds. He decided to comment on how few customers were eating lunch there at that time. That was one of the reasons why Irma liked coming to this restaurant. Aside from the good food and excellent service, it was never so crowded that it ruined the experience.
Irma then proceeded to chat about whatever subject came to mind. Her daughter’s ballet classes, her son’s tennis tournaments, her last cruise to the Mediterranean. Lorenzo could not care less about her personal matters, but he did not dare divert her attention to what did interest him. He could not believe that she was doing it on purpose. If that were true, it would mean that she did not have the slightest intention of talking and lunch would definitely be too expensive.
The waiter arrived carrying a tray with Irma’s order. It was an amazing dish with an abundance of succulent food. An enormous fish filet with mashed plantains and salad, all presented in a way that only an expert chef could do.
“Here you are, miss. Would you like anything else?” asked the waiter.
“Not right now, thank you,” answered Irma with a cordial smile.
“Yours will be out shortly,” the waiter said to Lorenzo.
“Yes, please. Just seeing hers…”
Irma smiled and started to eat. An expression of pure delight registered on her face. Lorenzo could not see any way to bring up the topic that would surely diminish her enjoyment. He had no other option than to ask the question directly and see what would happen.
“Where in Pedroza’s house were you the night that Doris showed up there? Did you get to see her directly?”
“When she arrived, the four of us were on the second floor terrace, the one overlooking the pool and the beach,” she said after wiping her lips with a napkin.
“Who were the four?”
“Aside from Pedroza and myself, Jessica Ronda and Javier Estrada were with us.
“You all work for Pedroza Enterprises at the office in town, right?” asked Lorenzo, to which she responded yes with a nod of her head.
“And what were you all doing at your boss’ house on a Friday night, anyway? I could think of better ways to enjoy a Friday,” said Lorenzo, looking for a way to delve into the specifics of the event’s circumstances.
“Pedroza was a lover of good wine. And, like everything good in life, wine is best enjoyed sharing it with others.”
“Or showing off,” retorted Lorenzo sarcastically.
“Maybe a little, but not much. It truly made him happy to be with company when he sampled wine. The conversation and the different opinions and tastes often led to animated debates and discussions but always within a respectful and enjoyable environment. They were moments for relaxing and letting go of work tensions. He invited us often, I would say once or twice a month, to try selections from his collection. We also sampled handcrafted cheeses. Most of them were delicious, although there were some that I couldn’t stand.”
“That was very nice of him. Who all did he invite?”
“People that he trusted. It was almost always the same people from the office. Of course, he sometimes invited friends from other spheres and family members, but he never mixed groups. Family with family, office with office, and business with business,” explained Irma.
“So, perhaps you were there on one of the nights that Doris was invited?” asked Lorenzo, remembering how on many occasions Doris had gone to her boss’ house for a social visit. He was always suspicious of this excuse that Doris gave to leave the house at dusk.
“Oh, yes. She was someone that he trusted for some time, until what happened,” expressed Irma, raising her eyebrows and taking a sip of water.
“That’s what I don’t understand. If Doris was trustworthy enough that Pedroza would occasionally invite her to his house, what could she have done that was so terrible that he would fire her?” asked Lorenzo, glancing at the kitchen door in eager anticipation of his order.
“Well, I couldn’t say because I wasn’t in Puerto Rico on the day that she was fired. I was in Miami tending to a personal matter. But I know that Pedroza assigned her a very important report, and I can attest to how important it was because I used to be the one who prepared it for him. It was the first time that he entrusted her with something of this magnitude. For weeks I could see that she was nervous, sometimes in a very bad mood. She would blow up for no reason. I even received anonymous complaints from colleagues. It seems that she was careless at some point and it ruined her,” recounted Irma. Lorenzo remained somber as she continued, “The information wasn’t right. The worst part was that she didn’t realize the error until after she had turned it in. But unfortunately, Pedroza wouldn’t forgive her. He was merciless about things like that. There was no valid explanation or excuse. And we’re not talking about small errors, like spelling, a missing comma, or style. For that he would reprimand you, but he wouldn’t fire you. But if it was an error in content, watch out. In Doris’ case, he didn’t even bat an eyelash when he signed her pink slip,” finished Irma.
Confused, Lorenzo tried to make sense of Irma’s words. He could not even imagine Doris, a declared work fanatic and chronic perfectionist, messing up her first important project.
Just then, the waiter arrived with Lorenzo’s food, which brought him a welcomed feeling of pleasure. But it did not last long. The miniscule portion prepared with a couple of medium-sized shrimp
and some sort of mashed side dish was very attractively adorned and presented but did not match his appetite.
“What is this? An appetizer?” asked Lorenzo in disbelief.
“This is the special that you ordered,” the waiter answered nicely. “You ordered the $30 special, didn’t you?”
Lorenzo felt like his jaw was going to hit the table. Irma could only smile at seeing Lorenzo’s expression.
“Yes, yes, of course. I just expected a little more. That’s all. Thank you,” replied Lorenzo, trying to maintain his composure and manners. The waiter retired to the kitchen after refilling their glasses with water. Lorenzo tried the dish and his eyes opened wide in surprise. It tasted better than it looked. After taking a drink, he resumed their conversation.
“Now, please explain to me something that I don’t understand. The meeting at Pedroza’s house the night of the incident was after Doris was fired, right? So, then, why was she there?” asked Lorenzo.
Irma swallowed the bite in her mouth, took another drink of water and passed the napkin across her lips.
“Imagine our surprise when Doris showed up that night. We were all left feeling like, what’s going on here? It was really uncomfortable. She was noticeably… unstable… anxious. What most attracted our attention at that moment was that she was holding the Distinguished Executive trophy that she’d won only a few months ago. I think you were there that night at the club.” Irma paused, picked up a napkin, and wiped her hands. “Apparently, Pedroza didn’t want to create a scene in front of everyone, so he invited her into his study so they could talk in private. A few minutes after they went into the office, I couldn’t tell you how many minutes, maybe five, Doris ran out crying and left the house. We wondered, what could he have said to her to make her leave like that? After a few minutes, Jessica told us she had to go. So, she went to Pedroza’s office to say goodbye. That’s when she called us over and we saw him, sprawled on the floor next to a pool of blood,” Irma stated in a quivering voice.
