by David Sal
“I told you! They’re still there! What’re we going to do?”
Lorenzo looked back in his mirror constantly while searching for a reasonable explanation.
“It must be a coincidence. I’m going to try to get farther ahead of him,” said Lorenzo, pushing on the gas pedal to speed up. The truck stayed back. “He didn’t speed up,” announced Lorenzo, relieved.
“But they’re still behind us,” objected Edgar.
“Okay, we’ll turn again, if it’ll calm you down.”
Lorenzo spun the steering wheel around again, this time to the left, pulling onto a narrow, deserted road. Slowing down, they carefully looked back at the road they had just abandoned. A few seconds later, the road gradually lit up from the headlights of an approaching truck.
“Go, go, go!” begged Edgar, clutching his seat.
The truck slowed down and slowly made the same turn, pulling onto the road and bathing them with the light of its powerful headlights.
“Uh, oh,” muttered Edgar.
“Now it’s more than a coincidence,” declared Lorenzo, pushing the gas pedal to the floor. They quickly shot forward, leaving behind a thick plume of dust. In front of them they could only see what little bit was illuminated by Lorenzo’s weak headlights. He had been meaning to change them for a while. Now he was sorry he had not made time to do it when he was able. The time he had saved might end up costing him his life. Due to the lack of visibility and the speed at which they were driving, he estimated that if they encountered an obstacle he would not have enough time to react and brake safely. Oddly enough, that seemed like a better alternative to him than stopping or slowing down.
Suddenly the truck sped up wildly. The eight cylinder “gas guzzler” roared like a lion pouncing on its prey. Lorenzo and Edgar saw how the car’s headlights got exponentially larger through the cloud of dust, blinding them with intense beams of light.
“Okay, what’s the plan? Where are we going?” asked Edgar, exasperated.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” snapped Lorenzo.
“What do you mean ‘don’t get ahead of myself?’ Do you know what you’re doing or not?”
“Of course not!” shouted Lorenzo.
The truck continued closing in on them when, suddenly, Lorenzo no longer had to decide what to do. He simply pushed the brake pedal down as far as it would go. His car spun out in the dust until it stopped only inches from the edge of a high bluff overlooking the beach. Lorenzo and Edgar were completely petrified, eyes squeezed shut.
The truck stopped behind them. The cloud of dust raised by the vehicles swirled around both cars. Through the cloud, Lorenzo could see the silhouette of two men walking toward his door. One of them was completely bald and skinny, maybe too skinny, with eyes that seemed to pop out of their sockets, and a face that appeared to be covered in only a very thin layer of skin. No muscle. He was dressed in a shirt and tie, but his clothes seemed to hang off him. The other individual was tall and stocky, dressed in a jacket with no tie. The skinny guy wore a smile that made Lorenzo feel uneasy. The tall guy was very aggressive looking, as if he wanted to punch someone.
“Good evening,” greeted the skinny guy amicably. “I understand that you guys are the ones digging things up around here, is that right?”
Lorenzo immediately caught the insinuation but played stupid anyway.
“No, I think you’re confusing us with someone else, luckily. Can we go?” asked Lorenzo, forcing a smile.
“Yeah, you can search the car if you want. We didn’t even bring shovels,” added Edgar. Lorenzo could not tell if Edgar was trying to play dumb or if he simply did not understand what the skinny guy was saying.
“No, I don’t think so,” answered the skinny guy calmly. “It’s you guys. I’m sure of it. Him, he’s not so sure,” he added, pointing at the tall guy. “He’s never sure. He just does what I say, no matter what. Good boy,” he said, pretending to be proud.
It was difficult for Lorenzo to reconcile the fact that his heart was beating so rapidly, but yet he could not move a muscle.
“You know what?” continued the skinny guy, “I’m going to give you both a piece of advice, on the house. Look for another hobby. Digging things up is dirty, disgusting work. You get dirty and you get other people dirty. It’s very dangerous for your health. Especially….for your family. You understand me?”
Both nodded their head yes without saying a word. The skinny guy lowered his head, leaning closer toward Lorenzo.
“I need to hear you clearly, please,” he requested respectfully.
“Yes, yes,” answered Edgar immediately. “Or was it no?” he added, unsure.
“Yes or no?” questioned the skinny guy.
“Yes, we’re going to stop digging things up, and no, we’re not going to keep doing it,” intervened Lorenzo, giving his answer.
“Very good! I knew you would understand,” said the skinny guy, pleased. “That makes us happy because we’re the ones who have to clean up. It’s good for us when no one gets dirty. When there’s no commotion. When everything’s peaceful, right?” he asked his partner, who nodded his head. “It’s been a pleasure, good night,” the skinny guy bid farewell.
Within a few seconds they took off just as they had arrived, leaving Lorenzo and Edgar surrounded by noise, dust, and the darkness of the night.
“What now? Eat?” asked Lorenzo once the only sound left was the waves harshly breaking against the back of the cliff.
“I’m not hungry anymore. What I need is a bathroom,” answered Edgar, looking uncomfortable.
Chapter 10
The air, like every night, was flooded with the thousand and one smells of food being prepared in numerous restaurants on the road along the beach. Both tourists and locals were crowding around the restaurants to satisfy their appetites and please their palates. And there was a wide range of food from which to choose. Luxury restaurants with chefs, restaurants with Creole food, and street vendors serving everything from local fried food, meat kabobs, and sandwiches to pizza, hamburgers, and hotdogs for the less adventurous tourists.
Lorenzo and Edgar drove slowly past these restaurants. After the unpleasant encounter with “the tall guy and the skinny guy,” he had called the police headquarters to tell Detective Zayas what had happened. The station told him they could find Zayas eating at one of those places. After two passes, they found him scarfing down some meat kabobs. Zayas’ partner, Gómez, was with him.
Zayas was not at all pleased that they were spoiling his break with information about a case to which he was no longer assigned. It especially annoyed him that Lorenzo was basically running an independent investigation, something that could potentially impede the case. So, deep down, he was actually somewhat pleased by the scare Lorenzo had experienced.
“Mr. Almeida, I won’t tell you this again. It’s for your own good. I’m buried in cases which, as opposed to your case, are very complicated. I cannot divert my attention from those cases to tend to a clear-cut case that is no longer assigned to me,” explained Zayas, watching his tone.
“But they threatened to kill me,” exclaimed Lorenzo, unable to believe the detective’s indifference.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” said Gómez, coming to his partner’s aid, whose mouth was full.
“It proves that someone’s getting nervous. We’re close to something,” harped Lorenzo.
“Questions make everyone nervous,” answered Zayas.
“It had to be Centeno. He had a motive.”
“Okay, then, explain to me how he did it.”
Lorenzo waved his hands in the air a few times, as if looking for the words to explain himself.
“I haven’t gotten that far yet, but I’m just about to figure it out,” assured Lorenzo.
Zayas let out a chuckle while getting up from the plastic chair where he was seated.
“What? You’re not going to help me?” asked Lorenzo, throwing his arms up.
Lorenzo understood that
the case was one thing, but a threat was something completely different. He realized he was more alone than he thought.
“Look, I understand that you want to help your wife, but this is a case that has already been solved and will have its time in court. That’s it. Try to clear your mind. Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Anything better than saving my family? Let me check…I don’t think so,” answered Lorenzo, offended by the question.
“Well, you’ve been warned,” finished Zayas, pointing his index finger directly at Lorenzo before walking off with Gómez, who was shaking his head and pursing his lips.
“Oh, wonderful! More warnings. If I had a dime for every warning,” grumbled Lorenzo as Edgar arrived with food for both of them.
“What happened? They’re leaving already?” asked Edgar, confused.
“Yes, and so are we. Ask for a to-go container. We’re going home,” said Lorenzo to Edgar’s displeasure.
•••••
As soon as Lorenzo opened the door to the house, Edgar fell into one of the dining room chairs and started to devour the plate of food he had ordered. Lorenzo did not even touch his. He walked straight to the bedroom to look for the invitation. He emptied all of Doris’ purses onto the bed and rummaged through makeup cases, wallets, containers, and envelopes.
While he was searching, Lorenzo was transported in his mind back to the first time they used that bed. They had already been together six years. Back then, they lived in a rental house in a residential area on the outskirts of town. Doris was still studying at the university, but she had the day off and had spent it preparing the room for Lorenzo’s arrival. She rearranged the furniture and romantically decorated it with candles and flowers. Lorenzo arrived home tired after a long day driving a machine, exhausted from the heat and noise. She welcomed him affectionately, giving him a bath and then taking him into the renovated room where she served him his favorite dish for dinner. He could still recall the clean, pleasant smell and the softness of the new sheets. They had spent an unforgettable night together. Later, on one of their anniversaries, he repeated the surprise for her. That memory helped him remember why he had married Doris; he simply liked being with her.
While rummaging through and pulling things out of drawers, Lorenzo unexpectedly broke down sobbing. It was a deep, painful sob. It had only been a few days since his world was turned upside down and he had not cried a single tear. He gasped inconsolably and fell to the floor. His mind was flooded with a crushing sense of guilt. He realized that he was the one responsible for Doris’ situation, whether she was guilty or not. He had concentrated so much on his own misery that he had been careless about maintaining the relationship that united him to her. Between sobs, Lorenzo reasoned that Doris would have come to him with any problem if he had been emotionally accessible and strong. He was not an anchor for her when she had needed him most, and now it could be too late to be one.
Lorenzo cried silently for a few minutes longer until his feelings of guilt began to dwindle. The sobbing helped him to cast out the stress accumulated over days and nights of intense emotions. His mind cleared up and his heart calmed down. Then he was able to think clearly about where he needed to search. He remembered that Doris had taken a shower as soon as she had arrived home that night.
Lorenzo got up off the floor and headed to the bathroom. He stuck his hands into the dirty clothes in the hamper and took out a few articles of clothing until finding the pants Doris had been wearing. He looked in one of the front pants pockets and pulled out a white card, twisted and folded in half. He unfolded it and read: “Your presence is requested at the Seaside Manor, this Friday, July 16th at 7:00 pm.” Signed, “Armando Pedroza.”
Lorenzo left the room and walked to the dining room without taking his eyes off the invitation. Edgar was sitting in front of his empty plate with an expression of satisfaction.
“How can you sleep with the noise from the waves?” asked Edgar curiously. He lived far from the coast and the waves sounded too loud to him. “Come on, you’re seriously not going to eat? If you don’t want it, I’d be happy to eat it for you.”
“I never said that. Look, here it is,” said Lorenzo, showing Edgar the card, which Edgar snatched from Lorenzo’s hand and brought near the lamp that was on one of the tables to better examine it. He studied it thoroughly while Lorenzo anxiously looked on.
“There’s no doubt. It’s the same as the other ones I’ve seen. But there’s something else very interesting. Look closely at Pedroza’s signature. Look,” said Edgar, pointing to Pedroza’s signature with his finger.
“What is it?” asked Lorenzo, setting his gaze on the indicated spot.
“A rubber seal. It’s not signed by hand,” asserted Edgar emphatically.
“In other words, Pedroza wasn’t necessarily the one who sent it,” speculated Lorenzo.
“I would dare to say he was not the one who sent it. Pedroza didn’t always sign official company documents. But he always, always signed his own personal documents. This is a personal document, an invitation to his house. The stamp was for routine business documents which he delegated to others,” Edgar pointed out.
A slight smile of hope lit up Lorenzo’s face.
“You’re saying that whoever used this stamp wanted Doris to show up at the party without being invited and therefore create an embarrassing and humiliating scene,” analyzed Lorenzo, walking from one side of the room to the other.
“And it’s very likely,” added Edgar, “that the same person who forged the document also got her the pink slip. As far as I know, only two people were authorized to use this stamp: Irma Alfonso and Javier Estrada.”
Lorenzo could not stop pacing back and forth. He knew that this information, although it would not free Doris from murder charges, raised a shadow of doubt about a third party. It was a minor detail at the moment, but he wanted to proceed with caution.
“How can we be sure?” asked Lorenzo.
“Leave that to me, my friend,” replied Edgar confidently. Then he sat down to eat dessert. Finally, Lorenzo could sit down to eat, too.
Chapter 11
The fourth and final level of the Pedroza Enterprises building was home to the upper executives and a large labyrinth of office cubicles, where the many employees performed their tasks like lab rats scurrying from one side to the other. Edgar sat in his cubicle early that morning, as was his habit. He believed that, to a certain extent, his job was important. At least it was apparently more important than those of his colleagues who were laid off during the last wave of budget cuts. Like many others, the company was not immune to the world’s economic problems. Nevertheless, he was still there. He was seen as the computer expert, which helped him greatly. He could “fix anything.” He was the one who kept the internet working, the one who installed computer programs and printers, and the one who offered seminars, training, and orientations on cybernetic topics ranging from very basic to more complex. As long as the world ran digitally, he would have a secure job there. Unless he was caught doing something inappropriate, like he was planning to do that day.
One of the advantages of being the computer guy was the placement of his cubicle. He had an extensive view of practically the entire floor. He could easily access the offices of his superiors, like Irma Alfonso, who was basically in charge of the entire floor. Irma’s office was closed, but it was surrounded by glass walls, which gave her the option of observing her employees or closing the curtains for privacy. Generally, if she needed Edgar, all she had to do was raise her hand. Edgar could see that Irma was talking on the phone and had the curtains pulled only partly open at the moment. In spite of the fact that his common sense told him otherwise, he decided to put his plan into action.
First, he needed to ask for someone’s help. Preferably someone naïve and harmless who would do whatever he requested without asking too many questions. Karen was the chosen one. She was young, had been in her position for only a short time, and was prone to e
rrors. They would certainly forgive her. All the more so given that she was only there because someone had done her a favor and recommended her to Pedroza. Edgar sat down next to her in her cubicle, where she was preparing an email.
“Hi, Karen. Is everything going all right?” Edgar asked her kindly.
“Aside from what happened to our boss, everything’s great,” she answered, arching her eyebrows.
“It’s awful, isn’t it? We never know if something bad is going to happen to us. Well, sometimes we know it, and we move forward anyway,” observed Edgar, thinking about his own situation.
“What do you mean?” asked Karen, lost.
“Never mind. Look, I need you to do me a favor,” he asked with a tone of secrecy. Even though he did not provide her with the details or the consequences of the favor, she was happy to help him.
As soon as he finished explaining what he needed from her, Edgar headed to Irma’s office. He knocked on the office door and entered without waiting for permission. Irma still had the phone to her ear and made gestures at Edgar to get out. Edgar pretended he did not understand and sat down in the seat in front of the desk. She then swiveled in her chair until her back was almost to him and muttered something into the phone. Edgar could not quite make out what she was saying or with whom she was speaking. On top of her desk was a computer monitor, turned on, and a bunch of papers, folders, and documents. As soon as Irma spun around in her chair and hung up the phone she offered Edgar a thin smile.
“Can I help you?” she asked sharply.
“I came in to discuss the reprogramming,” answered Edgar in a routine tone.
“What reprogramming?” she asked, trying to smooth over her aggressiveness.
“They assigned it to me three weeks ago. What I mean is it was assigned by Pedroza. I wanted to know if I should continue with what I was doing or if you wanted to make any changes,” explained Edgar to Irma’s obvious annoyance.
