Mystery by the Sea (2 page)

Police? But I haven’t even
called them yet,
thought Lorenzo, confused.

“Yes, it is. I’m Lorenzo Almeida,” he
answered without hesitating.

Zayas and Gómez entered immediately
upon hearing the confirmation, leaving Lorenzo in the doorway. Their eyes scoured
the house for every detail.

“We’re looking for Mrs. Doris
Almeida. Is she here?” Zayas asked.

 “What’s this about? What do you
want?” asked Lorenzo, worried.

“Answer the question, please,” returned
Zayas.

“She’s sleeping,” Lorenzo answered
back without stopping to think that he was lying to none other than the police.

Zayas stopped in front of the
sliding door that went out to the balcony and looked outside. “Wake her up,” he
ordered.

“That won’t be necessary,” said
Doris from the hallway, causing all three men to turn their heads. Her face
lacked any expression. No worry, no nerves, no surprise… nothing. Like a
statue. That was what really rattled Lorenzo’s nerves. He felt nauseated, dizzy,
and his legs trembled. This was a completely new side of Doris for him. And
that could only mean one thing: problems…very serious ones.

Zayas went straight to the point. “Mrs.
Almeida, were you at the residence of Mr. Armando Pedroza this evening at about
nine o’clock?”

Doris opened her mouth, taking in a
deep breath before answering, but nothing came out. Her eyes shot a glance at
Lorenzo, who was still unable to make sense of the question. Armando Pedroza,
somewhere in his 60s, was the owner and president of the financial services
company where she worked. Since Doris did not answer, Lorenzo came to her
rescue.

“Doris, this is ridiculous. Don’t
answer. There must have been…”

“I was…at the movies,” she finally
stated, interrupting her husband.

“It seems that there are three or
four witnesses who say otherwise,” said Gómez, consulting his notebook.

“Witnesses? But what is this?” demanded
Lorenzo, losing his composure.

Doris breathed through her mouth,
her chest rising and falling in a clear rhythm. She passed a quick glance at
Lorenzo, then at Zayas. “Yes, I was there,” she confessed. Lorenzo’s jaw
dropped abruptly. Doris had lied to his face. He started to feel as though his
marriage was not just falling apart; it no longer existed.

“Very well, Mrs. Almeida, I must
ask you to accompany us to the station,” requested Zayas with formality.

“The station? For what?” inquired
Lorenzo, bewildered.

“To question her in relation to the
murder of Mr. Armando Pedroza.”

“What?” shouted Doris as Gómez positioned
himself at her side.

“You may go change, please,” instructed
Gómez.

Lorenzo stayed in the room,
completely silent. Thoughts crowded his mind without making any sense. He could
not organize his doubts and questions, much less express them. It felt like a sudden
and painful punch to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Lorenzo remained motionless as
Zayas recommended, “You may follow us if you’d like. If you have an attorney,
call him.” Then, when Doris returned in new clothes, Gómez took her by the arm
and led her toward the door. A few tears appeared, rolling down her cheeks, but
she did not make a sound until her gaze fell upon her husband’s.

“What’s happening, Lorenzo?” were
Doris’ last words before leaving the house and heading toward the detectives’
car. That was the same question that Lorenzo asked himself over and over again
while the waves smacked against the beach, swallowing the night silence like
thunder.

 

The atmosphere at the police station was a far cry from the
swarm of activity and movement usually seen there during the day. The space was
quiet and empty while Lorenzo waited. Aside from the guard, there was only one
other man there, seated in silence on the opposite side of the room. Lorenzo
wondered how that man could remain motionless while he himself could not stop
changing positions because of the pain produced by the uncomfortable bench. He tried
to get comfortable, changing positions again. The wooden bench in the waiting
room seemed to get harder with each passing minute. He had tried shifting and
repositioning himself over and over during the two hours that he had spent
waiting without finding the desired relief.

It was two thirty in the morning
and his attorney, Alexis Mojica, still had not come out to give him more
information. Lorenzo did not want to be demanding, but he needed something, some
small breadcrumb to calm his appetite to understand what was happening.

Alexis, 31 years old, was an old school
friend of both Lorenzo and Doris. He was not a criminal attorney, however, which
did not instill a lot of confidence in Lorenzo. His specialty was in civil
litigation, property, and contracts. His father was the owner of an important
supermarket chain and was considered one of the most successful businessmen in
the area. His two older brothers followed in their father’s footsteps, amassing
individual fortunes. One was a medical surgeon and the other was the owner of a
firm specializing in security.

Only Alexis did not carry the
family title of millionaire. Nevertheless, Lorenzo had observed that Alexis was
a family man and that the fame and fortune that ran in his family did not seem
to interest him. For that reason, Lorenzo could not think of anyone else when
looking for an attorney. Alexis knew both Lorenzo and Doris from childhood; he
would surely do everything possible to help them. Although his experience in
criminal cases was limited, his passion would compensate for anything he
lacked. In any case, Lorenzo could not afford the luxury of anything better.
His economic situation was not going well and this new problem was not helping
to improve it.

In spite of it all, Lorenzo was
hoping that everything was a bad misunderstanding. A goof-up that might cause
him a headache and one night without sleep, nothing more. At least it would be
a good story for Doris’ boring office parties that he sometimes had to attend.
Murder? Impossible! Nothing was making any sense, so there must be a reasonable
explanation.

Lorenzo rested his gaze on the man on
the other side of the room. Scruffy and dirty, the man had been staring at him
for a while but with no clear expression on his face. Lorenzo tried to smile at
him before finally turning away from his disturbing gaze.
This is the type
of person that you would expect to see here, not us,
he reasoned to
himself. But there they were.

The clock read three o’clock in the
morning when Alexis came through the waiting room door. Lorenzo jumped up from
the bench and followed the attorney, who signaled with his hand for Lorenzo to
accompany him toward the exit. Outside, he stopped in front of the beverage vending
machine. He asked Lorenzo if he would like one, which Lorenzo turned down, and
then Alexis inserted his bill into the slot. To his displeasure, the machine
returned it to him.

“At this time of night, there’s probably
nothing left,” sighed Alexis, disappointed.

“What do you think about all this?”
Lorenzo eagerly asked.

“It’s still too early to say. It’s
best that you go home and sleep. There’s nothing else you can do here,” recommended
Alexis.

“But what’s going to happen to
Doris? Is she under arrest? Do they think she was involved? Tell me something.”

“She is under arrest, but they have
not brought formal charges against her. They’ve put her in a cell for the
night. You can rest easy, though, because they’re treating her well,” he
assured him. “Go home and sleep because you’re going to need it. Tomorrow we can
talk more calmly because we’ll know what all of our options are. The district
attorney is a friend of mine, and I’m hoping that he’ll offer us something
reasonable,” explained Alexis with calm and certainty.

Lorenzo nodded his head in silence.
He understood that at this time of night he could not ask much of his attorney.
At least Alexis had shown up, given the hour, and he seemed to have control of
the situation. Besides, Lorenzo’s body indicated that he needed to rest.
Unfortunately, the lack of information did not help calm him down, much less
help him sleep. They said goodbye and each one drove off in his car down the
empty street.

Fifteen minutes later, Lorenzo was
at his house on the beach. As was his habit, he parked his car next to Doris’,
an elegant champagne-colored four-door Japanese sedan. It felt very strange to
him that Doris’ car was at home, but she was not. It was a reminder of the
abnormal circumstances they were trapped in. He slowly climbed the stairs,
dragging his feet along each step, with no strength or desire to fully lift them
up. He opened the door and instinctively looked at the balcony. The sea was
extremely quiet right now, as if it had been sleeping, like the rest of the
world at that time of night, which was especially uncharacteristic for that particular
beach.

Doris and Lorenzo had not lived there
too long. In fact, Doris did not really like the idea of moving to the beach.
During the first few months, she had claimed that the noise from the waves kept
her up at night. But Lorenzo needed it and the doctor recommended it.
Nevertheless, he felt somewhat guilty because there was no notable improvement
in his mood in the months following the move. He continued without work and did
not make any real effort to find any. If the move had had any positive effects,
they were still on the inside, undetected. Moving to the beach should have
helped him, not only by changing his surroundings but also by living somewhere that
was comforting to him.

But it did not comfort Lorenzo that
night. After lying down, he spent the night staring at the ceiling and if, for
a few moments, he was able to find sleep, it lasted only briefly.

The clock struck five when his
phone rang, making him jump and his pulse race. The police station was calling
him. They needed him to show up immediately. Lorenzo dressed as fast as he
could and left the house. But something made him stop. His house was not his
house. Nor was his car his car. At first, he could not believe the images his
eyes sent to his brain, but then he knew the only reasonable explanation: he
was dreaming.

He was awake but within a dream. He
tried to wake up, jumping up and down and slapping his face, but it did not work.
He was worried about the type of dream he was having. Was it a good dream or a
terrifying nightmare? He decided to let it run its course, getting into his car
and taking off. As soon as he started down the road, a heavy downpour fell,
blurring his visibility. It seemed like the sky was breaking open, sending down
a torrent of water rather than just drops. Lightning flashed, accompanied by
deafening thunder and sparks of purple. Why was he not waking up with all that
noise?

It was no surprise to him that the
road did not look at all like the one actually leading from his house. This one
was much narrower with hillsides of thick vegetation on both sides. Although he
did not push the pedal, the car accelerated sharply, as did his heart. He
thought that that moment would be a good time to wake up. He slammed on the brakes,
but there was no change in speed. Then what appeared to be a huge, white lump struck
the windshield, rolled over the top of the car, and fell onto the pavement.

An animal?
he wondered. The
car stopped. No inertia, it just stopped. It was then that Lorenzo realized
what type of dream he was having, which is why he could not find a way to open
the door to see what hit the car. He did not have to, however, because he was
already standing outside under the dense downpour. He walked around to the back
of the car. About 30 feet away, something was sprawled on the ground wrapped in
a white cloth. Perhaps a sheet or a blanket. He moved closer and instantly knew
that it was a person. He could not see the face, though, because the person was
facedown. He bent down, grabbed ahold of one arm and moved it, turning the
person faceup. The face was still covered, so he slowly pulled away the cloth
to discover Doris’ face. She opened her eyes and in a sudden movement, grabbed
Lorenzo, screaming louder than the thunder.

“Help meeeeeeeeeeee!” she cried
out, shaking Lorenzo to the bones.

Then Lorenzo opened his eyes and
woke up. That is what disturbed him the most; he did not wake up suddenly,
upset and sweaty, like you usually do after a nightmare. The second thing was
that he was not on the bed anymore; he was lying on the floor. He could not believe
that the sun’s rays were already coming through the bedroom blinds. It felt
like he had just fallen asleep. He felt terribly exhausted and apathetic, but
he attempted to stand up anyway and head to the bathroom to brush his teeth as usual.
Just then, a voice called his name and made him jump. It was Doris’ voice, but
she was not there. No one was there. His tired, worried, and stressed out mind
was playing another dirty trick on him.

He decided to try to eat something.
He could get a call from Alexis at any moment and would possibly have little
opportunity to eat during the day. He walked into the kitchen and poured a
little cereal for himself into a yellow plastic bowl. He added a splash of milk
and tried to take a bite, but he really was not hungry. Worry had stolen his
appetite, but he had to eat something.

Just then, a vibration coming from
the top of the kitchen cabinet caught his attention. His cell phone moved
closer to the edge with each vibration. Lorenzo saved it just before it took a
fatal fall. When he grabbed it he saw that the screen displayed a new text
message. As he opened it, he read: “
Please call 444-5665
.” Since he did
not recognize the number, he proceeded to ignore it. He was fed up with the
constant calls from both financial institutions and persistent insurance
salesmen. Besides, marketing inquiries and surveys had robbed him of more time
than he was willing to waste. If he was going to waste his time, he preferred
to do so sleeping or swimming on the beach rather than answering one of those
phone calls.

He deleted the message and resumed
his attempt to force-feed himself the sugary corn cereal while analyzing the
situation he was in. Nothing made sense, of course. He did not have enough
information. Then again, more information would not necessarily put him at
ease. When his work accident happened two years ago, he knew all the details,
but it had not helped him one bit.

His mind was suddenly flooded with an
abundance of details about his time working on construction projects as an
operator of heavy machinery. He started out as a mason’s aide on a residential
development. Then, after some time, he had learned enough to become the lead
mason on smaller projects. It was hard work, but it helped him put food on the
table while Doris finished her university degree.

One time, working on a construction
project for an industrial complex, Lorenzo decided to stick his nose in and
offer to help. Since the excavator operator was absent due to a family
emergency and given that it was a quick and easy job, the foreman agreed.
Lorenzo liked it. He continued learning and taking training courses until he
earned his operator’s license. At that time, there were good employment
opportunities in the field. The employment opportunities in Puerto Rico were
especially good because there was a rise in the number of infrastructure
projects, such as restoring roads and sanitation systems, due to the aging of
these vital systems in the island’s cities and towns.

That is how his career operating
that type of equipment started. He eventually developed the specialty of using
hydraulic excavators to dig trenches, thus increasing his demand. There were
not many operators trained in this area and Lorenzo had spent more than a year
perfecting his technique, practicing scooping movements daily, even on jobs
that did not require it. As a result of his hard work, he was able to establish
a career that spanned many towns and many different types of projects. He was
so skilled that he began to consider the machinery an extension of his hands.
He did not have to think about which lever to pull or what pedal to push; everything
flowed naturally.

Even though operating the machinery
became second nature to Lorenzo, safety was still of utmost importance. He was
very aware of the added risk that heavy machinery poses in any workplace where
it is used, which is why he always took the necessary safety precautions. At
the start of each workday, he ensured that the horns, backup motion alarms,
mirrors, lights, and all other safety mechanisms were in order and that
everything was in good working condition. He even knew the blind spots for all
the machines that he normally operated. Yet one summer morning, about two years
ago, the unthinkable happened.

Lorenzo was working on a housing
project in the first stages of construction, using a hydraulic excavator to dig
a trench, as usual. On that occasion, he was performing a scoop where he had to
put the machine in a tight position at an upward angle. This afforded him less
freedom of movement and less visibility. To counterbalance that, Lorenzo had a co-worker
help guide the movements in his blind spots. After many hours of work, Lorenzo
prepared to turn the shovel to unload material, but his colleague-guide was tending
to a call on his cell phone. Lorenzo was positive the man had given him the
sign to proceed, which the man later denied, and when Lorenzo turned the
shovel, one of the inspectors watching the job was struck in the back as he was
leaving the area.