“Or, in other words…” said Lorenzo,
looking at Edgar with a scheming smile.
Then Lorenzo directed his attention
to the dining room terrace, which projected some five feet further over than
the study balcony. He guessed that there was about a four-foot distance between
the two. Twelve feet separated the balconies from the solid ground next to the
pool. Lorenzo put both hands on the concrete railing and scaled it in one leap.
“What are you doing?” asked Edgar
nervously.
“Sir, that’s dangerous, you shouldn’t…”
warned Teresa, uneasy.
“Is it possible to jump from here
to there?” asked Lorenzo, trying to balance himself by stretching his arms out.
It would be a diagonal jump of less than six feet in distance to land on the
terrace and vice versa.
“I don’t know, but it’s possible
that you’ll crack your head or something worse trying to find out,” answered
Edgar, looking down over the railing.
The maid was visibly uncomfortable
and nervous, grabbing her apron and twisting it as if wringing it out.
“If you don’t need me, I’ll leave
you alone. I have work to do. Call me if you need anything,” she said, leaving
the room as quickly as possible.
“Oh, great. Now she’s running
away,” said Edgar. “I hope she’s not going to complain so they kick us out of
here thanks to your dumb stunts.”
Lorenzo concluded that it
was
possible to jump there, although it would be an extremely difficult jump.
Perhaps someone in excellent physical condition and with excellent athletic
ability could do it. To Edgar’s relief, he decided to get down.
“I know what you’re thinking,
Lorenzo, but that’s tough. Everyone else would have seen it,” said Edgar,
referring to the possible theory that one of the guests had jumped over to
commit the crime and then returned.
“Yes, that’s true. Or maybe the
murderer was already waiting in the study when Pedroza entered with Doris,”
returned Lorenzo with another possibility.
“But our suspect was out there,”
said Edgar, signaling with an outstretched arm toward the main terrace. “And I
can’t imagine that Irma defied gravity with death-defying leaps between
balconies.”
“Of course not. But her hitman
could’ve been here. She knew that Doris would show up because she’d invited
her. She was pretty sure that Doris would do whatever possible to get her job
back. Besides, she knew that Pedroza was in his own element. She could
anticipate how he would react given Doris’ unexpected arrival. At the office he
would have caused an unpleasant scene but not here in his own house.”
“It’s possible. And since we’re
already on the topic, can I add the possibility that a Martian did it?”
commented Edgar without getting the smile he wanted from Lorenzo. “No,
seriously, let’s say there was a third party hidden in the study. How would he
or she have gotten in there without being seen in the first place?” asked
Edgar, putting Lorenzo’s theory to the test.
“I don’t know. They would’ve
entered from the back. But that’s not important right now. We’ll find out in
due time. What
is
important right now is to identify the person that
Irma contracted to do her dirty work.”
“So, now it was a hitman? But let
me ask you again, who?”
Lorenzo closed his eyes and slid
his hand slowly over his forehead and down to his chin. He opened them to cast
his gaze to a far-off point on the coast, a building that he identified as the
Tropical Coast Hotel, the most frequented hotel in the area.
“I think I have a good idea of
where we can find him,” said Lorenzo in a scheming voice, which told Edgar that
their visit to the Seaside Manor had ended.
Chapter 15
With all of its rooms occupied, the hotel was bustling with
activity. The pool was filled with swimmers, mostly children and adolescents.
Their constant shouts and racket were only briefly interrupted by the
lifeguards’ whistles, frequently calling everyone’s attention to some careless
behavior or another. The beach, only a few steps from the complex, was packed
with bodies in swimsuits, some lying stretched out on towels on the sand,
others under multi-colored umbrellas. In the water, a mass of heads bobbed with
the swaying of the waves. A music band contributed to the festive summertime
atmosphere, belting out all types of tropical rhythms, from calypso to salsa,
bachata, and merengue. They even threw in an occasional rock and roll classic
to the delight of the veteran tourists.
The outside bar served all types of
drinks to the clients who lined the seats. Sitting in one of them was Lorenzo.
He had just sat down when the bartender asked what he would like to drink.
“A non-alcoholic piña colada,
please,” asked Lorenzo in a loud voice, competing with the band’s music.
Lorenzo had not just arrived at the
hotel. He had been there for close to an hour, compiling information on one of
the guests. Specifically, the man who he had seen meet Irma at the seaside
resort. Lorenzo knew one of the hotel’s employees, a maid, who was able to
identify the man by the description he gave her.
Lorenzo looked at his watch. It was
only a few minutes to the hour when, according to the maid, the man always left
his room and did not return for several hours. That would give Lorenzo more
than enough time to undertake his proposition. Lorenzo could see the room in
question from his seat at the bar. Located on the second floor of building
number 3, it faced the pool. The building had four levels which could be
accessed by climbing the open stairs on either side. Outdoor corridors with a
view of the pool allowed access to each room’s door. Each floor had six rooms
with adjacent doors. This arrangement helped the cleaning staff because they
could park their carts with the cleaning equipment in front of each pair of
doors, killing two birds with one stone.
Lily, the maid who Lorenzo knew,
agreed to stand guard in front of the man’s room as soon as she saw him leave.
Then she would open the door so that Lorenzo could enter.
Lorenzo knew it was a risky move
and, to a certain degree, desperate, too. But at the same time, it was
necessary if he was going to prove his theory that Irma was not only behind
Doris’ dismissal but the crime, too. Lorenzo hoped to find something that
linked the man to Irma and/or Pedroza’s murder.
After taking several sips from his
drink, Lorenzo realized that it was doused in rum, not virgin like he had
asked. Lorenzo started to feel a slight headache. He knew it would very quickly
escalate to an unbearable level. His vision momentarily clouded over. But even
so, he was able to focus on the maid, who moved quickly to the guest of
interest’s door.
Lorenzo moved his gaze to the
stairway the man was descending. It was time for action. Lorenzo felt his head
clear up a bit when he started moving and climbing up the stairs in Lily’s
direction. After just a few steps, he crossed paths with the man, who did not
even notice him. Lorenzo stopped and waited for the subject to cross the foyer
and head out to the parking lot. When he was out of sight, he ascended the
stairway and walked to the hotel room door. Lily was working in the adjoining
room to the left, allowing Lorenzo instant access to the room.
As soon as he closed the door and
let go of the doorknob, Lorenzo gave the room a once-over. It was a typical
hotel room. A queen-size bed, a chest of drawers with a mirror, a flat-screen
television, a nightstand, and a sliding door with access to a balcony with no
view of the sea.
Lorenzo examined the first chest of
drawers. He found some loose papers and change on top. He opened a drawer but
did not find anything interesting. He did the same with the rest of the
drawers, same result. Immediately afterward, he entered the bathroom and turned
on the light. He gave a quick glance around. Nothing. Nothing in the armoire,
either.
He stopped for a minute in front of
the bed. He bent down and looked underneath. “A suitcase!” He pulled it out and
laid it on top of the bed. When he opened it, he rummaged through the contents being
careful not to change its appearance or order. Nothing caught his attention.
Clothes, shoes, etc.
Then, in one of the compartments,
he found black leather gloves. Next to the gloves there was a small envelope
with money and a passport. His name was Giuseppe Ponte, Italian passport.
Lorenzo’s head hurt more when he tried to figure out what his discovery meant.
Suddenly, he felt a vibration on
the bed. The movement felt familiar to him. A cellphone. Lifting one of the
pillows he found a device announcing an incoming call. The name and picture of
Irma were displayed on the screen. It occurred to Lorenzo that it would be a
good idea to look at the pictures saved on the cellphone in case there were any
of interest. He waited for the phone to stop vibrating to start his search.
If Lorenzo had been able to see
what the maid, Lily, saw when she left the room she was cleaning, he would have
gotten out of there without thinking twice. The man was on his way back and
starting to climb the building’s stairs. If Lily had decided, in advance, what
to do in this situation, she would not have stood there frozen stiff just
before ducking into a room, shaking like Jell-O.
Lorenzo easily accessed the folder
where the pictures were stored on the phone. They were very interesting photos
of the man with his arms wrapped around Irma, both of them grinning from
ear-to-ear. He sent them to his email and got ready to sniff around the phone’s
electronic files a little more when he heard Lily dramatically greeting someone
in a loud voice. Lorenzo dropped the phone on the bed and ran to the window next
to the door. He moved the curtain over a few centimeters and was able to make
out Giuseppe in front of the door, listening to what Lily was saying. A shiver
ran down to his legs and his headache escalated to an unbearable level. Dizzy
and with blurred vision he ran to the bed, closed the suitcase and returned it
to where he had found it. He returned the cellphone to its place under the
pillow when the doorknob turned and the door opened.
“
Bisnes or pleshor?”
asked Lily in broken English with a flirtatious smile, achieving the desired
effect. The door stopped opening after only a few inches.
“Both, always both! But sorry.
I´m in a hurry,”
answered Giuseppe, mixing his English with an Italian
accent. Immediately after, the door opened completely and he entered the room.
He walked over to the bed and lifted the pillow covering the cellphone, which
he grabbed and put in his pocket. He was getting ready to leave when something
caught his eye. He took five steps forward until he was in front of the
bathroom door, which was shut. Reaching out, he opened it. The light was on and
the shower curtain was pulled shut. Motionless, he silently listened for a few
seconds. He took another step forward and pulled the curtain open. Bending
down, he noticed a small stream of water running from the faucet. He firmly
shut it off, effectively cutting off the unwanted trickle. He left the room in
a hurry as soon as he turned off the bathroom light.
The maid greeted him again as he
left. She was immensely relieved that there had not been a scene or
disturbance. But she wondered where Lorenzo could have hidden to avoid being
seen. Her question was answered at that exact moment when she heard someone
tapping on the sliding glass door of the room that she was cleaning. She ran to
the back of the room and opened the door to let Lorenzo in, white as a ghost
and apparently in shock. He had been able to get out of the room in time
through the balcony door. To get to the room Lily was in, though, he had to try
to jump from one balcony to the next. As his bad luck would have it, and as a
consequence of his blurred vision, he had not properly calculated the distance
and had ended up hanging off the balcony momentarily until he was able to hoist
himself up and over to fall onto the other side.
“How did you get over here?” she
asked.
“Risking my life,” answered
Lorenzo, sparing her the shameful details.
Lorenzo thanked her for her help
and said goodbye. He decided that it would be best to return home. He needed to
lie down, rest, and try to clear his mind. Besides, he needed to give his
headache time to go away.
While he was driving home, he
thought about calling Alexis but decided not to. He did not want to waste any
more of his time. First, he wanted to carefully analyze everything to be able
to present it to him well-thought-out and easy to digest so there would not be
any doubt. Except for the reasonable doubt he needed to cast a shadow of a
doubt over Doris’ supposedly clear case.
Moments later, Lorenzo’s train of
thought was cut off when he parked his car under his house. He struggled to
climb the stairs, pushing forward only because he knew that he was just seconds
away from much-needed rest.
That idea, however, flew out the
window when he saw the door ajar and the lock broken. His house had been broken
into. He picked up his pace and started to sweat profusely. He did not think
twice before entering the house, where he found himself inside a dirt-covered
room. Literally. There was dark soil everywhere. It was covering the floor, the
furniture, and the kitchen cabinets and was even inside the refrigerator.
He examined the rest of the rooms:
the same. Even the bed was covered with a thin layer of dirt. On the mirror he
found a message scribbled in lipstick, surely one that Doris kept in her drawer.
It read: “
Stop digging around
.” He remembered the warning given by the
men who had chased him and Edgar the other night.
Lorenzo did not know if he should
be happy or scared. Evidently, someone was uncomfortable with his discoveries.
He obviously could not be that far from the truth if someone was willing to pay
some crooks to give him a scare. On the other hand, he was genuinely concerned
that his findings would be the end of him and would take their toll. It would
be ironic if in trying to save his family he actually put them in danger.
He thought about calling the police
or his attorney Alexis again, but that had never had the expected results in
the past. They only saw him as the desperate husband who was willing to do
anything to free the future mother of his child from jail. Even filling his
house with dirt. No, he could not afford that luxury. When he went to talk to
someone it had to be all or nothing. He had to lay out all of the evidence he
had in a logical and convincing manner. He just had to show that there was
reasonable doubt, even though there was not, and he had to do so quickly. That
was the priority; cleaning the house would have to wait.
•••••
The desk was filled with documents to look through and sign.
Letters that were waiting to be read and answered formed another untouched pile
in front of Jessica Ronda. She was in charge of Pedroza Enterprise’s Human
Resources department and therefore had very little time to do much of anything.
Payroll, contracts, medical plans, everything came through her office in one
form or another. Nevertheless, her mind was not focused on the pile of work
practically blocking her view of the other side of the desk.
Her passion in life was not her
work but the activities that she took part in after clocking out at the end of
the day and leaving the office. Her career as a ballerina consumed a large part
of her thoughts and energy. Her dream had been to be able to leave her position
at the company and dedicate herself completely to dance. First as a ballerina, since
she felt that she had reached her full potential, and then as an instructor.
Owning a dance studio was her most prized dream, but years had gone by and she
had never dared to make the crucial move. In spite of that, it was not her
passion for dance that was worrying her that morning. It was something else,
something that was eating away at her from the inside out and that she had to
get off her chest before it was too late and the damage was irreversible.
The newly minted and good-looking
president, Javier Estrada, made his entrance into Jessica’s office, as was his
custom every day, sitting on one of the armchairs facing the desk. He displayed
a toothy grin that Jessica did not return.
“I thought you’d be overflowing
with happiness and drawing up your letter of resignation to boot. Last night’s
show was a complete success, congratulations,” said Javier, beaming.
“Was it? What was it that you liked
most?”
“Well, I should confess that I
could only see half of it. But I loved what I saw, top notch,” answered Javier
without going into details.
“Well, the best part is the
ending,” answered Jessica.
“Oh, well, we actually only saw the
first part. The missus didn’t feel well and we had to take off,” explained
Javier apologetically.
“Oh, don’t worry. They’re asking
for additional performances now. You’ll have other opportunities to see what
you missed out on, which, like I said, was the best part,” said Jessica,
forcing a smile.
“Yes, you can count on it. I’ll be
there. I mean, we’ll be there. Listen, you look a little out of it. Do you feel
all right?” asked Javier with concern.
“Honestly, no. It’s this issue with
Pedroza. I don’t know if I can stand the tension much longer,” she confessed
nervously.