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.
During 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.