Mystery by the Sea (12 page)

 

Lorenzo wrote his name in the log book that the security
guard put in his hands. He also had to provide his driver’s license number in
addition to the purpose of his visit and the name of whom he was visiting.
Edgar assured him that it was the custom at the Seaside Manor, the deceased
Armando Pedroza’s lush property in front of the sea.

“How long have they been keeping a
register of all the visitors?” Lorenzo asked the guard, a well-built man in his
twenties.

“When I arrived two years ago they
were already keeping it. They say that the owner insisted on recording the
information in case it were ever needed. He never could have imagined that the
first time would be because of his own death,” said the distressed young man.

“Can I see the register from that
night?” asked Lorenzo.

“No, the police kept it as
evidence,” declared the guard, who was working in a long-sleeved shirt and
black tie.

The guard instructed Lorenzo to
park in front of the staircase at the mansion’s main entrance, not far from
where they were. Although Edgar had heard about some of the mansion’s
peculiarities, it was the first time that he saw them in person. He liked the
idea of seeing first-hand how his wealthy boss lived.

A tall concrete wall separated the
land from the road. Two similar walls did the same with the adjoining
properties along the sides of the mansion. This was different from the sides
bordering the beach, where a wall made of steel bars had been erected to keep
from spoiling the amazing view of the sea enjoyed by residents and guests
alike.

Lorenzo and Edgar climbed the first
three steps of their ascent, flanked by two large bronze lions. Those first
steps were followed by a courtyard with wooden benches, beautiful plants, and
multicolored flowers around the perimeter. On his left, beyond the gardens,
Lorenzo spotted a tennis court. No one was playing at the moment, but he could
see it was well maintained. Immediately after, his gaze came across an
unrecognizable silhouette behind one of the mansion’s second floor windows.  He
looked at Edgar briefly to see if he had seen it, too, but he was distracted by
a red Ferrari parked in the garage, to the right of the building. When
Lorenzo’s gaze returned to the window, the silhouette had disappeared.

After crossing the courtyard they
found themselves in front of the main stairway. The twenty stairs became
smaller in width from bottom to top. With concrete banisters painted in white
and wrapping slightly upwards, the stairway led directly to the main door on
the second floor. The stairway’s curved shape gave Edgar the feeling that he
was leaving behind the ordinary world to step into a world of luxury and
convenience. In contrast, all Lorenzo could feel was that he was entering a
world where he could discover the truth about the unfortunate incident that was
keeping his wife locked up and sick.

The cushy Colonial-style mansion
had a four-pitched hip roof covered in terracotta-colored tiles. The windows
and doors were made of varnished wood. All of the bedrooms and living spaces
had a balcony with a baluster banister made of white stone, some with a garden
view and others with a view of the sea.

When they reached the top they were
greeted by a young woman dressed in a work uniform. Her attire reminded Lorenzo
of the employees in the area’s hotels. The woman welcomed them and invited them
to step into the foyer, exquisitely furnished with rattan armchairs and sofas
and cushions upholstered in fabric with tropical designs. The employee, Teresa,
asked that they wait there for a moment.

Lorenzo and Edgar noticed that the wall
on the opposite side of the foyer consisted, in reality, of seven wooden doors
with large glass windowpanes that gave access to an outlying corridor. The
doors were opened wide, allowing a continuous and refreshing breeze to cross
the room, which was welcomed by both of them.

They crossed through the doors,
stepping into the corridor and looking down to appreciate the pleasant open-air
indoor patio. Its main feature was a beautiful central fountain with bronze
dolphins that shot streams of water into the air. The patio was adorned by a
collection of plants and antique patio furniture. From overhead, the mansion
was basically a rectangle with an opening (the indoor patio) in the middle.

Edgar always knew that Pedroza had
money and that he lived in luxury, but he was very impressed by the house’s
comfort and style. Lorenzo thought that the structure gave the impression that
a well-designed building should give. It not only stimulated the senses, but it
also made an emotional impact. He did not know how to put into words the
emotions that he was feeling, but the architect was clearly successful. He not
only felt invited to live in the space but to soak it all in as well.

The maid interrupted Lorenzo and
Edgar’s architectural analysis, signaling them to follow her. Lorenzo took a
deep breath. He was aware that the following meeting would not be easy and that
his stay in the mansion, in order to achieve his goal, depended on making the
right impression. They followed the girl, who led them down the outside
corridor until they reached the room adjacent to the foyer, on the far right
side of the house. It was another small room that functioned as a library.
There were not many books on the shelves. It looked more like a sampling of
books so that guests who enjoyed reading had something to read during their
stay, which in some cases, especially when it was family, could last several
days.

Aurora Pedroza was seated in one of
the armchairs inside the small room, waiting for them. She was an older woman
of 62 years who, as far as Lorenzo could tell, had prepared herself to receive
them. She was elegantly dressed and wore makeup. Nevertheless, neither the
clothes nor the makeup could hide what she had been through over the past
several days. In spite of having no point of reference, as Lorenzo had not known
her previously, it was clear that she was emotionally drained. For some reason
unknown to him, he had expected Aurora to be the typical “trophy wife” of
millionaires like Pedroza entering their seventies, twenty or thirty years
younger, with a slender figure and too active for the old husband to be able to
keep up with in any capacity. Lorenzo was, therefore, taken aback to see the
older, fragile appearance of the lady of the house.

As soon as she signaled they could
take a seat, the maid asked them if they would like a snack, juice, or water.

“Yes, whatever he’s having,”
responded Edgar.

“I don’t want anything, thank you,”
said Lorenzo, anxious to start the conversation with Aurora.

“Well, then, nothing I guess,”
answered Edgar dejectedly.

After a fleeting glance from
Aurora, the maid left the room. Lorenzo and Edgar sat on the sofa, face-to-face
with Aurora. After a long silence, Lorenzo took the initiative.

            “I’d like to formally introduce myself, now that
we are meeting in person. My name is Lorenzo Almeida. I’m the husband of…”

            “That’s not necessary, Mr. Almeida,” interrupted
Aurora. “I know exactly who you are. I also know who
you
are. You work
in the company, right?” she asked, looking at Edgar. Aurora’s comment caught
Edgar off-guard because he thought his presence went unnoticed by the company’s
superiors. He nodded his head yes.

            “Edgar Moya, pleased to meet you,” he said,
introducing himself.

            “I suppose your visit is due to…the incident,”
said Aurora in a trembling voice, shutting her eyes tightly and trying to hold
back tears. The wound was still undeniably fresh. Lorenzo imagined that she had
agreed to meet him because she hoped that talking to someone who was also
suffering would help her deal with the profound pain she was experiencing. But
after seeing how wounded she was, Lorenzo worried that maybe it was the wrong
time to talk about the matter. Maybe it was too soon.

            “Mrs. Pedroza, I want you to know that I…”

            “Don’t worry. Your apology isn’t necessary. It’s
not your fault. Your wife lost her sanity. Those things happen,” said Aurora,
regaining her composure and speaking in an understanding tone. “I forgive her,”
she added, her face tranquil.

            Lorenzo looked at Edgar, taken aback. He
remained silent.
Be careful what you wish for
, he thought to himself,
you
might just get it
. He knew that he was seeing the flip side of the coin.
This woman saw him as the husband of the woman who had murdered her spouse. She
allowed him into her house because she wanted to forgive him, to let it out and
move forward in her recovery process. And he had nothing concrete with which to
refute her.

            “I forgive her even though she robbed me of the
most important thing in my life. My reason for being. Do you see this mansion? I
didn’t want to live in a house this big. I knew that when the children left it
would feel lonely,” Aurora explained, turning her gaze inward to a time and
place that only she could see and feel. “It’s been almost fifteen years now
since the last one moved away, but Armando made me forget all of that. We were
closer than ever and now…”

            All expression was wiped from Aurora’s face and
she remained frozen and lost for a few seconds. Lorenzo tried to remedy his
discomfort by directing the conversation toward what he was interested in.

            “Mrs. Pedroza…I only…wanted to know…” said
Lorenzo, unable to find a way to express himself without sounding insensitive.

            “You want to know what exactly happened? I’m as
lost as you are. I came in after your wife had already left,” said Aurora as if
she had suddenly awakened from a trance.

            “Where were you at the moment of the…incident?”
asked Lorenzo, careful to maintain a soft and respectful tone.

            “I was in my bedroom. It was already time for my
evening shower. Then I sat down in bed to read a book. That was my routine when
I was waiting for Armando to finish entertaining his guests,” explained Aurora
slowly.

            “But if there were guests in the house, why
weren’t you entertaining them with your husband?” asked Lorenzo. It seemed odd
to him that the lady of the house would not participate in entertaining the
guests, as was usually the custom.

“Armando set aside some time each
night to be by himself. He enjoyed reading, listening to music, or simply
meditating in his study,” Aurora began to explain.

“Every night? That didn’t bother
you?”

“No, not at all. I liked to give
him his space, let him do what he wanted to on his own time. He worked very
hard and he deserved to rest. I knew that afterwards, the rest of the night was
for me. We chatted in our bedroom, called our children and grandchildren,
listened to music, or simply sat out on the balcony to enjoy the evening,”
explained the widow nostalgically.

“I see,” said Lorenzo, resting his
face in his hand.

“He also enjoyed inviting his
friends to sample his wines on occasion. That was his life’s passion. He even
prepared a wine cellar to properly store them. He loved to get new wines to add
to his collection. He was livelier and happier on those nights of wine tasting.
I would never try to take that from him,” said Aurora with a gleam in her eyes,
which seemed to return some life to her countenance.

“But that night was different,”
added Lorenzo, sorry to have to mention the incident again.

“At first, no,” answered Aurora,
breathing deeply now. “But at about nine thirty I heard shouts and loud voices
and… chaos. I left the room and headed downstairs to see what was happening.
Everyone was standing in front of the study, and I immediately felt their eyes
on me. They were all, without exception, locked on me. That’s when I knew that
something was very wrong. When I entered the study…Armando was on the floor, face
down. They pulled me away as soon as I tried to throw myself on top of him. I
don’t remember anything else. They gave me some sedatives and I was out of it
until after the police arrived.”

“How many people were in the
house?”

“I don’t know, about eight, I
think.”

“Counting the employees and
everyone?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Is it possible that anyone else
was in the house without you knowing it?”

“No, everyone who entered and left
had to register in the guard’s log book at the entrance, with the time and everything.
Even I have to write down what time I arrive. I don’t like to, but…”

“Your employees, are they
trustworthy?”

“What do you mean?” asked Aurora,
annoyed.

“I mean, have you known them long,
do you
really
know them?” clarified Lorenzo.

“What does that have to do with
anything? I don’t see how…”

“We’d like to see the scene of the
crime,” interrupted Edgar.

Aurora’s
facial expression
registered displeasure at the request. Lorenzo gestured at Edgar to shut up and
butt out, but Aurora caught their exchange. Sighing, she shook her head from
side to side.

“That’s why you came? To see how
you could get out of the mess that your wife made?” asked Aurora, disappointed.

“No, no, it’s not like that,”
assured Lorenzo, trying to repair the damage caused by Edgar’s inappropriate
request.

“Then why so many questions?” asked
Aurora, already knowing the answer.

“It’s just that, I need to know
what happened. I need to be sure. I need…to know the truth,” stated Lorenzo,
clasping his hands together in a plea.