Free Mystery by the Sea by David Sal Page B

modern gym, relax in a spa, or play an excellent
round of golf. Of course, what most attracted clients to this club was the
ability to enjoy all of these activities surrounded by their equals: people of
power, influence, and money.
    Lorenzo did not belong to that
group, nor did he want to. But in small towns you always know someone’s friend’s
uncle’s cousin. Which is how, with only a few phone calls, Lorenzo found
someone who worked at the club who could get him in.
    During his golf cart ride over the
golf course’s smoothly manicured green hills, Lorenzo organized his questions
and devised a plan of action. He wanted to get as much as possible out of the
opportunity to question Centeno. The chauffe u r cut off
Lorenzo’s analysis to signal a couple of men next to the sixth hole.
    “There’s Mr. Centeno. The one in
the blue shirt,” identified the chauffe u r.
    The young man stopped the golf cart
very close to where Pedro Centeno was playing. He was about sixty years old,
tall, and had white hair. His skin had a reddish tint, without a doubt from the
sun that had been beating down on him all day. He was accompanied by a young
man who was helping him carry his clubs and was driving a golf cart.
    Alexis’ apprehension that
Lorenzo meet with Centeno was well-founded. Pedro Centeno was a distinguished
figure, not just in legal circles but in the political sphere as well. He had
served as senator for two four-year terms and was an active member of one of
the most powerful political parties in the country. It was said that he was the
architect behind the numerous resounding failures of his political opponents,
whose reputations could never recover from merciless public attacks, paving the
way for his overwhelming electoral victories.
    Although Centeno was also the
victim of, according to him unfounded, accusations of corruption, he had the
support of both his party and his town for another term. Nevertheless, he
decided not to run so that he could ‘spend more time with his family.’ Of
course, everyone knew that it was really so he could spend more time with his
clients who, like Pedroza, were well-to-do and influential. He had made out
like a bandit in his private practice and with the political power acquired
after eight years in the public eye, even more so now.
    Lorenzo got out of the golf cart
and the chauffeur immediately disappeared from the area. Lorenzo looked on in
silence, trying not to call attention to himself while Centeno took a swing.
The ball appeared to go into the hole but then rolled around the border and
popped out. Lorenzo was surprised that Centeno did not show any negative
emotion after the failure.
    “Oh, well. Bye, bye, birdie , ” commented Centeno, giving up.
    “You’re improving,” hastened the
young assistant.
    Centeno moved closer to the ball
and in one small stroke put it in the hole. He very quietly said something to
the young man, who promptly set about gathering his things and putting them in
the golf cart. Centeno then settled his gaze upon Lorenzo.
    “Mr. Almeida,” said Centeno to
Lorenzo’s surprise.
    “How do you know who I am?”
questioned Lorenzo while walking toward him.
    “You don’t think you could get in
here and walk up to me without my knowing, do you?” asked Centeno with a smirk.
    “No, of course not. I’m sorry to
bother you here, but I would appreciate it if you could give me a few minutes
of your time so that we could talk about something important,” requested
Lorenzo as humbly as possible.
    “I assume you’re here because of
what happened between your wife and Pedroza, but I don’t see what that has to
do with me,” said Centeno as he headed to his cart, where he took out a bottle
of water. He offered one to Lorenzo, who turned it down with a shake of his
head.
    “Well, you were his attorney,”
pointed out Lorenzo.
    “Yes, the company’s attorney, not Pedroza’s
personal attorney,” clarified Centeno.
    “But you worked directly with