Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

located. She walked outside with him and pointed across to its location. He thanked her and began walking briskly toward the building.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

In a few hours the sun would set on another day of Annunciata Domingo’s rigid and exhausting life. She left the tall building through the employee entrance and started down the sidewalk to her bus stop. People seemed to race past her, her own pace being much slower than it had been early that morning. This was the only job that brought her to an affluent part of town. Two bus transfers were necessary to bring her close to the building where she cleaned a fancy apartment every week. She had never seen the people who lived there, but referred to them as los ricos, the rich ones. The man at the security desk would give her the key, and it usually seemed as though no one had set foot inside from week to week. There was little to do and she had finished in time to have part of the afternoon to herself. The agency had found her that job, but she found others on her own—as many as possible—regardless of how distasteful by comparison.

She reached the bus bench and sat down to wait. Usually she enjoyed the waiting. It was her small break before arriving home to different yet still tiring demands. But for at least two weeks every year the bustle of the city center teemed with crowds and extra noise. The constant movement of vehicles, citizens and tourists blurred her vision. She closed her eyes and tried to quiet the thoughts that had plagued her since she cleaned the derelict house and found the bag. The hard-faced man had given her a bad feeling from the first time she laid eyes on him. But who was she to turn down work? Annunciata was still frightened by what she had seen. Yet she was more frightened about what might have happened if she had been discovered nosing through his things. Suspicious things.

The screeching tires and blaring horns of a near miss between two cars startled her. She opened her eyes and focused ahead on the Plaza del Castillo across the street from where she was sitting. Suddenly, and for the first time in years, she decided not to go straight home. She got up, held her purse tightly and walked to the corner. She waited for the green light, crossed quickly then slowed her steps as she entered the beautiful plaza. The street noise seemed to fade as she walked toward the long benches, colorful flowers and patches of green grass. A breeze, not more than a whisper, rustled the leaves of a nearby tree that cast a bit of shade on the bench she had chosen for her task. She realized that she must pray. Faith would bring the answer to her dilemma of conscience.

She folded her hands in supplication and sat quietly, again with eyes closed, her face turned skyward. What had been a soft breeze grew into gusts of warm wind that gently interrupted her meditative state. Calmness washed over her as she stood to leave. There was a newly found confidence to do what she knew was right. She called her children from the public phone at the edge of the plaza, telling them she would be late and not to worry. Annunciata was now free to take action.

Noticing the Comisaria just across the plaza from where she stood, she took it as a sign and managed to muster enough energy for a fast walk to the entrance. She approached the reception desk rather meekly and waited for the young officer on duty to finish speaking with a woman who was wiping away tears. In a few moments the woman turned, pulled her sweater tightly around her, and walked to the waiting area.

Annunciata was flushed with adrenaline when it was her turn to speak. The officer was respectful and patient, listening to her search for the right words. Giving more information than was necessary—from the man’s offer of a job to the terrible condition of the house—she finally came around to the subject of the closet and what she had seen in the duffle bag. After scolding her for having snooped into the man’s belongings, the officer told her that having such things did not break any laws and there was nothing the police could do. Refusing to be placated she pointed out the presence of the two old mattresses, the window that was nailed shut, and her strong ‘feeling’ that something sinister was going to happen or had already happened in that house. Annunciata admitted to him she felt guilty for having waited so long to come forward, but that she had been frightened of the man. The officer wanted to know why the man frightened her. Had she been threatened? She told him she had not been threatened, but his demeanor was threatening. She described him: the shaved tattooed head, the bulkiness of his frame, the mean eyes. And as she finished, her body shuddered at the memory of her encounter with him.

The officer turned away from her to answer the phone, but she remained standing at the counter with a dejected look on her face. She was not satisfied with how the information she had offered was being handled and was quite sure it was because she was a woman. She believed some men still felt that women were prone to flights of fancy, being overly emotional, and seeing boogie men where there were none. Yet she was a sensible woman, independent, and remained adamant about the danger she perceived.

As he hung up the phone the officer saw that Annunciata was still standing at the counter. He could see that she would not be easily dissuaded. Perhaps if he would let her sit down and talk to one of the other officers at his desk, she could be appeased. When he began to walk toward