The Incumbent (28 page)

Silence fell in a suffocating blanket. Stover cleared his throat. “I’m confused, Miss Truccoli; why did you ask for this meeting if you didn’t want to see your father?”

Celeste turned her burning gaze from Truccoli to the attorney. “To tell him to leave me alone, to tell him to leave Maddy alone. Because of him Randi got hurt.”

“That was an accident,” Truccoli countered. He must have heard about the scuffle in the coffee shop when he sprang his PI from jail.

“Was it an accident when you attacked Maddy right here in this room? Was it an accident that some guy was following her and the police had to arrest him? Go away. Don’t call me. Don’t write me. I don’t want to see you. I hate you. I hated you before and I hate you more now!”

Tears began to run. I squeezed her shoulder. She sniffed and ran a hand under her nose.

“This is your fault,” Truccoli said, glaring at me. The room froze over.

“Actually,” I replied, “it’s your fault.”

“Shut up! I don’t need you to tell me how to be a father.”

“Someone needs to.” I knew the comment wouldn’t help, but I’d had enough bile building up in me over the last few days that I had to let some of it go. Truccoli was a deserving target.

Stover spoke up. “Settle down, Chris. Let’s everyone settle down. Emotions will get us nowhere.” He turned to me. “Mayor, please, you’re not helping.”

“This is all because of you,” Truccoli said. “I know what the police have found. I know that my wife’s disappearance is connected to you and so are the others. Now you want to take my daughter away from me.”

“She didn’t take me away from you,” Celeste protested. “You threw me away when I was little. I wasn’t good enough for you. Mom wasn’t good enough for you. You dumped us. Maddy took me in. She gave me a place to stay and has asked for nothing.”

If Truccoli heard Celeste, he gave no sign of it; he was fixated on me. I felt myself flush. For a moment I thought I would ignite under the heat of his stare.

“You poisoned her mind, didn’t you? You turned her against her own father—against me, her own flesh and blood.”

“Apparently, you did that all by yourself—”

He lunged at me, arms out, hands twisted into claws. I heard a roar rumble from his throat. My heart seized and I backpedaled, pulling one of the chairs in front of me. Truccoli didn’t see it. He hit hard, lost his balance, and plummeted to the floor.

Celeste screamed.

Truccoli grabbed his shin, then filled the air with obscenities. “You stupid—”

“Mr. Truccoli, that is enough!” Stover shouted.

Staggering to his feet, Truccoli reset himself. “I’ll make you pay for this. Take my daughter away from me, will you?”

He started forward. I stepped between him and Celeste and steeled myself for what was to come.

The door to the conference room sprang open and two security guards and a uniformed police officer rushed in. A guard, Bobby, was first in. What he lacked in physical presence, he made up for with enthusiasm. Truccoli charged again but the guard cut him off, flinging himself at my attacker. Both tumbled to the ground in a heap of arms and legs. A half second later the cop was on the pile. “Stop resisting,” he ordered. “Stop resisting.”

“She took my daughter!” Truccoli struggled. “She took my daughter from me.”

The officer played no games. He placed a knee on the back of Truccoli’s neck, reached for his cuffs, and with the help of the guard cuffed him. Yanking him to his feet, he spun Truccoli around. “It’s over, pal.”

“She hit me with a chair,” Truccoli complained. “My attorney saw it. You should be arresting the stupid little—”

The officer shoved Truccoli hard against the wall. “You had better think before you finish that statement.” Then he turned to me. “You okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He looked at Celeste. “How about you, young lady? Are you all right?”

Celeste nodded. I put my arm around her.

“I’m suing,” Truccoli spat. “I’m suing this Podunk town for all it has and I’m suing you, Mayor. Do you hear that?” He directed his gaze at the attorney. “We’re going to sue them, Stover. I want the paperwork drawn up today. Do you hear? Today!”

“Let’s take a walk, mister,” the officer said. Taking Truccoli by the elbow, he led him from the room. The guards went with them.

I looked at Stover, who watched his client being marched off in handcuffs. “It sounds like you have some paperwork to do.”

He offered a weak smile and shook his head. “I should have gone to med school, like my brother.” He reached into his coat pocket, extracted a small silver case, and removed a business card from it. “If he brings suit, give me a call. I’ll be happy to serve as a witness for your side.” He picked up his briefcase. “I need to go tell him to find a new attorney.” With a pause, he added, “I’m sorry about this, Mayor. Had I known, I would never have hooked up with the cretin.” Nodding politely, he left.

With everyone gone, I put an arm around Celeste and pulled her close. She was shaking. “You are full of surprises, girl,” I said softly. “You are one gutsy chick.”

She tittered, then gave me a hug. Then she broke into sobs, her shoulders shuddering. The sadness was deep, erupting like pent-up lava. Her breathing came in ragged waves and for a moment I thought she would collapse.

I held her tight and stroked her hair. My nose filled with mucus, my face felt hot, and then something in my soul tore in a ragged edge. Tears began to flow and breathing became difficult. We were two women separated by age but identical in need. The pressure had become too much, the crushing concern and fear was, at least for the moment, winning—and I didn’t care.

Moments passed and the boiling sobs soon settled into eye rubbing, nose wiping, sniveling. I took a deep breath. “Whew. I’ve needed to do that for a long time.”

“Me too.”

I took a step back and held Celeste at arm’s distance. Her own weeping had calmed. I smiled, then noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I saw Jon Adler and Tess Lawrence standing at the door. Both were frowning and Adler was shaking his head.

“We need to talk,” Tess said flatly.

Sixty minutes later I sat in my office reviewing a long list of telephone calls waiting for my attention. I had tried to send Celeste home, offering to have one of the security guards drive her. She’d had a different idea.

“I’m tired of just hanging around the house. All I do is watch TV and talk to Michele on the phone. Your parents are great, but . . .”

“I understand.”

“Can’t I stay here with you? I mean, Randi’s out, so maybe I could sit in her office and answer the phone or file or something. I took a couple of business classes in high school and another one in college. I can’t replace her but I can do something.”

I studied her for a moment. She was right. If it were me confined to the house, I would have lost my mind long ago. Besides, I liked being around her. “I think I can find something for you to do.”

The arresting officer had come back and asked a few questions for his report. I had also, after spending a quarter hour in the rest room touching up makeup and hiding from the world, sought out the young guard who had executed the NFL tackle on my behalf. I promised a pizza for him and his pals, and a letter of thanks to his boss. He was appreciative, but no more than I was for his heroic effort.

It felt good to have my fanny in the leather seat of my desk chair. Better than good; it felt normal. It seemed odd to look out the door of my office and see Celeste in Randi’s chair. According to a message left with Fritzy, the hospital was going to release Randi today, and I had promised to pick her up. That would be a joy. Still, work went on, and with my assistant out for the next few days, my workload had doubled.

“What are you doing here?” a voice said. I looked up and saw Tess and Jon standing in front of Randi’s desk, staring down at Celeste. The brusque question took her aback.

“I’m . . . I’m helping Mayor Glenn.”

“You’re not an employee,” Tess stated.

I rose from my desk and went to the door. “Last I heard, my office operations were my responsibility.” Tess’s head swiveled. Her expression beamed her irritation. “Celeste has offered to do volunteer work for the city. You’re for volunteerism, aren’t you, Tess? At least you said you were in your last campaign.”

“I told you earlier that we need to talk. I’ve been waiting over an hour to hear from you.”

I shrugged. “Must have slipped my mind. I’ve been preoccupied with health and welfare—mine.”

“That’s what we want to talk about,” Tess said in her best terse voice. “When can we meet?”

“You’re here now; come in and have a seat. You don’t mind meeting in my office, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“What about you, Jon? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet. Tess got your tongue?” I was being more testy than needed, but either one alone was more than I could take; having both of them bully their way into my office made my already bad mood worse.

“I agree we should meet.”

I bet. You agree with whatever Tess tells you to agree with.
“Well, apologize to Miss Truccoli, then come on in. Should I send for coffee?”

“Apologize?” Tess said. “I have no intention of . . .” She took a deep breath, turned to Celeste. “I’m sorry if I came off a little harsh.” She didn’t wait for Celeste to reply. She and Jon followed me back into the office. I closed the door behind them, motioned for them to sit, and then took my place behind my wide desk, wishing it were wider.

“What’s eating you now, Tess?” I picked up a piece of paper from my desk. It was an unimportant document, but I didn’t want to make eye contact with the shrew sitting opposite me. I tried to look nonchalant.

“At times you speak crudely,” Tess said. “Do you think that is suitable for the city’s highest representative?”

“A mayor should speak so as to be understood. Are you having trouble understanding me?”

“No.”

“Let’s get to it, folks. It’s already been a long day.”

“Very well, then,” Tess said. “We feel that your involvement in these disappearances, and the continuing violent dealings you’ve been having with that young lady’s father, is distracting you from city business, and that your mind is not on the job as it should be. You show signs of preoccupation.”

“Preoccupation? Really. Let’s see, two of my friends and a former political consultant are missing. One has shown up dead, strapped to the deep end of a pier. Twice I’ve been attacked in the conference room. The situation has forced me to post a guard at my house. The police drive by my home every hour. My family has moved in with me for their own safety. What in all of that could be distracting me?”

“You’re arguing our point.”

“Am I? Thank you for pointing that out. What is it you’re suggesting?”

“We think you should step aside and let someone who is more focused take the reins of leadership,” Tess said without a blink. I almost admired her gall.

“Someone? Have anybody in mind?”

“Well . . . There are a few obvious choices.”

“Odd,” I said, doing my best to sound naïve, “none come to mind. Of course, there’s Ned Boese, the planning commissioner. He has a good head on his shoulders and has yet to show a single fiber of opportunism. Most people on the council think highly of him.”

Jon snorted.

“I’m sorry, Jon, I missed that comment. Could you repeat it?” I leaned back in the chair.

“We weren’t thinking of Ned Boese,” he said.

“Somehow I knew that.”

“You’re making light of this,” Tess said. “I think you’ll find that we have more than adequate support on this in the council.”

“Do you? Well, let me just test the waters.” I hit the speakerphone button on my telephone and dialed two numbers. There was a ring.

“Councilman Titus Overstreet’s office.”

“Hi, Susie. It’s Maddy. Is Titus in?”

“Yes, Mayor. One moment, please.”

A few seconds later Overstreet was on the line. “Hello. I just heard about what happened. Are you all right?”

“Fine. A little shaken but I’ll be fine, Titus. As you can tell, I have you on speakerphone.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that. What’s up?”

“Jon and Tess are in my office.” Jon squirmed and Tess blinked rapidly several times. “They think I should pass the mantle of mayoral leadership on to someone else.”

“What? Why would they suggest that?”

“Apparently, I’m too distracted.” He mumbled something I couldn’t make out but I sensed it might make a longshoreman blush. “They tell me they have the support of much of the council.”

“Nonsense. They haven’t talked to me. What are you guys trying to pull?” I could hear the heat in his voice. “Send them my way, Mayor. I have some counsel I’d like to give them. Better yet, I’ll be there in two minutes.”

The color drained from Tess’s face. I took pity on her. “No need, Titus,” I said. “I’m just taking a straw poll.”

“Well, let me give you my straw in clear terms: I’m with you. I stand with you without reservation. Did you hear that, Jon, Tess? You try speaking in my name again, I’m gonna be all over you like ugly on an ape. Sure you don’t want me to come over, Mayor? I can bring a Girl Scout to work Jon over.”

I fought back a laugh. “No need, Titus. Thanks for your support. I’ll talk to you later.” I disconnected but not before another colorful metaphor seeped through the speaker. “Okay, let’s give Larry Wu a jingle.”

“No need,” Tess said. “We all know Larry’s in your pocket.”

“Larry thinks for himself. He’s in no one’s pocket. Not yours. Not mine.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “I have no inclination, no intention, of stepping down, stepping back, or stepping away from the likes of you. If you want my office, you’re going to have to earn it in the next election. You beat me fair and square, then you can have it. The day that happens is the day I leave the city.”

“For Washington, you mean?” Jon asked with a slight smile. I burned the smile from his face with a gaze.

“Explain yourself.”

“You haven’t read this morning’s paper?” Tess said. “You should keep up on current events. Front-page article, just below the fold. It seems that the police found a folder at Allen Dayton’s home—a folder containing plans for a congressional campaign. Your name was on that file.”