The Incumbent (7 page)

I followed West as he negotiated the obstacle course of desks and chairs. We passed through another set of doors and entered a room that is more spartan than the last: gray-painted concrete floor, dull white walls, suspended ceiling, and recessed fluorescent lights. A pair of metal doors leads outside.

On one side is a counter covered in simulated-wood Formica. It looks worn and tired. On the other side is a corridor. When I first came to the council, I received a tour of the facility, so I knew where the hall leads: to small rooms used as holding cells.

“This is where we fingerprint arrestees and take their picture, Madam Mayor,” West said, taking the tone of tour guide. He indicated a man standing near the counter. “This is Officer Frank Dell, one of our fingerprint technicians and all-round nice guy. Frank, this is Mayor Madison Glenn.”

“Maddy.” I extended my hand. His grip was strong and his skin cool.

“Pleased to meet you, Mayor.”

“Hey, Frank, why don’t you show the mayor what you do?”

Officer Dell looked surprised. “You mean print her and take a mug shot?”

“I think we can skip the mug shot. That’s no different than what happens at the DMV.” He turned to me. “How about it, Mayor? Want to see what happens to the folks we arrest?”

I saw what he was doing and played along. “That could be interesting.”

“After the arrest, this is the first place you’d come. The officer parks just beyond those doors and brings the arrestee in. The person would be handcuffed, of course, generally with his hands behind his back. I don’t think we need to cuff you for you to get the idea.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Now, to fingerprint a suspect, we have to bring his hands forward. If we have some concerns about his behavior, we cuff him again with his hands in front. Frank here knows how to print a man in cuffs, don’t you, Frank?”

“Years of experience.” Dell pulled a wide white card out of a drawer and placed it in a device attached to the top of the counter. The device held the card in place. Next to it he set what looked like a large plastic compact case. Inside was a substance that looked like solidified Vaseline.

“After fingerprinting, the officer takes a photo and the prisoner is led down that corridor and put in a holding cell. People who are going to be held longer than a day are taken to a county facility. Drunks are taken to a different place to dry out.” He took my hand. “Here, let Frank show you how it’s done.”

I stepped up to the counter and submitted to the procedure. It made me feel dirty. Officer Dell took my right thumb and rolled it on the pad, then rolled it on the card. The card was divided in several ways. The top portion had several boxes for information like name, date, technician, arresting officer, and more. The bottom had fourteen squares: one for each digit, two larger squares for impressions of all four fingers of each hand together, and two narrow squares for additional thumbprints. Webb wanted to update to a digital system than took prints electronically, but there wasn’t room in the budget. It was another bone of contention.

It took less than sixty seconds. Dell pulled the card from its holder and handed it to me. “There you go, Mayor, a souvenir. You want me to autograph it for you?”

“That’s all right, Frank,” West said with a laugh. “Thanks for the demonstration.”

“My pleasure.”

I thanked Dell and let West lead me from the room. “Let’s go into the conference room,” he said softly as we crossed back into the office area. “I’ll get you some coffee.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“No, you’re not. You want coffee.” I started to object but he cut me off. “We don’t offer coffee to suspects. Take the coffee and people are less likely to ask questions.”

“With cream, please.”

A few moments later we sat at a white oak conference table. A half-dozen cheap chairs were sitting at odd angles around it. The conference room adjoins the office area.

“I’ll take that.” West gently pulled the fingerprint card from my hand. I surrendered it without protest. “I appreciate you taking the time to do this, and doing it so quickly.”

“I’m eager to help in any way I can. My aide will bring the bank reports you requested a little later. She’s compiling them now.”

“As I said before, I’m trying to be thorough. I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“It’s too late for that,” I said, more harshly than I intended.

“How do you mean?”

“I think Celeste is suspicious of me.”

“Understandable. She seems like a sharp young lady.”

“Excuse me?”

West realized what he had said. “I don’t mean she’s right in suspecting you, only that she would naturally have to wonder why the blood was on your card, and so many others were discarded. It’s an important question. One we would all like to have answered—including you.”

“I’m afraid she’ll leave. That’s her right, I know. Legally she is an adult. I can’t tell her what to do or not to do. I’m just worried about her.”

“You think she’ll be gone when you get home?”

“Maybe. I’m supposed to have lunch with her. I’ll know at eleven-thirty if she’s decided to go elsewhere.”

West frowned. “It’s important that we know where she is.”

“If she leaves, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.”

“What now?” I felt awkward.

“We keep on keeping on.” West took a sip from his cup, then made a face. “Your coffee was better. Anyway, we push on. I’ll fill in the information on the card and pass it on to the lab. If your prints don’t match those found at the scene, then you’re clear. There’s a chance a tech will recognize your name, but it’s the best I can do.”

“Won’t you need sample prints from Celeste, too?”

“Maybe. We took prints from other places in the house where it’s unlikely perps would go, bathrooms and the like. We should find a large number of her prints in the house, as well as her mother’s. We’re looking for those that don’t fit.”

“Do you think you’ll find anything?”

“No. Whoever did this was meticulous. I doubt any prints were left behind.”

“Then why bother . . . I know, I know, you’re just being thorough.”

“Exactly.” He lowered his eyes, then looked up. “I’ve been thinking about this whole card thing. The real question is, why you? Why your card? We don’t have an answer to that, but one thing we do know: someone wants you involved. Is it a setup? Maybe, but I think it’s more. I just don’t know what.”

“I have no idea, either.”

“I think you should be careful whom you trust. Two things connect you to this case: Lisa, the missing person, and your blood-decorated business card. I don’t want to alarm you, but you should take measures to assure your safety. Lock your doors, be suspicious. A little paranoia right now wouldn’t hurt.”

“You can’t believe they’re after me.” I said the words without conviction.

“Who knows? If they wanted you, they would have gone to your place instead of Lisa’s. My guess is, they want something
from
you.”

“Like what?”

“I’m good at what I do, Mayor, but I’m not that good. We’ll know sometime but I need more info. You just be careful—very careful.”

chapter 5

I
’m back.” I breezed by Randi’s desk and started for my office door. “You have company,” Randi said quickly. I stopped and looked at her. “Councilman Adler is here.” She made a face and motioned with her head toward my office. I felt the corner of my mouth turn down.

“Thank you. Did you gather those . . . documents?” I could see several pages of letter-sized paper on her desk. They were facedown. Randi was a cautious one.

“Yes, I’m just sorting them now and will bind them for you. How did your appointment go?”

The last statement was for Adler’s benefit. “Fine. I’ll fill you in later.” I took a deep breath and plunged into my office with a determination I didn’t feel.

Adler was sitting cross-legged in one of the guest chairs in front of my desk. He remained seated as I entered. He seemed calm, his thin hands folded in his lap. He said nothing but I knew why he was there. Adler was a short, thin man who compensated for his lack of physical stature with a self-serving, aggressive, mean spirit. He reminded me of one of those dust-mop dogs that yap and growl as if they can whip a pit bull. Adler was a heel-biter.

I sat behind my desk and leaned back in my chair. “What can I do for you this morning, Councilman?”

“Last night was very unprofessional of you.”
Straight to the
point.
He offered the slightest of smiles, as if he felt a sudden pride in what he had just said.

I stared at the little man for a moment, showing no emotion. His hair was a weak brown made weaker by an infusion of gray. His eyes were dark and narrow and his skin was pale, as if he had just come over from Siberia. I’ve heard he is a tiger in the courtroom, but I was pretty sure I could beat him in a fight, and at that moment I was willing to give it a try.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

I was on edge. I had received the shocking news of a crime against an acquaintance, had taken in an unexpected houseguest, had slept poorly, had endured an early-morning interview by a police detective, and had submitted to fingerprinting. My mood was dark and volatile. I gazed at the weasel for another moment, then asked a question of my own: “Why did I leave?”

“What?”

“Why did I leave?”

“How would I know? You just got up and left, and a quarter hour later the clerk tells us you’re not coming back. No explanation. No apology.”

“Is that what you want, Jon? An apology?”

“One seems due.”

“You’re not getting one, but I will accept an apology from you.”

He uncrossed his legs. “I don’t owe you anything.”

I locked eyes with him. “Chief Webb walks in, whispers in my ear, and I have to leave. Did something happen to my parents? My brother? My sister? Was there some pressing police business that I might be able to help with? What was it, Jon?”

“I told you, I don’t know.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

“Did something happen to your—”

“You went to college, didn’t you?”

The change of subject took him off guard. “Of course.”

“You spent at least three years in law school, Western School of Law, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with our topic of conversation.”

“It means that you’re probably smart enough to be able to haul your fanny out of my chair and make your way through the doors without help.”

He blinked several times.

“That’s right, Councilman. I’m kicking you out. Beat it. Now.” He didn’t move, not from belligerence but from the shock of it. “Maybe I was wrong. Randi!” She was at the door in half a second, with a face as innocent as a newborn’s. I would bet a month’s salary she had been standing by the door, just out of sight. “Councilman Adler is having trouble finding the door. Would you help him, please?”

“Certainly.”

Adler sprang to his feet. “I don’t need help. I can’t believe you would be this unprofessional.”

“You have no idea what professionalism is, Jon. Now leave or I’ll ask Randi to slap you around in front of your staff.”

His face went white, then reddened like a beefsteak tomato. Spinning on his heels, he bolted from the office, his fists clenched and body rigid, as if he were a walking seizure.

After he was clear of Randi’s office, she raised her hands and applauded. “I don’t think you know how much I love you,” she said, laughing. “What do you think he’ll do now?”

“Is Tess in?”

“I think so.”

“He’ll go there and unload. She’ll listen, commiserate, then tell him to leave.” I took a deep breath. My heart was thumping. “Were you able to get reservations at the Fish Kettle?”

“You’re all set. I told them you’d be there a little before noon. That you gives you time to pick up Celeste. I assume you may have to pick up her friend too.”

“You’re still coming, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Great, I could use the support.”

“Did they treat you right over at Crime Central?”

I told her the story, then asked about the bank reports.

“They’re clean. No withdrawals and only a few deposits, all of which you know about.”

“I figured that’s how it would be. Package them up and run them over to Detective West. Give them to West and West only. He was there when I left, but I’d give him a call first, just to be sure.”

“Will do. Is there anything else?”

“No, I just need a few minutes to cool down. Jon annoys me more than I can say.”

“He annoys everyone. You know what his aide calls him?”

“Jane?”

“That’s right. She’s from the South, you know, and they have a bug down there called a chigger.”

“That’s like a sand flea or something, right . . . wait, she calls her boss Chigger?”

“Not to his face, but she’s been known to use the term around us.”

At first I was astonished; then the humor of it landed squarely on my head. A little, annoying, biting bug. That was perfect. I voiced the words: “Councilman Chigger.” My indignation washed away with laughter. Randi joined in, raising a hand to her mouth as if she were embarrassed to have shared the story.

The laughter refreshed me.

“Now that you’re in a good mood . . .” I noticed she was looking at the files on my desk. I glanced down. The file Randi had given me, the file about a congressional run, was missing.

“He took it!” I said. “The little weasel took it!”

“No, he didn’t. Do you think I’d let anyone sit in your office with sensitive files in reach? I have it.”

“Whew. Don’t do that to me. I’m getting too old for such shocks.”

“You’re not close to old. You can’t even see old from where you are. I’ll get the file. Read it. It’ll get your mind off things.”

I agreed. I could stand to have my mind on something else.

T
he rest of the morning passed quickly. I had expected a scalding phone call from Adler or Councilwoman Tess Lawrence, his political buddy. To my great relief nothing came. I spent an hour or so reviewing the notes from the meeting I skipped out on, and found only one item of concern: the zoning change requested by the church was denied. The council agreed with the Planning Commission. The vote was three to one against. I felt bad about that. I had planned to support the church, but I doubted my presence would have made a difference.