“He called first, then came by.” Fritzy wiped her nose with a tissue.
“Who?” I sipped my coffee. It had been made in a percolator, which I assumed had followed the family for decades. Do they still make percolators?
“That nice detective,” she said. “The one who is so interested in you.”
Fritzy had been trying to play matchmaker for me for years. It had become second nature to her. I doubt she realized what she said. “Detective West?”
“Yes. He was very kind. Very supportive. Very . . .” I reached across the table and touched her hand. It was the only thing I could think of to do. “I called you as soon as he left.”
I waited, mustering the courage to ask. “Can you tell me what happened? If not, I understand and—”
“It’s okay. I called you, remember?” She smiled. There was no joy or humor in it. “Jim was working late. He does that sometimes when people need their airplanes in the morning. You know how some of the big business types are.”
I nodded. Jim Fritz was an aircraft mechanic. Fritzy had told me he had enlisted in the navy a few weeks before they had wed. It was a rough way to begin a marriage, but he hadn’t wanted to go off to basic training without first committing to her. He was one of those men who understood nobility. The navy trained him to fix airplanes and jets. Twenty-two years later, he retired and started his own company. It was a small company, just him and one other mechanic, but that was the way Jim wanted it. He had his retirement pay, his home was paid for, and he just wanted to keep his skills up. He set up shop at Willis Jackson airport, the private airport at the south end of the city. It was named after a local fighter pilot killed in Korea.
“Yeah, I know,” I said. “They want their planes, and they want them right away.”
She gave a weak nod. “He called from the shop and said not to wait dinner for him, that he was going to be real late, that he had a rush job come up.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen him spend the whole night down there.” A tear fell to the table.
“He always struck me as diligent.”
“He was.” She choked on was. I knew what that was like. Past-tense verbs taste bad. “Security found him . . . he was sitting in the plane, and he was . . .”
There was no need to finish the sentence. “Take your time, sweetheart. Quit anytime you like. I understand.”
“I know you do. Maybe that’s why I called you. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“You did the right thing.” Fritzy and Jim never had children. I never asked why. Maybe because I didn’t want to answer the same question.
“You’ve been through this. You know what it’s like.”
“It’s hard to lose a husband,” I said. It was stating the obvious, but sometimes the obvious needs to be stated.
“Not just lose, Mayor.” She cut her eyes away to see what only she could see. “To have a husband murdered.”
The words were a punch to the stomach. My spine stiffened. “What are you saying, Fritzy?” I had assumed that Jim had had a heart attack or stroke.
“Detective West said . . .” Tears now streamed down her wrinkled cheeks and fell on her robe as if watering the flower print. “He said my Jim had been murdered.”
The natural inclination is to ask how. How was he murdered? Why was he murdered? What are the details? But I knew enough from my own experience not to raise the question. That would come at the right time.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was assuming that his heart ... or something.”
She shook her head slowly and kept shaking it as if her neck had lost control. “They found marks. His neck was broken.”
Again she melted into tears.
I sat frozen to my chair.
chapter 8
I wandered into my office at nine thirty, a full ninety minutes after I normally do. I was late and for once, I didn’t care. I had called the office from my cell phone and left a message for Floyd. I spent the early-morning hours sitting with Fritzy and making a few calls once eight rolled around. Fritzy was as truly alone as a woman her age could be. Jim was her only family. She did have a few friends. I called one named Betty, who agreed to come over and take my place for a while. She brought sleeping pills, but I made her promise to put them away and not to play doctor. Fritzy was in the early part of her sixth decade. I judged her friend to be about the same age except, unlike Fritzy who was as sharp today as she ever was, her friend seemed to have dropped too many mental bread crumbs along the road of life. Nonetheless, she appeared to have a good heart. So I left Fritzy in the care of the overly perfumed next-door neighbor, Betty.
I parked in the rear lot and came in the private entrance. I told myself no lies. I did so because I didn’t want to look at Fritzy’s empty desk. I was sleepy, worn, and edgy. I was not at my best. I strolled down the corridor, my eyes fixed on the terrazzo tile and my mind ricocheting around in my skull. Just before I stepped through the door into the outer office, I heard, “Well, where is she? When will she be here? Don’t you know anything?”
It was the voice—the discordant, piercing, prickly voice of Councilwoman Tess Lawrence—the female version of Jon Adler. To be fair, Jon may have been the lawyer, but Tess had twice the brains and half the soul. Given a choice between listening to her and dragging my knuckles on a cheese grater, I would gladly choose the latter. I walked through the door.
“I asked you a straightforward question, Mr. Grecian—”
“You asked him three questions, Tess,” I snapped. “If you want answers, you should speak to me.”
“Well, you did decide to show up for work,” the weasel said. I glared at her. Tess was a stately woman with short white hair held in place with some kind of industrial-strength gel. She was a couple of years older than me, an inch or two taller depending on the shoes she wore. I felt like a teenage girl in the shadow of a glamorous older sister. She was wearing a coral jacket and skirt with a white blouse. As usual, she looked like she had stepped out of a Nordstrom catalog. “And you’re late, you who insist that every meeting start the precise moment the second hand sweeps by the appointed time.” She paused and drank in my appearance. “What did you do? Sleep under the pier? You look like death warmed over.”
“Go away, Tess,” I grumbled. “I have a pain in my head, I don’t need one in my—” I stopped, once again trying to tame my tongue. It remained a battle. My mouth has been my greatest asset and a constant liability. Some days I’m more successful than others. I had a feeling this was going to be the one of my less successful days.
“No wonder city hall is falling into disarray. Its leader is as slipshod as some of its employees.”
I walked past the iceberg in panty hose and plopped down behind my desk. Tess followed. “What do you want, Tess?”
She folded her arms across her narrow chest and gave me a hard don’t-you-take-that-tone-with-me look. “It’s about tonight’s council meeting. As you know, we still elect the deputy mayor from the council. Since this is the first meeting since the new year began, we should address that issue straightaway.”
“Straightaway, eh?” I wrestled down a smirk. Tess must be watching the BBC again.
“Yes, straightaway. Councilman Wu served last year. Councilman Adler thinks I should have the position—”
“I wonder where he got that idea,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing. You want me to cast my vote for you, too. Is that it?”
“I imagine Wu will nominate Titus Overstreet.”
I already knew that for a fact. “So your fear is that Jon will nominate you, Titus will nominate Larry, and the vote will be split, leaving me to cast the deciding vote. Have I got it right?”
“Well, yes. Put succinctly, that’s it.”
“I doubt you have anything to worry about.” The thought of Tess as deputy mayor made me feel funny inside—like the early stages of the flu.
She seemed stunned. “You’re going to vote for me? I mean it makes sense and it w
ould send a strong message having two women at the helm.”
“You wouldn’t be at the helm, Tess, and you know that. The role of deputy mayor is ceremonial and only has policy implications in my absence. And no, I plan on voting for Titus.”
“You said I didn’t have anything to worry about.”
“I said I doubted that you have anything to worry about. Titus is too much of a gentleman to vote for himself. It is his most endearing attribute but also one of his weaknesses. I imagine he’ll abstain.”
“That would leave the vote split. You and Larry on one side; Jon and myself on the other. What happens then?”
“Then the council is hung, and we don’t have a deputy mayor.”
“Our rules of order demand that we have one,” she retorted.
“Yes, they do. I suggest you go make nice with Titus and Larry. Mend a few fences—mend a lot of fences.”
“There’s no chance you’d vote for me?” For the briefest of seconds, I thought I detected a touch of hurt in the statement, but then it was gone.
“Not today, Tess. Not after I caught you harassing my aide.”
A frown scarred her face. I could see her jaw clench. “You need help to run this city, Mayor. You need someone who isn’t afraid to speak their mind, someone who is willing to call people on the carpet for neglecting their duties.”
“This city doesn’t need Big Brother–Big Sister peering over everyone’s shoulders. We have good staff and employees.”
“Really? You mean like Ms. Fritz? You know she hasn’t shown up for work today—”
“Tess—”
“The front desk is vacant. The public has a right to expect a proper greeting—”
“Tess—”
“Instead they get an empty desk.” She bared her teeth. I had never seen Tess so angry, and I knew it had nothing to do with Fritzy. “I’m going to speak to her the moment she arrives. We should have forced her to retire years ago. A woman her age—”
“Shut up.” Heat rose up my neck and cheeks. It must have been visible. Tess’s tirade stumbled.
“What did you say to me?”
“I told you to shut up. You know, close your yap. Zip it. Stop talking.”
“You can’t talk to me that way.”
“I just did and trust me, there’s a whole lot more I’m not saying.” I stood and leaned over my desk. Tess took a step back. “The city employees answer to the city manager, not to you. Clear? You will not speak to Fritzy. You try and scold her, and I’ll be there the first second after your first word, and you won’t like it.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. My lack of sleep and my raw nerves had stripped away some of my control. I was a half second away from bounding over the desk and dribbling the woman around the office like a basketball. The feeling was out of character for me, but my emotional engine was running hot. I was beginning to frighten myself. I looked past Tess and saw Floyd standing just outside the door. His face was white.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to sit down. “Fritzy won’t be in today. She won’t be in for several days.” Tears were percolating to the top again. I couldn’t tell if I was feeling sorry for Fritzy or myself or was just crying mad. “Her husband died last night. He was murdered. She called me early this morning.”
Tess worked her mouth again, but nothing was forthcoming. Her gaping maw made me think of a bass.
“I’ll make sure that we get someone to cover the desk this morning.”
“I . . . I didn’t know.” She lowered her gaze.
“Tess, you need to learn to find out the facts before you start working your mouth. Now go away.”
“Mayor—”
I raised a hand. “Just go away.”
Tess left without another word. I considered it a miracle. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. My neck was tightening like a watch spring and my body felt like rigor mortis was setting in.
“You okay?”
I opened my eyes. Floyd, still white faced, stood in the doorway. “I’ve been better.”
“Poor Fritzy. Murdered?” He shook his head.
“Yes. That’s what she told me.”
“What can I do?”
I leaned forward. “I’m spent, Floyd.” I looked at my watch. I was ninety minutes late to work and had only been on the scene fifteen minutes, yet I felt like I had put in double overtime. “Make a tour of the office. Tell everyone, council members, city staff, city hall employees, that I want to meet with them in council chambers in thirty minutes. I have to announce this, and I want to do it just once.”
“Will do.” He started to turn.
“But first, see if you can get your father on the phone. I need his professional help.”
chapter 9
I stood, not behind the raised, curved council bench but before it. I wanted to be on the same level as those who gathered at my request. The council chamber was home to me. Every Tuesday, we held public meetings here. Today, however, the meeting was private.
A few arrived looking shell-shocked. The word had spread before I could make the formal announcement. I had Tess Lawrence to thank for that, I’m sure.
I wasted no time in delivering the news about Jim Fritz. Everyone—with the exception of Jon and Tess—loved Fritzy. It was best to pour out the news quickly and let each person deal with it in his own manner. On the first row sat the council members, the city attorney, city manager, city clerk, and other executives of Santa Rita. The seats of the council chamber were filled with various receptionists from other departments, secretaries, inspectors who were still in the building, and others. They took the news as well as anyone could in that environment, but I saw tears in the eyes of some. Others crossed themselves, some sat rock still as if I had been Medusa and turned them to stone.
I watched as what had started as a chattering group of employees shuffled back to work with the shocking news still simmering in their brains. As the others left, Titus and Larry tried to comfort me. They were good men. Floyd stood nearby looking every bit the broken reed.
“What else can we do?” Titus asked. I looked into his dark face and saw sincerity and concern.
“We should do something for Fritzy. Flowers and . . . and . . . I don’t know.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Titus said. “If she needs any help with . . . you know . . . costs, just let me know.”
“That goes for me, too,” Larry added, his Oriental face revealing his sorrow.
“I promised to help her make arrangements,” I said. “The next few days are going to be especially hard.”
“I assume she has leave on the books,” Larry interjected. “If not, I’d be happy to make a motion in tonight’s council meeting that we extend some time with pay for her.”
“It’s a good thought,” I agreed. “I’ll check with Fred and see if that’s legal. If not, we’ll find another way of getting it done.” Fred Markham was our city attorney.
A chipper tune filled the air: a tinny Mozart piece. I glanced at Floyd who fumbled for his cell phone. He said a few things, then directed his attention to me. “My dad’s here.”
chapter 10
My first inclination was to ask Floyd to find his father and show him to my office, but I changed my mind. The council chambers were empty now and I didn’t want to go back to my office. I kept seeing Fritzy’s empty desk.
“Madam Mayor.” A booming voice echoed in the empty assembly room. I turned to see a deeply tanned man with stark white hair enter through the private corridor reserved for city staff. He had broad shoulders, dancing blue eyes, and a dimple in his chin. He wore a light gray knit turtleneck and a blue blazer. His pants were the same shade of gray as his shirt. His smile dimmed the lights.
“Pastor Lenny, thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“No problem.” He approached and shook my hand. “You know we ministers only work on Sundays. The rest of the time is spent on the golf course.”
“I haven’t been in
church life very long, Pastor, but I’m pretty sure that’s not true.” Actually, I knew it wasn’t true. I have a habit of learning as much about the people I spend time with as possible. I had been going to Ocean Hills Community Church for less than a year. It had been Pastor Lenny who baptized me. Pastor Lenny Grecian—what a name.
“Let’s have a seat.” I took the few steps necessary to reach the front row of the gallery.
“I have a confession to make,” he said.
“Isn’t that my line?” It was a lighthearted comment mired in heavyhearted emotion. I was compensating.
A polite laugh burbled from the man. “I’m not a priest,” he said. “I confess, I’ve never been in this room before. I suppose I should take a greater interest in city life.” Small talk meant to put me at ease. He was good.
“Most people find it boring. The chamber seats two-hundred-fifty people, but I’ve seen it full only two or three times. Usually, we have a handful of people and the occasional senior citizen who finds this more interesting than television. Unless you have a love for civic matters, this is the dullest place on a Tuesday night. I’ve seen a lot of people nod off.” I wrung my hands.
“I’ll bet I’ve seen more,” he said with a smile. There was a soft kindness in his eyes.
“I doubt it.”
Pastor Lenny was not dynamic. He did not pound the pulpit or wave his Bible, but he could fix the attention of his listeners faster than anyone I have ever seen. He was more teacher than preacher but his communication skills were phenomenal. If you fell asleep in one of his sermons it was because you weren’t listening or were on medication. “Where’s Floyd?”
“My son said you might want to talk to me alone, so he bowed out and went back to the office. By the way, how’s he doing?”
Before Another Dies Page 6