Then there was West’s bombshell. “I think it’s time we started dating.” That brought on a whole new set of feelings. My innards tingled when he said the words. The logical part of my mind shouted, “Not possible. I’m mayor, and you work on the police force.” To which my heart—at least, I think it was my heart—replied, “So what?” Before West had finished crossing my threshold, the image of Jerry Thomas popped into my mind. That image was trailed by a larger picture of my deceased husband.
I was growing old just sitting in my chair thinking about these things. So I did what I always do. I got busy.
Someplace in his life my father picked up a saying, “Custer would have been a better general if he could have gotten the Indians to come over the hill one at a time.” It was folksy, quaint, and historically inaccurate but it made a point: Take one problem at a time.
It was time for Indian number one: Tess Lawrence. I punched the intercom button on my phone. “Floyd, please call Councilwoman Lawrence and tell her that I’m coming over for a visit.”
I rose, straightened my clothing—a peach cardigan-style coat, matching skirt, white shell top, and spectator pumps with a low heel (my feet still hurt from trotting the boards of the pier last night)—and marched out. Floyd was just hanging up the phone.
“She said she could come down here.” Normally, I preferred to meet in my office. Sitting behind my large desk gave me a psycho logical advantage, but I’d had too much disrupting, even disturbing, news in there. I wanted a change of scenery, even if that scenery was just a few yards down the hall. Besides, I hated putting off confrontation. I waved him off.
I moved through the common area—several desks for secretaries, part-time help, and aides to the other members of the council. My office was the only one with two compartments and my aide the only one with an office to himself. It was one of the perks of being mayor. I walked into the corridor that led to the offices of council members. The offices bracket the hallway, two on either side. Titus and Larry were to my left, Tess and Jon to my right. The corridor had become our equivalent of the Mason-Dixon Line. I glanced to my left and was surprised to see Titus at his desk. I leaned in.
“Shouldn’t you be home or something?”
He smiled at me but the grin lacked some of the brilliance I associated with Titus. No doubt the burden of tomorrow was weighing on him today. “Just cleaning up a few things. I don’t want to come back to a messy desk. Besides . . .” He trailed off.
“Things are a little depressing at home?”
He nodded. “Yeah, my wife is a little worried. I keep telling her that everything is going to be fine, that they caught the cancer early, but she insists on worrying.”
“Wives are that way. It’s part of the contract. Wives who don’t worry get kicked out of the union.”
He laughed. “You speak to Tess yet?”
“I’m going there now, but I have different fish to fry.”
He studied me. “Have you changed your mind about what Larry and I suggested?”
What they had suggested made sense, but having Tess as deputy mayor grated on my nerves, especially now. “I’ll fill you in later.” I turned away but not before seeing Titus’s black face darken. This was important to him, and I felt the cold tide of guilt rising up to remind me that Titus didn’t need more to worry about.
Tess’s door was closed. She knew I was coming. The least she could do was have the door open for me. I knocked.
“Come in.” It sounded more like an order than an invitation. I took a deep breath, suppressed my anger, reminded myself that I was a political professional, and charged.
Tess stood when I entered. I closed the door behind me. “Mayor,” she said with a dip of her head. As usual, she looked impeccable. Prone to dark colors that contrasted with her very short, mousse-laden, bleached-white hair, she wore a charcoal gray pinstripe, very business-looking pantsuit. “Please have a—” I was already seated.
She sat in her chair. Her office, like all council member offices, was two-thirds the size of mine. In the years we had served together I had only been in her cave a handful of times. The desk was a custom- made affair with an Asian feel, made of some dark wood I couldn’t identify. It was neat, orderly, and completely free of personal memorabilia. A few pictures of her with other officeholders adorned the walls, but they were small and not prominently placed. One large piece of art hung on the wall. It was a landscape of Santa Rita as seen from a boat at sea. It caught my eye.
“Is that new?” I asked.
“Three months.”
Perhaps I was avoiding the inevitable but I rose and approached the painting. It was exquisitely done in oils. The colors were vibrant, the detail crisp enough to recognize but not so crisp as to distract from the art. “This is . . . lovely. Who’s the artist?”
“Me.”
I snapped my head around. “Really? I didn’t know you painted.”
She looked wounded. “I imagine there are many things about me you don’t know.”
That stung—twice. Once because she was right and again because I had it coming. I tried a diversionary tactic. “How did you get this perspective? I’ve seen many photos and paintings of the city but never one from sea. Did you work from a photo?”
“I went out on a half-day boat. My husband fished, I painted.” Tess’s husband was an architect, which occasionally required that she recuse herself when any of his projects came before council. “How can I help you, Mayor?” The words were chilly.
I took my seat again. “Two things. Let’s get the nasty business out of the way first. After my fund-raiser last night I was approached by a man who first offered to bend the campaign contribution laws, then suggested that I help him declare eminent domain to obtain a piece of property so his firm can build a restaurant. He said he already had support on the council. I assume that’s you and maybe Jon.”
“Dean Wentworth?”
“So you do know him.” My jaw tightened.
“I met him two days ago—”
I’ve been working on my temper, exercising my patience. All exercise is hard and uphill. This was no different. My tight jaw came loose. “Do you really think I would allow some hotshot executive to come into my city and start snagging people’s property with my help? I will not do that, and I will fight you tooth and nail. How dare you work behind my back?”
“Mayor—”
“You know the council has leaned in the direction of the small business owner—”
“Mayor, please.”
“No. You are out of line. Your actions are unethical. If he offered you money for your next campaign, and you took it—”
That must have struck a cord. She slammed her hand on the desk, filling the room with a pop that sounded like gunfire.
“That is enough! You’re the one out of line.” She stood and leaned over the desk and stabbed the air with a manicured finger. “I tried to tell you about it. I phoned your office to set up a meeting but you blew me off. If you made a little time for every member of the council and not just your favorites you could have saved yourself this meeting and been prepared for Wentworth. But no. Not you. It’s your way or no way.”
“My door is always open,” I started, but she had more steam to vent.
“No, it’s not. My access to you is limited, and it’s limited by you. You’ve been pushing me away for years, acting as if I’m going to sneak up and stab you in the back.”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” She sat down again. “We don’t agree on many things. Truth is, I think you’re a poor mayor, but you are the mayor. And I’m not pretending to be the good gal here. I’m acerbic, quick tempered, and driven. Yes, I know that. I do live with myself, you know. You’re no peach either. I’ll grant you that you’re the darling of city hall, at least for most people, and I’m not, nor will I ever be. I’ve never been popular. I’ve always been on the fringe. Frankly, I don’t care. I am who I am. But one thing I am not
is crooked. How dare you suggest that I’d take inappropriate money.”
I felt wounded and like an injured she-bear I felt compelled to fight back. “Oh, please. Lie to me if you wish, but don’t lie to yourself. You’re opportunistic and you know it. You’re always looking for the next step up.”
“I’m not the one running for congress.”
That stabbed like an ice dagger. “No, but you were thinking about it.”
“Yes, I was, and pulled out once you made known your decision to run.”
“What?”
“I had been working a plan to run for the seat for two years.” She took several deep breaths. “I put it on hold.”
“Why?” It was the best response I could come up with. My blood was pumping so hard I was finding it difficult to think.
“Because I can’t beat you. Is that what you want to hear? I can’t beat you, Maddy. I never could. Your image is better, your people skills are better, your speaking is better, everything you do is better. You’re even prettier. My running against you would be a waste of time and money.”
I didn’t know what to say. I knew she had wanted to run for the seat, but she never announced. I had assumed I had just beaten her to the punch.
She lowered her voice. She seemed to melt into the chair. “And for your information, I sent Wentworth packing. If he has someone on the council, it isn’t me.”
I sat there in silence trying to figure out if she was lying to me or telling the truth. “You didn’t promise to help him?”
“Of course not. Have you ever known me to do something like that?”
Of course I did. There was that time . . . well, surely the time she . . . A light of understanding dawned in my brain. I was an idiot. Titus and Larry had said that Tess had never done anything to hurt the city. “I thought that maybe you and Jon . . .”
“I can’t speak for Jon,” Tess grumbled. “You’ll have to talk to him yourself, although you might try getting some facts before you do.”
Another slap, but I was beginning to feel like I deserved it. I fumbled for something to say. I wanted to strike out, wanted to give Tess a verbal beating that would leave her bruised for the next decade, but I couldn’t come up with the words, or the reason. I had drawn conclusions based on no facts whatsoever. I was mute, but Tess wasn’t.
“Do you know what property Wentworth wants declared blighted?” I didn’t, and I confessed it. She frowned at my ignorance. “It’s the corner of Ventura Boulevard and Barker Road.”
That was on the fringes of old town Santa Rita. I tried to imagine that area. It was close enough to one of the larger residential areas but still near to the freeway. Location, location, location was the realtor’s motto. That corner had it. If memory served, one could see the ocean from that lot. “Johnny Jake’s Tires?”
Tess nodded. “After I showed Wentworth the outside of my door, I did some research and took a drive. The tire store has been there since 1946. John Jake founded it after he returned home from fighting in World War II. He passed it on to his son in 1980. His grandson took over five years ago. It’s been a family business all along. Did Wentworth tell you that he had made an offer on the property?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t. At least according to Tony Jake, the grandson. He told me he’s never heard of Wentworth or Rutger Howard. Wentworth never made an offer. The property is too expensive, and the Jake family knows it. What Wentworth wants is for us to declare it blighted, seize it through eminent domain, and then sell it on the cheap to Howard’s company on the promise of improved business and a greater tax base. I’m smelling serious stink here.”
I had come to Tess’s office to set her straight, but she had turned the tables on me. Not only had she not agreed to help Wentworth and cronies but had given him the figurative back of her hand. Then she did what I should have done: she got the information and details.
A hot silence settled between us. I had been declawed. Like a child trying to catch bubbles in the wind, I was snatching at words. I needed to apologize. I really did. “You think he’s trying to work us with smoke and mirrors?”
She nodded. Her jaw was clamped like a vise. “He lied to me the first five minutes we were together. I will assume he’s lying about everything else.”
“Let me ask you something, Tess.” I cleared my throat. It didn’t need clearing but my mind did. “Do you think his telling me he had help on the council was just to get us at each other’s throats?”
“Since I can’t read his mind, I can’t say, but I know how guys like him work. He’s the front guard, the guy who scouts out the terrain, and sows seeds of doubt. Rutger Howard is going to be the real problem. If the messenger is evil there’s little doubt the message sender is worse.” Then she shrugged. “Of course, I don’t know that he doesn’t have someone in his pocket. I can tell you, I’m not there. Maybe he got to Jon, but I doubt it. Jon’s a criminal defense lawyer; he knows what such deals can lead to. Jon can be selfish, we all can, but I don’t think he’d do anything that will ultimately end with the words ‘five to ten years.’”
Tess always struck me as a cold woman, frosty in mind and heart. She was brutally blunt, impossible to intimidate, annoyingly persistent, and had several personal agendas. She was not a nice person. Not around me anyway. At the moment, I felt like I had become her clone.
“You said there were two things,” she prompted. “Was there some other crime you wanted to accuse me of?”
“Larry and Titus came to me and convinced me that I was wrong in my resisting your desire to be deputy mayor.”
“Well, at least you’re consistent, Mayor.”
“I want to say that I won’t stand in the way. Even without my vote you’ll be a shoo-in.”
“Four to one, eh.” She frowned. “No thanks. I don’t know what brought about this change of heart, but I’m no longer interested. You and I are too far apart on some of the issues and personally. Especially personally, now. Work out some other deal.”
Titus was depending on her saying yes. I had just torpedoed my biggest supporter. “Don’t say no yet. We vote next Tuesday. Perhaps you’ll change your mind.”
“I won’t.” Her phone rang, and she answered. “It’s your detective friend. He says your aide told him you were here.”
I leaned forward and took the phone. I listened for a moment then said a thank-you and handed the receiver back to Tess. Standing, I looked at the painting. I never imagined she had that kind of talent. The painting was . . . sensitive. Returning my attention to Tess I asked, “Will you be in this afternoon?” She nodded. “I’m calling us into a closed-door session at two. Can you make that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know if Jon will be available?”
Her jaw muscles began to swell in strain again. “You’ll have to ask him. I don’t keep his calendar.” A moment later, she relented. “He said something about being in court today but that he would swing by around one.”
“Thanks. I’ll leave a message with his service.” I headed for the door and opened it.
“By the way, Mayor,” Tess said. “I take offense at you calling this your city. The city belongs to all of us, and I don’t mean just the council.”
A dark part of me wanted to take another verbal swing at my antagonist but I squelched it. We had knocked heads many times, and I believed that I had won every battle. But I had just gone ten rounds with her, and it had left me winded and bleeding in the corner. I looked at the painting again. “It really is a lovely piece of art, Tess.”
I left and walked back to my office, head down like a dog too well-acquainted with a rolled-up newspaper. I would have spent the rest of the morning licking my wounds if I hadn’t had other things on my mind.
I had one foot in the office when I said, “Floyd, I’m calling an emergency closed-door session with the members of the council. Make calls. It will be at two in the conference room. I want the city attorney there as well. Councilman Adler may be in court so
leave a message at his office.”
He stood. “Is there something wrong?”
“Just make the calls, Floyd, and be prepared to take notes at two. Oh, and Fred Markham. We were to meet at ten thirty. Tell him hold it until two.”
“Yes, ma’am. Don’t forget you have a meeting with Doug Turner.”
My stomach took an elevator ride. I had forgotten. My confrontation with Tess had wiped my mental slate clean. “Is he here?” I looked in my office. Empty.
“No, but he called and said he was on his way.”
“The day just gets better and better.”
chapter 24
I had had enough of the office, and it wasn’t even noon. Claustrophobia settled on me like a fog, which was unusual. I’m an office person. I like the security of four walls and the ability to control temperature and mood. While waiting for Doug Turner to show up, my office began to shrink and the air became stale. I knew nothing in the building had changed but things in me had. My emotional stew had come to a boil, and I didn’t like it. What I wanted to do was ponder West’s words about dating, but the heated exchange between Tess and me, and West’s latest call forced all that to the back of the train.
I pulled Floyd off the Rutger Howard research I had asked him to do the day before and put him to work on the two o’clock meeting. Since Nat made her living researching events and people and she had committed herself to learning what she could, it was redundant to have Floyd do the same work, work he wouldn’t be able to do as well.
Before Another Dies Page 14