who would use gel. The skin of his face was starting to droop, as if it had grown weary of hanging on to the muscles beneath. The scowl was there. It was always there. I’m convinced he was born with that pinched look: blue eyes narrowed, mouth turned down as if he were in chronic pain. He seemed to be in a perpetual state of emotional constipation. Red highlighted the end of his nose and his cheeks, like a man well acquainted with alcohol, except I had never seen him drink.
Chief Webb and I had history. I was not on his Christmas list and he certainly wasn’t on mine.
“Four drops? You found exactly four drops of blood?”
“That’s right.”
“That seems strange.”
“It’s much stranger than you think.” He turned to the window and looked out, staring into the distance. I was just about to ask him for details when he continued. “The drops of blood weren’t discovered on the floor or furniture, like you’d expect to find after a struggle. These were on a card—a white card—and they were evenly spaced.”
“I don’t get it. Could you be less cryptic?”
That made him turn. He eyed me for a moment, as if determining whether I was capable of understanding what he was about to say. “Blood from a fight is never evenly spaced, Madam Mayor. Nor is it perfectly round, as these drops were. Blood splatters and blood streaks, but it never falls in precise drops. These were four perfectly round, evenly spaced spots of blood on a white card . . . like the four corners of a square.”
“A card? What kind of card?”
“A business card, Mayor. Your business card.”
The phone on my desk buzzed. I jumped. Webb stood like a rock. I snatched up the receiver and barked, “Hello.” Dana Thayer, the city clerk, was on the other end.
“It’s been fifteen minutes, Mayor. The council is wondering when you’ll be returning.”
I was five minutes beyond the announced recess time. I was late. “This is going to take some time, Dana. Please inform the council that I won’t be in attendance.” I hung up before she could respond.
“This is an awkward time,” Webb said. I couldn’t tell if he was apologizing for the interruption or reveling in it.
“Larry Wu can handle the meeting. That’s what deputy mayors are for.” I paused, then added, “I suppose you have questions for me.”
He nodded. Then—I could hardly believe my eyes—he smiled.
Being mayor—even mayor of a small city like Santa Rita—has certain privileges. Technically, all the powerful people work for you. This means I can stretch the envelope of social courtesy more than most. I was sure Webb would have loved to walk me out of my office, his hand clamped on my elbow, and escort me across the back parking lot and right into the Police Station. What a sight that would have been. Even the dozing reporter from the Register would have sat up for that one. “Mayor Taken to Police Station for Questioning,” the headline would have read. That would have sold a few extra papers.
I took a seat behind my desk. “Ask your questions.” My desk is a wide, cherry wood affair given to me by my husband before his death. It dominates my small and orderly office. Any interview Chief Webb wished to conduct was going to take place on my turf, where I would gain the advantage. The desk is an extension of me, but more importantly, it is an extension of the mayor’s office. “Sit down,” I said, motioning to a burgundy leather chair opposite the desk. He remained on his feet.
“You knew Ms. Truccoli?”
“I still do know her.”
“How do you know her?”
I sighed. “You know the answer to that, Chief. She worked on my campaign.”
“This last campaign?” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants. Webb dressed with impeccable taste but always in gray. This night he wore a charcoal gray suit, white shirt, and steel-colored tie.
“Yes, and my second city council run. She was treasurer in the last campaign.”
“Important position.”
“California election law requires every campaign to have a treasurer and demands frequent reports from them. A good campaign must have a great treasurer.”
“So she handled the money?”
“She did.” I leaned forward. “She was exceptional, organized, focused, and a clear communicator.”
“So you had no reason to be unhappy with her?”
“None at all, and let me save you some time, Chief. The books balance perfectly. Nothing missing. Nothing extra. Are you assuming that because my business card was