The Incumbent Read Free

sources, depending on the time of year. During the summer months, the rare rainstorm crawls up from the south, first showering Baja Mexico before working its way up the coast. In the winter, storms drop down from Alaska like brakeless freight trains. Those have a sour and chilling impact. This February day a monster was visiting us from the north.
    The drive had been easier than expected. The rain had driven most people indoors to warm themselves in the glow of the television. Webb piloted the car over the slick streets with confidence. He said nothing. The chief was puzzled and I couldn’t blame him. Our city is large enough to have its share of crime, but abductions and murders are rare, at least when compared with bigger cities.
    This crime was an enigma for Webb. It didn’t take a psychologist to realize that. While I found him to be annoying and egotistical, he was a good chief of police. I had to hand that to him. I’d never found his work wanting or improper. What he thought of me I could only guess, and I never wasted time worrying about it.
    Light from street lamps spilled in through the windshield at regular intervals, like a strobe light in slow motion. With each influx I could see my reflection in the passenger-side window. Staring back was a thirty-eight-year-old woman with shoulder-length brown hair, narrow nose, and weary hazel eyes. My complexion looked pale but that was to be expected. The window was a poor mirror, its impromptu image unintentional. Still, I felt pale.
    “Why Lisa?” I asked, breaking the silence.
    “Don’t know. If it’s a murder, then it could be many reasons: passion, greed, anger. If it’s a kidnapping, it could be profit-motivated. Did . . . does she have money?”
    “Some, I suppose. Her ex-husband is an executive in one of the oil companies. He used to work on the offshore drilling rigs. Years ago he started taking night classes in business. He worked his way up.”
    “So she’s divorced.”
    “He grew tired of family life and went off to find himself; took a twenty-four-year-old receptionist with him so he wouldn’t lose his way.”
    “Conscientious, eh?”
    “That would require a conscience. He left Lisa and Celeste . . .” I paused to think. “About four years ago, or so.”
    “So she was supporting herself?”
    “She works as an accountant for a construction company, but I remember her saying that she gets a large alimony payment. I don’t think she needs the money; probably just wants to stay busy. I imagine she spends much of her time alone.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Celeste is nineteen and attending the University of Santa Barbara. She’s gone a lot. Maybe that’s why she works, to pay for her daughter’s college.”
    “Do Ms. Truccoli and her daughter get along?”
    “Oh, come on. You can’t be implying—”
    “I’m not implying anything. I’m asking questions, that’s it.”
    I took a deep breath. I was taking this harder than I realized. “I’m sorry. This has me on edge.”
    “Do they get along?”
    “As far as I know, but I’m not her confidant. We meet for lunch about once a month. I take my key volunteers out from time to time. Good helpers are hard to come by and I want to keep them on my team. A few lunches throughout my term keeps everyone in touch. Last time we met, she was saying how proud she was of Celeste. Still, if there had been problems, I wouldn’t have known.”
    “And the husband?”
    “Never met him. They were still married during my last council race but divorced sometime during my term. I’m guessing here, but I think they were at odds long before I met her.”
    “Do you know where the husband is now?”
    “Not specifically. Lisa said something about Texas, along the Gulf, I think.”
    Webb grunted.
    “He might be worth investigating,” I said.
    “I’ll leave that up to Detective West. He’s the investigator; I’m just lending a hand.” He turned down a street that I recognized as Lisa’s. “Ever been