The Incumbent Read Online Free PDF

cheeks bore a tan, in usual Southern California fashion. He wore a cerulean-colored shirt with a striped gold tie. On his shoulders hung a sport coat that was a shade darker than the blue of his shirt. His beige pants looked as if they had just come from the tailors, pressed and new.
    “Mrs. Glenn?” He corrected himself. “I mean, Mayor Glenn?”
    “Yes.”
    “I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.”
    Good-looking and polite. I invited him in. “I wasn’t expecting anyone this early. You’ve caught me . . .” I looked down at my robe and slippers.
    “I apologize.” If the awkward moment made him uncomfortable, he didn’t show it. “I’m an early riser and I have a busy day. If you want to change, I’d be happy to wait.”
    “I think I’ll do that. First I want to know if you’ve discovered anything about Lisa.”
    “Me too,” I heard from behind me. Celeste was standing a few feet from the staircase. I started to introduce them but remembered that they must have met the previous night at Lisa’s house.
    “Miss Truccoli.” West nodded.
    “Hi.” Celeste gave a polite smile, but it was clear there was no happiness there, just eager anticipation. “Do you have any news about my mother?”
    The detective’s countenance darkened and he shook his head. “I’m afraid not, but we’re working hard on the case.”
    “It will only take me a minute to change,” I said. “Can I pour you some coffee?”
    “You go ahead. I can wait.”
    “Well, why don’t you wait in the nook? The coffee pot is there if you want to help yourself.” I motioned toward the back of the house.
    “That sounds good,” he said and walked to the eating area.
    Celeste started up the stairs and I followed. “What do you feel like wearing today?” I asked as I caught up with her.
    She just shrugged and continued taking one step after another. I put an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll have Maria wash what you were wearing yesterday. In the meantime I think we can find something comfortable for you.”
    “That’s okay. I’ll just wear what I wore last night.” She plodded up the steps as if concrete weighted her feet, her brief moment of hope torpedoed.
    Ten minutes later we emerged from our respective bedrooms. Celeste was wearing the jeans and Yale sweatshirt she had changed into the night before. I had showered earlier and, not wanting to dress twice, I donned my clothes for the office.
    We found West standing in front of the French doors, staring at the gentle surf.
    “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” I said.
    “No problem.” He turned. There was a cup of coffee in his hand, black like his hair. He had taken me up on my offer. “It’s my fault for stopping by without calling. I wanted to catch you before you left for the office.”
    “Have a seat.” I motioned to one of the chairs around the table. He did, setting his cup on the glass top, but he first removed a napkin from a holder I keep on the table and put it beneath the cup. A house-trained man; I was amazed. Celeste lowered herself into a chair.
    “I wanted to bring you up to date and ask a few questions, if I may.”
    If I may? He was a police detective; I wasn’t sure we had much choice.
    “You don’t have any news about my mom?” Celeste asked again. “None at all?”
    “I’m sorry. Not yet.” He looked at her with sad, empathetic eyes. “The good news is that there’s no . . . What I mean to say is . . .”
    “Body,” Celeste blurted.
    “Exactly. That gives us a little more hope that she’s still alive. Unfortunately, we have very little to go on. Crime techs are dusting the house for fingerprints; we’ve done a blood scan, and that came up negative. We also—”
    “Excuse me,” I said. “A blood scan?”
    “It’s a technique investigators use to find blood that someone may have cleaned up. It’s close to impossible to remove all traces of blood. The process involves a chemical spray called Luminol. It glows greenish