“We’re having a meeting,” she said to Mungo.

“And I got something you’re going to want to hear about.” He proudly held up the videotape. “Definitely a player, maybe even more, maybe even our killer or at least involved.” Mungo was breathless and looked like a biker.

Hammer had been on the phone ever since West had seen her last, and West got on the radio and told her boss to give her a call.

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” West told her. “But it sounds pretty promising.”

“Describe him,” Hammer said.

“White male, five-foot-seven, one-thirty pounds, blond, tight black jeans, tight polo-type shirt, Nikes. Strolling the area of Fifth and Trade, looking at cars, talking to hookers. Apparently he was in the Presto talking about the quality of drugs in the area and local sources, words to that effect. Also,” West went on, “and this bothers me considerably, chief, you’re aware of Poison, a.k.a. Addie Jones?”

“Right.” Hammer had no idea.

“They were in the Cadillac Grill together for quite a long time. She left, and he went out right after her. At that point they split, seemingly off to do whatever they were up to.”

“Where’s this videotape?” Hammer wanted to know.

“I’ve got it.”

“You looked at it yet?”

“We use these handheld JVC Grax 900 camcorders for covert operations. Mungo has gone to get the VHS adapter and should have it for me in a minute.”

“Bring it by,” Hammer said to her. “Let’s take a look.”

NINETEEN

In the mayor’s office, Brazil was impatiently perched on a couch, making a note of his surroundings and watching the secretary, Ruth Lafone, answer another call. She felt a little sorry for Andy Brazil, well aware that he was being set up as others before him. Her phone rang again. Ruth answered and smiled. She was pleasant and respectful to the man elected by an overwhelming majority to serve the people of the city. She hung up as she rose from her chair, and looked at Brazil.

“The mayor will see you now,” she said.

Brazil was slightly bewildered. He had no idea how many times he had tried to get comments, interviews, and opinions from Mayor Search. Now the mayor was calling Brazil, finally following up on a request? Which request? Brazil wished he had dressed a little better this day, something besides black jeans that were too small. He had stopped in the men’s room, at least, and had tucked in his faded red Head shirt, which also was a bit too small. Since Brazil had lost a few pounds, his normal clothes were falling off as if he were jailing, so he had dipped into another drawer of jeans and shirts he’d had since high school.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” he said to the secretary as he got off the couch, “is there some purpose to this interview other than my requests to talk to the mayor that go back to the beginning of my career?”