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smart. I guess that’s why you’re
mayor and I’m just a city employee.”
    “Let’s see, who gets the full-time salary?
Wait, don’t tell me. That would be you.”
    “Ah, small town life.” Bob dropped the truck
into gear and drove it out of the parking lot.

Chapter 3
    PERRY KNOCKED LIGHTLY on the wood jamb and waited.
The front door was open, and he could see through the aged screen
door into the simple living room. The house was a white ranch style
that he judged to be less than fifteen hundred square feet. When he
pulled his vehicle up the dirt drive and into the gently sloping
front yard, he noticed that the home was in need of repairs. The
roof was a blanket of weathered composition shingles, many of which
were askew or missing. The walls were covered in shiplap siding
that had been exposed to years of California sun and roughly abused
by decades of persistent wind.
    To the south side of the house stood a simple
vegetable garden, bordered by a three-foot-high fence of chicken
wire to keep out rabbits and squirrels. Now he stood on a creaky
wooden porch waiting for someone to answer his knock. Gentle music
wafted out the door.
    Perry knocked again. The music died, and he
heard the sound of a sliding glass door opening, followed by muted
footsteps. A woman with a wrinkled brown face approached.
    “Yes?” she said softly. She stayed a few
steps back from the door. Perry could see her apprehension.
    “Good afternoon, I’m Perry Sachs. I’m here to
see Hector and Rose Trujillo.”
    “Oh, Señor Sachs,” the woman said with a
broad smile. “I am Rose. Please, come in, come in.” She approached
and pushed the screen door open, and Perry entered. The room was
filled with the lush smells of food, and his stomach came to
attention. “I didn’t know you were going to stop by,” she said. Her
voice was spiced with a Mexican accent but not as strongly as he
had expected. He had spoken to her previously, but only on the
phone and only for a few moments before being handed off to her
husband. “Hector is in the back.” She led the way.
    “I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said.
    “Oh, no. We don’t get much company out here,”
she said.
    “Out here” is right, Perry thought. The
nearest neighbor was several miles away. Nestled in the hills as
the home was, no other house could be seen.
    Rose led Perry through the small living room,
past the dining area, and back outside through a sliding glass
door. “Hector, it’s Señor Sachs.”
    Perry descended a three-step set of creaky
stairs and found himself standing on a cracked concrete patio
covered with a worn, whitewashed latticework that checkered the
floor in squares of shade. The patio was furnished with two
cushioned lounge chairs and two plastic chairs. A small, round
redwood table separated the lounge chairs. On the table were plates
and two half-filled glasses of tea. One plate held only a few
crumbs; the other had a half-eaten portion of casserole.
    A thin, brown man who looked to be in his
early seventies was seated on one of the lounge chairs. Perry knew
the man was only fifty-eight. He was dressed in jeans, a tan work
shirt, and one tennis shoe. Only one shoe was necessary since his
left leg was missing. Next to the chair was a pair of crutches. The
man reached for them.
    “Don’t get up,” Perry said quickly. “I didn’t
mean to disrupt your lunch. I assume you’re Hector.” Perry extended
his hand and approached.
    The man settled back in the chair and shook
hands. “Yes, I’m Hector. It’s good to have a face with the name,”
he said. He smiled, showing straight, white teeth. Perry wondered
why he had expected a gap-toothed grin. “Please sit down. Can Rose
get you some tea?”
    “No, thank you,” Perry said. “I won’t keep
you long. I’m just back in the country, and I’m a little worn out
from the trip. I’m looking forward to a nap in my motel room.”
    “I didn’t expect a personal visit,” Hector
said. His voice was