After Dark (7 page)

"Then why would someone ransack Laura's office?"

"I don't know. A burglar wouldn't be interested in legal briefs and transcripts. No one except the lawyers and judges involved in a particular case would be interested in them."

"What about jewelry, cash?"

"Laura didn't have much money and I never saw her with any jewelry worth killing for."

"Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt her? Did she have a boyfriend, an ex-husband with a grudge?"

"Laura was single. As far as I know, she didn't have a boyfriend. She kept to herself, so there might have been someone I didn't know about, but . . ." Tracy paused.

"Yes?" Bricker asked.

"I feel odd about this."

"About what?"

"Is what I tell you confidential?"

"Our reports have to be revealed to the defense in certain cases, if there's an arrest, but we try to keep confidences."

"I don't know if I . . ."

"Tracy, your friend was murdered. If you know something that could help us catch the killer . . ."

Tracy told Detective Bricker how Laura had been acting and about the incident between Justice Pope and Laura in the library.

"It may have been nothing," Tracy concluded. "Laura never said Pope tried anything, but it was obvious to me he'd made a pass at her."

"Okay. Thanks. If I talk to Justice Pope about this, I won't tell him my source. Can you think of anything else that might help?"

Tracy shook her head wearily.

"Okay. You've been a big help, but you look like you're at the end of your rope. I'm going to have someone drive you home. I may want to speak to you again," Bricker said, handing Tracy her business card, "and if anything else comes to you . . ."

"I'll definitely call, only I don't think I know anything I haven't told you. I can't imagine why anyone would want to kill Laura."

Tracy waited on the landing while an officer checked her apartment. She was exhausted and had to lean against the railing to keep herself erect.

It was hard to believe that Laura, to whom she'd spoken only hours before, was no longer alive.

"Everything's okay, miss," the policeman said. Tracy hadn't heard him step out of the apartment and she jumped slightly. "I checked the rooms, but you make certain you lock up tight. I'll cruise by every hour, just in case."

Tracy thanked the policeman. She locked up, as he'd advised.

Tracy wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she wondered if she could.

The first thing she noticed when she entered her bedroom was the flashing light on her answering machine. Tracy collapsed on her bed and played back her only message. Laura's voice made her gasp.

"Tracy, I'm in trouble. I have to talk to you. It's nine-oh-five.

Please call me as soon as you get in, no matter how late it is. I have to . . ."

Tracy heard a doorbell ringing in the background just before Laura stopped speaking. There was a pause, then Laura finished the message.

"Please call me. I don't know what to do. Please."

Chapter FIVE in the days following Laura's death, everyone at the court tiptoed around Tracy as if she had some rare disease, except for Justice Sherzer, who invited Tracy to move in with her. She declined, insisting on staying alone in her apartment and facing her fears.

Friday was oppressively humid. The portable fan barely stirred the air in Tracy's tiny office. The workmen's compensation case she was working on was as dry as dust and the heat made it hard to concentrate. Tracy was taking a sip from a diet Coke she had purchased more for the ice than the drink when Arnold Pope stormed in. His face was florid and he glowered at Tracy. With his bristly flattop and heavy jowls, he reminded her of a maddened bulldog.

"Did you talk to a woman named Bricker about me?" Pope demanded.

Tracy was frightened by the sudden verbal assault, but she refused to show it.

"I don't appreciate your yelling at me, Justice Pope," she said firmly as she stood to confront the judge.

"And I don't appreciate a clerk talking about me behind my back, young lady."

"What is this about?" Tracy asked, fighting to keep her tone even.

"I just had a visit from Detective Heidi Bricker of Salem PD.

She said someone accused me of making a pass at Laura Rizzatti in the library. She wouldn't tell me who'd made the accusation, but only three of us were there. Did you think I wouldn't figure out who was slandering me?"

"I told Detective Bricker what I saw."

"You never saw me make a pass at Laura Rizzatti, because that never happened. Now, I want you to call her and tell her you lied."

"I'll do no such thing," Tracy answered angrily.

"Listen, young lady, you're just starting your legal career. You don't want to make enemies. Either you call that detective OF . . .

"Is something wrong?" Justice Griffen asked from the doorway. He was wearing a short-sleeve white shirt. His top button was open and his red-and-yellow paisley-print tie was loosened.

The heat had dampened his hair and it fell across his forehead.

From a distance, he could have been mistaken for one of the clerks.

Pope whirled around. "This is between Miss Cavanaugh and me, he said.

"Oh? I thought I heard you threatening her."

"I don't care what you think, Griffen. I'm not going to stand still while this girl makes false accusations about me behind my back."

"Calm down, Arnold. Whatever happened between you and Ms. Cavanaugh, this is no way to deal with it. All the clerks can hear you yelling at her."

Pope's shoulders hunched. He looked like he was going to say something to Griffen, then he changed his mind and turned back to Tracy.

"I expect you to make that call. Then I'll expect an apology."

Pope pushed past Griffen and stormed down the hall and out of the clerks' area. As soon as the door slammed, Griffen asked, "Are you okay?"

Tracy nodded, afraid that the judge would see how frightened she was if she spoke.

"What was that about?"

Tracy hesitated.

"Please," Griffen said. "I want to help."

"I told something to the police. Something about Justice Pope and Laura. That's why he was upset."

"What happened between them?"

"I . . . I really shouldn't say. I don't have anything more than suspicions. Maybe I was wrong to tell the police in the first place."

"Tracy, I feel terrible about what happened to Laura. If you know something, you have to tell me."

Tracy hesitated, not certain if she should go on.

"What is it, Tracy?"

"I think Justice Pope was bothering Laura."

"In what way?"

"Sexually. I... There was an incident in the library. I couldn't hear what Justice Pope said but it looked like he was making a pass at her.

When I asked Laura what happened, she wouldn't come out and accuse him, but she was very upset. Laura was disturbed a lot recently. She looked like she wasn't sleeping and she was very jumpy."

"And you think that was because Arnold was bothering her?"

"I don't know."

Griffen considered what Tracy had told him. Then he closed the door to her office and sat down.

"I'm going to tell you something in confidence. You'll have to promise never to discuss this with anyone."

"Of course."

"We've had trouble with Arnold Pope since he came on the court. Justice Kamsky was highly respected. He was not only brilliant, he was very practical. I can't tell you how many times he was able to break a deadlock among the justices with his insights.

"When Pope beat Ted in the election we were crushed. Ted was not only the court's finest justice but a dear friend to us all.

Still, we tried to treat Pope as a colleague. We bent over backward to be fair to him. But the man's been a disaster. And one of the worst problems we've had has been his relations with women.

"Stuart had a long talk with Pope about his conduct after we received complaints from a secretary and a woman clerk. We all hoped he learned his lesson, but it appears he hasn't."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll discuss what you've told me with Stuart, but I don't think there's anything we can do. You're our only witness and you can't say what really happened. But it helps us to know that there's still a problem.

"I hope you understand why you can't talk about this. The image of the court is very important. People have to believe that they are receiving justice when we decide matters. It's the public's acceptance of our decision-making authority that maintains the rule of the law. Any scandal weakens the public's image of what we do."

"I've already told the police."

"Of course. You had to. And I appreciate your candor with me."

Now it was Griffen's turn to pause. He looked uncomfortable.

"You were Laura's friend, weren't you?"

"I'd like to think that, but Laura was tough to get to know."

"Oh?" Griffen said, surprised. "I had the impression you two were close."

"Not really. We were the only woman clerks, so we gravitated toward each other, but Laura didn't make friends easily. She came over to my house a few times for dinner and I was at her place once, but she never let her hair down with me." Tracy paused, remembering Laura's last message.

"I think she wanted to that night. I think she was desperate for a friend. I wish . . ."

Tracy let the thought trail off. Griffen leaned forward.

"Alice told me about the call. Don't blame yourself. There's nothing you could have done."

"I know that, but it doesn't make me feel any better."

"Laura was a tough person to befriend. I try to get to know my clerks.

We go fishing or hiking a few times during the year. You know, do something that has nothing to do with law. Laura always had some excuse. I tried to draw her out, but our relationship stayed strictly professional. Still, recently I also had the feeling that something was troubling her. She seemed on the verge of confiding in me a few times, then she would back off. When I heard she'd been killed . . . I don't know . . . I guess I felt I'd failed her in some way. I was hoping she'd told you what was troubling her."

"You should take your own advice. If I'm not allowed to blame myself, how can you feel guilty?"

Griffen smiled. He looked tired. "It's always easier to give advice than to take it. I liked Laura. She seemed to be very decent. I wish she trusted me more. Maybe she would have told me what was bothering her and I could have helped."

"She trusted you a lot, Judge. She was your biggest fan. She looked up to 'you."

"That's nice to know."

Justice Griffen stood up. Before he left, he said, "You should know that your reputation among the justices is excellent. You aren't only the best clerk we've had this term but one of the finest lawyers I've worked with since I started on the court. I'm sure you'll make an excellent attorney." Tracy blushed.

"Thanks for talking to me," Griffen continued. "I know this has been hard for you. If there's ever anything I can do for you, I'd be pleased if you would consider me a friend."

Raoul Otero was wearing a custom-tailored gray suit with a fine blue weave, a white silk shirt and a yellow-and-blue Hermes tie.

In the subdued lighting of Casa Maria, he could easily be mistaken for a successful executive, but a brighter light would have revealed the pockmarked face and wary eyes of a child of Mexico City's most dangerous slum.

"You're looking good for a dead man, amigo," Otero said as he threw his arms around Charlie Deems. Otero was putting on weight, but Deems could still feel muscle as the big man smothered him.

"I'm feeling good," Deems said when Otero let him go.

"You know Bobby Cruz?" Otero asked. A thin man with a sallow complexion and a pencil-thin mustache was sitting quietly in the center of the booth. He had not risen when Otero greeted Deems, but his pale eyes never left Charlie.

"Sure. I know Bobby," Deems said. Neither seemed pleased to see the other. Cruz was wearing an open-necked white shirt and a sports jacket.

Deems knew Cruz was armed, but he was not concerned about Otero's bodyguard.

"So," Otero said, sliding back into the booth, "how does it feel to be out?"

"Better than being in," Deems cracked. Otero laughed.

"That's what I like about you, amigo. You got a sense of humor. Most guys, they'd come off the row all bitter. You, you're making jokes."

Deems shrugged.

"We already ate," Otero said, gesturing apologetically at the remains of his meal. "You want a beer, some coffee?"

"That's okay, Baoul. I'd rather get down to business. I've got fifteen and I want a key."

Otero looked uncomfortable. "That may be a problem, Charlie."

"Oh? That's not the price?"

"The price is right, but I can't deal with you right now."

"I know one key ain't much, Raoul, but this is just the beginning. I'm going to be into some big money soon and I just need the key to help me reestablish myself."

"I can't do it."

Deems cocked his head to one side and studied Otero.

"My money was always good before. What's the problem?"

"You're hot. You start dealing and the cops gonna be all over you and everyone you're seen with. There's plenty people still pretty mad about you takin' out that kid. It caused trouble. We couldn't push shit for three months. The operation was almost shut down. I wish you'd talked to me before you done it, amigo."

"Hey," Deems asked, "what was I supposed to do? Stand in a lineup and hope Mr. Citizen didn't pick me? The fuck should have minded his own business."

Otero shook his head. "If you'd come to me, I could have worked it out.

Taking out that little girl was bad for business, Charlie."

Deems leaned across the table. Cruz tensed. Deems ignored Cruz and looked directly into Otero's eyes.

"Was it bad for business when I took care of Harold Shoe?"

Deems asked. "Was it bad for business when I didn't tell the cops the name of the person who thought it would be neato if someone performed unnecessary surgery on Mr. Shoe while he was wide awake?"