by Libby Howard
Sonny Magoo had full head of gorgeous silver hair, and a tan that looked natural enough to hint at a recent trip to the islands. I knew that he was a state appellate court judge, and immediately realized his opinion would be a factor in whether Judge Beck got the opening or not.
Judge Reynolds was a large florid man in his fifties with a perpetual smile. Instead of the plain black bow tie most attendees sported, his was embellished with brightly colored, gilt-edged candy canes. Ruby Reynolds was also large with an equally cheerful smile. She was quite a bit younger than Judge Reynolds, but I couldn’t tell if she was his wife, his daughter, or if she just shared a last name with the man. Unfortunately Judge Beck’s introductions didn’t specify, and there wasn’t time for clarification before one of the partners at SMS&C began ribbing Judge Reynolds on his attendance.
“Didn’t think you’d be gracing us with your presence, Rhett,” another partner teased. “You refuse to come every year. Isn’t your attendance a violation of your strict ethics code?”
“Maybe he’s going to stand up on stage and subject us to an hour-long lecture on conflict of interest,” another joked.
“I’m shocked security let him in after what he said about police corruption last week.” The tall woman who’d been introduced to me as Irene O’Donnell, a lawyer at SMS&C took a healthy gulp of her wine after the statement.
Judge Rhett Reynolds put an arm around Ruby and squeezed her shoulder. “I thought it would be a good opportunity for Ruby to get out of the office and rub elbows with people outside of our county. Besides, the shrimp cocktail here is legendary.”
The woman beamed up at the older man before shifting her smile to Irene and the others. “I’ll admit I did pester him to come tonight. It’s not like I get many chances to wear a formal gown, you know.”
“It is a beautiful gown.” I admired the emerald green satin dress that hugged the woman’s bosom, then flared out into a wide sweep at her waist. “You look lovely.”
She did. The jewel tone of the gown was the perfect accent to her golden skin, black hair and dark eyes.
A dimple creased her cheek. “Thank you. I love your dress. That embroidery is so striking and elegant.”
Judge Beck touched my elbow and I turned to join him in conversation with Sonny Magoo and Rebecca Stein, one of the partners of SMS&C.
“So you’re a private investigator,” Judge Magoo asked me. “That must be exciting.”
I laughed. “Not as much as the television shows make it out to be. I spend most of my day doing background checks and skip traces. So much investigative work is done over the internet that I have little time for running down criminals in back alleyways.”
“Or taking pictures of a straying husband and his mistress through a hotel window?” He glanced over at a woman in a bright red dress a few feet away as he said that, making me wonder if she was the one cheating or the mistress.
“Thankfully I haven’t had to do that.”
“So are you here tonight on business or pleasure?”
I got an uncomfortable feeling from this man. He seemed bland and jovial enough, but there was something in his eyes that made me think he was digging for information. Was he trying to find something out about Judge Beck that might sway his opinion on my roommate as a candidate for the opening? I couldn’t think of any other reason he would be carefully maneuvering around whatever the heck it was he wanted to know.
“A little of both.” Did he need a private investigator? It seemed gauche to offer him my card in the middle of a party.
“Be careful who you talk to, Ms. Carrera. There are people here who have an agenda and are full of lies. Make sure you take everything you might hear with a healthy dose of skepticism.”
And with that he turned and began to talk to one of the law firm partners. I filed the weird comments away and tried to join in the general conversation. Suddenly the evening became work and I found myself having to listen attentively and make non-committal comments concerning legal policy I knew nothing about. I held my own, but breathed a sigh of relief when Irene O’Donnell tugged me aside.
“So you and Judge Beck…” Her words trailed off with a lift of a thin, sculpted brow and a toss of her long, auburn hair.
“We’re friends.” I sipped my wine frantically thinking of how I could change the topic before she started grilling me on my or the judge’s personal life.
“Friends? Really?” The other sculpted eyebrow rose to join the first.
“Really. He wanted to attend and knew I’d be thrilled for the opportunity to expand my potential client base.” I thought the salesy approach would scare her off, but I underestimated Irene O’Donnell.
“I’ll admit I wanted to throw my bra in the ring when I heard about his divorce, but I figured he’d go the fake-boobs, twenty-something, blonde route though. I gotta admit my respect for the guy went up considerably when I saw him walk in with you. He’s smoking hot and on a fast-track for success. He could have any woman he wanted. To pick an older woman, even one who’s attractive and sharp as a tack, takes the kind of long-term planning that most men lack. Ninety-nine percent of them think with their dicks. And if it wasn’t for the old boys’ network, they’d all be begging on a street corner right now, or behind bars before they were forty.”
“So what kind of cases do you handle for SMS&C?” I asked, desperate to change the conversation.
Irene laughed, revealing ultra-white teeth between her dark-red lips. “Okay. I get it. I was hoping for some juicy gossip, or perhaps something to rekindle the hope in my cold shriveled heart that I might be able to get that judge in the sack. Or at least get a dinner out of him. Guess not.” She polished off the contents of her glass before answering my question. “DWI. I’m a minnow in the shark tank of SMS&C. Admittedly, I make some serious cash for the firm, but getting Daddy Warbucks’ precious little girl off with a PBJ doesn’t exactly earn me respect from the old white guys who run this place.”
I was beginning to think this hadn’t been Irene’s first glass of wine.
“Well, if you come across a case where you feel your client could benefit from some investigative resources—perhaps you suspect a spiked drink, or other situation—please keep me in mind.” I eyed Judge Beck out of the corner of my eye, wondering how I could extricate myself from this conversation without drawing him away from the appellate court judge he was speaking with.
Irene eyed her empty glass, as if she couldn’t imagine ever needing my services. Then she froze, lifting her dark eyes to glance at the others before meeting mine.
“You know…there is something you might be able to help me with. Looks like you could use another glass of wine. Join me at the bar?”
Intrigued, I nodded and followed her, giving Judge Beck a quick pat on the arm and an inclined head to show him where I was heading. I didn’t have a lot of hope for any future business with Irene, but she didn’t appear so drunk that she was in danger of falling down or throwing up, and I got the feeling she was a font of gossip.
I did love gossip. As we headed to the bar I wondered what completely unorthodox and blunt thing she’d say next.
“Judge Reynolds is a dick,” she announced as she flagged down the bartender and motioned for two more glasses of wine. “He rules over that podunk county courthouse in the west of the state like he’s a king. But that’s where the university is, which means that’s where the majority of my clients are.”
So, no juicy gossip after all, just a lawyer and a judge who didn’t get along. As much as I wanted to bring in new clients, I wasn’t going to take a case that required me to dig up dirt on a county judge for revenge purposes.
“I don’t think I can help you with that.” I turned as if I were about to move away.
Irene put out a hand motioning me to stay. “Hear me out. He’s always bringing the hammer down on my cases. I want him out of that county. He’s nominated for that appellate court opening, but he’ll never get it—not when Judge Dixon is one of the v
otes.”
I wasn’t sure where she was going with any of this, but was curious enough to ask a few questions. “Why wouldn’t Judge Dixon vote for him? And how do you propose to unseat him? No judge has lost a public confidence vote in decades. The only other way for him to lose his position is if he were disbarred.”
Or dead, but I was pretty sure Irene wasn’t going there, drunk or not.
“Well, he banged Judge Dixon’s wife. She’s that blonde over there in the red talking to Trent Elliott. Reynolds screwed her, then dumped her. No one likes to be made a cuckold. Amusing as the whole situation was, it means as long as Judge Dixon is alive, Reynolds isn’t going to be getting serious consideration for an appellate seat.”
“How did Judge Reynolds’ wife feel about that whole thing?” I snuck a peek over at the man in question as well as the woman who’d been introduced to me as Ruby Reynolds.
“The guy’s been divorced for over a decade. I doubt if his wife cares one flying fig what he does with his pecker.”
Irene paused in her story to accept the glasses of wine from the bartender. I’d expected her to pass one over to me, but she kept them both for herself, sipping from the one in her left hand. I glanced again at Ruby Reynolds. Sister? Cousin? Daughter? If Ruby was his ex-wife, then her relationship with her ex-husband couldn’t be all that acrimonious since she was attending as his guest and he had his arm around her shoulder.
“Anyway.” Irene waved a wine glass, miraculously not spilling a drop. “I want to hire you to find out all you can on the guy. Anything that might get him bounced from his seat, you know? Something like kiddy porn or a weird fetish, or exchanging a favorable ruling for sex. Salacious stuff works best. Or drugs. No one cares about white collar crime anymore.”
“That’s not really the sort of investigative work that we do,” I told her, even though we’d done that exact sort of investigation all the time in divorce cases. I wasn’t thrilled about those jobs either, but this was definitely a job I’d turn down before it even got to J.T.’s ears.
“How about—”
“It was so nice meeting you! Bye.” I left her at the bar with her two wine glasses and headed back to where Judge Beck was still speaking with Judge Magoo. Not wanting to interrupt them, I lingered and found myself next to Ruby Reynolds.
“Quite the shindig, huh?” she said with a smile and a shake of her head. “I can’t help but calculate the cost of all this in my head. I’m sure SMS&C can afford it, but as a rural, small-town attorney, it’s a bit overwhelming.”
“It’s your first time at this party, too?” I turned to face her. “I heard Judge Reynolds doesn’t usually attend, but have you been invited before?”
“Oh, heck no.” She chuckled. “Dad gets invited every year. They tend to shell out invites to all the judges whether they attend or not. I’m here as his plus-one. There’s no way these bigwigs even know who I am.”
Ah. His daughter. That made sense even though I couldn’t see any resemblance between them aside from their shape and similar smiles.
“I’m a plus-one as well,” I confessed. “And I’m pretty sure ninety percent of the people here have no idea who I am either.”
“Keeping the female sharks away from Judge Beck?” she guessed. “Making sure his reputation remains unsullied in the wake of his divorce?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s able to keep the sharks away all on his own,” I drawled, glancing over at the judge. He was still talking with Sonny Magoo, completely oblivious to the various women who were shooting admiring glances his way.
“I’m sure he is.” She smiled. “He’s got a good reputation, you know. The man is well known for being collaborative when it comes to working with other judges, lawyers, politicians, and the public. He really listens and applies the spirit of the law, not just the letter. He has a reputation for putting forth his opinions, but in a way that doesn’t get his adversaries grabbing for the pitchforks. Plus he’s got a fifties sitcom personal life outside of the divorce—which shocked the heck out of everyone by the way.”
I glanced once more toward Judge Beck. “Do you think he’s got a shot at this opening?”
She shrugged. “These things aren’t usually by merit but I’d love for him to get it.”
“Over your dad?” I asked, remembering that Judge Reynolds had also been named as a candidate.
“Dad doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.” She shook her head and regarded me with a smile. “I can see by your expression you’re not in the loop on legal politics in the state. Dad’s considered radical and unpredictable. The only reason he got his position was because the citizens orchestrated a campaign, making it very clear they wouldn’t accept anyone else for the opening. Polefax County is the most liberal in the state, and the voters are loud and active—just like my dad.”
“And the rest of the state doesn’t approve?” I asked.
“I’m sure some voters in other counties would support him, but he’s a bit too out there for most of the state. It is what it is. I’m sure he’s been nominated to appease a vocal minority that insisted he be considered for the opening.”
I glanced over at Judge Beck. “Honestly now—do you really think Judge Beck has a chance at this appellate court opening?”
She followed my gaze. “Who knows? It’ll probably go to the guy who plays golf with one of the judges, or the guy who donated a ton of money to a judge’s pet charity. That’s how these things go.”
I had a hard time being as accepting as Ruby was about that, but there was nothing I could do about the way politics worked in our state and country other than vote and vocally express my opinion.
“Your dad, Judge Beck, and Trent Elliott with SMS&C are candidates. Do you know if anyone else is being considered? Who do you think the forerunner is?” I asked her, curious about the competition that hadn’t been mentioned in the news.
I nearly choked at the first name she ticked off on her fingers.
“Well, there’s Horace Barnes.”
“What?” I looked around with a grimace and lowered my voice.
“I know, but the guy’s been around forever and in spite of being with a smaller firm in Milford, everyone knows him. Don’t worry. This is probably more of an appeasement nomination than anything. Horace is happy and feels loved, and when he doesn’t get the position, he can blame his loss on all the not-so-imaginary peers who dislike him.”
I nodded. It wasn’t that I particularly disliked Horace Barnes, but he hardly seemed like the ideal candidate for an appellate court judge.
“Then there’s Elaine Stallman. Personally I don’t think she’s ready for it yet, but she’s definitely a lawyer to watch. The nomination will get her some attention, and she’ll probably wind up with a federal court position in the next decade. Plus it makes the appellate court judges look good for considering a woman in a field of male candidates.”
I looked around the room. “Is she here tonight?”
Ruby shook her head. “Not that I’ve seen, but this place is packed. There’s got to be almost a hundred people crammed into this atrium. I’m dreading the restroom line.”
I nodded, thinking that was another reason to not overindulge on the wine. “How about Trent Elliott? He’s a lawyer here at SMS&C, isn’t he? What are his chances?”
“Better than good. I’m thinking Trent Elliott will get it.” She made a face at the name.
“You don’t like him?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It’s not what I think that matters. He’s respected, well connected. He’s looking at a partnership at SMS&C if he doesn’t get this opening. The guy is moving up the ladder like he was shot out of a rocket.”
I frowned thinking a partnership would make this firm SMSC&E. That was a whole lot of letters, but when it came to law firms, I guessed that didn’t matter a whole lot.
“There are seven appellate judges weighing in on the nominations, but the final decision is made by the governor.” Ruby glanced around the room. “
Who I haven’t seen tonight either.”
I nodded. “We saw Katherine Nguyen when we came in. Maybe she’s here in his stead?”
Ruby shrugged. “It could be that he’s already made his decision and letting the other judges weigh in is just a courtesy.”
A very necessary courtesy, I thought. These judges could become a politician’s worst nightmare with their rulings. Not only was it important for the governor to appoint someone he felt would be in agreement with him on matters of law, it was also important that he didn’t ruffle the feathers of any of the other appellate court judges in the process. But just as the politicians needed to think about their relationship with the judges, the judges also needed to be aware of their relationship with the politicians. Appellate court positions were for ten years. That mayor a judge snubbed might end up being the governor who decided whether or not to extend his term. Or even who might choose to recommend him to a federal seat.
In the end it was all about politics. It should have bothered me, and in a way it did, but the reality was that networking and schmoozing was a game played in more than this room. As much as he tried to avoid it, Eli had needed to make the rounds with the big hospital donors and the board just as Judge Beck was doing now with the lawyers and other judges.
Maybe Trent Elliott would get the position. Maybe not. Either way, I was here to help Judge Beck advance his career, and possibly pick up a little future business for myself. But right now my wine glass was empty, and I really wanted more of those lobster canapés.
“Want to join me on a quick raid of the buffet table?” I asked Ruby.
She laughed. “Does a duck quack? Heck yeah. And I wouldn’t mind another wine either.”
I glanced over, but Judge Beck was deep in conversation with Sonny Magoo as well as two other men I hadn’t yet met. Not wanting to interrupt him, I headed off with Ruby. I’d track him down later, probably still in the same spot, still talking legalese with the other judges. And if not, well we both had our cell phones with us. It wasn’t like we couldn’t find each other with a quick text.