Supreme Justice

by Phillip Margolin

  "There is proof that you were involved in establishing the shell corporation that bought the ship."

  The judge turned to Brad. "Show Justice Price the pictures of the file."

  Price looked angry when he finished studying the blowups Brad had made from the photos on Ginny's phone.

  "Where did you get these?" he asked. "These documents are in a client's file in my old firm. They're confidential. Anyone who took these is guilty of theft."

  Moss focused her gaze on her judicial brother. "And you're guilty of a conflict of interest, Millard. Did you help buy that ship for the CIA? If you did, why didn't you recuse yourself?"

  "What I did or did not do in my capacity as an attorney for a client of Rankin Lusk is privileged information."

  Justice Moss leaned toward Price. When she spoke, there was steel in her voice and a hint of the menace she must have radiated during her days on the street.

  "Brad is going to tell you everything we know about the China Sea so you can decide how you wish to proceed. If you don't recuse yourself from the case, I will repeat in conference everything Brad will tell you, and I'll let the justices decide how to deal with you."

  Brad's voice shook as he told Justice Price--without naming Dana or Ginny--what had been uncovered about Woodruff's case. Price maintained a blank expression during the narrative. If they'd been expecting Price to break down and confess, Justice Moss and her clerk were disappointed.

  "I haven't heard anything but guesswork and hearsay," Price said when Brad was finished. "You'd never get any of that admitted in court."

  "Our conferences are not courts of law, Millard," Felicia said quietly. "The hearsay rule doesn't apply. But common sense does, and I believe that our brethren will be as upset with you as I am when they know what happened on that ship and the attempts that you and your school friend made to cover it up--attempts that may have included an attempt on my life.

  "Tell me, Millard, what will you do if a member of the House of Representatives begins impeachment proceedings? How will you and Dennis Masterson cover up what you did when the government and the press put this sordid episode under a microscope."

  The smug look disappeared from Price's face, and Brad could tell that he finally understood his position.

  "Thank you for your help, Brad. Why don't you leave me and Justice Price so we can continue this discussion?"

  Brad was torn. He wanted nothing more to do with the China Sea, but he didn't want to leave his boss with a man who might try to kill her. Moss saw his indecision. She smiled.

  "I'll be fine, Brad. Please go. And tell Carrie I don't want to be interrupted."

  Brad stepped out and gave Carrie the message. He rounded the corner and was about to step into his office when his cell phone vibrated. He looked down to check the caller ID and almost ran into Harriet Lezak.

  "Sorry," Brad said.

  "No problem."

  Harriet headed down the hall.

  "Hey, Keith," Brad said.

  "Don't react. Just say yes or no. Is Harriet Lezak with you?"

  "No. She just left our office. Why?"

  "She's an impostor. The real Harriet Lezak has been dead for months."

  "Jesus!"

  "I'm pulling into the Court garage. I'll be upstairs in a few minutes."

  As Brad disconnected, he remembered that Justice Moss and Justice Price were alone and Harriet had been heading in the direction of the judge's chambers. He sprinted back. Carrie had been sitting at her desk moments ago, but he didn't see her. Then he saw a foot jutting out past her desk. He walked around it and found the judge's secretary sprawled on the floor. He knelt quickly and felt for a pulse. As soon as he found one, Brad rushed to the door of Justice Moss's chambers and yanked it open. Harriet was standing in the middle of the room, pointing a gun at Price and Moss. She turned her head toward Brad, and Justice Price launched himself across the room with the determination he'd shown decades earlier on the gridiron. Harriet turned back and fired. Price staggered but he was close enough to wrap Lezak in a bear hug. His momentum sent them crashing to the floor. When they hit, Harriet's right arm was pinned to her side and the gun was pointed down her leg. Price held her so tightly that she couldn't turn the barrel toward him.

  Brad scanned the room for a weapon and grabbed a heavy ceremonial gavel that had been given to Justice Moss by the NAACP. Price and Lezak were thrashing around on the floor. The justice was bleeding badly and he was weakening. Lezak got some space between their bodies and started to sit up. Brad smashed the gavel on her skull. Blood poured from her scalp. She turned her head toward Brad and he whipped the gavel into her face with so much force that the head of it flew off.

  Lezak slumped back, but she still held the gun. Brad stamped on her wrist and her hand opened. As he kicked the gun away, Lezak grabbed his ankle and whipped it up. Brad toppled over. Lezak heaved Price off her. Brad got to his knees. Lezak turned to face him. The handle of the gavel was jagged where the head had snapped off. Brad didn't hesitate. He plunged the jagged edge into Lezak's neck. Blood spurted out and her hands flew to the wound just as the door flew open and Keith Evans ran in, followed by two members of the Supreme Court police force and a redheaded woman Brad had never seen before.

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Two days later, Justice Moss and Brad Miller sat quietly in the judge's chambers while Keith Evans brought them up to speed on the investigation.

  "Justice Price passed away last night," he said.

  "Oh my," Felicia said. A tear drifted down her cheek. "He saved my life, you know. When Harriet pulled the gun, he begged her to spare me. Then he took the bullet that was meant for me."

  "Lezak would probably have killed him anyway," Keith said. "When we swept your chambers, we found a listening device. She could hear everything you said in here, which means she heard you and Brad lay out the investigation. She couldn't let Price talk, and you were a witness and you were going to vote to grant Woodruff's cert petition."

  "Has Harriet--or whatever her real name is--has she said anything?" Brad asked.

  "She's still not able to speak."

  "How did she become a clerk?" Brad asked. With everything that had gone on, he'd never had a chance to find out how Keith knew "Lezak" was an impostor.

  Keith told them everything Daphne Haggard had discovered in Inverness.

  "Without Price, we can't prove everything," Keith said, "but here's what I think happened. Masterson would have kept track of Woodruff's case. When the Oregon Supreme Court denied her appeal, he must have told Price that they needed a mole on the Court to keep track of the way some of the more liberal judges were leaning and to try and influence them. I'm guessing that Masterson made a study of the students at the top of second-tier law schools until he found one who looked like one of his operatives. Daphne Haggard told me how excited Dean Ostgard was at the possibility of placing a La Follette grad in a Supreme Court clerkship. It wasn't much of an effort to get him to keep Price's experiment secret, and the real Harriet Lezak was thrilled by the opportunity to get the most prestigious law job in the country.

  "A few months before the offer was made, the impostor befriended Lezak. She may have posed as a fellow runner and killed Harriet in the forest during a run. Then she chopped up the body to hide it and stall identification as long as possible in case someone stumbled across the body parts."

  Keith addressed Justice Moss. "Once Price hired Lezak, he maneuvered you into taking her on as your clerk. Her first chance to influence your decision in Woodruff came when you assigned her to write a memo about the legal issues raised by the case. Brad has reviewed the phony Lezak's legal work. He said it was pretty high quality. She's probably a lawyer or had legal training. She used her memo to convince you to vote against granting cert, but you had reservations about the case. That made you a potential target. I'm guessing that Masterson told her to take you out when Price told him that you were responsible for convincing the justices to defer the vote on Woodruff in the con
ference."

  "Do you have a case against Masterson?" Justice Moss asked.

  "I'll be honest with you, Judge. If we can't get the phony Lezak to talk, we have nothing."

  "Agent Evans," the judge said, "I will do everything in my power to see that the events on the China Sea receive as much publicity as they possibly can. Once the other justices learn what's happened, I'm guessing that cert will be granted. There are going to be congressional inquiries, investigative reports. Dennis Masterson will not get away scot-free."

  "I wish I shared your enthusiasm," Keith said. "Masterson is a powerful man, and the CIA has a vested interest in keeping its dirty secrets hidden from the public eye."

  "You're right, of course. But the Agency has got to draw the line somewhere, and I hope it's at the murder of a United States Supreme Court justice."

  "One can always hope," Evans said, but he didn't sound like he expected the Agency to act honorably. He looked at his watch. "I've got to run. I'm driving Haggard to the airport, and I'm cutting it close."

  As soon as Detective Haggard buckled her seat belt, Evans handed her a copy of the Washington Post. The headline read "Small-Town Ivy League Detective Solves Supreme Court Murder Case."

  "I thought you might like to show that to your husband and your boss," he said.

  Daphne blushed. "I'm afraid I've been given more credit than I deserve."

  "Not true. And I'm not the only one who thinks that was one great piece of detective work. In fact, I've been authorized to ask you if you have any interest in joining the Bureau. The people who make the big decisions have spoken to your boss in Chicago, and he had great things to say about you. Personally, I think you'd make one hell of an agent."

  Daphne's breath caught in her chest. Joining the FBI was like making the majors if you played baseball. She'd thought about it a lot when she was in Chicago, but she hadn't dreamed about it at all since she'd moved to Inverness.

  "I appreciate the offer, but I'm going to have to talk it over with my husband. He has a good job teaching, and he'll have to be part of any decision I make."

  "You'll be back in D.C. to testify, so take your time. The offer is serious."

  Daphne thought about the offer to join the Bureau while she checked in and went through security. And the offer wasn't the only thing distracting her. Daphne had become a celebrity during her time in D.C. As soon as the press learned about her academic background and her brilliant detective work, she had been the subject of stories like the one Keith Evans had shown her. She'd also fielded a number of book and movie offers, as well as invitations to appear on TV and radio shows.

  Daphne had called Brett every night before she went to bed to tell him what had happened during her day. She treasured their talks because they introduced a note of normalcy into her insanely hectic D.C. routine. As soon as she was in the boarding area, Daphne called Brett.

  "Where are you?" he asked.

  "I'm waiting for my plane. It's going to board in twenty minutes."

  "I missed you."

  "Ditto."

  "So, tell me, are the rumors true? Are they really thinking of having Charlize Theron play you in the movie?"

  "Not you, too," Daphne moaned.

  "Hey, I need to know who I should fantasize about when we're making love."

  "You are such an asshole."

  Brett laughed. Then he got quiet. "Are you going to be able to settle down and go back to writing traffic tickets?" he asked.

  "Detectives don't hand out traffic tickets," Daphne answered, but she knew the question was serious. It was another version of "How you gonna keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen Paree?"

  "I was invited to apply to join the FBI," Daphne said after a pause. "It was a serious offer. The implication was that the application was just a matter of form."

  "What did you tell them?" Brett asked.

  "That I had to think about it and that I wouldn't do anything without talking to you."

  "So, how are you leaning?"

  Daphne could hear the tension in Brett's voice.

  "The agent who tendered the offer started out as a small-town cop in Nebraska. I asked him about the adjustment, and he was pretty honest. He told me he got his offer the same way I was getting mine, after he found a serial killer who had stymied the Bureau. He told me that agents move around a lot and they're not home much. The work is exciting but it's high pressure, and it doesn't leave much time for friends and relationships. His marriage was a casualty of the move."

  "When I couldn't get a teaching job, you stood by me," Brett said. "And when I got the offer from Inverness, you gave up a future on the Chicago force so I could be happy. If you really want to make this move, I'll support your decision. I can always find a teaching job. What I don't want is to have you wondering about what could have been and regretting that you didn't make the best of your big opportunity."

  Daphne smiled. "You have always been my big opportunity, Brett. I did move to Inverness for you, and I'll admit there were times when I wondered whether I'd made too big a sacrifice. Then I'd see how happy you are when you come back from class, and I'd know I'd made the right choice. I like Inverness. We're known and respected there. Chicago or D.C. would be a rat race. My career might take off, but would our marriage survive the separation and constant moves that would be inevitable if I worked in the Bureau? I'm not willing to risk your happiness and what we have. So, yes, I'm ready, willing, and able to hand out traffic tickets and kiss my brilliant future in the Bureau good-bye."

  "I love you."

  "I love you, too."

  "So, you never answered my question about Charlize Theron . . ."

  Daphne laughed. "Call me Charlize when we're in bed, and I'm going to Taser you."

  Brett laughed. "Hurry home, kiddo, and we'll see what happens."

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Dana called Brad half an hour after Keith Evans left. She was upbeat, which was unusual for her.

  "I just got some good news," Dana told Brad. "Jake called and he's coming home this week."

  "That's great. Let's get together."

  "Will do. So, what's going on with the case?"

  ' "Lezak still can't talk. If she doesn't, Keith thinks Masterson may walk. The judge is determined to push for a congressional investigation. That might not lead to an indictment, but it will make the China Sea incident public."

  "That's the main reason I'm calling. I promised Pat Gorman a scoop, and I'd like to deliver, but I need the judge's permission to go public. Can you see if I can get it? I'll keep the judge's involvement quiet. Tell her if she wants to shine a big spotlight on Dennis Masterson, a story in Exposed will do that in spades. Exposed's motto is 'All the innuendo Pat sees fit to print.' "

  Dana and Brad talked a little longer before they hung up. She was looking forward to exposing Dennis Masterson, but she was frustrated by her inability to develop a plan that would put Masterson and Bergstrom in prison. She was also stressed out because she was balancing her investigations for her clients with the tail she'd put on Bergstrom.

  When she needed to, Dana employed retired policemen or moonlighting cops to help her. She was doing that now so she could watch Bergstrom, who spent most of his time at home or at a gym where he pumped iron and practiced mixed martial arts. Dana's financial resources were limited, and the strain of twenty-hour days was starting to show. She knew she couldn't keep up the tail much longer or her business and her health would fail, so she had decided to end her surveillance of The Swede. If nothing happened that night, the Congress and the press could deal with the problem.

  That evening, Bergstrom broke his routine and left his house at ten. He headed toward a rural area of Virginia where farms outnumbered housing developments. Bergstrom turned off the highway onto a narrow country road, and Dana took a chance by turning off her headlights. She followed Bergstrom into a small village and saw him turn into the deserted parking lot of a closed general store. Dana pulled into a side street a block
from the store. She had brought several weapons with her, and she checked them before taking a video camera with a long-range directional mike out of her backseat.

  Dana approached the general store through a narrow alley. When she arrived at the end of the alley, she could see Bergstrom sitting in his car. Ten minutes later, headlight beams illuminated the street. Bergstrom got out of his car when a nondescript Buick pulled into the lot a space away from his car. Dana activated the video camera and the mike when Dennis Masterson got out of the passenger side of the car. She began to listen.

  "Why the meeting?" Bergstrom asked.

  "They operated on the woman I placed on the Court. The word I get is that she'll be able to talk soon."

  "Has she given the cops any information so far?"

  "No, but she's been out of it since she was injured."

  "Is this someone you've worked with before?"

  Masterson nodded.

  "Then she knows the drill."

  "She killed a Supreme Court justice. No one will show her mercy. People are unpredictable when they're facing death and are given a way of avoiding it."

  "Maybe so, but what do you want me to do about it?"

  "You can get to her, silence her."

  Bergstrom laughed. "Are you nuts? She'll have an army guarding her."

  "You're the only one I can count on to do this."

  "Then you're in trouble. I don't do suicide missions."

  "You don't understand. She can put us in prison."

  "Correction, Dennis. She can put you in prison. She doesn't know me."

  Masterson stared hard at Bergstrom. "We sink or swim together, Tom."

  Bergstrom sighed. "I thought you would say something like that."

  What happened next happened so fast that Dana wasn't certain of what she'd seen until she viewed the DVD. Bergstrom hit Masterson in the throat with the rigid fingers of his left hand, stunning him. At the same time, he whipped out a gun with his right hand and fired through the passenger window, killing Masterson's driver. After shooting the driver a second time, Bergstrom fired a third shot between Masterson's eyes. When he was certain both men were dead, The Swede dropped the weapon next to Masterson's car, took off his gloves, and drove away.