Judge vs Nuts: A Fiona Gavelle Mystery

by Una Tiers

  Paul stuck his head in the door. “Claude I didn’t know that you were signed in.”

  “I’m not, I’m here to get help with a class from Ms. Gavelle.”

  “We have work waiting for you.”

  “I’m scheduled to work the day after tomorrow in the afternoon. Today after lunch I have a study group.”

  Paul left miffed.

  I closed the door. “Has he been giving you a hard time?”

  “It seems to bother him that I talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I said although it was nice to have a friend.

  “It’s his problem not ours.”

  Claude now seemed more confident than an average law student.

  “Does the lawyer disciplinary group act?” he asked continuing our discussion.

  “Yes they seem to focus on lawyers who steal settlement proceeds and who neglect files.”

  “Where do you get that information?”

  “They have a website, but don’t read it before bedtime, it’s very scary.”

  Claude laughed and left the office.

  David resumed lunch duty the next day. He closed the door before he sat down and offered me my choice of tuna or turkey submarines. How did he guess the days that I would be around?

  “Fiona, was the probate department involved in Greylord?”

  “I don’t think so. I thought it was criminal matters, well criminal court anyway. And, maybe traffic court too.”

  After a few minutes, David broke another silence, “Well something is going on because the probate department has the attention of the federal investigators.”

  “If we’re still in Chicago, wouldn’t it be corruption?” I smiled, really joking more than anything.

  He nodded solemnly, cluing me into things.

  “You don’t know what got their attention?”

  “Not that I can say.”

  “Could it be Judge Peur?” I asked with concern.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She doesn’t have a calendar, she just fills in when someone is out for the day. People say the other divisions don’t have a training position.” I pictured a judge in robes with little training wheels underneath, like a kid’s bicycle.

  “Do you think she could have been involved romantically with Judge King?” David asked.

  “Romantically? I don’t know, I would guess he was conservative.”

  “What do you mean by conservative?” David asked.

  “Probably someone who dates within his age group,” I answered.

  “How far does ages extend?” David asked.

  “It’s hard to say, I imagine the numbers could be larger and more acceptable as a person ages,” I said thinking I needed to think about it more. “What’s your position on age David?”

  “I don’t think it matters as long as both people are happy.”

  “Do you think Judge King was dating Peur?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but murders are often committed by people close to the victim, like family, friends, business associates or lovers.”

  “Isn’t Peur married?” I asked thinking about all the rings she wore.

  “I don’t know, it’s an awkward question to ask.”

  “She wears a lot of rings,” I mentioned.

  “Maybe. Let me ask you was Judge King very political?”

  “I guess he would have to be to be the head of the department.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Rumors have it that other judges who were on the bench longer were passed over when he was appointed as Presiding Judge. It reeks of politics.”

  “I have a few more questions about the reception.”

  “Sure.”

  “We’re still waiting for the list of people who attended.”

  “I’m sorry I should have followed up on that for you. I left a message. I’ll call again this afternoon.”

  “We can issue a subpoena.”

  “That ought to get their attention.” I laughed at how much it would upset the stuff shirts. David looked at me, skeptically, not seeing the irony.

  “Do you remember seeing an attorney named Pulatavase at the reception?”

  For a second I blushed because of the client named Pulatavase.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So your answer would be…”

  “I don’t know him. There were all of three people I knew, Curie, Mildred and her friend Charley. Why?”

  “How about Noocaz?”

  “No and why again?” he questioned.

  “How about A.J. Ootladder?”

  “I’ve seen him in court, he has a reputation for theatrics.”

  “Is he a good lawyer?” David asked.

  “A good actor, as to the lawyer part I’m not sure. I’m still developing my opinion of what a good lawyer does. Why are you asking?”

  “King had run ins with them. Do you remember if he was at the reception?”

  “I don’t, but the guest list should help you. Who else have you interviewed?”

  “About twenty lawyers and judges, some were at the funeral and some were at the reception.”

  “What about the caterer?”

  “The supervisor for that evening is out of town on a family emergency. I talked to two of the regular waiters. They didn’t see anything unusual. There were two temps but no one can find their names.”

  “We talked to the chef who insists that nothing contained peanuts,” he offered.

  “So you think he was poisoned at the reception?” I could have been standing in line next to the murderer.

  “That’s the most likely place. Do you want to hear about the stomach contents?”

  “No thank you.” My laugh was nervous more than anything.

  “I can gloss over them.” He looked at me longingly.

  “Okay but gloss broadly, will you David?”

  “Sure, they matched the reception food. That’s a large part of the case.”

  “Ah,” I said and ewwwww, I thought.

  We paused while I tried to conceal a shudder.

  “Okay, but why couldn’t it be a terrible mistake?”

  “For a few reasons. One, nothing on the menu had nuts in it. Two, Judge King was meticulous about asking about ingredients in banquet and restaurant food. He would often ask for a plain plate of food without sauces or garnishes. Three, there wasn’t anything at his house with peanuts.”

  “Is some of this information from Rosie, his daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “She didn’t call me when she was in town.”

  “We did the interview over the phone, she decided it wasn’t necessary to fly in after all.”

  “What about Aunt Sophie?”

  “Do you call her that?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Not to her face, no.”

  “We haven’t been able to talk to her. Maybe she’s still in the hospital, she never answers her phone.”

  “Hospital? I thought she was away.”

  “Rosie said she was having tests in the hospital.”

  Somehow I wondered if the daughter wasn’t telling the truth.

  “David was anyone else sick after the reception?”

  “No. And remember this wasn’t spoiled food or a poison, but an allergy. ”

  “How would someone know what he would eat from a buffet?”

  “It’s a good question, it’s likely the killer knew him and his food preferences and his allergy. And. wasn’t it a pretty small buffet?”

  “Yes.” I pictured the buffet, with about eight or ten tureens total.

  “Was his allergy common knowledge?” I asked.

  “No, Rosie said sometimes he asked another judge to ask for a plain plate at receptions.”

  “Why?”

  “The allergy embarrassed him and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.”

  “Did someone get a plain plate for him at the Judge’s Night Reception?”

&nbs
p; “Judge King was the guest of honor, so he was first in the buffet line and filled his own plate,” David answered.

  “So we’re back at square one.”

  “Not necessarily, if we look at your inadvertent theory, Fiona, why can’t we identify the source?”

  “We haven’t looked hard enough. I want to know why he went home if he was sick instead of to the emergency room.”

  “Maybe the reaction wasn’t severe and the medicine worked. Some of the judges said he was wobbly when he left the club.”

  “Did he drive?”

  ”The judges carpooled. Judge Montreel drove Judges Fullhammer and King home and said he dropped them off at eleven.”

  “At the same time?” I asked.

  “Fullhammer and King live or lived in the same building,” David explained.

  I did a mental head slap. The night I found the heat shut off, I thought I saw another judge, it could have been Fullhammer. At the time I thought it was Judge King but after a while they all look alike because of the hats. I explained this to David.

  “Going back to the reception, did you stay to the end?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you remember what time it ended?”

  “I think it was a little after eight. There was a storm and I was home by nine.”

  “Did most people drive?”

  “I did. It’s a little out of the way to walk back to loop transportation although I guess you could call a cab. There were parking attendants who probably know. I’m pretty sure the reception was the only thing going on that night, although there is a second floor. Maybe members hang around up there.”

  “Valets?”

  “No, guys with matching jackets in a little hut who operate the gate to get in the parking lot.”

  “Did you drive alone?”

  “I came in alone and left with Judge Curie.”

  “Where does he live?” David asked.

  “He lives north, it was on my way to drop him off,” I rationalized.

  “Do you know Judge Curie well?”

  “I gave him a lift home about two months back and he calls me if he gets invited to receptions and needs a ride.”

  “It sounds like you are a little political,” he laughed gently and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  “Could the other judges have stayed late because Judge King was sick?” I asked, wondering who drove Judge Curie to the reception.

  “Maybe.” He checked his notes. “What kind of award did Judge King get?”

  “Kind? I don’t know.”

  “Was he retiring?”

  “I don’t think so. You know they have that recall system so older judges can still work. Judge Curie is over eighty and says he may never retire.” I explained the difference between a recall and an appointment.

  “Aren’t the judges elected?”

  “Some are but there are a lot of loopholes.”

  “Did Judge King give a speech?”

  “He did but it was short. He made a few remarks thanking everyone and talked about the weather. He adjourned the meeting and everyone headed for the door. I was a little worried about the snow, so I was glad to get out of there.”

  “Why do they have the reception in the middle of winter when the weather can be brutal?”

  “It’s a boating club, a private one, and probably much cheaper to rent in the winter.”

  “How many of the probate judges do you know Fiona?”

  “Know? I appear in front of them once in a while. Curie is the only one I talk to.”

  “Do the other attorneys talk about them?”

  “You mean gossip? Sure.” My thoughts switched over to Sally Tax when she complained about Requin cutting her fees.

  “What do you think about Judge Fullhammer?”

  “Fullhammer’s okay. In fact I like him. Of course who knows what they are really like.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I only see him in court, he doesn’t go to many bar group things. Some of them blab in court and others like Fullhammer stick to the case. He says nothing personal or off topic. He does wear a lot of cologne.”

  “How close do you get to him?” he teased.

  “You don’t have to get close, he wears a lot.” David clearly hadn’t interviewed Fullhammer yet.

  “Are any of them friendly?” David asked.

  “Judge Curie is friendly with me.”

  “What do you talk about with him?”

  “Oh normal stuff, the weather, his health, sometimes my practice.”

  “Is Curie still politically active?”

  “Judge Curie invented political clout if that’s what you mean. He’s been around forever.I don’t think he sits on committees much now but when he attends a reception everyone crowds around him.”

  “When I met with him, I got mixed signals. He seemed sharp and then slipped into forgetfulness,” David said with doubt.

  I told David about the two near forced retirements that Curie withstood. “If he wasn’t political, they would just show him the door.” I left out the part where he pretends to forget things.

  “Do you know if Judge King got along with him?”

  “Everyone does, he’s a little like a grandfather figure.” I didn’t mention the dirty jokes.

  “So Judge King wasn’t one of the ones trying to get him to retire?”

  “No I don’t think so, both retirements came before King was appointed as the presiding judge. And, I think Judge King was too smart to pick a fight with him.”

  “And what about Judge Montreel?”

  “This is all off the record, right?” I asked since there was nothing nice to say about him.

  “Yes.” His smile made my brain click off as hard as I was trying to stay focused and weed out the red herrings.

  “No one seems particularly fond of him. He is very loud and gives his personal opinion in court way too much. And most lawyers say he doesn’t know or care about the law.” I added a little information about his French candidate campaign.

  “Being French got him elected?”

  “Yes and no, maybe he was a novelty. Voters are hard to understand. The judicial elections are not like political ones. There isn’t an opportunity to hear their qualifications. All you get are mailings the candidates prepare and the bar group evaluations. Once they are elected, retention (reelection) is guaranteed.

  No one campaigns about what they will do if elected, it’s a giant presumption. Once they are elected, you can’t monitor their work like you can a senator or mayor.

  Do you follow the judicial campaigns David?”

  “No, the word is usually to support the incumbent.”

  “The word? The political word?” I teased.

  “There are politics in police work too Fiona.”

  “Did you interview the judge’s neighbors David?”

  “Only a few, it’s a very quiet building. So far, we haven’t found anyone who was home Friday night or Saturday morning. He didn’t know many people in the building. The ones we talked to didn’t know there were two judges living there.”

  “Oh Fullhammer is going to love you,” I laughed. Then I realized when I read the bells, the night I was snooping, I didn’t see his name.

  “We didn’t give his name.”

  “Maybe not but that should trigger the inquisitive nature of the people in the building.”

  “Well we can’t un-ring the bell,” he shrugged.

  “It’s too bad there was no one to help him.”

  “Remember his door was locked, from the outside,” David cautioned me.

  “You’re certain?” I asked.

  “Yes, but we don’t know who was there.”

  “Was the key in the door?”

  “No. Management let us, or the senior police in, but there was no key in on the outside.”

  “Didn’t you find his keys inside?”

  “No.”

  “So someone took his keys and locked him in?”


  “Yes, the kind of lock he had can be locked with a key from the inside or the outside. But if you are inside and don’t have a key you can’t get out.”

  “You know I was sure Bob had his father’s keys and wallet,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “After they found him, they took the judge’s body to the hospital. He was pronounced dead. Since Bob lives here and the daughters live in New York, I guessed he identified the body and picked up the personal effects. He says no, but I don’t believe him.”

  “Did you check with the hospital?”

  “I sent a letter, it’s time to do a follow up.”

  “Are you suggesting Bob as a suspect?”

  “No, although he does inherit a third of the estate.” My cynicism made me disappointed to suspect Bob. How did David deal with murder every day? It wasn’t as if he was going to dinner and a Cubs game with career criminals. Still he was chasing some nasty people, even if they were polite enough to lock doors and call the police to find him.

  “If Bob had his father’s keys from the hospital, it would be after he died Fiona.”

  I had to admit he was right.

  “What did you find out about the medication David?”

  “It’s an antidote called epinephrine. It acts like a decongestant but faster because it’s injected. He had a prescription in a little pen like container.”

  “Why didn’t it work?”

  “We don’t know,” he said with resignation instead of sarcasm. “However, deaths from this allergy are not uncommon.”

  “And are some of them accidents?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think this one was.”

  “Could you tell when he took it?”

  “The medical examiner estimated it was taken at or after the reception. If he didn’t feel well, it doesn’t make sense that he would go home to take his medicine. He would go to an emergency room for a shot. You need to act quickly. His daughter said he had birthday cake when she was about fifteen years old and someone had scrapped the nuts off. He passed out and was taken to the hospital.”

  “Could the medicine have been tampered with?”

  “Yes that’s possible,” he answered.

  “Remember someone tampered with Tylenol. Did you test the empty bottle?”

  “It’s a syringe and we couldn’t test it because we didn’t find it.”