The Judge's List (The Whistler #2)(17)

7


Darren Trope bounced into her office bright and early Wednesday morning and began with “Well, well, how was the PD? Do something exciting?”

“Not really.”

“Did you miss us?”

“No, sorry,” Lacy replied with a smile. She was about to reach for a file, one of about a dozen stacked neatly in a rack at the corner of her desk. A judge down in Gilchrist County was irritating both lawyers and litigants alike with his inability to set cases for trials. Alcohol was rumored to be involved. Lacy had reluctantly decided the allegations had merit and was preparing to notify His Honor that he was under investigation.

“Sleep late? A long fancy lunch somewhere with our FBI boy?”

“They’re called personal days for a reason.”

“Well, you didn’t miss anything around here.”

“I’m sure of that.”

“I’m going out for some decent coffee. Want anything?”

“Sure, the usual.”

Darren’s coffee runs were taking longer and longer. He had been at BJC for two years and showing all the usual signs of being bored with a stalled career. He left, she closed the door behind him, and tried to concentrate on another drunk judge. An hour passed with little progress and she finally shoved the file aside.

Maddy Reese was her most trusted colleague around the office. She had been there for four years and, among the four lawyers, was now second in seniority, far behind Lacy. She tapped on the door as she walked through it and said, “Got a minute?”

The last director had imposed an open-door policy that had led to a freewheeling culture in which privacy was almost impossible and work was routinely interrupted. But he was gone now, and though most office doors were closed, old habits were hard to break.

“Sure,” Lacy said. “What’s up?”

“Cleo wants you to review the Handy matter, thinks we should get involved.”

Cleo was Cleopatra, the secret nickname of the current director, an ambitious woman who had managed to alienate the entire office in a matter of weeks.

“Not Handy again,” Lacy said in frustration.

“Oh yes. Seems he keeps overturning zoning ordinances in favor of a certain developer, who just happens to be a friend of his nephew.”

“This is Florida. That’s not uncommon.”

“Well, the adjoining landowners are upset and they’ve hired lawyers. Another complaint was filed against him last week and things do look rather suspicious. I know how much you love zoning cases.”

“I live for them. Bring me the file and I’ll take a look.”

“Thanks. And Cleo is calling a staff meeting for two this afternoon.”

“I thought we suffered through those on Monday mornings.”

“We do. But Cleo is making her own rules.”

Maddy left without closing the door, and Lacy looked at the screen on her desktop. She scrolled through the usual lineup of emails she could either ignore or postpone, and stopped at one from Jeri Crosby.


Can we talk? I’ll call you. Number is 776-145-0088. Your phone won’t recognize it.



Lacy stared at the email for a long time as she tried to think of ways to avoid a response. She wondered which of the half-dozen cell phones Jeri was using. Hers buzzed and the number appeared.

“Hello, Jeri,” she said as she walked to the door to close it.

“Thanks for yesterday, Lacy, you have no idea what that meant to me. I slept last night for the first time in forever.”

Well, I’m glad you did. Even with Allie’s warm body next to her, she’d had trouble shutting out the events of the day. “That’s nice, Jeri. Yesterday was quite interesting.”

“To say the least. So, what’s up?”

The question threw her as she suddenly realized that her new friend might feel the need to call every day for updates. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what do you think? What’s next?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” she lied. “A day out of the office and I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Sure, and I don’t mean to bother. Forgive me, but I’m so relieved that you’re on the case now. You have no idea how lonely this has been.”

“I’m not sure there is a case, Jeri.”

“Of course there is. Did you look through the files?”

“No, I haven’t got there yet, Jeri. I’m busy with other stuff right now.”

“I see. Look, we need to meet again and cover the other victims. I know it’s a lot for you to digest so soon, but, I dare say nothing on your desk could possibly be as important as Bannick.”

True. Everything in the office paled in comparison to allegations of murder against a judge.

“Jeri, I can’t just drop everything else and open a new case. Any involvement on my part must be approved by the director. Didn’t I explain this?”

“I guess.” Brushing it aside, she continued, “I’m in class today and tomorrow, but what about Saturday? I’ll make the drive over and we can meet somewhere private.”

“I thought about this driving home yesterday, for three hours, and I still don’t see how we have any jurisdiction. We’re just not equipped to investigate a murder, singular or plural.”