While Justice Sleeps(16)

    “Yes, but—”

She spoke over him, continuing: “As to your suspicion about the validity of this document, Howard Wynn gave this envelope into my keeping on February 11. It has been in my office safe since that time, as per his instructions. You were present when the seal was broken.” She smoothed her unwrinkled skirt with a slow motion, her expression stony. “Are you suggesting I tampered with the document?”

Vance refused the bait. “No, ma’am. But I would request further clarification before we reveal too much more about Justice Wynn’s condition or she goes to the hospital.”

“Certainly.” She turned back to Avery. “Think carefully,” the Chief ordered quietly. “Did Howard ever mention his illness to you?”

“Never.” Ashamed, she admitted, “I didn’t realize he was sick. He’s been the same for the past two years.”

“Which is?” asked Vance.

“Smart. Brusque. Caustic.”

“A jerk,” the Chief interpreted.

“Yes.” Instantly contrite, she amended, “But he’s also very considerate of his clerks. He’s fair about assignments. Even though he won’t participate in the cert pool, he takes a portion of the cases himself.”

“You mentioned meeting his wife,” Vance interjected. “Have you spent much time with him out of the office?”

“At functions, mainly. Like every other clerk in the Court, I go where the free food is. Typically, we glom on to the justices’ invitations. We’re not special enough to rate our own.”

“What about in smaller groups? Has it ever been the two of you outside the office?”

“I’ve been to his home three times,” she answered, the white lie coming easily. “And to dinner at a restaurant once.”

“That’s it?” Vance prodded, hearing something in her response. “Why were you at his house?”

“Once to drop off a brief he’d left at the office. The second and third times for dinner.”

“Were you alone?”

    “To drop off the brief, yes. The other times, no. Last year, my fellow clerk Amanda Reyes attended the first dinner party. His wife was absent.”

“How long were you there? Each event.”

“I didn’t clock it, but when I dropped off the brief at his house, he stuck his hand out the door, took the folder, and grunted something at me. The second time, for dinner, I’d guess a couple of hours. And dinner this term was only an hour.”

“Who attended the dinner parties?”

“He invites both clerks to dinner twice a year. Like I said, it was me and Amanda my first term. No one else. I suppose party is a strong term—he fed us, chatted, and sent us home.”

“The second one?”

“Matt Brewer and I attended.”

“It was shorter?”

Avery bit her lip, then shrugged. “It was a disaster. When he kicked us out, Justice Wynn said that he found Matt’s conversation cloying and fawning and that I had the conversational skills of a scullery maid let upstairs.”

“And no other personal encounters?”

“When the session starts, we have dinner at his house; and at the end, he swings for a fancy dinner in a restaurant we can’t possibly afford. His secretary made reservations at Vieux Marché for June thirtieth, the end of term this year.” Avery turned to the Chief as a new thought occurred. “What happens if he doesn’t wake up?”

“We can discuss that later,” the Chief cautioned. “Major Vance, do you have any more questions for her?”

“You’ve never been alone with Justice Wynn outside the office? For more than a brief visit?”

“Ask me straight out, Major Vance. You want to know if I’ve slept with him.”

“Yes, Ms. Keene. I’d like to know if you’ve had a sexual relationship with Justice Wynn. Prior to joining the Court or since.”

Rising again, Avery carefully folded the pages in her hand and crossed to the door. This time, when her hand closed on the brass handle, the rage was steady and cool. She’d been a lot of things in her life, some legal, some questionable, most of the latter courtesy of Rita Keene. But never in her life had she been a whore.

    When she was sure she could, she turned to speak to both of the room’s occupants.

“I am a piece of furniture to Howard Wynn. A very handy typewriter with the ability to read. I come into the office at seven a.m., read cert petitions that will never be heard, draft legal memoranda on obscure points of law no one really cares about. I draft opinions he tears to shreds, and then I write them again and again. When invited, I go to dinner. When I’m not here, I go to sleep.

“This job doesn’t allow for a social life or much else. Howard Wynn has been the bane of my existence and my constant critic. He has been my boss and my mentor. But I am not his friend or his confidante or his lover. I am his clerk.”

“And now, according to those papers, you’re his guardian.” Chief Roseborough stood as well. “Go back to your office, Avery. Major Vance and I need to clear up a few more things; then we’ll discuss you going over to the hospital.”



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