While Justice Sleeps(21)

“Lies and truth aren’t good or bad. A bad person can tell the truth, and an honest person can lie.”

“That’s an evasion.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” He nodded once. “Do you still gamble?”

    “On what, sir?”

The explosion of gruff laughter filled the room. “Excellent question. What would you gamble on? Theoretically.”

Avery paused, considering her answer carefully. This was the longest personal conversation she’d ever shared with him, other than her interviews. That one had been equally difficult, but he hadn’t been as intrusive. He wanted to know something; she just didn’t know what. Or why.

She replied, “Games of chance are entertaining, but ultimately, they’re only worth it if you know when to cut your losses. A good gambler knows how to balance risk and reward. For example, telling your boss that you made the rent during college by fleecing other students reveals a penchant for nonlegal behavior but also shows ingenuity and a flair for the unconventional.”

“Indeed. And a flouting of the law, if the South is as I remember it.”

“Not much has changed.”

“What’s your game?”

“Poker. Blackjack at casinos if the pit boss isn’t watching too closely. Chess in the park if I’m in the right town.”

“How often do you gamble now?”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“My salary meets my current needs. I never wagered for extravagance, sir. Only for necessity.”

“How do you gauge the difference?”

Avery’s mouth curved. “I’ve got a lot of experience with need, sir. It’s not hard to tell them apart.”

He bent forward, lifting a Montblanc LeGrand that could feed a small family for a week. Balancing the pen on his palm, he pressed: “Others would disagree. Need and want look identical to most. What makes you better at seeing the difference? The nobility of poverty?”

“I’m not noble, Your Honor. Just practical.”

“Practical?”

“Yes, sir. Gambling for want is a risk. I don’t believe in jeopardizing what I’ve got for a negligible chance at something better, not unless I can’t make what I’ve got work somehow.”

“Poker is a risky game for most. I prefer chess. A noble game. Not one that should be denigrated by speed matches in a park.”

    She winced. “It can be fun. Racing against the clock and your opponent.”

“I do not believe that the maharajahs of ancient India would agree. When first invented, the game was known as chatura?ga. The Moors brought it to Europe, and it became the game we call chess. That’s when the queen became the most powerful piece, but still in service to a king. What do you think of that?”

“Of what, sir?”

“Of the queen being responsible for saving the king, but that only his life is sacred. Should offend your feminist sensibilities, no?”

Avery grinned. “My feminist sensibilities are not offended. In a game of strategy, the king is a figurehead, unable to save his own life without the aid of others. The queen is powerful and dynamic. She will protect the king, but not because of weakness. It’s because that’s what she’s supposed to do.” She added, “It was in the tenth century that the queen replaced the vizier on the chessboard. Vizier meant leader, and in the next five hundred years, she became the most powerful piece on the board. A nice evolution.”

“Because I find most people too pedestrian to engage in person, I play online. A hardy game without the chatter.”

“I’m surprised.” She’d never taken the justice for a gamer.

He tapped his computer screen. “Chessdynamo.com.”

“Oh.” Unsure of what to say, she looked at the screen. “I’ll check it out.”

“You should.” A finger tapped his chin thoughtfully. “And what of loyalty?”

Confused by the shifting conversation, Avery tightened her fingers on the folder in her hands. “What do you mean?”

“Loyalty, Ms. Keene. How does that factor into your decision-making?”

“I keep my promises and repay my debts. Is that what you’re asking?”

“In part.” He reclined and steepled his fingers in contemplation. “Do you stand by those you promise loyalty to, even when what they ask seems absurd or even perilous?”

Avery met his eyes with a level gaze. “I choose my friends carefully, Your Honor. Friendship carries obligations; and, as I said, I keep my promises and repay my debts.”

Justice Wynn continued to watch her, his expression inscrutable. She refused to fidget. Instead, she stood there, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. A few moments later, he asked, “What about me, Ms. Keene? Where do I fall in this hierarchy of loyalty?”

    “Your Honor?”

“A simple question. Are you loyal to me?”

“I’m loyal to this Court,” she began cautiously. “I swore to uphold the law and support the Constitution. As your clerk, it is my obligation to do everything in my power to achieve that and to assist you in doing so.”

A bushy white eyebrow rose. “Ah, then it is the job that holds your respect. Not me.”