Chương 5
“You missed it?”
“It went into a filtered folder. Her subject line was ‘Scheduling concern.’ I found it tonight.”
“What did it say?”
“That she needed to discuss after-hours access and a filing receipt involving Vale Civic Holdings.”
Eleanor stood and walked to the sink.
“You told the executive committee last month our filters were fixed.”
“I believed they were.”
“Did she follow up?”
“Not with me.”
“Did she speak to anyone else?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nora, she is missing.”
“I know.”
“You had a warning.”
“I know.”
Eleanor’s anger rose faster because it had somewhere familiar to go. Nora had been beside her through budget fights, security failures, a flooded basement, and the chaos of taking over from a chief judge who retired with nine days’ notice. They had argued often, but Eleanor trusted her.
Trust made disappointment feel personal even when it was not.
“I need the email forwarded to outside counsel,” Eleanor said.
“I already sent it.”
“And documented when you found it.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
There was a pause.
“You can say it,” Nora said.
“Say what?”
“That I failed.”
Eleanor gripped the edge of the sink.
“This is not about what I want to say.”
“It is partly.”
“No. It is about preserving a process.”
“Don’t use the bench voice with me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Eleanor released the counter.
“Did you fail?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we will deal with that.”
“We?”
“The institution.”
“That’s a convenient pronoun.”
Nora ended the call two minutes later with an agreement to meet at seven the next morning. Neither woman apologized.
Eleanor stood alone in the kitchen.
Lucy had gone home, leaving two containers of lentil soup in the refrigerator and a note on the counter that said EAT ACTUAL FOOD.
Eleanor unfolded the note, folded it again, and placed it beneath the sugar bowl.
Then she searched her memory for Marjorie Bell.
Fifty-six. Records supervisor. Auburn hair cut short. Allergic to perfume. Drank decaffeinated coffee and complained about people who called it coffee. Had once stayed four hours after a pipe burst to protect adoption records from water damage. Eleanor had thanked her in a courthouse-wide email.
She could not remember the last time they had spoken privately.
At seven the next morning, a television van was parked across from the courthouse.
By seven ten, there were three.
Eleanor entered through the staff garage wearing the black wrist brace and the same blue cardigan, cleaned overnight. She had considered choosing something more formal, then resented the consideration.
Nora was waiting in the conference room with County Counsel David Lin and a woman Eleanor had met once at a judicial education program.
Amelia Shaw had served as an inspector general for a neighboring court system before entering private practice. She was sixty-two, small, gray-haired, and carried no visible briefcase. A yellow legal pad rested in front of her.
“I can conduct the administrative investigation,” Amelia said. “I cannot investigate potential crimes. Anything suggesting criminal conduct will be referred to the appropriate agency through counsel.”
Eleanor nodded.
“I’ll need unrestricted access to records, logs, personnel, and security footage.”
“You’ll have it.”
“I’ll also need written confirmation that you will not direct my findings.”
“You’ll have that.”
“And you will be treated as a witness, not as my client.”
Nora shifted in her chair.
Eleanor said, “Understood.”
Amelia studied her.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then the first thing you should do is stop discussing the underlying facts with staff, court leadership, your daughter, your friends, and anyone else who is not your attorney.”
Eleanor kept her face still.
Amelia turned one page on the pad. “You told your daughter.”
“The physical incident.”
“Good. Don’t tell her more.”
David Lin slid a document across the table. “We also recommend that you recuse yourself from all matters involving Vale Civic Holdings, Preston Vale, and affiliated entities until further notice.”
“I agree.”
“An acting chief judge will handle administrative decisions connected to the investigation.”
Nora looked at the table.
“Who?” Eleanor asked.
“Judge Abramson.”
Eleanor nearly objected.
Leonard Abramson was competent, cautious, and so devoted to institutional reputation that he once delayed announcing a courthouse mold problem until he had obtained three competing estimates for remediation. He would not interfere with an outside investigation, but he would measure every disclosure against the possibility of embarrassment.
Eleanor looked at Amelia.
“Did you choose him?”
“No.”
“Did you approve him?”
“No one asked me.”
David said, “He is the senior administrative judge.”
“That doesn’t make him a good choice.”
“It makes him the designated choice.”
There were rules for succession. Eleanor had helped revise them.
She sat back.
“Fine.”
Amelia wrote something on the pad.
“What?”
“I’m noting that you objected and complied.”
“I didn’t object.”
Amelia looked up.
Eleanor heard herself.
“I considered objecting,” she said. “I complied.”
Amelia made another note.
At eight fifteen, Judge Abramson called a meeting of division heads. At eight forty, a temporary directive closed the records office to the public and moved intake functions to the first-floor clerk’s counter. At nine, the county police confirmed Marjorie Bell had been located at her sister’s house in another state.
She was safe.
She did not want to speak to local authorities.
At nine twelve, Preston Vale appeared on television.
Eleanor watched from her chambers with the sound muted at first.
He stood outside his company’s glass headquarters wearing a navy overcoat. Mason was not present. Preston’s attorney, Gloria Finch, stood beside him.
The caption beneath Preston read BUSINESS LEADER RESPONDS TO JUDICIAL CONFRONTATION.
Eleanor turned up the volume.
“My son was frightened,” Preston said. “He saw an unfamiliar woman enter an office during a sensitive discussion and believed she intended to harm me. He made brief physical contact. Judge Grant then used her position to frighten a child and ordered security personnel to prevent us from leaving.”
May you like
He paused, allowing the cameras to capture his restraint.
“The check being described in rumors was intended as charitable assistance after Judge Grant indicated she had been injured. It was not a bribe, and any suggestion otherwise is defamatory.”
