Blow Out

Sherlock said, “How long had you been lovers?”

“Four months now. Please, I don’t want Margaret to know. Why hurt her needlessly? It would be cruel.”

Sherlock said, “She’ll have to know if it turns out your affair had anything to do with Justice Califano’s murder.”

That knocked her back against the colorful pillows that lined the back of the white sofa. “How could I have anything to do with Stewart’s murder? He was the finest man I’ve ever known in my life. He was brilliant, he was kind, he was gentle, he was unfailingly thoughtful. He loved being a Supreme Court Justice, and best of all, he was very good at it. We all needed him; the country needed him; justice needed him.”

Such fine, idealistic words, Savich thought, and they came out of her so easily. Was she that good an actress? Or was she sincere? Fact was, she was a lawyer, a good one. Best not to forget that. He saw tears swimming in her eyes again and changed his direction for the moment. “Tell us about your law clerks, Eliza. What are their names?”

Sherlock didn’t bat an eyelash. Of course Dillon knew everything about both the other clerks, how much they drank at parties, what sports they liked, but his look was very open and straightforward. She would have believed it instantly if she hadn’t known better.

“There’s Danny Boy, that’s what we call him. Daniel O’Malley. I kid him about seeing him standing on the shores of Ireland, a bugle under his arm, ready to transport to France and join the Brits in the ditches. Daniel O’Malley, he’s got that idealistic look, the burning fervor sort of thing. Fact is, though, that idealistic look isn’t real. There isn’t an idealistic bone in Danny’s body. He doesn’t come from money and he’s grown up wanting it, desperately, and to him that means working for a big law firm in New York City. Danny is twenty-six, younger than his years should make him, eager to get his work done well because he wanted a glowing recommendation from Stewart to fire him off to the big time.” She paused a moment, twisted the hem of her sweater. “I don’t suppose he’ll get one now.” She cleared her throat. “I remember one time when I had to swat him down.”

Savich said, “May I ask how you slapped him down?”

“I told him his grandmother, God rest her beloved soul, would turn over in her grave if she heard him advocate that ‘under God’ violates the separation of church and state in the Pledge of Allegiance. He tried to tell me she was Irish, not American, and she didn’t really understand. I told him his grandmother was likely cheering when they added it in 1954, long before he was even born. Then I picked up the St. Christopher medal he always wears around his neck, pulled it tight, watched his face turn red, and laughed at him. He folded. End of story.”

Since Savich agreed with her about that argument, he nodded. “Did Danny have a girlfriend?”

“Yes, only recently. He’s very shy with women. She’s a clerk over at the Department of the Interior, a computer geek, to tell you the truth, but it seems they are getting along, and that’s good. Don’t get the wrong idea here, Agents. Danny is law review, graduated Loyola with superior grades, and has a recommendation from a professor who was a former clerk, and still plugged into the clerk network. Naturally, this is true of just about every one of the thirty-six law clerks here. Danny never had enough money, which was par for the course with most of the law clerks, but he managed.” She paused a moment, and this time she did manage to smile. “Do you know that in 1922 Congress first appropriated money for Justices to hire one law clerk each? Their salary was thirty-six hundred dollars a year. That’s about a tenth of what the salaries are today. Given inflation, I don’t think we’ve made much progress.” She smiled again, looked around her lovely living room. “My uncle owns a law firm in Boston. I worked for him before I came here.”

Savich smiled back at her. “Thank you. And the other clerk?”

“Stewart elected to have only three law clerks this year instead of the typical four. Why, I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. So the other clerk is Elaine LaFleurette. A ridiculous name, and she hates it. She was considering changing it, but she said her father would have a conniption fit and disown her, so she’s sticking with it. But since she hates to be called Elaine, we all call her Fleurette. She went to Tulane, a big party school that she aced without really even trying, then went to Stanford where she found what she needed—more focus and less beer—and she did very well. She’s not strong enough yet to take on the world, but she’ll get there. She’s a good woman, very good. She also admired Stew—Justice Califano. Actually, she worshiped the ground he walked on, like a substitute for her father, who is evidently something of a controlling son of a bitch. Stewart always listened to her, always showed her respect, even when he wanted to put duct tape over her mouth. She came running into his office once when she heard us yelling at each other. She thought she needed to protect him from me. It was a close call.”