By then the crowd was completely with Edward Holland; they hung on his every word. They trusted him; if he said they would win in the courts, then they would win in the courts.
The only thing he failed to mention was what he knew to be the truth.
They were going to lose.
The drive to Brayton took an hour and ten minutes.
It would ordinarily have taken me an hour and a half, and with it raining like it was, maybe even longer than that. Which was why I brought Emmit along, and let him drive.
Emmit drives like an absolute maniac, and he rode the siren most of the way. He did this even though we had no jurisdiction in New York, figuring we could handle any local cops who had a problem. None did.
My first stop was going to be at the town hall to see the Mayor, Edward Holland. We had a brief conversation over the phone, but if I was going to pin Judge Brennan’s murder on the situation in Brayton, I needed as much firsthand exposure to it as possible. I was hoping Holland could draw me a road map.
Holland originally thought I was investigating the explosion at the house of Richard Carlton, his adversary in the legal proceedings concerning the proposed fracking. He quickly realized that it made no sense for the New Jersey State Police to have an interest in a New York crime, and asked why I wanted to meet.
“We believe that a case we are working on here may intersect with the controversy you’re involved in.”
“Can you be more specific?” he asked.
“I can, and I will when we meet.”
He made it clear to me how busy he was, as a way of telling me that the meeting would not be a long one, but he ultimately agreed. I made a similar call to Richard Carlton, who it turned out was in Manhattan for business meetings. I arranged to see him there the next day.
I liked Brayton a lot. It was a sort of sleepy place, with a town center consisting of basically three streets of shops. It was the kind of place where the superstores have not made their appearance, probably because the economics don’t warrant it.
All in all, a nice place to grow up, provided the water was safe to drink and the air breathable. I could see why people would be upset that big industry might damage the cocoon they had constructed around their families. It wasn’t Mayberry; it was considerably more sophisticated than that. But it felt right.
Emmit dropped me off at the town hall, while he went on ahead to the Brayton Police Station to get as much background as he could on the violence. Edward Holland had left instructions for me to be ushered into his office immediately upon my arrival, and that’s what happened.
“Is this about the Brennan murder?” he asked right away, surprising me.
I nodded. “Yes, but very loosely at this point. We’re covering our bases, and as part of that we’re looking into the cases he would have been involved in on the Court of Appeals.”
“That could take a while. He would have had a full caseload,” Holland said.
I nodded. “And we’re checking as many as manpower allows. The fact that there has already been some violence in connection with your case puts it near the top of the list.”
“Somebody blew up Richard Carlton’s guesthouse in frustration and anger. It is extraordinarily unlikely that whoever did it had the sophistication to try and control which judges would rule on the Court of Appeals.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said, and in fact I was sure he was right. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to implicate the “Brayton bomber” in the court run by Chris Gallagher. “But I’ve still got to ask the questions.”
He shrugged. “Ask away.”
“Do you have any idea who set the explosion?”
“Not the slightest. You’d be better off asking the police.”
I nodded. “My partner is doing that right now. I’m asking if you have any instincts about it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t; this has been a peaceful community for as long as I remember. But people are very, very upset, and rightfully so. Having said that, there is no one I know in this town that I would consider capable of such an act.”
“Are you going to win your case?”
“I have every confidence,” he said, without much conviction.
“Is that your official position?”
He smiled. “It is.”
“What impact would Brennan replacing Judge Dembeck have had on the case?”
He shrugged. “Hard to say, which is one of the reasons you’re wasting your time.”
“So you as the lead lawyer, and Mayor, had no preference for either Judge Dembeck or Judge Brennan?”
He thought for a moment, as if deciding how honest to be. “I doubt that Judge Dembeck is favorable to our position, based on her previous rulings, and her questions during oral arguments. Brennan would have been a wild card, hard to categorize.”
“Why?”
“A couple of reasons,” he said. “First, it was in his nature to be unpredictable; I think he relished it. Second, I’m not aware of any similar cases he had ever heard, and he had never written on the matter.”
“So you researched it?”
“Of course. Not to do so would have been unprofessional and borderline negligent.”
“So net-net, Brennan would have been better for your side than Dembeck? That’s your view?”
“Probably, but it’s all very, very speculative. Other lawyers might feel completely differently about it. Anticipating judicial decisions is no way to make a living.”
I was pretty much running out of questions, mostly because of his answers so far. If he was right that Brennan’s joining the court would be a possible problem for Carlton’s side, then they would have been the ones most inclined to prevent him from doing so. Which made them my most likely suspects.
I thanked him and walked over to the police station, which was in the same complex. Emmit was just coming out, having spoken to the lead detective assigned to the bombing of the Carlton guesthouse.
“They’ve got zip; the perp left nothing behind at the scene,” he said. “Which surprises them. They think it’s an amateur who behaved like a pro.”
“Why are they thinking amateur?”
“Because everybody in the town is pissed at Carlton and they aren’t the types to go out and hire professional muscle. So somebody got frustrated and angry, and did the job. They were just lucky.”
Holland had described the perpetrator in similar terms; no doubt he was in touch with his officers. “Is there a leader in the town on this issue, other than Holland?”
Emmit nodded. “According to the detective, the unofficial leader is Alex Hutchinson.”
I thought about it for a few moments, then shook my head. “Doesn’t work for us.”
“What do you mean?”
“According to Holland, the town’s side would have had reason to be in favor of Brennan joining the court. They might have bombed Carlton’s guesthouse, but killing Brennan is a tough sell. It would run counter to their interests. If there’s a killer we can point to, he’s on the other side.”
Emmit nodded his understanding. “Makes sense.”
“So let’s go talk to Alex Hutchinson.”
“You just said that doesn’t work for us.”
“We’re here anyway; maybe Hutchinson will say something to change my mind. Can’t hurt to talk to him; where is he?”
“She’s at the diner,” Emmit said.
“What?”
“Alex Hutchinson is a woman.”
