her, “as you can well imagine.” She paused a moment, drew herself up, knocked on a door at the end of the hall, and immediately opened it.
The room was dark. Mrs. Wallace sighed, walked into the gloom, and turned on a lamp. It sent out a circle of stark light, and in the center of that circle sat an older man on a small sofa, perfectly upright, his hands clasped between his legs, eyes staring straight ahead.
“Justice Wallace,” Ben said as he walked to the man, his badge out. “I’m Detective Ben Raven from the Metro Police. I’d like to speak to you, sir.”
Justice Wallace slowly turned his head to look up at Ben. Then he looked beyond him to Callie. “Callie? What are you doing here? Why are you with this police officer?”
“I’m not here as a reporter, sir. I’m here as part of my stepfather’s family.”
Slowly, Justice Wallace rose, walked to Callie, and took her in his arms. She was nearly as tall as he was. He felt strong as an ox, she thought as she hugged him tightly. “Stewart was a fine man, a fine Justice,” he said, his voice choking. “Dear God, I will miss him.” He hugged her more tightly.
Callie wanted to cry; it was odd, but what held her back was the thought that this man had actually made a pass at her mother, the wife of another Justice who was supposed to be his best friend. So she merely comforted him as best she could, wondering if he was bitterly sorry now for what he’d done.
After a few more moments, Justice Wallace straightened. His shoulders went back. His bearing was once again that of a Justice of the Supreme Court, strong and in control.
He turned to Ben. “Won’t you sit down, Detective? Beth, would you please get us coffee?”
Callie didn’t want any coffee, but Mrs. Wallace had already turned away.
“Why are you here, Detective? Where is the FBI? As you saw, we already have two federal marshals to guard us. From a murder attempt or to protect us from the media, I don’t know. Do you?”
“I would say both, sir,” Ben said. “As for the FBI, they’ll be here to talk to you, Justice Wallace. I’m part of the team put together by the Bureau. I really appreciate you seeing me. If you don’t mind, sir, any information you could give me about Justice Califano would be helpful.”
Justice Wallace sighed. “So many guards, so much security assigned to keep us safe. How could this have happened? In the Supreme Court Building, the bedrock of the rule of law in our nation, the symbol of freedom and balance in our government?”
Now that was eloquent, Ben thought, a lot more statesmanlike than hitting on Margaret Califano. Ben decided there was no reason for him not to tell him. “It appears that the killer knew one of the guards would go outside for a smoke. He hit him on the head, took his uniform, and came right back in. It was after midnight, quiet, and unfortunately he succeeded.” It was a lousy excuse, Ben knew, but it was the truth. “Justice Wallace, I understand you were Justice Califano’s closest friend. Did you notice anything different about him on Friday? Or during the past week? Did Justice Califano appear distracted, perhaps worried about something?”
“No, not at all. Stewart appeared the same as always on Friday, and throughout the week as well. I knew he didn’t want to revisit the death penalty in the upcoming case, but then again, neither did I.”
“Why would that be, sir?”
“He believed it wasn’t a good case for the anti-death-penalty people to use since this sixteen-year-old boy had murdered three people in a particularly brutal manner. Still, he hadn’t made up his mind about overturning the ruling they’d made in 1989. The liberal Justices wanted to swing him around to their way of thinking to gain a plurality. There was lots of maneuvering. I don’t know what Stewart would have ended up deciding to do.”
“But you don’t believe he was in the Supreme Court Library to think about this particular case?”
“It’s possible. Whenever Stewart wanted to be alone to think, to study a case or a contentious issue like this one, he went to the library. He simply felt an affinity for it. He enjoyed being among those thousands of books that give us the roots of what we are as a people. They helped focus his mind, he said, on the meaning of his work.”
“Do you have any idea who could have killed him?”
Justice Wallace began rubbing his hands together, like Lady MacBeth, Callie thought, and wasn’t that a strange image to appear in her mind? He said finally, his voice slow and thoughtful, very much like a Justice rendering an opinion, “No, there was no one, either in his past or in the present, that I know of.”
“Do you know of anything on a more personal level that was bothering Justice Califano? Some disagreement he’d recently had? Some argument?”
“No, naturally not. Stewart was very well liked. He was happily married. He had a stepdaughter everybody likes.” He sent something close to a smile in Callie’s direction.
“You were his best friend, sir?”
“For many years. We both went to Harvard Law. In those years, we drank too much, spent too much time in clubs.” He fell silent, sighed.
For the good old days? Ben had to remind himself that the Justices of the Supreme Court had once been young and that meant doing stupid things, but it was still tough to believe. Justice Wallace was one of the Supremes, so high up he could call the President by his first name.
It was time to move on, time to go to the meat of the matter. He thought of what Savich had said to him. “Remember, Ben, any of the Justices could probably have you taken out and shot, so be diplomatic, be respectful.” Well, this wasn’t going to be respectful at all. Ben could almost hear the firing squad readying their rifles, but he formed the words in his mind and managed to get them out of his mouth. “Would you tell me, sir, whether you’ve been personally involved with Margaret Califano?”
Justice Wallace’s eyes flashed. What? Rage? Embarrassment? No, not embarrassment, but what? Astonishment that he’d been observed and was being called on it? That was probably it. His face paled a bit as he drew in a long, slow breath. Ben prepared himself to be lambasted, possibly threatened. He was aware that Callie was staring intently at Justice Wallace.
But all the Justice said was, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes, of course it’s ridiculous,” said Mrs. Wallace from the door. “How dare you, young man, intimate such a thing? You are speaking to a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.”
Ben wanted to apologize, but he held himself still. He looked briefly at Callie. She was still staring at Justice Wallace’s face, not moving.
Beth Wallace wasn’t through. “The thought that Sumner would ever do anything like that, it’s nonsense. Both Stewart and Margaret were our friends, both of them. It is also an insult to me, Detective. My husband is faithful to me, always has been. And to ask such a thing at this time, in the context of Stewart’s death—it’s reprehensible.” The silver tray she carried trembled in her hands. Callie quickly jumped to her feet and took the tray.
Ben wished Mrs. Wallace could have remained out of sight for two minutes more. Well, damn. Her timing couldn’t have been worse. And that was all he was going to get—a denial. He nodded as he said, “Please let me apologize to both of you. There are some questions a policeman is forced to ask even though he doesn’t want to. To return to Justice Califano’s professional career. Can you think of anyone who hated Justice Califano enough to kill him?”
“Of course not,” Justice Wallace said without hesitation. “If there were ever such a question, any threatening correspondence, for example, it was forwarded to the FBI immediately. They always follow through on such things. Of all the Justices, Stewart was least likely to receive hate mail. Realize, Detective, that the nine of us spend most of our time in the Supreme Court Building. We’re not out haranguing defense lawyers or sentencing criminals, haven’t been for many years.”
There was a moment of tense silence, then Justice Wallace said, “You don’t believe this was a terrorist act, do you, Detective?”
“I don’t know, sir. And since we don’t know, that’s why you have two federal marshals assigned to guard you. They will remain until we’ve solved this case. Now, sir, for our information, and with my apologies, would you please tell me where you were last night?”
Justice Wallace raised an eyebrow and said, “Both my wife and I were home last night, playing bridge with our next-door neighbors, the Blairs. They left at around midnight. Isn’t that right, Beth?”
Beth Wallace nodded. “Then we went to bed.” She looked down at the beautiful silver coffeepot no one had touched. “It does occur to me to mention Eliza Vickers. She was Stewart’s senior law clerk. She isn’t a very nice woman.”
Justice Wallace frowned at his wife. “There’s nothing to say about her, Beth.” When she attempted to open
