I grit my teeth. I’ve deposed bigger bastards than this. “Do you usually go into chambers?”
“I check the doorknobs. If the door’s unlocked, I go in. I forget if that one was open that night. Now you better get through the detector. We got a line here.”
I walk through the detector, trying to remember if the door was unlocked that night. I have no idea. The alarm sounds again.
“Come on back, Ms. Rossi.”
I walk back through and the noise stops. My handbag sails past me in the opposite direction. McLean looks over his shoulder at Jeff. I can’t see his face but I can see Jeff’s, and he’s smiling.
“Now your belt, please, Ms. Rossi.”
“Cut her a break, man,” Ray says.
“You ain’t my boss and I ain’t your man,” McLean snaps, then looks at me. “Only one thing left. Stand up and put your hands out straight from your sides.”
“Get real. You know I’m not a security risk.”
“You want to get to work today?” he says. From behind the counter he produces a hand-held metal detector, which looks like a cartoon magnifying glass. He switches it on in front of my chest.
McLean holds the magnifying glass in front of my left breast, then moves it slowly in front of my right. It’s all I can do not to hit him.
“I thought so,” he shouts, and turns off the noisy alarm. “Underwire bra.” One of the marshals laughs out loud, then quiets.
I look McLean in the eye. “If this is some kind of game, pal, you won’t win.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, unfazed.
I grab my earrings and bag and stalk ahead to the elevator, where the older woman is holding the door for me. “Here, dear,” she says, in a comforting way.
I slip inside and punch the button for eighteen. “Thank you.”
“What an unhappy man,” she says, looking up at the lighted numbers. The elevator doors open on the second floor and she extends a bony hand. “It was very nice meeting you. My name’s Miss Pershing, by the way. Amanda Pershing.”
“Grace Rossi.”
Her hooded eyes light up. “Are you Italian?”
I think of my father. “No.”
She looks disappointed as the elevator doors close behind her. Her perfume lingers, and I travel heavenward in an elevator filled with lavender and rage. Did McLean see Armen and me together? Where was he when I was hit on the head?
I head for chambers but hear noise down the hall, coming from Galanter’s chambers; it sounds like a party.
I pass the judges’ elevator and linger for a moment in the hall. The sound is coming from the office of Galanter’s law clerks. Maybe they’re celebrating Galanter’s ascension; maybe I can learn something about
There are no judges, but the clerks’ office is packed with twenty-five-year-olds, crowding among the federal case reporters, laughing and talking. One of Galanter’s clerks has two party hats crossed on his head in a coarse caricature of a woman’s breasts.
“It’s time!” somebody shouts, and then everybody starts blowing horns and noisemakers, like New Year’s Eve.
“Ready for the countdown?” shouts a pretty blonde in a dark suit. She checks her watch, as do several of the others.
“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”
The kids all shout, growing giddier with each second. I have no idea what is going on.
“Come on in, the water’s fine!” says one of the partyers, who’s older than the others. He takes me by the hand and pulls me inside. “Count with us!”
“What for?” I yell, over the din.
“Six! Five!” shouts the crowd in unison. “Four! Three! Two!”
“What are we celebrating?”
“Justice!” He raises a plastic glass. “The Court denied the stay in
“One!
“Good-bye, Tommy!” shouts the blonde, next to a familiar head of wiry hair.
Ben. He sees me in the doorway, and his shocked expression freezes for a moment. Then he turns his back on me.
24
“You had a phone call, Grace,” Eletha calls out from Armen’s office, as soon as I get into chambers. “From that reporter.”
“Reporter?” I pause in the doorway to Armen’s office, taken aback by the sight. Everything has been packed up. There’s not a trace of Armen still visible; none of the books he loved or the objects he collected. Even the cudgel he kept on the wall has been wrapped. I feel a sharp twinge inside.
“That stringer, the one who was givin’ Susan such a hard time after the memorial service.” She pushes a stiff strand of hair out of her eyes, looking beautiful without even trying. No wonder Armen loved her. “The curly guy, who needed the shave. Faber.”
“You’re not gonna call him back, are you?”
“Why not?”
“He’s an ass. He called here, buggin’ Ben, even Sarah. Artie hung up on him.” She strips some wide packing tape from a roll and presses it onto a box. “I can’t be bothered. I got another asshole to deal with. Did you see?” She steps aside, presenting the chair behind her like Vanna White. A long Indian headdress is draped over the chair. Its feathers are a brilliant cardinal red, with orange in the center, and the pointy tips of each plume are black. It’s easily eight feet long and makes a gaudy caterpillar onto the carpet.
“What’s that doing here?”
“It’s Galanter’s, he’s the chief now, get it? Think he’ll wear it behind the goddamn desk?” She shakes her head. “Meanwhile, check out what’s going on down the hall. You won’t believe that either.”
“I saw.”
“They should be ashamed of themselves. I called the clerk’s office upstairs. They’ll stop ’em.”
“Was Galanter in?”
“He’s been gone all morning.”
“Where?”
“Damned if I know. He left some typing for me, like I’m his goddamn secretary.”
I turn to go. “I gotta check the mail.”
“How was your weekend?” she calls after me.
I think of my newfound father, then the secret apartment full of toys. “Same old same old.”
“You’re talkative this morning.” She’s puzzled by my coldness, and I decide to level with her in a way she didn’t with me. Or maybe I want to pick a fight.
“Actually, I had an interesting weekend, El. Went up to West Philly.”
