promise to Ray.
“Don’t hang it up too fast, Eletha,” I say. “Have I got a man for you.”
“So have I,” Ben says, leaning over. “Chief Judge Galanter is single.”
Eletha laughs. “That’ll be the day! Shoot me before I get to that point. Shoot me, child!”
I think of Armen and stop laughing slowly. The others don’t seem to notice.
Sarah says, “No, Eletha, you got it backwards. Shoot
They all roar with laughter, even Ben. I force a smile. What does it feel like to be shot? What is the last thing Armen felt? Did McLean hold the gun to Armen’s temple? Force him into the chair? I look away to where the park ranger is addressing the tourists and tune him in.
“There were no bell foundries in the colonies at that time period,” the ranger says, “so rather than send it back, these resourceful colonists, who had previously made only pots, pans, and candlestick holders—”
“Grace?” Artie says. “You with us?”
I push it out of my mind. We got him now. That’s justice, even if it doesn’t bring Armen back. “Sure.”
“Who’s bachelor number one?” Eletha asks.
“What?”
“Who did you want to fix me up with?”
“Oh. One of the marshals.”
Eletha shudders. “One of the marshals? Forget it!”
“Back in the saddle, Miss Thing,” Artie says. “I love a man in uniform.”
“What’s the matter with a marshal?” Sarah says.
Eletha leans forward. “You know what I heard? One of the marshals was arrested this morning. For the murder of that reporter.”
Sarah pales. “You mean the stringer? The one who was calling us?”
“What?” Ben says, setting his hoagie down in its shell of waxy paper. I concentrate on the grease spots soaking the paper from the inside and try to look as shocked as he does.
“That’s unbelievable,” Artie says, between mouthfuls of corned beef. “Which marshal?”
“Al McLean, the big one.”
“How did you hear this?” I ask her.
“Millie, from the clerk’s office. So no marshals, honey. Not for me. No way.”
“But it’s Ray Arrington. He’s a teddy bear.”
“Ray? A
“Ray?”
“The Shakester had a bruise all down his side.”
“Poor schizophrenic,” Ben says. He stows his empty coffee cup in his hoagie wrapper and rolls them up together. “We should get back to the office. It’s been over an hour.”
Eletha and Sarah look at each other and laugh. “What are they gonna do, fire us?” Eletha says.
“I want to work on my article.”
But Sarah doesn’t hear him. “We’re free. We have no work, no job, no office.” Her face falls suddenly. And no boss, is the thing we’re all thinking, but nobody says it. Artie wraps up the remains of his lunch in silence and Eletha watches him, her eyes unfocused. I feel a lump in my throat and raise my can in a silent toast.
“I agree,” Sarah says softly and touches her drink to mine. Eletha raises hers, too. Only Artie doesn’t say anything. I can’t catch his eye.
Ben clears his throat. “We’d better go back. Grace still has a job, you know.”
“Don’t remind me.” I’ve indentured myself for nothing, unless I want to help Winn’s bribery investigation. “Anyway, today I’m off duty.”
“So why’d you come in?” Sarah asks. She gets up, then helps me up.
“I don’t know. We don’t have much more time together. I thought I’d say good-bye.” It comes out of its own force, and even though it’s not the reason I came in, I realize how true it is. The lump comes back.
“Awww,” Sarah says, and to my surprise gives me a warm hug, which Eletha joins.
“Group hug!” Artie says, rallying. He wraps his long arms around Eletha and presses us all together. I’m somewhere in the middle, trying to swallow the damn lump.
“Come on in, Mr. Human Rights,” Sarah calls out.
“I’ll pass,” Ben says, but I hear the smile in his voice.
“
29
I sit at my desk with the form letter in my hand, reading it to Winn:
We have been unable to locate the record in this matter in our archives or file room. This is not out of the ordinary with older case files and we will continue our efforts to locate it. We regret any inconvenience this may have caused you.
“You know McLean took it, don’t you?” I say.
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“The government never loses anything?”
“A court record? Not often.”
“Ever?”
“Not often.”
Winn is silent.
“Charge him anyway, Winn. The lawsuit existed. His wife existed. He can’t hide the facts, even if he can steal the record.”
“Fuck. This slows us up.”
“How? Ask him about it. Say to him, Did your wife die of skin cancer? Did she sue the doctor? Was the fifteen million dollar award taken away by Judge Gregorian?”
“He’s not answering questions, Grace. He’s got a lawyer already.”
Shit. Of course. Shoot the lawyer twice. It stumps me for a minute.
“You say we don’t need the record, but if the record doesn’t matter, why would McLean steal it?”
“Because he’s stupid. Because he didn’t count on anybody doing legal research on him.”
“How would he steal it? Would he be able to?”
“Sure. The marshals have master keys, that’s how he got in Galanter’s office. The files are kept in number order by year. Even an idiot can find a record.”
“Fuck!”
“Let me be the confidential informant again. I’ll make another statement. Describe everything that happened in Armen’s office, the way McLean acted to me at the metal detector, even my research and the clerk’s letter. It’s enough to charge him, isn’t it?”
“It’s a close question.”
“Winn, he killed Armen because of the court case, then he killed Faber because he was close to finding out. A verdict that big would make the papers. Faber probably did his homework and found out about the wife’s case. Hell, he could find it easily on Nexis. I could do it myself, right now. Faber was calling our chambers all day.”
“Relax, Grace.”
“Charge him. It’s enough. I’m a lawyer, I know. Are you gonna let him get away with murder?”
“It’s close. I don’t want to go in half cocked.”
Man talk. “You got another idea?”
“Yes. Is there any other place records would be?”
The thought strikes like a thunderbolt. “The appendix! The appendix is a duplicate of the record. For a trial
