I could put my hair through a wind tunnel, and it wouldn't matter.

Clean clothes and a lack of BOis about all you need to meet minimum

standards for the courthouse crowd.

I signed myself out on the MCU white board without explanation,

following my practice of staking out ground early in a new job the way

Vinnie pees everywhere he goes to mark territory.  No way was I going

to join the kiss-ups who leave notes on the board detailing their

precise location.  That's what pagers were for.

I kicked off my black Ferragamo sling backs and threw them in my

briefcase while I shoved my stockinged feet into my New Balances.  I'd

lost enough of my good shoes to Portland's damp streets.

On my way out, I swung by my old office in DVD.  Kirsten

Holloway, newly promoted from the misdemeanor unit, had already covered

the place with her wedding photos and stuffed animals.  She would learn

her lesson quickly.  By the end of the week, anonymous pranksters would

be sure to have her cute little animals posed in backbreaking positions

violating the laws of thirty-six states.  I didn't even want to think

about the Post-it notes she'd find stuck around the bride and groom. In

the meantime, no sign of my beloved chair.

I entered City Hall from its new Fourth Avenue entrance.  The city had

completed what seemed like endless remodeling about a year ago.  What

used to be a dingy back entrance through a metal door was now the main

entrance, hugged by pink pillars and a rose garden.

The refurbished City Hall beat the hell out of my rundown courthouse.

The renovation had exposed the building's original marble tile and

woodwork.  To the extent that there was any natural light on this

crummy day, it flooded into the lobby through the atrium skylights. The

tiled staircases that had once been enclosed in a stairwell were now

open, exposing five floors of original copper handrails and plating.

I took the stairs to the third floor, then ducked into the corner to

switch my shoes.  Judge Loutrell's office was in the suite at the end

of the hall.

I was in luck, or so it seemed.  After a short call, Loutrell's

secretary told me he was in and willing to see me.  Even though I

should have made an appointment, of course.

Loutrell rose from his desk to greet me.  He was tall and thin, balding

but trying hard to conceal it with his last few wisps of white hair.  I

shook his hand and introduced myself as a Deputy District Attorney.

'I'm sure you already know that Clarissa Easterbrook has been reported

missing.'

'Yes.  I was shocked when I heard it on the news this morning.  It's

just not like Clarissa to be gone like this.'

'That's what others have been telling us as well, so the police are

investigating every possibility.  For now, they're focusing primarily

on Judge Easterbrook's neighborhood, but since I work at the courthouse

and was in the area, I thought I'd see if anyone she works with might

have any theories about where she could be or people the police should

be talking to.'

'Gosh, not offhand.  I wish I could help, but I didn't talk to Clarissa

much and I don't know much about her personal life.'

'What about her professional life?  Has there been anything unusual

lately for her at work?'

'Not that I can think of.  Like I said, we didn't talk much, and all of

us work pretty independently.  I'm the chief administrative officer,

but that doesn't mean much other than filling out some forms and

whatnot.'

Now came the tricky part.  'I'm sure it's a long shot that her

disappearance would have anything to do with work, but we want to make

sure we cover all the bases early on.  What would be really helpful to

the investigation is to take a look in Judge Easterbrook's office.  You

know, just to make sure nothing seems out of the ordinary.'

I was about halfway through the request when Loutrell began to finger

the pen resting on his leather desk pad.  By the time I was finished,

he had picked it up and was twisting the cap around in circles.

'Well, yes, I can see why that would be an important part of what

you're trying to do.  But I'm sure you understand that I can't just

open up one of our hearing officers' offices for you.'

'Judge Loutrell, one of your coworkers is missing.  From everything

I've heard, including what you just told me, this is not a woman who

would run off without some explanation.  One of her shoes was found in

a gutter.  All I'm asking for is the chance to rule out the possibility

that this had anything to do with her work so the police can focus on

more likely possibilities.'

'I understand all that, Ms.  Kincaid, but I'm sure you understand that

there are privacy issues at stake.'

'Clarissa Easterbrook is not a private attorney.  She doesn't have any

clients, so we're not talking about privileged material.  The only

privacy rights at issue are Clarissa Easterbrook's, and I think it's

safe to say that she'd want us to take a look under these

circumstances.'

'I just don't know.'  He was still twisting the pen cap.

'I can have the police apply for a search warrant if you think that's a

more appropriate procedure.'  I managed to make it sound like an offer

to be helpful instead of a threat.

'I just don't think this is something I should be handling.'

'The mayor's office pointed me to you.  You're the chief administrative

hearings officer.'

'And I told you that title means little in this context.  I think you

should talk to the City Attorney's Office.'

I thought about arguing but decided it was a waste of time.  Loutrell

was a timid bureaucrat who was more concerned about straying beyond his

authority than finding Clarissa Easterbrook.  He had also said the

magic attorney word: The City Attorney represented all city agencies,

including the hearings officers.  If Loutrell told me to go to his

attorney, I didn't have much choice.

Luckily, the City Attorney's Office was just one floor up.  When I

explained to the receptionist what I needed, however, she told me I'd

need to talk to the City Attorney himself, Dennis Coakley, who wasn't

going to be back until the end of the day.  I left my name and number

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