Murder in the Supreme Court (Capital Crimes Series Book 3)

by Margaret Truman

  Teller and Susanna looked at each other, not quite believing what they were hearing.

  “Surprised, I see. Don’t be. I wish to cooperate and indeed help you in a meaningful way. So I will show you the files but not allow you to read them. You’ll see they exist. You’ll see they’re intact and therefore played no part in the death of my son.”

  Sutherland buzzed Vera Jones, said into the phone, “Please bring me the files on Dan Brazier and Jonathan Poulson.” She obviously balked because he said in a firmer voice, “Just do it, Miss Jones. Thank you.”

  She entered the office carrying two thick file folders, her face mirroring her displeasure, handed them to Sutherland, turned around and left the room. Without a word.

  Sutherland first took up Brazier’s file. “Here.” He removed sheets of typewritten paper and spread them on the coffee table. “All here, all my notes and observations, my comments about treatment and how it was progressing, copies of letters between myself and other physicians. Mr. Brazier was not a seriously ill person. Losing one’s legs is, of course, traumatic, and he needed psychological support. Which is what I tried to give him, the support to accept his physical problems and to push ahead in spite of them, using, by the way, a quite intelligent and indeed creative mind.”

  “He isn’t succeeding too well,” Susanna said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But of course that’s only your opinion, Miss Pinscher. Well… so much for Dan Brazier’s files. All here, intact, just as they were compiled. Nothing changed, nothing out of order. My son did not, on the evidence, ever remove them, nor did anyone else.”

  “Are his comments about Justice Childs in that file?” Susanna asked.

  “Good question, that, after all, is at the core of your interest. Here, see for yourself.” He took three sheets from the pile and turned them on the table so that they faced Teller and Susanna. On top of each was typed in capital letters: KOREA-CHILDS RELATIONSHIP. Just as Teller and Susanna leaned forward to get a better look, Sutherland shuffled the pages together and returned them to the folder. “Sorry,” he said, “but I told you I would not go along with actually having these files read by you… All right, now for Justice Poulson.” He opened the Chief Justice’s file and almost casually spread its pages on the table. Teller and Susanna again came forward in their seats. Teller started to ask a question, when Sutherland’s face suddenly tightened. He forced a smile, collected the pages from the table and put them back into the folder. “Satisfied?”

  “I suppose we have to be,” Teller said.

  “I think I’ve demonstrated beyond any question not only my willingness but my desire to cooperate.” He stood, the folders under his arm. “Now, I’m afraid I really must ask you to leave. The files you place such importance on are here, as you’ve seen. I must trust that even my showing them to you in the limited fashion I have will remain between us, and that you will appreciate the confidentiality of our relationship.”

  Teller and Susanna stood, shook hands with him and left through Vera Jones’s office. She did not acknowledge their good-byes, just sat at her desk, hands folded on it, eyes straight ahead….

  They’d driven to Chevy Chase in Teller’s car. When they were on their way back to Washington he asked, “Did you notice what I noticed?”

  “I did, or at least I think I did. When he started looking at the sheets in Poulson’s file he seemed at least for a minute there upset. He recovered quickly, but it seemed he was surprised. I think it was because the sheets in Poulson’s file didn’t look like the ones in Brazier’s. Right?…”

  “Go ahead. I may make you a member of the force.”

  “The sheets in Poulson’s file all looked the same, like they’d been typed in one sitting. Brazier’s were different. Obviously, Sutherland’s notes on Brazier were taken and typed over a long period of time. Not so Poulson’s. Maybe Clarence cleaned out the file and the loyal, honorable Miss Jones made up a new one.”

  “I think you’re right,” Teller said. “And if you are, it was the first time the shrink knew about it. He was clearly surprised, even though, like you said, he put back the old professional suave double time…”

  Teller pulled up in front of the Department of Justice. Susanna started to open the door, paused. “And now?”

  “Good question. I’ll consult my magic wall chart and see if it yields the answer. Also, I’ll call you later. Okay?”

  “You’d better.”

  ***

  Meanwhile, in Chevy Chase, Dr. Chester Sutherland slowly got up from his couch and approached the door leading to his outer office. He’d been sitting there for ten minutes reading through Jonathan Poulson’s file. Vera had come into his office the moment Teller and Susanna were gone, but Sutherland had waved her away. “Let me explain,” she’d said. “Get out, Vera.”

  Vera now straightened at her desk as the door opened. She looked up at him. “I did what I had to do.”

  “Damn it,” he said, flinging the files across the room in a highly unpsychiatric fashion. “Where is Poulson’s original?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You told me he gave it back to you.”

  “I lied…”

  “Do you realize the position this puts us in?”

  “Did they notice?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”

  “Why did you ever show the files to them? It was stupid.”

  “I wanted them off my back. Besides, I only showed the files to them. I didn’t allow them to see anything specific—”

  “Then there’s really nothing to worry about.”

  Sutherland gathered up the papers from the floor and put them on her desk. “I hope you’re right,” he said. “I just wish—”

  “Just wish it hadn’t happened, doctor. Yes, how much we both wish that.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Laurie Rawls sat at her desk in Justice Conover’s chambers, the phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. “Yes, I understand,” she said to the caller. “Yes, that’s wonderful news. I’ll let everyone know immediately. Thanks.”

  She hung up and doodled the outline of a frame house on a yellow legal pad. When she’d added a chimney from which a thin curl of smoke twisted up to the top of the page, she picked up the phone and dialed Chief Justice Poulson’s extension. His secretary Carla answered.

  “Laurie Rawls, Carla. I’d like to see the Chief right away.”

  “He’s busy, Laurie. He left word not to be disturbed.”

  “I think he’ll want to see me, Carla. I have something very important to discuss with him concerning Justice Conover and the abortion vote.”

  “How is Justice Conover?” Carla asked. “Any news?”

  “No change. Please, tell Justice Poulson that I need ten minutes with him, no more.”

  Moments later Carla came back on the line. “Come on over now, Laurie, but make it fast, for my sake.”

  ***

  Poulson sat behind a desk piled high with legal briefs. The remains of an egg salad sandwich he had brought in for lunch topped one pile of folders, two stained paper coffee cups another. He was in shirt sleeves, his face was drawn. He did not get up when she entered, simply waved to an empty chair.

  “I know you’re busy, Mr. Chief Justice, but I was certain you’d want to hear what I have to say.”

  “Carla said it was about Justice Conover?”

  “Yes. Marisa called from the hospital. He briefly came out of his coma. She said he slipped back into it, but the doctors are now optimistic that he will at least partially recover.”

  “That’s good news. Have you told the others?”

  “No, only you.”

  His smile was fatherly, concerned. He sat up, gestured at the materials on his desk. “I feel as though I’m drowning in paper…”

  Laurie smiled. “We all feel that way at times, sir. Justice Poulson, there’s something else I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “Oh? Well… how about another time, Miss Rawls
? As you can see, I’m—”

  “This is the time, I think,” she said, her voice determinedly firm. “Justice Poulson, I know what Clarence knew…”

  “I beg your pardon…”

  “I have the files, sir.”

  “What files?”

  “About you… and your stay in the place in Delaware… about how the White House has known this and used it ever since you became Chief Justice…”

  Face flushed, he came half out of his chair. The half-eaten sandwich slid to the floor. “How dare you?”

  “Please, Mr. Chief Justice, try to understand. There’s no need for upset over this, provided we can talk about it. Sort of man to man, sir?…”

  He slumped back in his chair. Blood seemed to drain from his face, leaving it with the appearance of having been dusted with gray powder. He looked toward the door leading to the outer offices.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” said Laurie, “no one else knows about this. It can stay that way.”

  He looked at her, face expressionless. Eerie, she thought to herself. Well, press on… She stood up, picked up a pitcher and poured ice water into a glass. “Here you are, sir,” she said, placing the glass on the desk. “Go ahead. Drink it.”

  Poulson did.

  Laurie sat down again. “As I said, Mr. Chief Justice, there’s really no need for any of this to leave this room. I admire you very much, I always have. I think people become, well, sort of victims of circumstance and just do their best under the circumstances… sir, you’ve done that, I respect people who can do that…”

  “Do you?” Strength had returned to his voice, along with color to his cheeks.

  “Yes, I do. So did Clarence, only he went too far, didn’t he?”

  “Did he, Miss Rawls?”

  His new-found calm bothered her. Before, when it appeared that he might fall apart, she felt in control. Now her heart tripped as she said, “I have great compassion for your… dilemma, Justice Poulson. You must be under tremendous pressure from many quarters, especially with the abortion vote so imminent—”

  “That too?”

  “Well… yes, it’s all there in the file Clarence took from his father’s office, sir. How difficult it must be to be forced to make a decision on something as sensitive as abortion… when your own daughter has had one…”

  He squinted at her as though she’d gone out of focus.

  “I’m sure whatever decision she made was the right one, Mr. Chief Justice.”

  His silence was damned unnerving.

  “I understand, sir, I really do…”

  “Do you, Miss Rawls?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. An entire life ruined over one indiscretion, one mistake. It just isn’t fair.”

  “Since you’ve been so busy reading, I assume you know I encouraged it.”

  “Yes, sir… the guilt, I read about it in the files.”

  His mood changed. He was no longer the angry, grieving, guilty father. Now he sounded like a public person… “Miss Rawls, I know many people don’t agree with my position, but I feel my daughter is also a symbol of what must not be allowed to go on in this nation. It’s not just a matter of morals, of self-determination. The same attitude that got my daughter into such trouble—(and you too? Laurie thought)—has gotten this nation into trouble… live for the moment, forget the consequences, the future… it’s not just a legal matter, this case, though it comes up in a legal forum. It is a question that transcends legalisms. Because of its implications it goes to the heart of the question of our own national survival. I believe that, Miss Rawls, we have a President who believes it, for which I’m grateful—(not to mention that he appointed you, she thought)—I am proud of where I stand, Miss Rawls, and intend to use every power at my disposal to make that stand prevail.”

  She assured him she was touched by what he’d said. It surely was quite a speech. “That’s why we can help each other, Justice Poulson,” she said. “I too want to make a contribution. As you know, sir, Clarence was offered a job on President Jorgens’s staff.”

  “Yes, matter of fact I tried to stop it.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course. The notion of someone like Clarence Sutherland serving the President was anathema to me—”

  “Why didn’t you succeed?”

  “Circumstances. I don’t want to talk about it, Miss Rawls.”

  “I’ve been offered the same job.”

  His face showed authentic surprise.

  “I’m not Clarence Sutherland, Mr. Chief Justice. I’m no saint, but I want to advance and contribute at the same time. I believe in the late Ayn Rand’s theory of selfishness. It’s not a negative word. By being selfish, self-interested, I can achieve the sort of personal freedom and power that will enable me to help others.”

  “Rather oversimplified, Miss Rawls, but I suppose there’s a point there… Well, so the job is yours, with, I take it, the same conditions as applied to Sutherland.”

  “Yes… that the abortion vote goes the way the White House wants it to.”

  “As I said, I believe in the President’s position in this matter. Do you?”

  “My personal feelings are beside the point, sir.”

  He grunted, leaned on the desk. “What do you want, Miss Rawls?” (Of course knowing full well the answer.)

  “Support for me in getting the job I want. And support inside the Court on the abortion vote.”

  “My position is well known, I’ve never wavered. I’m for Illinois in Nidel v. Illinois—”

  “But what about Justice Childs? They say his commitment isn’t so strong… that his vote was supposed to be for the state’s position against abortion but now he’s leaning the other way on strict constitutional grounds… I’m a law clerk here, sir, all us clerks know from the research we do for you justices how you’re leaning on a particular case… or at least we have a good clue or two. I’m familiar with Justice Childs’s research lately…”

  “Yes, well, an effort is being made to convince him to hold to his original position in favor of Illinois.”

  “Yes, sir, and if he does that the vote will stay at four to four. If Justice Conover recovers he would vote for the plaintiff, which I gather is your reason for pushing for an early vote, but if Justice Childs shifts there’s no question your position will lose.”

  And, Poulson thought, if Childs holds firm and Justice Smith changes to our side, we’re home free… Damn Childs… can’t he see this isn’t just a matter of the state intervening in a private citizen’s choice. It goes way beyond that… If Childs had a daughter like mine—

  “Sir, with all due respect, isn’t the one essential, the most immediate concern Justice Childs? His position has to be solidified… I do believe I—”

  “You can do that, Miss Rawls?”

  “With your help, sir…”

  Poulson shook his head. This woman was a little terrifying… “My help? Such as, Miss Rawls?”

  “Make a phone call and arrange a meeting.”

  “With whom?”

  “Miss Jones… Dr. Sutherland’s secretary.”

  He turned in his chair so that he faced the window. “I don’t wish to have any contact with that office—”

  “Just a phone call, Mr. Chief Justice. You certainly needn’t meet with anyone, but the weight of a call from you will accomplish far more than one from me. All I need, sir, is a chance to talk to Miss Jones. Here, in these chambers.”

  “I’m not sure I understand, but in any case, why not go to her office?”

  “Because here, in this building, in these chambers, matters take on a different, an added dimension, sir. Mr. Chief Justice, if you would call and ask her to meet you here in your chambers tonight, at seven, she will certainly not question you about reasons… You can be gone when she arrives, but I’ll be here. I have a… a proposition for her, an exchange that I believe will benefit everyone… you, her, me, the White House, this Court, indeed, the nation…”

  “And if I refuse?”
/>   “Well, sir, then I suspect you jeopardize a great deal… personally and professionally, including the outcome of Nidel v. Illinois.”

  He wanted to strangle her. What he did was to nod and turn away.

  “Good. I’ll be going back to Justice Conover’s office. Will you call and let me know about tonight? Sir?”

  “Thank you for stopping in, Miss Rawls.”

  Twenty minutes later she received a call in Justice Conover’s chambers.

  “It is arranged for seven.” And then the phone was hung up.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said to the dial tone.

  CHAPTER 33

  Martin Teller looked at his watch. He had been parked near the Sutherland house in Chevy Chase for nearly three hours. He had decided to renew the tail on Dr. Sutherland and Vera Jones that afternoon, and elected to take one of the shifts himself. Sutherland had left the house an hour ago and had been picked up further down the road by one of Teller’s men. He would wait for Vera.

  His stomach growled with hunger. He was out of cigarettes. It had turned bitterly cold, and he started the engine from time to time to keep warm. He had just turned it off again and was watching a mongrel dog cross the road when Vera Jones came out of the Sutherland driveway and turned left, in the opposite direction from which he faced. He started the car, turned and drew close enough to keep her in view. It was quite dark.

  She found a parking spot near Union Station, got out and walked down First Street in the direction of the Supreme Court. Teller parked illegally and walked behind her, always ready to turn away should she decide to look back. She did not.