“You bet!” Judge Wanamaker replied. “I’m driving up to the mountains tonight, meeting some friends there.”
Fine didn’t particularly care whether his friends were male or female. They were just making elevator conversation. “We’ll see you on Monday, then.”
Wanamaker nodded. “I’ll be driving back early Monday morning. Have a good weekend.”
Fine spent Saturday and Sunday reading up on earlier appellate court decisions. He had a good working knowledge of the law, but Judge Bangor could leave him in the dust with citations of obscure cases. Fine’s law clerk had assembled enough reading matter to keep him occupied for the weekend, and he almost felt guilty slipping away on Sunday night for dinner with a lady friend.
He was preparing to leave for the courthouse that sunny Monday morning when Judge Bangor phoned. “I just wanted to alert you, Harry. That reporter, Maeve McGuire, was killed by a hit-and-run driver about an hour ago, on her way to work.”
____
BY ELEVEN O’CLOCK the five justices were assembled in the Chief’s spacious office. Judge Bangor rapped his knuckles on the desk to signal for quiet, though no one had said a word since entering the office. He took out one of his cigars, but it remained unlit, perhaps in deference to Susan Quinn, the most outspoken justice on the subject of smoking.
“You all know why we’re here,” Bangor said.
“Miss McGuire made charges against Colin Penny that forced his resignation. And recently I’ve heard rumors that she was about to make accusations against another of our number. Her death this morning is tragic, of course, but it has nothing to do with us. I would suggest that if any of us are contacted by the press we merely have no comment other than to express our sympathy to her family.”
“The press will be all over this,” Frank Rockwell said. “She’s one of theirs.”
He brushed back his gray hair with a familiar gesture and added, “Harry had lunch with her last week.”
Wanamaker turned toward him, a bit surprised by this news, but the Chief hurried to his defense. “I asked Harry to contact her because she’d recently interviewed him. I thought he might learn if the rumors were true that another justice was involved.”
Fine nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, I learned nothing from her.”
Susan Quinn spoke next. “Where did you hear these rumors, Chief?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Come on!” Judge Wanamaker insisted. “We have a right to know.”
Bangor squirmed uneasily. “All I can tell you is that it was someone at the newspaper who knew what she was working on. It was the same person who tipped me off about the situation with Judge Penny.”
“What time was she killed?” Susan wanted to know.
“The police tell me it was about seven forty a.m. She started work at eight. They have alternate side of the street parking and she was crossing the street to her car. A neighbor heard the thump when the car hit her, but no one has come forward yet who actually saw it happen.”
“Are the police checking garages and repair shops?” Harry Fine asked.
“Of course. That’s the first thing they think of.”
There was little more to be said. None of them wanted to suggest, even obliquely, that Maeve McGuire had been killed to keep her from revealing anything further about bribery or illegal campaign contributions. Even Judge Bangor finished the session by remarking that it was a terrible accident.
And yet, the driver hadn’t stopped.
____
FINE WENT BACK to his office and tried to work, but the memory of Maeve McGuire was too strong to shake off. He ate lunch alone at a little coffee shop down the street and returned to find a pale Susan Quinn waiting in his office.
“What is it?” he asked, immediately on guard.
“I received a message meant for Judge Wanamaker,” she said in a hushed voice. “I’m not sure what I should do.”
“What was it?”
“It was on my voice mail, but it was for Zach. His garage called with an estimate on repairing his car. He’s to phone them.”
“You haven’t told him?”
“He’s not back from lunch.”
Fine stared out the window for a moment. She was asking him what she should do, and he didn’t know what to tell her.
“Can’t you just give him the message when he returns?”
“Harry, what if the car was damaged when he hit—”
“Don’t even say it,” he cautioned. He wasn’t willing to accept the notion that Zach Wanamaker, or any of the other justices, could be a murderer.
“Should I tell the Chief?” she asked.
“Not yet. Look, it may be nothing. It may be a ding in his door or a damaged tire.”
“You don’t usually get estimates on jobs like that.”
She was probably right, but they needed more information before taking it to the Chief. “Look, could you phone the repair shop and say you’re Judge Wanamaker’s secretary calling for the estimate? Find out what repairs it’s for.”
“I—I don’t know if I should do that.”
“I’d do it myself and say that I’m Zach, but they might know his voice.”
“You really think we should?”
“We have to know, Susan, before anyone else does. If the police are starting to check repair shops—”
“All right,” she decided. “I’ll call.” She put on her reading glasses to make out the number on her note and punched it into Harry’s phone.
“Make it sound good,” he told her, shutting the office door.
“Hello?” she said. “This is Judge Wanamaker’s secretary. You phoned him about repairing the damage to his car? He’s wondering how much that would be.” She listened and jotted down a figure.
“Nine hundred eighty-five dollars,” she repeated, raising her eyebrows toward Fine. “And what would that cover? The right front fender and the right headlight. And you’ve already notified the insurance company? Very good. When will it be ready? Not till Friday? All right, I’ll tell him. Thank you.” She hung up.
“You should have been an actress instead of a judge,” Fine told her.
“Sure, or maybe just a secretary.”
“He hit something with his car, or someone.”
“I can’t believe it, Harry. We’ll have to tell the Chief.”
“All right,” he agreed. “We’ll go in together.”
Judge Bangor looked up as they entered his office and closed the door. “What’s up?” he asked, looking from one to the other.
Susan told him what they’d done, about the mistaken message and her call to the repair shop. “It’s probably nothing,” she told him. “But in view of what happened this morning—”
Bangor shook his head. “I’ve known Zach for twenty years. He couldn’t do anything like this.”
“You’d better ask him,” Fine suggested. “I think he’s back from lunch now.”
A few moments later Zach Wanamaker joined them in the Chief’s office, puzzled by their grim expressions.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Judge Bangor asked, “Did you have an accident with your car, Zach?”
“Accident?”
“A call from your repair shop was on my voice mail by mistake,” Susan told him. “Nearly a thousand dollars’ damage.”
“Oh, that!” He shrugged it off. “Driving back from the mountains this morning I hit a deer. Killed it dead.”
“Did you report it to the police?” Bangor asked.
“Of course! You think I’d break the law? I got home a little after seven, showered, and took the car into the shop. Luckily I could still drive it.”
“We’ll have to confirm your story.”
“Confirm all you want,” Wanamaker said, his ruddy complexion turning a deeper red than usual. “I damn well didn’t kill your girlfriend, if that’s what you’re thinking!”
Everyone seemed to freeze at his words, and Fine had the bizarre impression
of time standing still. He feared what might happen next, but there was an opportune knock on the door and Judge Rockwell entered. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.
The Chief recovered his composure, as if Wanamaker’s words had never been spoken. “Not at all, Frank. Come in. We’re just discussing the McGuire situation.”
“Terrible! A terrible accident.”
Judge Bangor spoke as if announcing a verdict, without looking at Zach Wanamaker. “It was no accident. I’m calling a secret session of this court for Wednesday morning at eleven, to consider the murder of Maeve McGuire and any possible involvement by a member of this court.”
____
BANGOR REMAINED IN his office with the door closed, admitting not even his law clerks, until late in the day.
Then he summoned Fine. Lighting one of his cigars, he said, “Harry, I want you to check out Judge Wanamaker’s alibi about hitting the deer. See if there’s any truth to it.”
“I don’t know that you should refer to it as an alibi, Chief. He hasn’t been accused of anything yet.”
“Just see if the state police have a report of his car hitting a deer this morning.”
“All right.” He hesitated, knowing he was on slippery ground. “What he said about you and Miss McGuire—”
“—is no one’s business. We were friends for a time and she tipped me off about Penny.”
“What about the latest rumor?”
“She didn’t give me a name. By that time we’d broken up. That’s why I sent you to see what you could learn.”
Fine tended to believe the last part, and it was none of his business if they’d been more than friends.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll check on the accident first thing in the morning.”
But a call in the morning brought only a request for the time and place of the accident, and he had to go to Judge Wanamaker’s office for that information. The judge was not in a mood to cooperate. “He’s really going through with this secret-session business tomorrow?”
“Apparently,” Fine told him. “But if I can dig up some evidence, I can act as something of a defense attorney for you.”
“I’m well able to defend myself, thanks. The accident occurred about six forty-five a.m. I know because I was listening to a morning show on the radio. I used my cell phone to report it, but it was ten minutes before a trooper arrived and filled out an accident report. Luckily I could still drive the car, and I got back to my house before seven thirty to shower and change.”
“Where did it happen?”
“Route nine, just south of the city line.”
Fine phoned the state police again and gave them the information, requesting they fax him a copy of the accident report. Ten minutes later it was on his desk. It seemed straightforward enough: “At 6:57 a.m. I responded to a 911 call and found a silver SUV at the side of Route 9 near the 13-mile marker. A young buck deer, dead at the scene, had run onto the highway in the dark from the woods on the eastern side, hitting the right front fender of the northbound vehicle. A large piece of the plastic fender was broken off, and there was blood and deer fur at the point of impact, but no other damage. Driver and sole occupant of the SUV was Judge Zachery Wanamaker of the Court of Appeals. He was uninjured and was able to drive the car home after filing the report. I phoned the highway department to remove the deer carcass and remained on the scene until it was picked up at 8:05.”
That seemed to be proof enough for Fine. He poked his head in Wanamaker’s office and said, “I have a fax of the police report.”
“Good! One more thing I forgot to mention. I have a witness who saw me arrive home with the damaged car.”
“Who would that be?”
“Oddly enough, it was Colin Penny. He’s a neighbor of mine.”
____
AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK Wednesday morning, when Judge Bangor gaveled the secret session to order in his office, all five justices were in attendance. Fine shared the leather sofa with Susan Quinn while Judge Wanamaker sat alone in the far corner and Rockwell pulled up another armchair to be closer to the desk.
“All right, the session will come to order,” Bangor announced. “I hadn’t expected the need for another of these so soon after the last one, but the untimely death of Maeve McGuire has made it a necessity. As I stated before, this session is in no way a trial. It is more of an informal inquest to determine the truth or falsity of the rumors going around. I’ve asked our newest member, Judge Fine, to handle the investigation as it concerns Judge Wanamaker, and he will report to us now.”
Fine rose to his feet, feeling a bit out of his element. He stepped away from the sofa into the neutral area at the center of the room. “Your Honors, Maeve McGuire’s violent death came shortly after she hinted to the Chief that another member of the appellate court had accepted bribes and illegal campaign contributions. It was the same charge that forced Colin Penny’s resignation and my own appointment to this august body. Miss McGuire was killed by a hit-and-run driver in an early-morning accident near her apartment. When we learned of damage that morning to Judge Wanamaker’s vehicle, a natural suspicion arose. The judge’s story was that he hit a deer while driving back from a skiing weekend. This is the story I was asked to investigate.”
“It’s not a story,” Wanamaker interrupted. “It’s the truth.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Fine told the court.
“In fact, I have here the state police report on the incident.” He read them the report and then continued, “I also have a witness that I’d like to bring before this session.”
Judge Bangor immediately objected. “This entire session is informal and extralegal. We could not admit a stranger to these proceedings.”
“This is no stranger. In fact, he played a major part in your most recent secret session. I’m referring to Colin Penny.”
It was Judge Rockwell who spoke up then. “There’s no need to revisit that affair. Penny has resigned from this court and we’re the better for it.”
But Susan Quinn protested. “Colin’s not here to get his job back! Apparently he can verify Zach’s movements on Monday morning, and we should hear him out. By inviting him in here, we’re not telling him anything he doesn’t already know from firsthand experience.”
Judge Bangor sighed. “All right. When can he be here?”
“I asked him to come at eleven fifteen,” Fine replied. “He should be waiting outside now.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Bangor asked.
“I am, yes.”
“Very well. Bring him in.”
Fine went out to the reception room and found Penny seated nervously in one of the chairs. “They’re ready for you, Colin.”
“I still feel it’s a mistake to come here like this.”
“It’s not a mistake to help clear an innocent man.”
He followed Fine into Judge Bangor’s office, nodding to the others. Only Susan Quinn made an effort to put him at ease. “We’ve missed you, Colin. How are you doing?”
“Well enough. I’m going back into private practice next month.”
“That’s great,” she told him. “You’ll probably be arguing cases before us.”
“Let’s get on with this,” the Chief ordered.
“What evidence do you have to supply, Penny?”
The former judge cleared his throat. “I was wheeling my trash Dumpster out to the curb on Monday morning—”
Fine interrupted to ask, “What time?”
“Before seven thirty, but close to it. I was back in the house in time for the seven thirty news. I had just reached the curb when Judge Wanamaker’s car turned into the street. I saw its headlights, though it was getting light by then, and I noticed a large piece out of the right front fender. He slowed down, lowered the window, and told me he’d just hit a deer. He was going to change his clothes and take the car in for repairs.”
“What did you do then?”
“I wished him good luck and we
nt back in the house.”
“Tell me something, Penny. Did you ever have a hint that another member of this court besides you was receiving illegal payments?”
“A hint,” he admitted. “I never knew if it was true.”
Bangor asked a few more questions and seemed satisfied there was no more to tell. “Thank you for coming in,” he said as Penny left. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you.”
When he’d gone, Zach Wanamaker spoke from his corner chair. “Satisfied now, or do we get the deer in to testify?”
“We owe you an apology for even considering the possibility that you killed that woman. But the fact remains, someone killed her, either accidentally or deliberately.” Bangor shuffled the papers on his desk. “This court cannot afford a scandal, and I will do everything in my power to prevent one.”
Susan Quinn spoke up. “Are you still thinking one of us accepted a bribe for our vote? With Zach cleared, that only leaves Frank and myself.”
“And me,” Bangor reminded them. “I’m not above suspicion.”
“Wait a minute,” Fine said. “We’re assuming she was killed to prevent her naming a second member of this court accepting bribes. But suppose the motive wasn’t in the future but in the past. Suppose she was killed in an act of vengeance over something she already did?”
“What would that be?” Judge Rockwell wondered.
“She was going to publish the information about Colin Penny. When he saw the damage to Judge Wanamaker’s car, it gave him an opportunity for revenge. He could have driven over to her street, less than ten minutes away, saw her crossing to her car, and run her down, knowing that Wanamaker would become at least a temporary suspect.”
“I can’t believe that!” Susan responded with a touch of anger in her voice.
But Judge Bangor nodded. “It’s certainly a possibility.”
She turned and lit into him. “Haven’t you done enough to the poor man already? You drove him from the bench, ruined his career!”
“Not without cause,” Bangor reminded her.
Fine tried to calm them down. “I only mentioned it as a possibility to be considered. There’s no proof that he killed her.”
Mystery Writers of America Presents the Prosecution Rests Page 2
