by Carsen Taite
She looked up at Larry. “Thank you. I’ll treasure this always.”
“There’s something else.” He reached into the box and pulled out another book, this one showing lots of wear. “Dad kept journals. This is the one he was writing in when he died.”
Addison didn’t say anything, but waited for Larry to make his point.
“There are a few strange entries and I’m wondering if you have any insight.” He handed her the book. “I’ve flagged them.”
Addison took the book from him. She’d seen the justice writing in similar journals, soft leather-bound, slim like a brochure. She opened to the first flagged entry.
Pressure to retire. Aggravating. The young pretend to understand the minds of their elders, as if they can predict when we will lose our ability to make sense of the world around us. This one will be old himself when I choose to step down.
A month later, he wrote:
Today he comes back with a “friend,” as if I don’t know who my friends are. This isn’t about friendship. It’s about the legacy of this court. I’m healthy as a horse, and even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t be willing to leave the future of the court in the hands of a rogue like Briscoe.
Addison looked at the date of that entry. Six weeks before the recent presidential election. Made sense why he was referring to Briscoe who at that time was the indisputable frontrunner. She shuddered to think about Briscoe being in a position to select the next Supreme Court justice and gave a silent thanks for his flop on election day. Still, someone had been pressuring Weir to retire, and she wondered who it was.
The last flagged entry was the day before he died. Weir wrote about his plans to attend a concert at the Lincoln Center. And then he mentioned a phone call he’d received.
He called again, still at it. I suppose it was wrong to hang up on him, but as he said, life’s too short. He wasn’t content with platitudes when I chose him, but I suppose politics changes a person. Life may indeed be too short, but I’ll spend mine doing whatever I want, and until they’re willing to replace me with a courageous jurist, I’ll die in my robe.
She looked up at Larry. “Sounds like someone was putting pressure on your dad to retire.”
“It does, and I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but a couple of other things have been bothering me. The door to the garage at the house. The lock’s been messed with. Not enough so you could easily tell, but it jammed, and it looks like someone took a screwdriver or some other tool to it.”
Addison nodded, not sure how to respond. Larry was clearly looking for some sort of affirmation, but she wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted her to agree with. “You said there was something else?”
“Yes. Dad used a digital recorder. You know, one of those handheld things. It was something he took up for work last year in deference to technology, even though he kept his paper journal for personal thoughts. He recorded notes so he could give it to his secretary to transcribe.” He paused to take a drink. “It’s missing.”
Addison released a breath. She’d been braced for some ominous news, but Larry seemed a little paranoid. Weir never considered himself off work and probably had the digital recorder with him the night of the crash. In her most soothing tone, she said, “Is it possible it was lost in the accident?”
Larry flinched, and Addison remembered the TV coverage. Justice Weir’s car had flipped end over end before bursting into flames. If any belongings stayed with the car it would have been a miracle, and even if they had, they would have been burned to a crisp. She shuddered, instantly sorry for bringing the graphic memory to Larry’s attention. She reached over to hold his hand.
She was prepared for him to draw away or react in anger, but instead, his eyes were full of tears. “They wanted him gone and he wouldn’t leave, so they killed him.”
Addison reeled at the non sequitur. “What?”
“Don’t you see? He was being pressured to retire, but he wouldn’t do it. Then suddenly, he’s dead. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
Addison flicked a glance at his drink, wondering how many had preceded it. She knew Larry well enough. He’d been young when she’d clerked for the Justice, but he’d always seemed like a smart kid. Weir had kept her updated through the years. Whenever they’d met, he’d show pictures. Larry graduating from Harvard business school. Larry getting married. Larry becoming a partner at a Wall Street firm.
No, Larry wasn’t drunk or crazy. He was just grieving, and grief makes people do strange things. Like conjure up murder plots where none exist. She thought of a dozen things to refute his assumption, but they all boiled down to one thing: why would someone want Justice Weir off the bench bad enough to kill him? Supreme Court justices were powerful, but so much of what they did was up to chance and the will of the eight other justices who served with them. Besides, no one could guarantee that whoever replaced him wouldn’t be as liberal as he had been.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She flashed back to her conversation with Eva. If Briscoe had been elected, he surely would have taken the opportunity to appoint a conservative hawk to the bench. And Garrett? Because of Julia, she happened to know he was going to take the safest route possible and nominate a man Weir would have called a coward. But still, it was a long way from political strategy to murder.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I just needed to tell someone. Maybe I hoped you would have some ideas about what to do.”
Forget about it. Let it rest until you’ve had time to give the whole thing some perspective, and you’ll see that these things are all just coincidence. These were the things she wanted to say, but the desperate look in his eye kept her from offering honesty when he sought hope. She touched the envelope.
“Do you trust me with his journal?”
He nodded.
“I’d like to read it through. See if I have any ideas. I’ll get it back to you soon. Would that be okay?”
“You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“No.” Crazy with grief maybe, but Larry wasn’t mentally ill. She’d read the journal, give it a few days, and then tell him she didn’t think there was a connection between his father’s death and the pressure to retire. In a few days, Larry would feel better and more receptive to reason.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Julia paced outside Garrett’s office. She’d had two scheduled times to meet with him the day before, but they’d both been cancelled because of some emergency briefings. At least that’s what Noah had told her. Today, she waited until she knew Noah was on the Hill to try to get in. Garrett’s schedule was already two hours behind for the day, but Sue assured her she would have the next open slot. So much for the direct access she’d been promised. She was about to abandon the task, when the door opened and Brad signaled for her to enter.
Garrett waited for Brad to leave the room before he shut the door and invited Julia to have a seat on one of the couches in the office. He sat across from her, the table between them piled high with files.
“I’m sorry about the rescheduling. It’s been hard to settle back into a regular routine since the campaign.” He motioned to the scattered paperwork. “Seems like I’m spending all my time playing catch-up. Plus, I don’t have you at the helm, guiding me through it all.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get back in stride.” She hoped he would anyway. The sooner she finished this job, the sooner she could enjoy having a life before the next campaign season started. And now that she might have someone to share the time with, she actually cared about a break from the usual grind. She shuffled through her notes. “You ready to talk short list?”
“Sure. Is your team working out?”
“They’re great,” she lied. Their constant jockeying to show who could cite more case law was annoying, but she’d learned to tune out everything except the high points. He didn’t need to know that. People in power wanted results, not process. But there was one part of the process he sho
uld know about. “Not sure it was a good idea to have me here in the West Wing. Burrows and Armstrong have both been to see me.”
“Really? In person? Any reason why they wouldn’t just send the Judiciary Committee chief of staff?”
“They both came under the guise of being here for other business, but both of them brought lists of potential nominees.” She handed over both lists.
Garrett glanced at the papers. “About what I’d expect. Have you tossed out Landry’s name, yet?”
“Yes. Burrows seemed open about it.”
“How did Connie take it?”
“Not well.”
“That’s surprising. She’s a pragmatic woman. She has to know no one on her list will get the nod.”
“Actually, she’s got her sights set on someone completely different.” Julia paused as she considered how to spin this. “Addison Riley.”
“Really? Interesting choice. Solicitor general, dean of a prominent law school. What’s her other experience?”
“Nothing judicial. She was a partner at Boyle and Downton.”
“What practice area?”
“Litigation, primarily. She also taught at Jefferson while she was in practice. Constitutional law.”
“Ambitious.”
Julia considered the adjective. Certainly, Addison must be ambitious to have taken on so much in her life. Any one of her achievements—solicitor general, big firm partner, law professor, dean—were admirable, but the combination made her a bit of a superwoman. Accomplished was a better word and she said so.
“Have you met with her to discuss her interest?”
“We haven’t really discussed her interest.” Technically true since Julia had made it clear from the start, any consideration was only pro forma. She didn’t offer Garrett any other details, and she wouldn’t, not unless asked directly. If she’d ever thought Addison was a serious contender for the job, she wouldn’t have kissed her. Missing out on that kiss would have been a shame. Addison was a powerfully good kisser, and the mere memory of her lips sent a rush of heat through her. She struggled to think of something else to keep from blushing. Damn, she’d turned into a giddy schoolgirl.
“Should I meet her?”
“Do you want a confirmation battle?” If he did, she would be on board, but it had to be his decision.
“I already said no.”
Armstrong’s parting words from the day before lingered. I find it hard to believe you met with Addison Riley and didn’t walk away ready to dispense with a short list. He’d made it clear he didn’t want a fight, and it was her job to get him what he wanted. “Then you don’t need to meet her. There’s no way she could be confirmed without bloodshed. She’s Weir in a skirt. If you want Landry, you need to put all your weight behind him.
“No short list?”
“Only for show. We’ll leak a few other names, but put the focus on Landry. Let’s really pitch him as a centrist, a rational jurist who will use his position to interpret the law, not make history.”
“I like it. Should I give Connie a call, get her behind the plan?”
“No. She’ll just view it as strong-arming. She knows no one on her list, Riley included, can make it unscathed through confirmation. If you want a quick confirmation, we’ll send Landry’s name and be done with it. Burrows will fight you for show, but he won’t be able to rally his people to fight this choice. The new Senate convenes January third. With any luck, you’ll have a confirmation within a few weeks of inauguration.”
“Okay. Give me the short list once you’ve picked out a couple of other names and get the FBI to start vetting them. I’ll send the list to Armstrong and let her know we have much more efficient ways to spend our political capital. Right now, I have a meeting to discuss replacing some cabinet members.”
Julia took the signal that she was dismissed and stood. It was hard going from the number one person on the campaign to being a one-task worker out of many. She watched the president start sifting through the files on the table, and she noticed one had Weir’s name on it.
“Did someone from my team leave that here?”
“What?” Garrett followed her finger that was pointed at the folder. He snatched it up and shoved it into the middle of the stack. “No, no. Just some personal notes I made.” He stuck out his hand. “Thanks for everything, Julia. I know this isn’t your regular line of work, but I can’t think of anyone better to get us through this process.”
“Wait until you see my bill.”
They both laughed, but Garrett’s laugh seemed tinged with nerves.
Julia left the room and switched her cell phone back on. She scrolled through the half dozen missed calls, mentally noting which ones she would return now and which ones could wait. One number stood out, and she called it on her way back to the White House.
“Addison Riley’s office.”
“Is Addison in? It’s Julia Scott.”
While she waited for the call to connect, Julia reflected on her meeting with Garrett. She felt a tinge of guilt at tanking Addison’s opportunity to be considered for the highest position a lawyer could ever imagine having. Maybe she should’ve let the president meet her at the very least.
No, he’d probably have been as charmed as she was. He wanted to nominate a moderate and avoid a politically taxing battle in the Senate. Her job was to make it so. As for politics, she’d rather have an Addison Riley than a George Landry any day of the week, but she knew that was about as likely as wishing for peace on earth. She’d been picked for this job because she knew how to get people what they wanted, and that’s exactly what she was going to do. The only time she’d ever failed before was when she went off on her own, and that wasn’t going to happen here.
*
Addison ate a deli sandwich while poring over the pages written in Weir’s cramped handwriting. What she should be doing was reviewing the final budget that had just been delivered, but she’d made a promise, and the sooner she took care of it, the sooner she could do her job without distraction. With Connie’s visit and Julia’s talk of the nomination, she’d had more than enough distractions to last her a while.
After reviewing the entire journal, she was convinced that Larry was right. Weir had felt pressure from someone to retire. She imagined that many justices who’d been on the bench as long as he had, had felt such pressures, whether externally or internally. But the fact that he died in horrific circumstances soon after was likely an unfortunate coincidence.
She read the last entry several times. Something about it nagged at her. She read through the passage several times, but she couldn’t pin down the source of her discontent. All too likely, she was reading it with an eye toward conspiracy after Larry’s words. In a vacuum, the words didn’t portend doom.
She placed the journal aside. She had plenty of other issues to deal with. She’d call Larry in a few days. Tell him that she’d thoroughly examined the journal, but didn’t find anything that led her to believe his father’s death had been anything except an accident. In fact, she’d do one better. She buzzed Roger.
“Roger, can you do me a favor?”
“Need more chips?”
“Not if you want me to be able to fit through this door.”
He chuckled.
“No, but I do have another personal request. Nothing to do with my appetite. I’d like to see if I can get a copy of the accident report regarding Justice Weir.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing. Like I said, it’s a personal thing, for a friend. I was hoping that maybe if the request came from a lawyer, it might speed it along. Can you find out which agency did the report and request a copy?”
“Of course.”
She hung up, satisfied she’d done everything she could for now. She just started reading the budget file on her desk when her extension buzzed.
“That was fast.”
“Actually, you have a call. It’s Julia Scott, on three.”
Addison forced calm into
her tone. “Great.” She took a deep breath and punched the button to connect the call. “Julia, great to hear from you.”
“Glad to hear that.”
“What? Do some of the women you kiss not like to hear from you again?”
“Let’s just say I was hoping you wouldn’t be one of them.”
“Your fears are unwarranted, although I would’ve expected you to call sooner. Kiss and run, is that who you are?”
“Sorry. It’s been a little crazy around here. Plus, I probably shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place.”
Julia’s tone was light, but her words sunk like rocks. Addison sat in silence for a few seconds before replying. “No, you probably shouldn’t have.”
“But I’m glad I did.”
And just like that, Addison’s spirit soared. “Me too.”
“That’s a relief. Are you free for dinner?”
Excitement immediately tempered by caution led her to ask, “And the reasons for why you shouldn’t kiss me? All gone?”
“Well, since the president just sent his short list to the Judiciary Committee, those reasons officially no longer exist.”
Addison rocked back in her chair as the weight of Julia’s words sunk in. No matter what she’d told Julia or herself, finding out she was no longer even under consideration for the empty spot hit harder than she’d expected. She summoned a tough exterior. “Great. We’ll celebrate. You pick the place and I’ll meet you there.”
“Why don’t you come to my place and we’ll have a glass of champagne before we head out?”
Apparently, this was going to be a real date, not a hybrid interview slash date. Despite her initial disappointment, Addison was excited at the prospect of an evening with no politics to come between them. She took down Julia’s address and agreed to be there at seven.
The rest of the afternoon dragged on. Finally, at six, Addison told Roger she was headed out for the day. She ignored his questioning look as she left the office.
