* * * *
The Missouri Supreme Court Building was a three-story red brick structure across the street from the state capitol on High Street. I’d actually toured the building during my junior year in high school on a field trip that included both the state capitol and the Missouri State Museum.
I don’t remember much about it, probably because I was more interested in holding hands with a cute little redheaded girl whose name I couldn’t remember now.
Charlie and I both had to pass through a metal detector when we entered the building, but once we showed them our concealed carry permits, along with some identification, they returned our guns to us.
After receiving directions from one of the security officers in the lobby, we headed for the elevators and Judge Cameron Woodard’s chambers on the second floor.
There were seven judges on the Missouri Supreme Court, and even though each judge had a two-member staff, there was just one receptionist for all seven judges.
The receptionist’s desk was located in a small lobby opposite the elevators, and when Charlie and I stepped off the elevators, the dark-haired lady seated behind the desk looked up at us and smiled.
I removed one of my business cards as I approached her.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asked.
“We’re here to see Judge Cameron Woodard.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” I said, handing her my card, “it’s the policy of Senator Allen not to make appointments with judicial nominees, especially someone who’s in the process of being vetted for a federal court position.”
Her eyes widened slightly as she took my card. “Oh, yes, of course. I’m aware Judge Woodard has been nominated for a position on the Eighth Circuit.”
“If it’s not a problem, would you just inform his administrative assistant we’re on our way to his office.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
A few seconds later, she picked up the phone and told the judge’s administrative assistant we were on our way down to his office, and then she gestured to her right and said, “It’s the second door on your left.”
As we opened the door to the hallway, she said, “I’m sure the judge will be happy to see you.”
That might be debatable.
* * * *
Judge Woodard’s administrative assistant was a young man who appeared to be in his late twenties. He was seated behind a cluttered desk with a couple of computer monitors on his right and a stack of books on his left.
“Good afternoon. I understand you’re here to see Judge Woodard?”
“That’s right. Is he available now?” I asked.
“Yes, I believe he is. You’re from the Senate Judiciary Committee?”
I handed him my card. “Just tell him a couple of members of Senator Davis Allen’s staff are here to visit with him for a few minutes.”
He nodded. “Okay, please wait here a moment.”
He walked down the hallway and rapped on the door a couple of times. A few seconds later, he returned without my business card.
“The judge will see you now.”
Charlie and I started walking toward the judge’s chambers, but before we got there, the door swung open and Judge Woodard himself was standing in the doorway.
“Gentlemen, please come in,” he said, sweeping his hand inside the room. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
The judge was dressed in a pair of dark slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie with some red in it. His ash-blond hair was long on top and short on the sides, and he had a well-trimmed gray goatee. I gauged his shoe size to be an eleven.
“Good afternoon, Judge,” I said. “I’m Senator Allen’s chief investigator, Mylas Grey, and this is Charlie Hayes, the deputy investigator. Thanks for taking the time to see us today.”
“Oh, of course,” he said, shaking our hands. “I was hoping I’d hear from the senator’s office soon.”
Judge Woodard’s chambers was fairly typical for a state supreme court justice. One wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, whereas the opposite wall had a display of diplomas, certificates, and photographs, and against that wall was a leather couch with a couple of wingback chairs on either side of it.
In the middle of the room was a desk with two guest chairs, but it appeared the judge did most of his work at a credenza behind his desk, where there was a computer and a stack of open books.
A coat rack next to an American flag held his long black robe.
The judge gestured over at the couch and invited us to be seated. Charlie and I both sat down on the couch, and the judge sat down in one of the wingback chairs across from us.
“How’s the vetting process going?” the judge asked.
“Extremely well,” I said.
He gave a short laugh. “Some of my colleagues have told me you’re doing a thorough job of it. I’ve heard you’ve been to see a few of them several times.”
“That’s right, Judge. Senator Allen takes a comprehensive approach to vetting all the nominees.”
“Does the senator have all the paperwork he needs from me?”
“I believe he does, and he appreciates the way you’ve gotten everything to him in a timely fashion.”
The judge seemed to relax a little when I gave him this word of commendation, but he still appeared a little uptight to me.
I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why I felt he was nervous, but I finally decided it might be his stiff posture, his clenched jaw, and his tendency to lift up his glasses every few minutes and make a quick swipe underneath his right eye, as if it were bothering him.
“Any idea when the hearings will begin?” he asked. “I admit I’m anxious to get this process going. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this a long time.”
“I’m sure you know the senator postponed the hearing last week.”
‘Yes, his chief of staff called to inform me of the delay. I assumed it was some kind of procedural issue.”
“No, it wasn’t a procedural issue. The senator decided to delay it temporarily after I received an anonymous letter about you.”
He immediately uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
“What kind of anonymous letter?”
I held up my hand. “I’ll get to that in a moment. First, though, I’d like to offer you the opportunity to correct any discrepancies, to make any additions to your previous statements about your financials, or to comment on any of the paperwork you’ve already submitted to the Judiciary Committee.”
The judge’s face clouded over for a few brief seconds, but then he looked off in the distance and said, “Hmm. No. I can’t think of anything I would need to correct, add, or comment on regarding what I’ve already submitted to the committee.”
“If you’re sure about that, then I’ll tell you about the anonymous letter I received.”
“When you say you received the letter, do you mean it was addressed to you personally?”
“That’s correct. It was addressed to me.”
“Well then, it doesn’t take much of a detective to figure out who might have sent it, does it?”
“I’m sorry, Judge; I’m not following you.”
He shifted in his chair. “Well, I don’t imagine anyone would be getting in touch with you personally unless it was a person you had already interviewed. Until one of my colleagues told me your name, I’d never heard of you. No offense.”
“None taken. The senator prefers for his investigative team to stay under the radar.”
The judge waved his hand dismissively. “Okay, fine. What I’m saying is that one of my colleagues must have sent you that letter.”
“It hardly matters who sent it, Judge. One of the reasons we’re here today is to allow you the opportunity to hear what it says, and, of course, to explain its contents.”
Charlie spoke up. “If I were in your shoes, Judge, I’d be pleased to hear anything of a negative nature that might be brought up at my hearing. Personally, I don’t like
surprises.”
The judge looked over at Charlie as if he were seeing him for the first time. “Oh, sure,” he said, nodding his head, “I feel the same way. I hate surprises.”
I pulled out my cell phone. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just read the letter out loud to you.”
The judge seemed to be taken aback when he heard I was about to read the letter out loud to him.
I’d seen that kind of response before.
Actually, it was a fairly typical response.
I suppose it was because there was something disconcerting about having a disinterested third party read negative comments about you to your face, especially if those comments had been written by an unknown person.
That’s why I did it.
I wanted the judge to feel disconcerted.
* * * *
As I read through the short letter, the judge managed to control his facial expressions. However, his fists were clenched the whole time.
“That accusation is totally preposterous,” he said, when I was finished. “Oh, sure, I’ve been to Vegas several times, but I’ve never lost $50,000 there. This has to be coming from someone who’s jealous of my achievements, or from someone who didn’t agree with one of my rulings.”
“You don’t go to Vegas and gamble under an assumed name?”
“Certainly not.”
Charlie said, “But you have taken out a home improvement loan in the amount of $50,000 recently.”
The judge looked angry now. In fact, his shoulders were so tight they were bunched up around his neck. When he spoke, he emphasized his remarks by jabbing the air with his forefinger. “But one has nothing to do with the other. My wife and I own an older home, and there are always improvements to be made. My contractor and my wife can both vouch for this.”
All of a sudden, he seemed to realize he was getting too worked up over the letter, and he took a couple of deep breaths. “I’m sorry if I sound angry, but this process has taken its toll on me. My patience is wearing pretty thin these days.”
He reached up and removed his glasses, massaging the area directly underneath his right eye. “Believe me, I’m not getting emotional. I just have allergies in my eye. It’s ragweed season, you know.”
I looked over at Charlie and said, “Well, Charlie, I’m perfectly satisfied with the judge’s answers. How about you?”
He hesitated a second. “Ah . . . sure. I’m good.”
The judge looked surprised for a moment, but then he smiled and said, “That’s excellent news.”
I gestured toward the doorway. “We’ll be on our way now, Judge. You’ve probably heard the news that Lizzie Allen, the senator’s daughter, has been missing for a few days. We’re driving up to Columbia to help the police investigate her disappearance.”
“Oh, yes, I did hear something about that on the news last night.”
I shook my head. “It’s a bit of a mystery. According to the police chief in Columbia, Lizzie’s car was spotted by a patrol officer in Centralia on Monday afternoon, yet she never told anyone she was driving up there.”
I carefully watched the judge’s face to see what kind of reaction he had to my statement.
He chuckled and said, “Well, you know how young people are these days; totally irresponsible.”
I gave it another try. “She’s a journalism major, so I suppose she could have been doing some research for a story she was writing for The Columbian, but if that’s the case, she didn’t tell anyone about it.”
He wiped his eye again. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll turn up soon.”
I had a choice to make.
Confront him or leave the building.
I got to my feet. “We appreciate your time today, Judge.”
The judge also stood to his feet. “Thanks for letting me know about the letter. I’ll be prepared to refute these baseless charges if anyone brings them up in the hearings.”
As we walked toward the door, he rushed over and held it open for us. While I’m sure he intended it as a show of his gracious hospitality, his actions gave me the impression he was eager to see us leave his chambers.
As soon as we got on the elevator, Charlie looked over at me and said, “Well done, Mylas. You managed to shake the guy up pretty good.”
“He was a nervous wreck before we even walked in the room.”
“I had the same feeling. In fact, I was surprised when you didn’t follow through on some of your questions.”
“I changed my mind after I realized how uptight he was. I figured if I pressed him, it might be the excuse he needed to pounce on us, which he appeared ready to do at any moment. I don’t believe drawing my weapon on the judge would have been acceptable to Nathan.”
He laughed. “So what happens next?”
“What happens next is we stick around the parking lot and see what the judge decides to do. I don’t think we’ll have to wait long.”
Chapter 25
The parking lot adjacent to the Supreme Court Building was divided into public parking and employee parking, with a special section near the front of the building reserved for the seven judges.
There was only one Cadillac parked in the designated judges’ section, and according to the guy I’d spoken to in Centralia, the judge drove a Cadillac, so when I’d pulled in the parking lot earlier, I’d parked my SUV on the far side of the public parking area out of the judge’s line of sight.
As soon as Charlie and I got inside my vehicle, he asked me what I thought about the judge’s reaction to our visit.
“I’m not sure what kind of game the judge is playing,” I said, “but I gave him plenty of opportunity to tell me he was in Centralia on Monday afternoon when Lizzie’s vehicle was spotted there, but he didn’t say a word.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. You also mentioned that Lizzie was a reporter for The Columbian, and he never said anything about doing an interview with her.”
“I suppose you know Lizzie didn’t tell the judge she was Senator Allen’s daughter when she interviewed him?”
He nodded. “Nina told me that story, but I have to believe the judge must have discovered Lizzie Allen’s real identity, because he didn’t react when you said she was the senator’s daughter.”
“Maybe he found out who she was, and that’s why he called her and asked to meet her in Centralia on Monday.”
“Why would she meet him without telling anyone?”
“If I’ve learned anything about Lizzie, I’ve learned she likes to keep secrets, and she isn’t afraid to confront people.”
Charlie pointed to an exit door at the south side of the building. “There’s the judge. It looks like he’s changed his clothes.”
The judge had changed into a pair of blue jeans, a knit shirt, and a pair of running shoes.
“Wherever he’s going, the dress code must be casual.”
The judge never glanced around the parking lot to see if Charlie and I were still around before he unlocked his car and got inside.
I figured that meant he was either innocent of any wrongdoing, or he was confident we didn’t suspect him of anything.
I gave him a thirty-second head start, and then I followed him out of the parking lot. Within a few minutes, we were both traveling north on Highway 64 toward Columbia.
As we got near the city, Charlie asked, “So what’s the game plan?”
“Right now, the game plan is to see where the judge is going.”
“What about after that?”
I heard a note of concern in Charlie’s voice, and I suddenly realized this was probably the first time he’d followed someone as a civilian. I wondered if not having the authority of an entire police force behind him was making him feel uncomfortable.
“Keep in mind, we’re not doing anything illegal,” I said. “We’re simply headed back up to Columbia, and it appears that’s where the judge is also headed.”
“And what if he’s going to his cabin at Finger Lakes? Will we also follow him up there?”
&nbs
p; “Of course, we will.”
“What happens after that?”
“That all depends on the judge. At the moment, I’m pretty sure we’ll just be watching his cabin.”
“At what point will you decide to call in law enforcement?”
“Look, Charlie, I know you’ve just turned in your badge and being a private investigator is unchartered territory for you, but I assure you I’ll make that call the moment I think it’s necessary. However, I don’t want to call them if the judge is an innocent man.”
“Sure, I get that. I guess I just never expected to be doing this kind of thing as a member of Senator Allen’s staff.”
“Well, to be truthful, neither did I, although when Senator Allen hired me, he told me the mandate of his investigative team would be varied. Basically, that means he can ask the R & I Group to investigate anything or anyone he wants.”
“He told me the same thing, but I didn’t think that meant I’d be looking for a missing family member.”
“This is a first for me as well, but since I’ve been working for the senator, I’ve been asked to do several things I never imagined I’d be doing, including researching the drinking habits of a prominent senator and looking through the trash of a judicial nominee.”
Charlie wanted to hear more about why I’d gone dumpster diving, so while we were following Judge Woodard to Columbia, I told him about looking for some hotel receipts in a federal judge’s garbage.
By the time I’d finished my story, we’d arrived on the outer edges of Columbia, and when the judge didn’t take the bypass into the city but stayed on Highway 63 toward Finger Lakes State Park instead, we quickly realized the judge wasn’t stopping in Columbia.
“He’s headed to Finger Lakes,” Charlie said.
“So it appears. I guess I’d better give Nathan a call.”
* * * *
When I got Lockett on the phone, I immediately informed him I had him on speakerphone with Charlie, and we were following Judge Woodard up to Finger Lakes.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear that. What’s going on?”
I went over the highlights of the conversation we’d had with Judge Woodard, and when Lockett heard the judge hadn’t said a word about having an interview with Lizzie or seeing her in Centralia, he seemed pretty shook up.
One Day Gone Page 23
