Long Shadows

Chapter 20

“Sara Angstrom and Dan Sykes,” said Caine, introducing the two people in their midtwenties. “The judge’s clerks for this term.”

They were in the anteroom of Cummins’s chambers.

Angstrom was tall, thin, and blond with pale skin and a dour expression. She was dressed in a dark jacket and slacks with a white blouse. Sykes was several inches shorter with a flabby build and black-rimmed glasses. His dark hair was longish, and he had a pen in his short-sleeved shirt pocket.

Decker looked them over and came away with a first impression of grief, then disbelief, and, finally, fear. They both said they had no idea of any recent threats against the judge.

“How about further back?” asked White.

Sykes said, “She presided over a RICO case about eight months ago. Local mobster with ties to a cartel in Mexico. Two of the defendants threatened her in open court.”

Caine said, “And we provided protection for her until the case was over and for two months after that. Then we reevaluated the risk and concluded it was no longer relevant.”

“They could have just gotten around to acting on their threat,” said Andrews.

White added, “We’ll need to see the case files and related documents.”

Sykes said, “Of course, whatever you need.”

Decker turned to Angstrom. “Any idea who might have been involved in this?”

Angstrom looked alarmed. “Me? No. I have no idea. I mean, there was nothing about Judge Cummins’s cases that was all that different from the other judges here.”

Caine said, “That’s true.”

“How many judges are there?” asked Decker.

Caine said, “Over a dozen active district court judges, the same number of senior judges and over two dozen magistrates.”

“And they’re all kept busy?” said White.

“The Middle District of Florida was created in 1962,” said Caine. “The first new federal district since the nineteen-twenties. It was done to alleviate the backlog of cases in the Southern District. Now the Middle District’s caseload is larger. It covers a broad swath of Florida, both coasts to the inland areas. Fort Myers, Tampa, Orlando, Ocala, and all the way north to Jacksonville. So, yes, they’re kept very busy.”

Decker looked at the two clerks. “How long have you worked for the judge?”

Angstrom said, “I’ve been here nearly a year.”

“I came on four months ago,” replied Sykes. “The clerk before me got married and moved out of the area.”

“And there’s nothing on her docket now that might have prompted threats?” asked Decker.

“Nothing unusual,” answered Sykes, and Angstrom nodded.

“Has she had any visitors here that seemed out of the ordinary?” asked White.

Caine answered. “No, nothing like that. Visitors here are usually family and friends or professional colleagues.”

“And nothing since the RICO case?” said Decker.

“No,” said Angstrom.

“Where’s the judge’s secretary?” asked White.

“She called in sick today,” said Sykes.

Decker looked at Caine. “We’ll need her home address.”

He said, “Her name’s Patty Kelly. She’s been here for over two decades. Sharp as a tack.”

“Good, maybe she can give us some sharp answers,” said Decker. He looked at the clerks. “In the meantime, if you can send the judge’s current docket to Agent Andrews? Filings, motions, case summaries.”

“Criminal or civil?” asked Sykes.

“Both. People kill over money as much as they do anything else.”

“Straightaway,” said Sykes.

Caine said, “Should I post extra security over the other judges? They’ve been informed, of course, and I can tell they’re worried.”

Decker said, “I’m not going to tell you how to do your job, Marshal, but some extra guards can’t hurt.”

“Right.”

“Now, we’d like to see her chambers.”

Caine led them inside, and Decker stood in the middle of the room and looked around. It was large, befitting the stature of a federal judge: lots of polished wood, bookcases, a large desk, comfortable chairs. Decker looked over the photos on her desk. Several of Tyler at various ages. One frame held a handmade card with a funny face on it and a “I love you Mommy,” scribbled in a young child’s penmanship. Obviously, Tyler again. There were no photos of Barry Davidson.

In another frame were Cummins, Doris Kline, and another woman.

“Any idea who the third person is?” said Decker, holding it up.

“That’s Maya Perlman,” answered Caine. “She practiced before this court. Never before Judge Cummins, of course, because they were friends. She retired about a year ago.”

“You know her?”

“Oh yes. Like I said, she had cases here, lots of them. So she was at the courthouse a good deal. Really nice woman, and a very fine lawyer.”

“What was her practice?”

“Criminal defense.”

“Interesting.” Decker eyed the desktop computer. “Cummins’s laptop and phone were at the house, correct?”

“Yes,” said Andrews. “They’re being examined. And we’ll check this one, too.”

Decker and White looked through the desk drawers while Andrews started searching through a cabinet.

Later, after they were finished, Decker went back out to the clerks. “‘Res ipsa loquitor.’ Mean anything to you?”

Angstrom said, “It’s a Latin term. It means ‘Things speak for themselves.’”

Sykes added, “The concept is used in civil cases. Negligence, that sort of thing. Shifts the burden of proof to the defendant.”

“Give me an example,” said Decker.

“An animal part found in a can of vegetables. A plane engine catching on fire. An AC window unit in a high-rise falls out and kills someone. The result itself speaks to there being negligence or some illegal or actionable act by the defendant. In other words, it wouldn’t have happened at all if someone didn’t screw up. It’s not applicable in criminal cases. There the burden of proof remains with the government at all times, of course.”

They walked out of the courthouse with Patty Kelly’s home address.

“Do you know Kelly?” Decker asked Andrews.

“No, not really. But I’ve never heard a bad word said against her. She’s been with the judge since Cummins joined the court.”

After a ten-minute drive they reached a neighborhood of well-kept modest houses with meager lawns, tall and short palm trees, and lots of rock and gravel accents in various colors. Decker assumed that was popular down here because rock and gravel didn’t need to be watered and the sun couldn’t kill them.

A late model red Kia SUV was parked in the driveway.

They knocked on the door and waited. Finally, they heard footsteps.

Only the person who opened the door wasn’t Patty Kelly.