Supreme Justice

Chapter Sixteen

Brad called Ginny just before he left for home and gave her a bare-bones sketch of what had happened. Ginny watched the evening news, and Brad was afraid she’d worry when she heard about the attempt on Justice Moss. The judge was concerned that her assailant might want revenge on Brad for foiling his plans, so she arranged for a policeman to drive him home and guard his apartment. When Brad opened the door, Ginny threw her arms around him, which balanced all the awful things that had happened but caused excruciating pain in his ribs where he’d been punched. Brad winced and Ginny backed off.

“What’s wrong?”

“My ribs. They’re a little sore.”

A policeman followed Brad inside.

“This is Officer Gross of the Supreme Court police,” Brad explained. “He’s going to watch the apartment tonight. Officer Gross, this is my fiancée, Ginny Striker.”

“Ma’am,” Gross said.

“Why do we need a police guard?”

Brad decided to fudge the truth. “I don’t think we do, but Justice Moss insisted. I think she wanted to protect us if reporters came around. The Court frowns on clerks speaking to the press.”

Officer Gross made a cursory inspection of the apartment before borrowing a kitchen chair to sit on in the hall.

“Are you really OK?” Ginny asked as soon as the door of their apartment closed. She had noticed the large Band-Aid on Brad’s chin and remembered Brad’s reaction to her hug.

“Honestly, the cut on my chin didn’t need stitches, and my ribs aren’t broken.”

“I was so worried when I heard the news. It said a clerk had been injured but the reporter didn’t name him. Then you didn’t come home on time.”

“I’m sorry you were worried.” Brad pulled Ginny back to him and held her tight. “The person who attacked Justice Moss is probably a nut case.”

“I just can’t stand the idea of you being in danger.”

“Well, I’m not.” Brad pushed Ginny to arm’s length. “Now enough of this mushy stuff. Is there anything I can eat? I’m starving.”

While Ginny heated up some takeout Chinese, Brad told her about the incident in the garage.

“You idiot,” Ginny blurted out when Brad told her how he’d rushed the killer. “What were you thinking?’

Brad looked down, unable to meet Ginny’s eye. “I wasn’t. I just did it,” he answered meekly.

“God, I hate this. I thought we were through with guns and killers.”

“We are, believe me. They’ll find out this guy is a member of some right-wing fringe group that hates African Americans or liberals. I was never the target.”

The microwave dinged. Brad carried his food into the living room while Ginny brought him some tea. It was time for the late news, and Brad switched on the TV. A blonde anchorwoman was looking at the camera with her most serious expression.

“The Supreme Court dominated the news today as an assassin tried to kill a justice inside the historic building and President Maureen Gaylord nominated a woman to replace Associate Justice Ronald Chalmers.”

A picture of Felicia Moss took over the screen.

“Never in our nation’s history has an assassin struck at a sitting justice inside the walls of the Supreme Court Building,” the anchorwoman said. “But that changed this evening when an assailant tried to shoot Associate Justice Felicia Moss in the Court’s garage. Only quick thinking by one of her law clerks prevented the tragedy. The identity of the clerk has not been revealed, but Brad Miller, who figured prominently in the recent scandal involving former president Christopher Farrington, is employed as a clerk by the justice.”

“Great,” Brad said. “Prepare to be besieged by hordes of reporters again. Shit! I so wanted to be done with being a news story.”

Ginny squeezed Brad’s hand. “I’m not any happier than you are, but we weathered the storm once, and we’ll do it again. Thank goodness, Justice Moss had the foresight to get you a person to guard the apartment. All I need is some reporter banging on our door in the middle of the night and-”

Ginny stopped talking suddenly. “I know her.”

“Who?”

Ginny was pointing at the TV. “That woman.”

On the screen, President Maureen Gaylord was introducing her nominee to fill the vacancy on the Court created by Justice Chalmers’s resignation. The woman standing next to the president was a little over five feet tall, very skinny with pinched features and mousy brown hair. Her thin lips were drawn into a tight line and her eyes stared straight ahead. Brad thought that she looked completely humorless.

“Audrey Stewart is a graduate of Yale and its law school,” President Gaylord was saying, “and has been a respected professor at Harvard and New York University law schools for several years. More important for these trying times, Miss Stewart spent several years in a high-ranking position at the Central Intelligence Agency. Her experience will give her a unique insight into many of the issues that will come before the Court.”

“How do you know Stewart?” Brad asked.

“I don’t really know her. Do you remember calling me a few nights ago and asking me to meet you for dinner and I couldn’t go because I had to work late?”

“Yes.”

“When I was leaving the office, Dennis Masterson came out of the elevator with Stewart. I thought it was an odd time to meet with a client, but Masterson must have been helping Stewart get the nomination. He was the head of the CIA, and I bet she served with him.”

“That makes sense. Masterson is a major player in this town.”

Audrey Stewart stepped to the podium and gave a saccharine thank-you speech.

“She looks a little scary,” Brad said. “I wonder how she’ll fit into the Court.”

“If she worked at the CIA, I’m guessing she’s going to beef up the conservatives.”

“You can’t always tell,” Brad said. “Hugo Black was a member of the Ku Klux Klan, and he ended up being a big supporter of civil liberties, and everyone thought Harry Blackmun would be very conservative and he authored Roe v. Wade.”

“If Dennis Masterson helped her get the nomination, Audrey Stewart is not a closet liberal. Trust me on that. I’ve learned enough about Masterson’s politics during my short time at the firm to know he’d only help a dyed-in-the-wool right-winger get on the Court.”

“Tomorrow, the bloggers and the newspapers will have plenty of articles analyzing her views.”

The phone rang and Ginny and Brad stared at it.

“Let the answering machine take it,” Brad said.

“Hi, this is Wendy Fellows from the Washington Post,” the caller began.

Brad walked over to the wall and disconnected the phone just as Ginny’s cell started to ring. They looked at each other and powered down their cell phones.

“Are you sorry you took up with me?” Brad asked Ginny.

“My life would certainly be more peaceful with almost anyone else as a fiancé. I just think of you as one of those trials God puts us through to test us.”

Brad smiled. Then he took Ginny in his arms and kissed her. “We’re not going to get any calls tonight, and there’s nothing on TV. What do you want to do?”

“Are you sure your ribs can take it?” Ginny asked, only half joking.

“Why don’t we see?”