“Get over it, Fleurette, it’s all irrelevant. I’m a lawyer, you knew that going in. You knew there was a case I was involved in, so don’t whine about it now. Hey, the old guy’s dead, so we’re not going anywhere, now are we?”
The four of them stepped back as the front door swung open and a man in his mid-thirties, with impeccably styled light brown hair, a handsome face, and a runner’s body, came out, whistling, even as she continued to yell after him.
“I hope you rot and die! I hope your dick falls off!”
The guy looked at the four strangers, arched an eyebrow, gave them a cocky grin as he rolled his eyes back toward Elaine LaFleurette, and continued on his way to a dark green Jaguar parked in front of the house. He tossed his car keys in the air, caught them, and opened the door with the remote.
Savich flipped out his I.D. to the young woman standing in the doorway. “Agents Savich and Sherlock, Detectives Raven and Markham. Are you Elaine LaFleurette?”
“Yes. Look, I’ve already talked to you guys. I don’t know anything. What now?”
Sherlock simply walked right up to her, pressing her back. “May we come in? It’s sort of cold out here.”
Fleurette stepped back automatically. She was still flushed, her breath still hot with anger.
Sherlock pointed back to the man who was revving up the Jag. “I agree with you, he’s a jerk,” she said. “We couldn’t help but overhear. You want me to go punch out his lights?”
Fleurette stared at the lovely woman with her curly red hair who stood a good four inches shorter than she was, and laughed. “Nah, he’s not worth you breaking a fingernail. But you’re right about him. He just dumped me because Justice Califano is dead, and so I can’t help him now, not that I would have in any case. Thank God I didn’t sleep with him.
“Callie? What are you doing with them? Oh God, I’m so sorry about your stepfather.”
Callie said, “Thank you, Fleurette. I’m with them because I’m trying to help. About that jerk, you’re lucky to be rid of him so quickly. Why’d you hook up with him in the first place?”
“Well, he is cute. And smart. But thank God it hadn’t gotten serious.”
Savich and Ben followed the two women into the living room, saying nothing at all. It was a gorgeous place, with highly buffed floors and an occasional Persian carpet. The living room was filled with high-quality Early American antiques, giving the living room a cozy feel. A fire blazed in the fireplace.
Fleurette obviously hadn’t been expecting company. She was wearing old gray sweats, with only socks on her feet, and no makeup. Her blond hair was in a ponytail. Her features were sharp, her green eyes full of intelligence.
“The guy just showed up to kiss you off?” Sherlock asked.
“Yeah, you’d think he’d at least call first, give me a chance to do my face, but here he is, standing on my doorstep, wanting to tell me he’s seeing another woman now. I wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t Sonya McGivens, Justice Wallace’s clerk.” Sonya McGivens, Savich thought, unable to recall any specifics on her. But he would find out as soon as they got back to MAX and he opened his data port.
Sherlock said, “I’m sorry to tell you this, Miss LaFleurette—”
“Oh please, Agent Sherlock, you’ve heard me screaming at my former boyfriend, seen what a mess I am, please call me Fleurette, everyone does.”
“Okay, Fleurette. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Daniel O’Malley was murdered, very likely by the same man who murdered Justice Califano.”
Fleurette froze like a deer in the headlights. She stood there, staring at Sherlock, uncomprehending, her eyes blank, her face slack. Finally, she moistened her dry lips. “Danny—our Danny— is dead?”
“Yes, within the past twenty-four hours. Now, you’re a smart person, Fleurette, you must see immediately that Justice Califano’s murder and Danny’s are somehow connected.”
“But how?”
“We have to consider that Danny may have known something, maybe even tried to blackmail the murderer. We very much need your help, and we need it right now to find out who killed him.”
“Why would you think Danny would do such a thing?”
Sherlock said, “His apartment was torn apart, Fleurette. Someone had been looking for something.”
“And you think this something was some damning document that Danny had on the murderer?”
Sherlock shrugged. “Very possibly.”
Fleurette looked over at Savich, who was standing leaning against the wall next to the fireplace, then at Detective Raven and Callie. She said, “I—I don’t understand this. What could Danny possibly know about Justice Califano’s killer?”
“Sit down, Fleurette. Let’s talk about Friday.”
Fleurette sat, took several deep breaths, and nodded. “I remember Danny going into Justice Califano’s office. I remember he shut the door when he went in. None of us ever did that. If the door was cracked open, it stayed cracked open, but Danny closed it. Yes, that’s what he did.”
“So he wanted to speak to Justice Califano privately? With no one interrupting.”
“Now that you put it that way, yes, okay.”
“Who came in first Friday morning? You or Danny?”
“Me. It varied who was in first, depended on what each of us had to do on any given day. For the next couple of months things won’t be so bad. It’s the dog days—that’s what they’re called—April and May—when everyone puts in ninety-hour weeks. It’s when the major decisions pile up and—”
Sherlock brought her back. “When did Danny get in on Friday?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Around a quarter of nine, I think.”
“What did he do?”
“He drank some coffee, ate one of those rolls from the downstairs cafeteria. He was reading something, jotting down notes. I didn’t ask because I had my own stuff to do. I remember being a bit surprised that Eliza wasn’t in with Justice Califano. They always met first thing every morning. The Justice always had his bagel. But Eliza was working at her desk that morning. When I came in, we had a bit of a chat, like usual, same with Danny.”
“Do you know what Eliza was working on?”
“No, again, I had my own work to worry about. I was drafting a dissent.”
“So you’re all working. Then Bobby Fisher comes in to shoot the breeze?”
“Yeah, he’s got a thing for Eliza, but she never gives him the time of day. He’s kind of creepy, the way he worships Justice Alto-Thorpe. None of us like him. Then he left.”
“And Eliza went into Justice Califano’s office?”
“Yeah, it was time for the Friday morning meeting in Chief Justice Abrams’s chambers. Good ole Bobby had a stick up his—well, he hadn’t said a word. He’s awful, no manners, you know what I mean?”
Sherlock moved on. “So Eliza comes back out, followed by Justice Califano, who runs off to the meeting?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t right away. She was in there maybe three, four minutes. I remember looking up at the clock, knowing how Chief Justice Abrams hated a meeting to start late.”
“What time did Danny go into Justice Califano’s office?”
Fleurette looked perfectly blank. “I don’t remember that. No, wait, yes, I remember I had to go to the bathroom, but Danny still wasn’t at his desk when I got back. Eliza waved toward the door when I asked where Danny was.
“I raised my eyebrows, but she just shrugged, then the phone began ringing. The secretaries always forward the calls to Eliza if the caller doesn’t ask specifically for either Danny or me. Then both of us were tied up for a good half hour.”
“So you don’t know how long Danny was in the office?”
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Oh God, poor Danny. Why would he do what you’re suggesting? Why? It doesn’t make any sense. He wasn’t stupid. He wanted a recommendation from Justice Califano that would make the New York law firms sit up and beg for him. It didn’t matter that both of us were second fiddle to Eliza. She’s really brilliant, and even better, when Danny and I came last July, she knew the ropes since she’d already been there a year.”