yet.
I'd managed to reject only another three cases before my thoughts
drifted back to Clarissa Easterbrook. If she was still alive, what was
she doing right now?
I paged Johnson, and he returned the call right away. "Didn't I just
talk to you?" he asked.
"Have you thought about searching Easterbrook's office?"
"I thought you wanted to play things cool with him for now," he said.
I realized that he thought I was talking about Townsend. "No,
Clarissa's office. Maybe there's something there that would at least
give us some leads."
"It's looking like she was snatched from the neighborhood, so we've
been working from that area out. The office has been less of a
priority, but, yeah, you're right, we should at least check it out.
I'll get someone on it."
"Don't worry about it. I'll do it and call you when it's okay to go
in."
"Really, Kincaid, it's all right. I know you're new to this, but DAs
don't usually do any of the runaround work. One of the perks of the
job, right? Bossing cops around?"
"Trust me, there will come a time when you rue the day you encouraged
me to be bossier. I'm not doing this to take the load off you; I'm
doing it because I'm going stir crazy in this new rotation. Plus, I
have a feeling that if you guys storm into a judge's office with a
search warrant, the chief judge will be on the phone to Duncan
demanding my head."
"We're talking about me, Kincaid. I don't storm. I slide." He
dragged out the vowel in his last word.
"You get the drift."
"That I do. Go to it, then. Call me when you need me."
I buzzed through the rest of my screens, the promise of doing some real
work motivating me like a creme briilee waiting at the end of a bad
meal.
When I was done, I called the mayor's office. Although Clarissa's
position entitled her to be called Judge, hearings officers are
actually part of city administration. Anyone who disagrees with a city
agency's decision has to take an administrative appeal to a city
hearings officer before he can sue before a "real" judge. In short,
when it comes to city bureaucracy, a judge like Clarissa Easterbrook is
the last stop before the courthouse.
I explained the situation to the mayor's administrative assistant, who
referred me to Clarence Loutrell, the chief administrative hearings
officer.
Hanging up the phone, I swiveled my chair around to look out the
window. Okay, it was more of a cranking than a swivel with this
particular chair, but it was enough for me to see that there wasn't a
break from the rain yet. I generally prefer to handle this kind of
thing face-to-face. It's harder for someone to reject a request in
person than to say no to a faceless voice on the telephone.
Fuck it. The walk in the humidity was sure to leave me with a puffy
head of cotton-ball hair for the rest of the day, but four hours at a
desk after two weeks on the beach had me yearning to get out. Besides,
I could put my hair through a wind tunnel, and it wouldn't matter.
Clean clothes and a lack of BOis about all you need to meet minimum
standards for the courthouse crowd.
I signed myself out on the MCU white board without explanation,
following my practice of staking out ground early in a new job the way
Vinnie pees everywhere he goes to mark territory. No way was I going
to join the kiss-ups who leave notes on the board detailing their
precise location. That's what pagers were for.
I kicked off my black Ferragamo sling backs and threw them in my
briefcase while I shoved my stockinged feet into my New Balances. I'd
lost enough of my good shoes to Portland's damp streets.
On my way out, I swung by my old office in DVD. Kirsten
Holloway, newly promoted from the misdemeanor unit, had already covered
the place with her wedding photos and stuffed animals. She would learn
her lesson quickly. By the end of the week, anonymous pranksters would
be sure to have her cute little animals posed in backbreaking positions
violating the laws of thirty-six states. I didn't even want to think
about the Post-it notes she'd find stuck around the bride and groom. In
the meantime, no sign of my beloved chair.
I entered City Hall from its new Fourth Avenue entrance. The city had
completed what seemed like endless remodeling about a year ago. What
used to be a dingy back entrance through a metal door was now the main
entrance, hugged by pink pillars and a rose garden.
The refurbished City Hall beat the hell out of my rundown courthouse.
The renovation had exposed the building's original marble tile and
woodwork. To the extent that there was any natural light on this
crummy day, it flooded into the lobby through the atrium skylights. The
tiled staircases that had once been enclosed in a stairwell were now
open, exposing five floors of original copper handrails and plating.
I took the stairs to the third floor, then ducked into the corner to
switch my shoes. Judge Loutrell's office was in the suite at the end
of the hall.
I was in luck, or so it seemed. After a short call, Loutrell's
secretary told me he was in and willing to see me. Even though I
should have made an appointment, of course.
Loutrell rose from his desk to greet me. He was tall and thin, balding
but trying hard to conceal it with his last few wisps of white hair. I
shook his hand and introduced myself as a Deputy District Attorney.
"I'm sure you already know that Clarissa Easterbrook has been reported
missing."
"Yes. I was shocked when I heard it on the news this morning. It's
just not like Clarissa to be gone like this."
"That's what others have been telling us as well, so the police are
investigating every possibility. For now, they're focusing primarily
on Judge Easterbrook's neighborhood, but since I work at the courthouse
and was in the area, I thought I'd see if anyone she works with might
have any theories about where she could be or people the police should
be talking to."
"Gosh, not offhand. I wish I could help, but I didn't talk to Clarissa
much and I don't know much about her personal life."
"What about her professional life? Has there been anything unusual
lately for her at work?"
"Not that I can think of. Like I said, we didn't talk much, and all of
us work pretty independently. I'm the chief administrative officer,
but that doesn't mean much other than filling out some forms and
whatnot."
Now came the tricky part. "I'm sure it's a long shot that her
disappearance would have anything to do with work, but we want to make
sure we cover all the bases early on. What would be really helpful to
the investigation is to take a look in Judge Easterbrook's office. You
know, just to make sure nothing seems out of the ordinary."
I was about halfway through the request when Loutrell began to finger
the pen resting on his leather desk pad. By the time I was finished,
he had picked it up and was twisting the cap around in circles.
"Well, yes, I can see why that would be an important part of what
you're trying to do. But I'm sure you understand that I can't just