“That’s fine then,” she said. “I’ll be there at quarter to four.”
“Why are we going to see the judge?”
“You’d rather Rose and Nicolas went to visit him?”
I couldn’t help grinning. “They do seem to be a pretty good team at the moment.”
“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious,” Liz said. “I’ll see you later. Wear lipstick.” She ended the call before I had a chance to say anything else.
It was exactly three forty-five when Liz walked into the shop. Since I’d talked to her I’d also learned that she’d arranged for Rose and Charlotte to close the store if we weren’t back in time. Rose came down the stairs and handed me a small cardboard container, tied with red-striped twine. “The cookies,” she said. “Don’t forget to tell Judge Halloran that they came from Isabel.”
“Maybe you should go instead of me,” I said.
She shook her head. “The judge went to school with your grandmother. That kind of connection matters to him. And he and Liz were on the board of directors at the theater. You two are the right choice.”
“Wait a minute—did you organize this meeting?” I asked.
“I may have suggested to Liz that she was the best person to go see Judge Halloran.”
I knew that quasi-innocent look on her face.
I narrowed my gaze at her. “And did you also suggest that I should go along as her sidekick?”
She gave an offhand shrug. “Actually I suggested myself.”
Which pretty much guaranteed that Liz would ask me to go with her.
“You are a devious little woman,” I said.
“I guess sometimes I am,” she said with a self-satisfied smile. It seemed I’d given her a compliment.
“You can drive,” Liz said, tossing her keys in my direction as we stepped out the back door. “And no comments about Driving Miss Daisy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I managed to swallow down a grin.
“So where are we going?” I asked after I’d fastened my seat belt and started the car.
“Bayview Street,” Liz said. She held the box of cookies on her lap.
“There aren’t any houses on Bayview Street,” I said, adjusting the rearview mirror.
“We’re going to the judge’s office. Remember where Swift Holdings’ offices were?”
I nodded. Liz and I had had a meeting once with Daniel Swift at his very impressive office. He’d tried to intimidate her. It hadn’t gone well.
For him.
“It’s the same building,” Liz said.
“I can get us there,” I said.
The three-story office building was located almost at the end of Bayview Street, at the far end of the harbor. There was no boardwalk on this end of the waterfront, no businesses catering to tourists, no slips for harbor cruises or kayak rentals. We pulled into the parking lot just a few minutes before four o’clock.
The receptionist at the judge’s law office was a young woman whom I guessed was in her early twenties. She was conservatively dressed in a simple navy blue dress but the deep fuchsia streak in her fair hair suggested there were more layers to her personality. “Hello, Mrs. French,” she said. “I’ll let Judge Halloran’s assistant know you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Liz said, a glint of approval in her eye. The fact that the young woman knew who she was had made a good impression.
The young woman gestured toward a grouping of several chairs around a low wooden coffee table. “Please have a seat.”
We sat but we weren’t there for long. A middle-aged man appeared from the hallway to the right of the reception desk. He crossed the floor to us and smiled at Liz, offering his hand. “Mrs. French? I’m Henry Davis,” he said. “I’m Judge Halloran’s assistant. We spoke on the phone.”
Henry Davis was maybe two or three inches taller than my five foot six. He had dark skin and dark eyes. His head was shaved smooth and he had a closely cropped beard and mustache.
Liz shook his hand then turned toward me. “This is my friend Sarah Grayson.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Grayson,” he said. We shook hands as well and then he indicated the hallway. “Come on back to the judge’s office.”
I stepped back to let Liz go ahead of me. She was running the show, so to speak. She reached for her purse, which she’d left on the chair when she stood up.
“Thank you for putting your influence and your money behind something that’s so important to Judge Halloran,” Henry Davis said.
What?
I put a hand on Liz’s shoulder as she straightened up. “Is there something I should know?” I asked just under my breath. Davis was already halfway across the reception area.
Liz adjusted the scarf at her neck. “Just roll with it,” she murmured.
I didn’t really have a lot of other options.
I had been expecting Judge Neill Halloran to be a large, imposing man given how people had talked about him, but in reality he was of average height with thinning hair, wire-framed glasses and two discreet hearing aids. He had keen blue eyes that took in everything and a serious expression that was chased away when he smiled, which he did when Liz and I walked in to his office.
The office had a lot of the trappings I would have expected from a lawyer’s office: wood paneling three-quarters of the way up the walls, a large credenza under the windows behind the desk, and two chocolate-brown leather chairs for visitors. But there was also a large fish tank on the wall to the left of the desk, which was a modern curve of wood, metal and glass.
“Elizabeth French, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Neill Halloran said.
There was a small circular table and two chairs to the right of the office door. The table held a laptop, a yellow legal pad and two mechanical pencils. Henry Davis wrote something on the pad before sitting down at the computer.
“It’s good to see you, as well, Neill,” Liz said. She indicated me. “Neill, this is Sarah Grayson. I want to put together a book on the history of the Emmerson Foundation. Sarah is helping me with the research.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Judge Halloran,” I said, shaking his hand. He had large hands and a firm handshake.
“I brought Sarah with me to introduce her personally because she may have a few questions for you at some point.” Liz smiled. “I didn’t realize you were a board member many years ago.”
The judge returned her smile. “Your grandfather could be a very persuasive man.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “I would have said stubborn as a mule, but I appreciate your tact.”
“Your grandfather did not take no for an answer.”
So that’s where Liz got her stubborn streak.
As if she could read my mind Liz shot me a warning glare. I gave her my best innocent smile.
“Neill, Sarah is Isabel Grayson’s granddaughter,” Liz said.
His smile got even wider. “How is Isabel?” he asked. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. I heard she got married again.”
“She’s well,” I said. “And yes, she did get married. She just got back from a very extended honeymoon.” I held out the box of cookies. “She sent these for you.”
He took the box and opened the note Gram had attached to the top. Bringing the cookies had made me feel a bit like we were trying to manipulate the judge, but he seemed so genuinely pleased to get them and Gram’s note that I was reconsidering. He peeked inside and then looked at me. “Please thank your grandmother for the cookies and tell her that I would love to get together.”
“I will,” I promised.
He turned to Liz. “Now, how am I going to be able to say no to your book project?”
She laughed. “I’m hoping you’ll find it pretty much impossible, but if all it takes is cookies I’ll be happy to”—she paused—“buy you some.”
The judge laughed.
Liz was flirting. Not the first time she’d done that to get information. She reached into her bag then and handed him an envelope.
He opened it, pulled out a check and his eyes widened. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” he said. “That’s very generous of you.”