Inadvertent Disclosure (10 page)

A beeping sound filled the car
through the speakers.

“Shoot,” Sasha said, “I have
another call. I’ll call you back.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Bye!

 She depressed the button to
switch over to the other call and hoped he’d think she hadn’t heard the
profession of love.

Recently, Connelly had started
randomly telling her he loved her. She wasn’t sure what to do about it. For
now, it was another decision to punt on.

Because she had swapped calls,
her phone didn’t display the caller.

“Sasha McCandless.”

“Ms. McCandless, this is Gavin
Russell.”

“What can I do for you, Deputy
Russell?”

She wondered if he had located
Jay.

He cleared his throat. “Are you
still out at Jed’s?”

“No, I just left.”

“Could you stop by the
courthouse on your way through town? It’s important.”

“Is this about Jay and Danny
Trees?”

“No, ma’am, it’s not.”

She worked to keep the
irritation out of her voice. “Well, I’m fresh out of gobs, deputy, so—”

“Judge Paulson’s been shot.”

“Shot?  Is he okay?”

“No, ma’am. He’s dead.”

CHAPTER 14

Russell was waiting for her on
the sidewalk in front of the courthouse. When she pulled up, he waved her into
an official parking space. She parked the car and sat there for a minute before
getting out. It seemed impossible to her that the judge was dead. It hadn’t
been three hours since their encounter in the street.

She stepped out of the car into
the fading light of the late afternoon and her eyes were drawn to the clock
tower and its all-seeing Lady Justice.

The deputy hustled over to her.
It was the fastest she’d seen him move.

“Thanks for coming,” he said in
a strained voice.

“Of course. But, like I said on
the phone, I don’t see how I can be of any help. We exchanged pleasantries
about the desserts at the diner. That was about it.” She left out the mention
of Lady Justice because it seemed somehow private in retrospect.

“I understand. But the sheriff
heard that the two of you had a chat this afternoon and he asked me to have you
come in.”

“The sheriff?  Surely the state
police aren’t trying to push a murder investigation off on your office?”

Russell gave a dry laugh. “Oh,
no, you can be sure the Dogwood Station will be swarming all over this. That’s
why Sheriff Stickley wanted me to talk to you before we inform them.”

“You haven’t reported the
judge’s death to the police yet?”

“No, ma’am. Sheriff Stickley
has been specifically instructed not to do so until the AG and Justice Bermann
have given him the go-ahead. They should be here soon. Another twenty minutes,
maybe.”

“The Pennsylvania Attorney
General and the Chief Justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court are coming here
personally?”

“A sitting judge has been
murdered, Ms. McCandless. Of course they are. Do you really think that pair
would pass up all the media coverage this will generate—in an election year, no
less?”  His voice was thick with sarcasm, but he kept his expression neutral.

He led her up the stairs and
through the lobby, bypassing the metal detector.

“Stairs okay with you?” he
asked.

“They’re preferable, actually,”
she answered.

They didn’t speak as they
climbed the stairs and walked through the too-quiet hallway to the sheriff’s
office.

Not until they were at
Russell’s desk, with the office door closed, did he say, “Sheriff’s in the
judge’s chambers now. You feel up to going over there after you walk me through
your conversation with the judge?”

“That’s where it happened? In
chambers?”

“Yep. Judge Paulson was a
creature of habit. Every afternoon, he walked over to Bob’s for a slice of pie.
Then, he walked around the square—he called it his daily constitutional. Then,
if he wasn’t on the bench, he stood at his big window overlooking the square
and dictated opinions and orders into a handheld dictaphone until the sun set.
After he watched the sunset, he put the dictaphone tapes on his secretary’s
desk, locked up the office, and walked home.”

“He was the only judge in the
county. Wasn’t he on the bench most days?”

Russell shook his head. “Most
mornings. He never scheduled arguments or sentencing in the afternoons. So he
was only in court in the afternoons if he had a jury trial. And we don’t have
any scheduled this week.”

“Okay, so he was looking out
his window?”

“Right. Judging by where we
found him, he was looking out toward the park. We found one 120-grain Nosler
Partition bullet in chambers. He took a clean hit, through and through.”

Russell caught her blank look.
“That’s a bullet for a hunting rifle. A really heavy bullet.”

“Okay, the judge was shot
through his second-story window with a hunting rifle?”

“That’s how it appears.”

“How far away could the shooter
have been?”

 “Depends on the gun and the
trajectory. We’ll need to get a firearms forensics expert, but take the 257
Weatherby Magnum, for example. With the factory loads using that bullet, a
decent shot—not a great shot, mind you—would be accurate from about 100 yards.”

Sasha’s ignorance about guns
was rivaled only by her lack of spatial ability. “Uh, so three hundred feet.
Where would that put the shooter?”

“Can’t say until we talk to
someone with ballistics expertise.”

“But you think it was a
hunter?”

Russell passed a hand through
his hair in frustration. “I guess so. I also think that the list of hunters in
the county pretty much overlaps almost one hundred percent with the list of
able-bodied people in the county. Only exceptions being Danny Trees and his
group.”

Sasha watched him work through
it.

He chewed on the inside of his
cheek, then said, “Course, if it was PORE, then they’d sure want us to think it
was a hunter, wouldn’t they?”

Sasha shrugged. She was a
commercial litigator not a homicide detective.

“I still don’t understand why
the court wouldn’t just turn this over to the state police. No offense.”

“He shrugged back at her. “None
taken. I’d love to, personally. But, I have my orders.”

“Who found the judge?”

“His secretary, Gloria Burke.
She thought she heard a thump from inside around 2:15 and knocked on the door
to make sure the judge was okay. He didn’t answer. She gave it a minute and
knocked again. When he still didn’t answer, she opened the door. And there he
was, sprawled on the carpet with a hole in his head and most of his face
missing. Glass shards from the window were all over the place. Between the
solid door and thick carpet, it’s a surprise she heard anything.”

Sasha closed her eyes. It had
been six months since she’d seen a murder victim. The owner of the apartment
where she’d met Connelly—a guy in his twenties—had been beaten until his head
was bashed in and then tossed in a dumpster by two Russian thugs. She and
Connelly had found him. Days later, she had watched as her mentor’s widow
stabbed one of her clients, puncturing her lung. The client had died at Sasha’s
feet with frothy blood bubbling from her lips. That had been an unusually bad
week.

But the image of the kid in the
dumpster, wrapped in a blood-soaked sheet, that’s what was imprinted on her
brain. He was who she saw sometimes as she was falling asleep. She hoped the
judge’s secretary wouldn’t have a similarly gruesome bedtime image.

When she opened them, Russell
was staring at her, worried. “You okay?”

“Sure.” She smiled. She hoped
it didn’t look as forced as it felt.

“Why don’t I get us some coffee
and you can tell me about your chat with Judge Paulson.”

“Fine.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Before Russell could make good
on his promise of coffee, the sheriff called and ordered his deputy to meet him
in the judge’s chambers and to bring Sasha along.

They walked over slowly. On the
way, Sasha relayed her conversation with the judge. When she mentioned the speeding
pickup truck that had nearly hit them, Russell perked up.

“Did you get a look at the
driver?”

“No. The truck was going too
fast.”

“Did Judge Paulson do or say
anything that indicated he thought the truck might have been gunning for him?”

Sasha thought a minute. “No.”

She decided not to hold
anything back from the deputy. “But, he did say something strange. After the
truck went by, he pointed out the statue of Lady Justice on the clock tower and
said it wasn’t blindfolded.”

“So?”

“So, Lady Justice is usually
depicted wearing a blindfold. It signifies that justice is blind. Everyone’s on
equal footing before the law.”

“Okay?”  Russell was looking at
her with a harassed expression, like she needed to get to her point.

“The Judge seemed to suggest
that wasn’t the case locally. Or maybe that’s what he was suggesting. I’m not
sure.”

Russell dismissed the idea with
a small frown. “Let’s get back to the truck. Did you see the license plate? 
Maybe get a partial?”

Sasha shook her head. “No,
sorry.” She pictured the truck. “It did have a gun rack in the back, though.”

“Like a hunter would have?”

“Just like that,” she said as
they approached the door to the late judge’s chambers.

The door was ajar. Russell
nudged it inward and then stood back to let her go through first. Inside was a
reception area. A middle-aged woman with tight cropped curly hair sat miserably
at the desk. Her eyes were rimmed with red and she clutched a twisted tissue in
one hand. She looked up when Russell passed through the doorway.

“Gloria,” he said, touching the
brim of his hat. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, Gavin. This is so
horrible. I can’t even believe it. They just took his body out.” Her voice
broke, but she didn’t seem to have any tears left.

“Me neither. Gloria, this is
Sasha McCandless, she’s an—”

The woman cut him off and
addressed Sasha. “You’re the attorney from Pittsburgh who was up here on the
discovery motion last week. Judge Paulson appointed you to represent Mr.
Craybill, too. I recognize the name.”

Sasha was impressed the secretary
hadn’t shut down after the shock of finding her murdered boss.

Russell inclined his head
toward the inner door, leading to the judge’s private office. “Is Stinky still
back there?”

The secretary choked out a
laugh. “He’s there.”

Sasha arched a brow at the
nickname, and Gloria came to Russell’s defense.

“You’ll understand when you
meet him.”

As if he’d been summoned by the
mention of his name, just then a perfectly nondescript man poked his head
through the door. He was neither young nor old; fat nor thin; tall nor short;
handsome nor ugly. He just was.

“Russell, get in here. Gloria,
don’t go anywhere.”

The sheriff disappeared back
into the interior office. Russell swallowed a sigh and gestured for Sasha to
follow him. He patted the secretary’s shoulder as he walked by her.

Sasha stopped beside her and
said, “I’m so sorry about Judge Paulson, Mrs. Burke. And I’m so sorry for what
you must be going through.

Gloria gave her a wobbly smile.
“Thank you.”

As soon as Sasha stepped into
the judge’s office she realized she’d been wrong. Sheriff Stickley wasn’t
completely nondescript. He had one characteristic that stood out: he exuded
horrific body odor. For a split second she thought it might have been the scent
of death lingering at the scene, but when the sheriff pumped her hand in
greeting, it disturbed the air around him, leaving no question that he was the
source of the smell.

Sasha’s nose burned but she
managed not to recoil.

“Attorney McCandless,” he said
in a too-hearty, politician’s voice, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, although I
wish the circumstances were different. Carl Stickley.”

Sasha freed her hand. “Nice to
meet you, Sheriff. Although I was just telling Deputy Russell, I don’t think I
can add anything to your investigation, so I’ll just get out of your way and .
. .”

He cut her off. “I’m afraid I
can’t let you leave.”

“Can’t
let
me?  Am I
being detained?”

His smile didn’t reach his
eyes. “No, no, of course not. It’s nothing like that. No, Attorney General
Griggs and Chief Justice Bermann are on their way. They’d just like to talk to
you.”

Sasha’d had enough. “With all
due respect, Sheriff, I can’t wait for them. I have a law practice to get back
to. I’m terribly sorry about Judge Paulson. He seemed like a man of great
integrity, and I certainly hope you catch whomever shot him. But, this tragedy
has nothing to do with me. I’m just passing through your lovely town. And now
it’s time for me to go.”

Stickley motioned with his
head, and Russell moved to stand between Sasha and the door.

Russell made a pained face at
her.

She ignored him and focused on
the sheriff. “So, I am being detained, then?  Fine. I want an attorney.”

Stickley’s nostrils flared, but
before he could answer, Sasha heard a commotion in the reception area.

It was the fuss that attended
the arrival of two powerful men. Gloria’s chair scraping across the floor as
she hopped up to greet them. The murmur of excited voices floating in from the
hallway. And the soft thud of expensive dress shoes crossing the office floor.

She turned around and came face
to face with the most senior judge and the highest-ranking law enforcement
officer in the commonwealth.