After a protracted Larry Paul strategy meeting on Thursday afternoon, Elsie left Madeleine’s office and pulled the door shut. Chuck Harris’s adjacent office was bustling with activity.
Doug, the traffic attorney, was lounging in the open doorway. His suit pants were wrinkled and his tie loosened, revealing that he’d unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white poly-cotton oxford shirt. “How am I supposed to cover two courtrooms at once?” Elsie heard him say.
She walked up beside Doug and popped her head into Chuck’s office. “What’s cooking in here,” she said.
Breeon stood next to Chuck; they were focused on his computer screen. Without looking up, Chuck said, “We’re trying to cover tomorrow’s court schedule.”
Breeon held a printed sheaf of papers in her hand. She pointed to a line on the first page and said to Chuck, “I’m in Rountree’s court on a sentencing hearing at nine o’clock. Then I have a probation violation set for State v. Breckenridge. It’ll take a while; the defendant hired Yocum, and he’s fighting it. I can’t help you out on the third floor tomorrow morning.”
Elsie stepped inside the room. “Sounds like the Friday docket is rocking.”
They ignored her. Chuck said, “Bree, I’ll cover Carter’s court until you’re done. We’ve got Doug in Division 1. Doug, if another judge’s bailiff pulls you out of Division I, you’ll just have to deal.”
Elsie tried to catch Breeon’s eye; but she was studying the hard copy of the court docket, frowning. Elsie said, “Wish I could give you a hand.”
“You and Madeleine will be in Callaway’s court.” Chuck’s tone was frosty.
“God, I know; that will be a real love fest, right? I’ll sit beside Madeleine with a gag over my mouth. She won’t let me say a damn thing.”
No one responded. Chuck clacked the keys on his keyboard. In the doorway, Doug pulled his gray necktie from its Windsor knot and shed it altogether, stuffing it into his trouser pocket.
“It’s almost five o’clock. I’m heading upstairs, going to get ready to blow. Okay, Chuck?”
“Sure,” Chuck said, pushing the chair away from his desk. “See you tomorrow, man.”
Elsie walked across Chuck’s office and dropped into a seat in the corner. “I’m meeting Ashlock at the Baldknobbers. Let’s all run over there and have a beer. What do you say?”
Chuck and Breeon made eye contact. Elsie saw it and nearly squawked with surprise, hiding her shock with a cough. Chuck and Breeon had never established any personal kinship during his first year as chief assistant. Both Elsie and Bree had been righteously disgruntled by his appointment to the position, since both of them had more extensive trial experience than Chuck. What they lacked was political clout; and Chuck had political connections through his father, a big-time Republican in Kansas City, Missouri. Both women knew that Madeleine gave the job to the person who could provide the most political benefit.
Chuck answered Elsie first. “No Baldknobbers for me, thanks. I’m exhausted. Pretty tough running the office by myself, since you and Madeleine have confined yourselves to the Larry Paul case. I am wore slick.”
Elsie eyed him as he sat behind his desk. His auburn hair was gelled into place; his shirt still appeared freshly pressed, and his tie looked bandbox fresh. His clothes bore no sweat stains or ketchup marks; his head showed no evidence of hands tearing through his hair in frustration.
But Elsie donned an expression of deep sympathy and said, “Then it’s doubly important for you to come out tonight. So you all can relax and unwind.”
Chuck opened a desk drawer and pulled out a set of keys. “Sorry, Elsie; but I think we should avoid that kind of thing for now. I can’t be a party to any conversations about the murder case, since I’m possibly a state’s witness. Madeleine doesn’t want me to be tainted.” His jacket hung from a wooden hanger on a hook near the door; he shrugged into it.
Elsie crossed and uncrossed her legs as she tried to frame the right response. In an encouraging voice, she said, “No need to stress over it, Chuck. You’re not a part of our case in chief; Madeleine told me so. You can’t shed any light on the actual murder. You just witnessed a prior incident of abuse. She may not use you at all.”
She watched him, hoping to see a nod or smile; positive acknowledgment of some kind. But he turned his back.
“No need to stress. Right. Thanks.” His voice was gloomy.
Giving her head a shake, Breeon left Chuck’s office and walked down the hall, fanning herself with the paper copy of the Friday court docket. Elsie quickly departed Chuck’s domain and followed a couple of paces behind Bree.
“Bree! Hey, big sis.” Bree turned to acknowledge Elsie’s voice and Elsie jerked her thumb in the direction of Chuck’s office. “What’s up with Mr. Kansas City? He’s playing like he has a case of PTSD.”
A shadow passed over Bree’s face. “Back off Chuck, okay? He’s having a tough time.”
“You mean because he has to run the dockets? He wanted to be chief assistant. Isn’t that supposed to be his job?”
Bree’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s struggling, Elsie. Torn up with regrets, about what he witnessed and how it led to murder just days later. He and Lisa have split up over it. I’ve been telling him,” and she paused to look around the hallway, “He should get counseling. Professional help.”
“Wow. I didn’t know.” The notion of Chuck suffering a clinical case of angst didn’t fit his profile; but maybe she didn’t know him that well. She caught Bree’s eye and offered up a big grin, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. “You want to meet me at the Baldknobbers? I’ll buy you a beer.”
Breeon made a face, wrinkling her nose and pulling down the corners of her mouth. “That’s not my favorite venue.”
“Yeah, I know that; but Ashlock and I are meeting there. And I’d love to get to chat with you. We haven’t talked in days and days.”
“That’s true.” Breeon turned a doorknob and entered her own office. “Not since you got busy with the Larry Paul case.”
“About that—I’d like to run some stuff by you, pick your brain,” Elsie began, but Bree cut her off.
“Sorry. Not interested.”
Elsie’s mouth fell open in surprise. “You won’t help me? Won’t even talk to me about the case?”
“Nah. Don’t think so.”
Elsie struggled with feelings of injury as she watched Breeon pack up her briefcase. After a tense moment of silence, Elsie said, “But you’re my best friend. And my best coworker, for that matter.”
Bree gave the clasp of the briefcase a decisive click. “I don’t believe in what you’re doing. I’m opposed to the penalty you’re seeking in this case. So—if I won’t take the case myself, out of principle, how would it be any different for me to provide you with assistance?”
Elsie’s eyes stung. She and Breeon had formed a bond that dated back to her first days in the office, when she’d been a green lawyer fresh out of law school. Breeon had taken her in hand from the beginning, showing her the ropes; helping her with her first witness interviews and examinations; providing copies of motions and jury instructions. She always had her back. Until now.
Elsie tried to keep her voice even. “If I promise to stay away from shop talk, will you come on out with me?”
“Hmmm. Don’t think so.” Breeon avoided Elsie’s gaze. “I need to go to the grocery store. I’m pretty much out of everything. Got a growing girl to feed.”
Elsie knew she couldn’t trump the working mother card. Breeon was a devoted mother. But on this occasion, the grocery excuse rang false. Betcha she has a house full of food, Elsie thought darkly, as she turned to make her way out of the office. She checked her phone for messages; Ashlock had texted an hour ago.
Running late, he said.
Aw shit, she thought. I’m drinking alone.
Again.