The door to the justice’s chambers closed again. Deputy Marshal Trenton and the court cop were back on this side of it, with them.
“’Sup with the Wild West show?” Owen asked the marshal.
“Nothing. Court business. You need to wait.”
This, after they’d already spent time being interviewed by the FBI, the U.S. Marshal’s office, NSA, court police, and the one organization Judge was surprised to see there, the Secret Service. If each of them hadn’t badged them, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart. Geenie had spilled all of what she could remember, some of her info handwritten, some of it verbal with only minor mouth action. Larinda Jordan remained a fugitive, but because of Geenie’s information they had more on her now than before.
They waited a little longer for Justice Coolsummer. After another ten minutes, Geenie started to fade. Judge pulled the marshal aside.
“Look, Mister Trenton, Edward, we need to forgo the thank-yous here. Geenie’s out of it. Pay our respects to the judge for us, please. We could use that ride back to my van now.”
Owen whined. “C’mon, dude, this is a big deal, meeting a U.S. Supreme Court justice. It’s on my bucket list.”
He ignored Owen and waited for Edward to get on board with his decision. Before he could respond the door to the judge’s chambers opened.
The first one to exit was the longest tenured U.S. senator still in office, Mildred Folsom from Texas, flashing her photogenic, cap-toothed smile surrounded by a shoe-leather-tan face. Following her was, no shit, that Texas televangelist asshole Higby Hunt, Judge mused. Edward ushered the new set of visitors inside Justice Coolsummer’s chambers.
The judge stood at an office window, her back to the room. The marshal waited for her to acknowledge that someone had entered before announcing them. When she didn’t he shooed them forward. It was then Judge realized she wasn’t looking out the window but rather at something framed on the wall. A law school diploma. She lifted it off its hanger.
“Madam Justice,” Edward said. “Mister Drury, Miss Pinto and Mister Wingert are here to see you.”
The judge admired her diploma close up, her response distant. “Who?”
“They flushed out the Planned Parenthood assailant, Your Honor. You said you wanted to meet Mister Drury.”
“Ah, that Mister Drury. I did say that, didn’t I?” She rested the framed diploma on an armchair, finally devoting her attention to her guests. “And with him Miss Pinto, the woman who nearly captured the terrorist. And, of course, Chigger Wingert, beloved Dallas sports writer. That brings us up to speed on the introductions. Have a seat, everyone. This needs to be quick. I have some movers delivering furniture this afternoon. Mister Trenton, you’re dismissed.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I’m not leaving you…”
Her face soured. “Wait outside, Mister Trenton. I want a word with them, alone, please. I trust them.”
Mr. Trenton frowned at her sharp tone. “But Madam…”
“Edward, stop arguing. You need to get out. Now.”
The door closed behind him. Geenie and Judge sat, Justice Coolsummer sat. Owen did not. Things were now a little tense. To their right on a conference table were what looked like a half-eaten lunch with an untouched second lunch next to it. Right about now, she had their undivided attention.
“Fairly exciting day today,” she said, “wasn’t it?”
They murmured things that went along with agreeing headshakes.
“Yes,” she said, “a one-of-a-kind kind of day. Yes, indeed. Well, it seems your government owes you great thanks for your vigilance this morning. I asked you back so I could provide that. Thank you all. Mister Drury, we owe you an apology for what I understand was a nasty bruising by Deputy Marshal Trenton, so let’s include that apology here as well, shall we? Oh, and let’s be thankful your pain and suffering seems to have been limited to the bruised ribs you are holding as you sit. Is this correct?”
“I won’t be suing anyone, Your Honor.”
“Excellent. If I’m sounding a bit cynical, yes, maybe I am. Sorry. We all have crosses to bear. Today’s crosses…well, today has been especially eye-opening for me, and I can’t say I’m all that thrilled with having to socialize much more right now. So, have we covered everything?”
Rude, and not how Judge had pictured her at all. Owen seemed immune to it, smiling like he was about to get laid. “Madam Justice. This is such an honor, ma’am. I also do a court blog through an alias…”
“‘Thurgood Cochran.’ Yes. Cute, irreverent name. You like pissing off the white majority, don’t you? I’m aware of the blog and your interest in the Court, and in me in particular. But, sad to say, Mister Wingert, it seems you’ve been chasing fool’s gold when it comes to me. So, again,” she clapped her hands once, signaling finality, “we need to wrap this up, which means whatever else you have to say, Thurgood, you will need to leave for your blog. Thanks for stopping by.”
She summoned Mr. Trenton. The big man collected them, ushered them out the door and closed it behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, staying composed. “I’ve got no explanation for that. I’m chalking it up to a good person having a bad day. Deputy Abelson will bring the van arou…”
A loud crash on the other side of the door had the marshal whirling, his gun drawn as he shoved his way into her chambers. Judge entered behind him.
Judge Coolsummer stood next to the conference table, her feet apart for balance, her hands holding the split bottom half of a picture frame. Broken wood from the frame’s top half and jagged glass chunks were settling on the table and the floor. A law school diploma parchment teetered from the table’s edge, a large tear in it. It fluttered, then settled onto the rug. She absentmindedly released the rest of the fractured frame, letting it fall on top of the other debris.
“Ah, Mister Trenton, you’re back. Be careful. There’s some broken glass in here.”