“Come on, it’s not the end of the world.” Delphi rubbed Isobel’s back as they sat on her daybed. “It’s a temp job, for God’s sake. It’s not even what you came to New York to do.”
“But it was perfect! I could come and go whenever I wanted. Sarah was so cool, the work was interesting… And how am I going to keep investigating the judge’s murder?” Isobel burst into a fresh volley of tears.
“Okay, you’re right. It is the end of the world. Feel better?”
“I’ve never been fired before,” Isobel choked.
“So now you have a new experience to draw on in acting class. Honestly, it’s not that big a deal.”
“I feel like a complete failure.”
“I wouldn’t say complete…”
Isobel gave Delphi a reproachful look. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
Delphi threw up her hands, letting the movement propel her up from the bed. “Okay, honey, reality check. You were out of line. No employer in their right mind would keep on a temp who took a confidential file from her office and called a meeting with a client for personal reasons.”
“I guess when you put it like that…” Isobel sniffed.
“There is no other way to put it. You fucked up. End of story.”
Delphi was right, of course, just as Sarah had been right to fire her. Isobel knew she’d been foolish to think a few confidences legitimized her actions. She’d allowed herself to be lulled into an illusory sense of equality.
She wiped her face with her sleeve. “Lesson learned. Never forget that you are the employee.”
“That’s exactly it,” Delphi said more kindly. “Although Sarah forgot, too, in a way, and it’s hard to resist when your boss is the one to cross the line. Believe me, I know how tempting it can be to take their hand and step over with them, but that way danger lies.”
“Bosses should learn their lesson, too,” Isobel said.
“Ideally, yes, but they don’t have to. If it’s their business, you’re expendable. Sarah, Carlo… They’re in charge, and we shouldn’t forget it, even if they do.” Delphi sat down again and patted Isobel’s knee. “So tell me about Candy. She must have been shocked to see you there.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Isobel thought back to their conversation. “I actually did learn a few things of interest.”
“Like what?”
“Remember I told you Harrison had a mistress who was not the person in the photograph? I found out who it was.” Isobel allowed the eager look on Delphi’s face to linger, which boosted her mood a bit. “Bethany Balsam.”
“That harpy?”
Isobel sat up straighter. “Oh, and get this! Apparently, the Harrisons once played a murder mystery dinner game at Angelina Rivington’s house. I remember at the table Candy made a reference to it, and Harrison looked furious.”
“So that’s why he wasn’t into us?”
“More than that. In the game, Harrison was the victim.”
Delphi raised an eyebrow. “Really? Who was the murderer?”
“Candy.”
“And she was the one to suggest a murder mystery to Maggie.” Delphi wound a curl around her finger and released it like a spring. “Maybe Candy masterminded this whole thing and got someone else to pull the trigger.”
“It’s possible. At the very least, it seems like she was trying to send him a message to watch his back with that comment at the table.”
“What about the letter? Do you think she sent it?”
Isobel chewed her lip. “That doesn’t quite feel right to me. She thinks the letter came from someone who held a grudge from one of his past cases. We’ve been so focused on his personal life, we’ve ignored his professional relationships.”
“There have to be hundreds. Is there a way to check the judge’s conviction record?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Probably. Except I don’t have any idea where to look, and I don’t have a lawyer to ask anymore.” Isobel growled in frustration. “Why didn’t I think of that before I got fired?”
They sat in glum silence. Suddenly, Isobel sprang to her feet. An idea had taken hold, but it made her feel squirmy, and she wanted to walk it off. But the more she paced, the more agitated she became. She groaned and clenched her fists.
“What is wrong with you?” Delphi jumped up.
“I can’t!” Isobel stopped in front of the kitchen counter and leaned both hands on one of the stools.
Delphi grabbed Isobel’s shoulders. “What are you talking about?”
“James. He’s at John Jay. He could look for me. Except that he’ll only talk to me under duress. Or under an umbrella.”
Delphi released her. “Maybe you need something like this to mend your fences.”
“But I’d have to explain why I was asking for his help,” Isobel said, a pained expression on her face. “Can you imagine what he’ll say when I tell him I got fired?”
“Well, it’s up to you. If you want someone to search Harrison’s records, you’re going to have to call him. And tell him the truth. And maybe apologize along the way.”
“For what?” Isobel asked, indignant. “I haven’t done anything!”
Delphi flung her head back. “Let’s see…stringing him along, giving him the wrong impression, dating someone else. I think a blanket ‘I’m sorry I hurt you’ would cover all necessary bases.”
The buzzer rang. Isobel shot Delphi a questioning look. Delphi shrugged and walked over to the intercom.
“Hello?”
“It’s Percival.”
“Let him up,” Isobel said. “No, wait—don’t!”
Delphi held her finger on the button. Isobel sighed and put her head down on the counter.
“Come on in,” Delphi said, opening the door a few moments later. “But be warned, the mood is dire.”
He set down his backpack. “Why? What happened?”
Isobel shook her head, still face down. “It’s too embarrassing,” she said into her elbows.
“She got sacked,” Delphi volunteered. “For overstepping.”
Percival raised an eyebrow. “You mean investigating?”
Isobel came up for air, her face red. “Yes. But it wasn’t a total loss. I have new information.” She briefly filled him in.
“Well, I have information, too. That’s why I came by. Maybe this will cheer you up.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “I found the connection between Angelina Rivington and Willard Harrison. It seems among her many properties is this.”
He slapped down a photo of an institutional brick building of yellowish stone. A sign at the entrance read “Empire State Youth Camp.”
“Doesn’t look like a fun place to spend the summer,” Delphi commented.
“Camp is a euphemism,” Percival said. “It’s a correctional facility. But here’s where it gets interesting. It’s off the books. She set it up under the auspices of Rivington Properties as a shell company, ESYC Partners, but it’s funded from other sources.”
“What other sources?” Isobel asked, her pulse quickening.
“Multiple private investors. At least a few of whom will be familiar to you.”
He flipped the photo over to reveal a list of scribbled names. “Willard Harrison, Gordon Lang, Mason Crawford.”
“Well, well, well…” muttered Delphi.
“And let me tell you, the camp is turning quite a profit.”
“So that’s where Harrison’s money comes from.” Isobel picked up the list. “Isn’t this a conflict of interest? A judge investing in a jail?”
“You bet. Especially if he’s keeping the beds full to raise revenue.”
Isobel shook her head in wonder. “How did you find this?”
“You really want to know?”
“I do,” Delphi said.
Percival shrugged innocently. “I checked the county property records. Then I did a little creative hacking into a few key databases and wrote a screen-scraping algorithm to cross-reference it all. Took me a half hour in Python.”
Delphi blinked. “Okay, I have no idea what you just said.”
Isobel hopped off the barstool with renewed energy. “What do you think? Some kind of bust-up between Harrison and Rivington? She skips out on the dinner, hides behind a potted palm, and shoots him?”
“But first sends him a threatening letter?” Delphi asked. “Honestly, I don’t see either her or Candy sending it. That’s what you do to someone you don’t have personal contact with.”
Percival flipped the photo over again, and they stared at the Empire State Youth Camp. “You know what we really need?”
“What?”
“Access to Harrison’s case files. Who did he send to ‘camp’?”
Delphi and Isobel exchanged a glance. Isobel shook her head ever so slightly, but Delphi cleared her throat.
“That’s funny, we were just saying the same thing.”
“But, unfortunately, we don’t have access to court dockets anymore,” Isobel said in a brittle voice. “Oh, well.”
“Unless she calls James,” Delphi said.
Percival looked at Isobel in surprise. “Why wouldn’t you call James? I’m sure he’d be willing to help.”
“Are you kidding? He couldn’t have been less happy to see me on the street.”
“That’s because you no longer have safe common ground. You need a new social context for each other. I bet he’d be relieved.”
“See?” Delphi crowed. “That’s exactly what I said.”
Isobel glared at her. “No, you didn’t. You said I should apologize.”
“Whatever. Percival’s right. We’re both tired of you two pretending you don’t like each other.” Delphi scooped up Isobel’s phone from the counter and thrust it at her. “Here. Call him.”
Isobel threw a pleading gaze at Percival. “Now? It’s Friday night!”
“No time like the present,” he said airily.
Resigned, Isobel took the phone. “Fine. But if this goes wrong, it’s all on you.”