Chapter 9

When Isobel arrived at work the next morning, Sarah's door was closed, which meant yesterday's hearing had not gone well. When Sarah won in court, which was more often than not, she was voluble, sharing the details of her triumph with enough flair for Isobel to suggest more than once that she consider auditioning for commercials. When a court date didn't go Sarah's way, she was not to be bothered until she opened her door, signifying that she had reached the end of her allotted wallowing time and was ready to move on.

Isobel knew better than to knock, so she settled herself at her computer and pulled up her email. Scrolling absently through old messages, she found the one from Peter giving his cast the murder mystery details. She was about to delete it, when she remembered she hadn't done anything about the paychecks beyond giving Delphi hers. She shot out three emails, and Tony responded almost immediately. If she didn't mind, could she swing by his apartment after work that evening? He lived only ten blocks from her, so she replied promptly in the affirmative. That was one down. She spent a few more minutes hitting "send and receive," hoping that Jemma and Andrew would be equally responsive - not that she had any real expectation of the latter - before she gave up and did an internet search on Judge Harrison. She located his bio on a judicial database and scanned it with interest.

The Honorable Willard Harrison had started in small-claims court, moving shortly thereafter to criminal court, and then surrogate's court, before settling in family court. What had Percival suggested? Denial of evidence, misapplication of the law, bribery... As far as she knew, Harrison could have had the opportunity to commit any of those crimes in any of those courts. She wondered if it was normal for judges to move around so much. She randomly clicked on another entry for comparison's sake. Judge Alyce Krumholz appeared to have spent her whole career in surrogate's court. Then again, she'd only been on the bench for five years.

Isobel tried a few more bios, but there didn't seem to be a standard. Some judges moved around, some didn't, so there was no hidden meaning to be found in Harrison's comparatively diversified career, just a more varied list of people who might have had an axe to grind - or a bullet to load. She drew a circle on her yellow legal pad. There had been eight people seated at the judge's table. She penciled in names around the circle, starting with herself. Candy was to her right, with Gordon Lang on Candy's other side. Next to him was the drab little man whose name she hadn't registered, so she put a question mark. Maggie was next to him, then Bethany, who was next to the judge. On the other side of him was the seat originally assigned to Isobel, which had remained empty. Another question mark.

Whose seat had she taken? For once, her native inquisitiveness had failed her, and she berated herself for not bothering to look at the name card at the place she had usurped. Who hadn't shown up? And why? Unlike the others, that person, by virtue of being absent from the table - but not necessarily from the building - might have fired the shot. Isobel moved her pencil point to the first question mark. She couldn't say with absolute certainty that the mystery man had been seated during her scene with Delphi. She could vouch for the others, but his was such a recessive presence, he could easily have left the table without her noticing.

She wondered how she could learn the identity of the two question marks. She collected her empty latte cup and took it into the communal kitchen, where she dutifully deposited it in the recycling bin. She tried to recall what the mystery man had looked like, but aside from a dim recollection of a navy blue suit, she couldn't visualize a face. She'd just have to find out as much as she could about those whose identities she did know and hope they might lead her to the other two.

Sarah's door was open by the time Isobel returned to her desk. Feeling somewhat restored herself, she poked her head in.

"Need anything?" Isobel asked.

Sarah smiled ruefully. "Other than a case I can win? Nah, I'm fine."

"Sorry."

Sarah took her glasses off and rubbed her face. "It's par for the course, but it just pisses me off. Especially since this guy is a complete shit, and he's shafting my client. Plus, there are kids involved, which makes it a thousand times worse."

Isobel plopped down on the visitor's chair, which miraculously had remained clutter-free. "Did the Harrisons have kids?"

"He had two sons from his first marriage, but none with Candy."

"So they inherit, I guess."

Sarah squinted and put her glasses back on. "Not a given. I believe they were estranged. One of them had a few run-ins with the law."

"How old are they now?"

Sarah looked up at the ceiling and calculated in her head. "Mid-twenties, at least."

"What did the miscreant son do?"

Sarah gave a wry smile. "I love a temp with a good vocabulary. The miscreant was, I believe, helping himself to items from the local RadioShack."

"That's fairly minor in the scheme of things."

"Not when your father is a family court judge."

"What happened?"

Sarah frowned. "I'm not entirely certain, but it must have escalated from there. All I can tell you is that by the time he and Candy divorced, both kids were more or less out of the picture."

"And you think Harrison disinherited them?"

Sarah stood up and navigated the path to her filing cabinet. "As I say, I don't really know. But given their stormy past, I'd say it's possible the judge left the bulk, if not all, of his estate to someone other than his kids."

"What if the judge was planning to cut them out but hadn't done it yet? Maybe one of the sons got wind of it and killed him before he had a chance to change his will," Isobel suggested.

Sarah slapped a manila folder against her palm and elbowed the file drawer shut. "By the same token, if the judge did leave his estate to somebody else, that person might have seized an opportunity to hasten his or her inheritance."

"If only we knew who benefited financially from Harrison's death," Isobel mused.

Sarah smiled wryly. "You're a curious cat, aren't you?"

"Well, I was there when it happened," Isobel said defensively. "And Delphi almost got nailed for it."

Sarah wagged a finger. "I'm onto you. That's not why."

"It's partly why," Isobel admitted.

"When I hired you, your temp agent...what's his name?"

"James Cooke."

"Right. Mr. Cooke told me you'd helped the police on two separate occasions. He said he thought I'd particularly appreciate your inquisitive nature, and that I might find myself using you as more than an assistant." She returned to her desk and flipped open the folder. "In fact, he waxed poetical about your powers of ratiocination."

Isobel's stomach gave a guilty flip. Not only had James secured a cushy job for her, he had sung her praises. She tugged her ponytail. "Well, to be honest, the second time I almost got myself killed. And even though I did work it out the first time, I could have been quicker on the uptake. It was really just dumb luck, to be honest."

Sarah folded her arms. "But you've caught the bug, and now you want to figure out who shot Harrison."

"The answer to this riddle was in the room that night, and so was I," Isobel said.

"So were the police."

"After the fact."

Sarah's lip twitched with amusement. "You know, if the detective thing doesn't work out, you might consider becoming a lawyer."

A self-conscious laugh burst from Isobel's throat. "I'm not a detective. I'm an actress!"

"All the more reason to let the real detectives do their thing," Sarah said, scoring her point. "I'm sure they'll get to the bottom of it."

"The other two times I came up with information they wouldn't have had otherwise," Isobel said. "Even if I didn't work out every detail, I led them to the killer. Both times."

"Curious and tenacious," Sarah remarked. "Obviously nothing I say is going to stop you asking questions."

"Exactly." Isobel spread her arms wide. "So. Are you for me or agin me?"

"There are ramifications for me if I help you access information you wouldn't otherwise be able to get." Sarah tapped her desk blotter with her pen. "Let's do this: I'll evaluate your requests on a case-by-case basis. If I can justify helping you within my own sphere of work, I will. Sound fair?"

"Thank you." Isobel bounced slightly in her chair. "Request number one: can you find out who inherits the judge's estate?"

"I can't."

Isobel wilted. "Well, thanks, anyway."

Sarah leaned back in her chair and smiled owlishly. "But I know someone who can."