The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 6-10 - Catherine Coulter [445]
“We understand that Justice Califano didn’t want to lose you when your second year comes to a close in July, either as his law clerk or his lover.” Savich paused a fraction of a second. “He was your lover, wasn’t he, Eliza?”
Her mouth opened, shut, and then she sighed. “I don’t know why I’m surprised you found out. It’s just that I didn’t think anyone knew. Actually I’m not certain that Stewart believed me as good a lover as a law clerk.” She tried to smile, but this time she couldn’t. “I didn’t want to leave him and he certainly didn’t want me to leave, but I was leaving, in July. I’d made up my mind. I would very much appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything about my relationship with Stewart to anyone, particularly to Margaret.”
Sherlock said, “How long had you been lovers?”
“Four months now. Please, I don’t want Margaret to know. Why hurt her needlessly? It would be cruel.”
Sherlock said, “She’ll have to know if it turns out your affair had anything to do with Justice Califano’s murder.”
That knocked her back against the colorful pillows that lined the back of the white sofa. “How could I have anything to do with Stewart’s murder? He was the finest man I’ve ever known in my life. He was brilliant, he was kind, he was gentle, he was unfailingly thoughtful. He loved being a Supreme Court Justice, and best of all, he was very good at it. We all needed him; the country needed him; justice needed him.”
Such fine, idealistic words, Savich thought, and they came out of her so easily. Was she that good an actress? Or was she sincere? Fact was, she was a lawyer, a good one. Best not to forget that. He saw tears swimming in her eyes again and changed his direction for the moment. “Tell us about your law clerks, Eliza. What are their names?”
Sherlock didn’t bat an eyelash. Of course Dillon knew everything about both the other clerks, how much they drank at parties, what sports they liked, but his look was very open and straightforward. She would have believed it instantly if she hadn’t known better.
“There’s Danny Boy, that’s what we call him. Daniel O’Malley. I kid him about seeing him standing on the shores of Ireland, a bugle under his arm, ready to transport to France and join the Brits in the ditches. Daniel O’Malley, he’s got that idealistic look, the burning fervor sort of thing. Fact is, though, that idealistic look isn’t real. There isn’t an idealistic bone in Danny’s body. He doesn’t come from money and he’s grown up wanting it, desperately, and to him that means working for a big law firm in New York City. Danny is twenty-six, younger than his years should make him, eager to get his work done well because he wanted a glowing recommendation from Stewart to fire him off to the big time.” She paused a moment, twisted the hem of her sweater. “I don’t suppose he’ll get one now.” She cleared her throat. “I remember one time when I had to swat him down.”
Savich said, “May I ask how you slapped him down?”
“I told him his grandmother, God rest her beloved soul, would turn over in her grave if she heard him advocate that ‘under God’ violates the separation of church and state in the Pledge of Allegiance. He tried to tell me she was Irish, not American, and she didn’t really understand. I told him his grandmother was likely cheering when they added it in 1954, long before he was even born. Then I picked up the St. Christopher medal he always wears around his neck, pulled it tight, watched his face turn red, and laughed at him. He folded. End of story.”
Since Savich agreed with her about that argument, he nodded. “Did Danny have a girlfriend?”
“Yes, only recently. He’s very shy with women. She’s a clerk over at the Department of the Interior, a computer geek, to tell you the truth, but it seems they are getting along, and that’s good. Don’t get the wrong idea here, Agents. Danny is law review, graduated Loyola with superior grades, and has a recommendation from a professor who