The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [96]
“Yes, sir, Mr. Osterman, sir!” Lisa said.
“What’d you call me?” Ben yelled.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Chief Justice Osterman, sir!” Lisa screamed.
Ben pulled another sheet from the laser printer. “I guess I can see that.”
“Meanwhile, are you really finished with Grinnell?”
“It’s right here,” Ben said as the final sheet rolled out. He slapped the thirty-page document on Lisa’s desk. “Hot off the press.”
“By the way, those boxes came for you,” Lisa said, pointing to the sofa. “There are seven more waiting in reception, but I couldn’t carry them all.”
Ben pulled his keys from his pocket and sliced open one of the boxes. Inside was a Columbia University Law School yearbook. Without saying a word, Ben closed the box and returned to his desk.
For the next half hour, he watched Lisa read his first draft, hoping to see a hint of reaction in her face. She’ll be a fool if she doesn’t like it, he thought. When she turned over the final sheet of the decision, Ben asked, “So? What do you think?”
“It’s an excellent opinion,” Lisa said as she put her reading glasses on the desk. “I’m definitely impressed. The fourth section is phenomenal. Pointing out the logical repercussions of the majority opinion is definitely the best way to shred it. Blake is going to be so pissed when he reads it.”
“So I was right.”
“Yes, yes. You were right. I’ll never doubt you again, Master-of-All-That-Is-Clerking.” Lisa pointed to the boxes on the couch. “Now what’d you get?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Just tell me what it is,” Lisa said, moving toward the box.
Ben hopped out of his seat to stop her. “It’s private,” he said, holding the box closed. “No offense, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What’s in it? A severed head? Sex toys? What’s the big secret?”
“Leave it alone!” Ben pushed Lisa’s hands away from the box.
Surprised by the intensity of Ben’s objection, Lisa stepped away from her co-clerk.
“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I just don’t want you touching it.”
“If you don’t trust me, say it to my face.”
“Lisa, it’s not that, I just—”
“Don’t bullshit me. It insults both my intelligence and yours. It obviously has something to do with Rick. What else can be that important?”
“It has nothing to do with Rick.”
“Then show me what’s in the box.”
“Lisa, I can’t. I—”
“Ever since we got back from Thanksgiving, you’ve been acting creepy around me. I know it’s not the sex—I give you more credit than that. But it’s clear that you’re hiding something.”
“What am I hiding?” Ben asked.
“It’s just the way you act. You’re just…different. I can’t explain it. It’s some kind of Walden-like withdrawal. And then, when I walked in on your phone call last week, you said you were planning Ober’s birthday party. When I first met Ober, he told me he was born in the summer. He was complaining that summer birthdays suck because everyone always forgets them, and you don’t get any presents. Ben, in case you didn’t realize, it’s now December.” Lisa stared at her co-clerk in silence.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.”
“Then tell me what’s in the box.”
“What?”
“You heard me. If you trust me so much, tell me what’s in the box.”
Ben reluctantly pulled open the carton. “They’re just old yearbooks. I was hoping that if I could pick out Rick’s picture, I’d have a better chance of identifying him.”
Tapping her foot against the floor, Lisa looked like she was ready to explode, her face crimson with anger. She pulled her wallet from her desk drawer, stormed to the closet, grabbed her coat, and opened the door.
“Lisa, I didn’t mean—”
She left the office, slamming the door behind her.
At eight that evening, Ben pounded on the front door of his house. “Open the door!” he yelled. Struggling to carry four boxes full of yearbooks, Ben felt his grip slipping. “Hurry up!”
“Hold on!” Nathan called out as he rushed to the door. “I’m coming!”
When Nathan opened the door, Ben staggered into the house and dropped the boxes on the couch. “There are a few more in the taxi. Can you help me carry them?”
Braving the cold without a jacket, Nathan ran to the taxi waiting in front of their